The Turkman leader, when the night closed in,
Made ready with his soldiers to attack,
And, having summoned all his veterans,
Spake of the past at large: “This knave accursed
Hath triumphed greatly o'er his grandsire's troops:
Now yonder host no doubt are fast asleep,
And scattered widely over hill and plain;
So let us put misgiving from our hearts,
And make an onslaught on the foe at dawn,
For if we overcome them not to-night
We shall be humbled to the very dust.
Unless good fortune shall regain its lustre
Resource is wind, and manhood but a lie.”
They all agreed thereto and, having risen,
Made preparations for the night-attack.
Afrásiyáb chose fifty thousand men
Among the host, all veteran warriors
And fit for combating. Spies went on first—
Experienced men and lovers of the fray.

Their chief approached the encampment of Khusrau
Where he perceived no challenge of the watch,
And everything appeared to him at rest—
No scouts, no watch-fires, not a breath of wind,
No thought about Túrán in any heart.
On seeing this he turned, went back in haste,
And said: “Not one is wakeful! All of them
Are dead asleep! Thou wouldst have said: ‘These men
Have drunk all day!’ No outposts are in sight,
And only brambles stand up on the plain!”
Afrásiyáb heard this, was cheered of heart,
Sent his host forward, mounted on his steed,
And girt him with his warriors to attack.
They came on, like the waters of the sea,
Apace but silently, without display,
No trumpet-call, no shout; but when they neared
The camp-enclosure rose the clarion's blare,
Rose roll of tymbal from the saddle-backs,
The sable standard was unfurled, and those
That were the foremost of the assailant band
Urged on their steeds and raised the battle-cry;
But many cavaliers fell down the fosse,
While others turned away their heads from fight.
On this side Rustam came up from the plain,
And dimmed the heaven with his horsemen's dust;
On that side Gív, son of Gúdarz, and Tús
Came on; in front the drums and trumpets sounded,
The king of kings with Káwa's flag was there;
The air was violet with horsemen's sabres,
The cry was “give” and “take” and “bind” and
“slay,”
The steeds were jaded and their riders dazed;
Two seas of blood were heaving and their waves
Gave earth the hue of tulips, while the host
Of steel-clad army-breakers made the mountains
Shake to their centres. On that Day of Doom
Those who would flee found no way to escape;
Among a hundred chiefs not ten were left;
The slain themselves blocked in the fugitives.
Whenas accounts came from that battlefield
The leader of Túrán was so distressed
That all his troops lamented, wept, and burned
At that great anguish of their monarch's heart,
Who spake thus: “Verily a sage himself
Escapeth not the process of the sky!
But since the foe is fainer for our lives
Than for our wealth we can but strive once more,
And either give our bodies to be slain,
Or set the crown of kingship on our heads.”
From both the camp-enclosures shouts arose,
The world was filled with blare of clarions.
The troops marched, shouldering double-headed darts
And scimitars, in lines three leagues in length.
That field was like the sea. Bright sun and moon
Shone not. The hosts came onward, rank on rank,
As in the ocean wave pursueth wave.
Thou wouldst have said: “The vales and hills are full
Of blood. The sun hath left the turning sky.”
Heaven's face was smeared with pitch and no one
tendered
His person. Then arose a mighty blast—
A storm whose like is not in memory.
It raised the dust, it blew against the heads
And eyes of the Túránians and bore off
Their helms. Afrásiyáb was all astound.
The desert was all brains and blood, the rocks
Were red as jujubes to their very cores!
The Turkman cavaliers, who in their days
Of ease thought lightly of a leopard-hunt,
Declined to battle with the turning sky
What time the blast uplifted man and horse.
Khusrau, on seeing this and that the hearts
And fortunes of the Íránians were joyous,
With Rustam, Gív, son of Gúdarz, and Tús,
Advanced the tymbals from the army's centre,
And battle-shouts arose. Upon one hand
Was Rustam, on the other hand the Sháh.
The dust hung in the air as 'twere a cloud,
And what a cloud! One raining shafts and swords!
On every side were mountain-heaps of slain
With springs of blood within them from both hosts.
The air was like a robe of indigo,
The earth appeared to be a sea of gore,
And heaven was like an eagle's wing with arrows.
Afrásiyáb looked on with glooming heart,
Descried the waving flag of violet,
And showed his flag no longer at the centre,
But left his host embattled, and himself
Retreated with his chiefs and men of name.
He took with him a thousand of his kin,
And choicest of his troops—all fit for fight—
And, taking to the pathless waste, preserved
His life from foemen by his body's toil.
The Sháh sought for his grandsire in the host,
Advancing to the centre with all haste,
But, though he urged his charger to the utmost,
He found no traces of Afrásiyáb,
Whose soldiers, when they looked toward the centre
And missed the sable flag, laid down their arms
And asked for quarter. Kai Khusrau received them
With graciousness, gave them a separate camp,
Then bade his men set up the golden throne,
And deck the tents with broidery of Chín,
Brought forth the wine and summoned minstrelsy,
Inviting many captains of the host.
He made a feast which lasted till the dawn,
A feast which made the dead rise from their graves.
Whenas the sun's hand showed upon the sky,
And wounded with its nails the dark night's face,
The Íránian monarch bathed his head and body,
And with the Zandavasta sought a spot
Where he was hidden from the Íránians' eyes,
And where wild creatures could not hear his voice.
From break of day till in the Dome of Teak
The moon assumed her heart-illuming crown,
He offered praises to the Omnipotent
For that glad turn of fortune, rubbing oft
His visage in the dust and pouring down
Two rivers from his eyes upon his cheeks.
Thence he departed to his crown and throne
With stately step, glad-hearted, fortunate.
All who had fallen of the Íránians,
Alive or dead, they carried off the field,
But left with scorn the bodies of the foe.
They turned the whole field into charnel-houses,
And, when they had disposed of all the slain,
The Sháh bestowed the booty on his men,
And thence toward Gang-bihisht he made his way
With troops at all points ready for the fray.