Then Rustam summoned an experienced scribe,
And wrote a kingly letter in fit terms
With ambergris for ink on painted silk;

The letter opened with the praise of God,
Who is and who will be for evermore,
The Maker of the sun and moon and Saturn;
Of Grace and crown and might the Artist He;
Heaven, earth, and time are His; the soul and wisdom
Obey Him. May He bless the Sháh, and may
The age not have him in remembrance only.
I came between two mountains as thou badest:
The troops of three realms were assembled there.
More than a hundred thousand in good sooth
Opposed us, men who drew the scimitar—
Troops from Kashán and Shakn, from Chín and Hind—
A host which stretched from the Indus unto Chín—
While from Kashmír to the outskirts of Mount Shahd
We saw but litters, tents, and elephants.
I feared not for the empire of the Sháh,
But slew our foes; we fought for forty days;
Thou wouldst have said: ‘The world is strait to them.’
They all were kings with treasures, crowns, and thrones.
Now 'twixt the mountains over dale and waste
One cannot pass along for blood and slain,
And in good sooth for forty leagues the soil
Is turned to clay with blood. To tell the whole
Were tedious. All the kings that I have bound,
Plucked with my lasso from their elephants,
Lo! I have sent the Sháh, with gifts and jewels
King-worthy, but war on myself; perchance
Gurwí may meet my sword. His head shall crown
My spear in wreak for our Head—Siyáwush.
May every tongue be filled with praise of thee,
And turning heaven's summit be thine earth.”
He gave the letter, when it had been sealed,
In charge to Faríburz, that royal prince,
With captive kings and elephants, and set
The spoils upon three thousand camels' backs.
So Faríburz son of Káús went forth
Rejoicing, and made speed to reach Khusrau.
The elephantine hero, with the chiefs
And warriors of the army, saw him off
With fond embraces when they said farewell,
While tears rained from the eyelids of the prince.
Then Rustam, when the dark night's tresses showed,
Departed on his way toward the host.
They sat with harp and wine and minstrelsy,
This reveller with harp and that with pipe,
Until they went their ways in full content,
Each to his rest.

Hued like a gold dínár

Sol burst the Veil of Lapis-lazuli,
Whereat the clarion's blast rose from the court
Before the chief's pavilion. Matchless Rustam,
All ready-girded, mounted his swift steed,
And bade the soldiers take supplies with them.
Their way was hard—the longsome desert route.
They marched to war, and matchless Rustam said
To Tús and Gív: “Ye gallant chiefs! this time
Will I fight strenuously and press the foe.
Who knoweth if this crafty man of Sind
Will bring a host from Hind, Sakláb, and Chín?
But I will so bemuse and daze his wits,
And make his body dust upon the tomb
Of Siyáwush, that Hind, Shingán, Sakláb,
And Chín shall bless him nevermore.”

He beat

The drums, the dust ascending filled the air,
And earth was full of men,*

while shouts rose cloudward
From those illustrious chieftains keen for fight.
They marched two stages from the battlefield
Because the ground was blackened with the slain.
The chieftain saw a wood and called a halt,
And, while his soldiers darkened plain and stream,
Indulged in song and wine till some were filled
With mirth and pleasure, and some lay bemused,
While envoys came from all the districts round,
From all the chiefs and men of name, to bring
Him presents, arms, and many an offering.