Said Rustam to the Íránians: “This fight
Hath harmed us not. Now will I take from Chín
These elephants, this wealth, these splendid crowns,
And thrones, bestow them on Írán and make
The day a happy and a glorious one.
I want no helper from the Íránians,
God and the feet of Rakhsh are help enough.
I will not leave a man from Chín, Sakláb,
And Shakn to set his foot upon the ground,
For 'tis our day of victory; high heaven
Illumineth our star, but ill betideth
The men of evil words and evil deeds.
If God affordeth strength my glossy Rakhsh
Shall show his mettle, I will make this plain
A graveyard, and the fertile land a salt-marsh.
Resume ye now your posts, be diligent,
And swift as wind. Attend. When I advance
Sound gong and bell, and make the whole earth ebon
With dust of cavaliers and tymbal-din.
Ply ye your axes and your massive maces,
Like blacksmiths' hammers on a mass of steel,
And fear ye not the numbers of the foe,
But make the very water reek to heaven.
Cleave ye the ranks of Chín and of Sakláb;
Earth must not see the sky. Watch well my helm,
And, when I raise the war-cry, charge amain.”
Thence like a raging elephant, and bearing
His ox-head mace and shouting as he went,
He sought the foemen's right, and first encountered
Kundur. He routed that wing utterly,
And many a head and helmet disappeared.
A kinsman of Kámús, one Sáwa hight,
Proud and o'erweening, came to counter Rustam,
With Indian sword in hand. He wheeled about
In quest of vengeance for Kámús and cried:—
“O mighty Elephant! now shalt thou mark
A wave of Nile!*

I will avenge Kámús,
The hapless: nevermore shalt thou see battle.”
When Sáwa's words reached Rustam he drew forth
His massive mace, raised it aloft, and smote
His foeman's head and helm. Thou wouldst have
said:—
“That head hath never even seen its body!”
He flung down Sáwa, and rode over him
Till every trace was lost. The enemy
Were panic-struck, the banner of Kashán
Was overthrown; none durst withstand him more
Because the hoofs of Rakhsh their fruitage bore.