The letter reached the Sháh. It raised his crown
And throne to Saturn, and he prayed to God
That this young Tree might come to bearing fruit;
Then wrote with joy this letter of reply,
Like shining spring or jocund Paradise:—
“Now through the Maker of the sun and moon—
The World-lord who bestoweth crown and throne—
Mayst thou for ever have a joyful heart,
One painless and untroubled, and therewith
Be thine the victory, and thine the Grace,
The cap of power and throne of majesty.
Thou leddest forth an army to the war
With prosperous fortune and a righteous cause,

And though thy lip still savoureth of milk
The whippings of thy bow burst in the fight!
May thy bright heart attain its every wish,
And may thy person ever keep its prowess!
Since thou hast won a victory repose
Is needed for a season, but disband not,
Proceed still further, and improve the occasion,
Because this Turkman is a cunning knave,
A man of high birth but an Áhriman,
Albeit he possesseth crown and power,
Affronting with his head the sun and moon.
Be not in any haste to challenge fight;
Afrásiyáb will come to fight with thee,
And, if he cross Jíhún, will trail his skirt
In blood.”

He sealed this, called the messenger,

And gave it with injunctions to return.
The messenger sped over hill and dale,
And came to Siyáwush who, when he saw
The letter, was rejoiced and kissed the ground,
Put off the bondage of anxiety,
And carefully observed the Sháh's commands,
Not swerving from his duty as a liege.
Thereafter Garsíwaz, the lion-man,
Approached the monarch of Túrán, like dust,
And told this grievous and unwelcome tale:—
“The chieftain Siyáwush arrived at Balkh
With Rustam as his marshaller, with troops
Past count, and many men of name and leading.
They had full fifty men to one of ours—
Proud warriors, wielders of the buffalo-mace.

Their footmen were like fire, and had shield, quiver,
And shaft. The eagle soared not o'er their dust.
They had no drowsy heads, and this we proved
Three days and nights, and then our troops lost
heart;
But with the Íránians he who needed rest
Retired forthwith from where the brave were
fighting,
And after having slumbered rose refreshed
To make him ready for the fight again.”
Afrásiyáb raged like a fire. He quitted
The stead of his tranquillity and slumber;
He glared at Garsíwaz, and thou hadst said:—
“Afrásiyáb will sunder him in twain!”
Then in a fury that he could not master
He cried aloud and drave his brother out.
Anon he bade a thousand of the lords
Be summoned and a festival prepared.
They put up hangings over all the waste,
And decked all Sughd with ornaments of Chín:
The day thus passed away with happiness.
Now when the Eye that lighteth earth had gone
From sight, they hasted to take sleep and rest
Except the king, who tossed about distrest.