This news reached Gustaham and Tús: “The Grace
Of kingship is obscured. They have struck off
Remorselessly with trenchant scimitar
The head that wore the crown, and all is over.”
Men tore their faces and plucked out their hair,
A cry of mourning went up from Írán,
The great put dust and earth upon their heads,
All eyes wept tears of blood, all robes were rent.
Men turned their faces toward Zábul; their tongues
Spake of the Sháh, their souls yearned for the Sháh.
They went to Zál in mourning and in pain,
With blood-stained cheeks and dust upon their heads.
They cried: “O good and valiant Sháh Naudar!
O great just monarch, wearer of the crown,

The guardian of Írán, the prop of nobles,
The head of kings and monarch of the world!
Thy head is seeking for a crown from dust
And earth is savouring of the blood of Sháhs.
The grasses on these fields and fells are hanging
Their heads in shame before the sun while we
Ask vengeance, mourning as it were a father,
In whom the stock of Farídún survived,
While earth was servant to his horse's shoe.
Now him and all that famous troop have they
Beheaded shamefully, despitefully;
But we will draw our swords of watered steel,
Will go to seek revenge and slay the foe:
So arm ye and revive the ancient feud.
The heaven is surely with us in our grief;
Its eyes rain tears of blood for very ruth.
Do ye too fill your eyes with tears like those
And strip your bodies of their dainty dress,
For in revenge for kings it is not well
That eyes should stint their tears or hearts their rage.”
The mournful multitude wept bitterly,
And burnt as though upon a raging fire,
While Zál rent all his raiment and sat down
With lamentable outcries in the dust.
He said: “My trenchant blade shall ne'er behold
Sheath till the Resurrection, my white charger
Shall be my throne, a spear mine only tree,
My place a stirrup and a dusky helm
The crown upon my head. There is no rest
Or slumber in this feud. No stream can match
The river of mine eyes. Oh! may the soul
Of great Naudar shine bright amid the mighty,
And may the Lord of earth bestow on you
A soul for Faith and duty. All of us
Are born to die; it is our lot whereto
We yield our necks.”

Now when the captives heard:—

“The Iránians are upon the march for vengeance,
They send out cameleers on every side,
Have gathered countless troops and have renounced
Home and delights,” they neither ate nor slept,
Such was their terror of Afrásiyáb.
A message from them came to Ighríras:—
“O man of mighty purpose, famous chief!
We are thy slaves in all, and by thy word
We live. Zál, as thou knowest, is at home
And acting with the monarch of Kábul.
Men like Barzín, Káran the warrior,
Kharrád, and that host-shatterer Kishwád,
Are men of might with hands that reach afar
And will not keep their clutches off Írán.
Now when these warriors wheel about us here
And brandish their sharp lances in his sight
The great Afrásiyáb will be enraged,
His heart will be inflamed against his captives,
And for his crown's sake he will bring to dust
The heads of all our blameless company.
If prudent Ighríras see fit to free us
We will disperse, praise him before the great
And make thanksgiving unto God for him.”
Wise Ighríras replied: “Such skilleth not;
'Twere a foe's act; this human Áhriman
Would be incensed. I will not take other order
So that my brother may not turn upon me
In vengeance. If now Zál is keen for war

And will advance to fight us at Sarí
I will deliver you to him, myself
Evacuate Ámul, forbear to fight
And bring to infamy my honoured head.”
At this reply the nobles of Írán
Bent to the ground, and full of praise for him
Despatched a courier from Sarí with speed
To Zál, the son of Sám. The message ran:—
“Our God hath pitied us; wise Ighríras
Is now our friend. This is the pact between us:
If only two Íránian warriors
Shall come and offer fight that noble man,
Who walketh fortune's path, will quit Ámul
For Rai, and so some one of us may scape
The Dragon's clutch.”

The courier reached Zábul

And made the glad news known to Zál, who called
The nobles, told them all, then said: “My friends,
Pards of the fray and winners of renown!
Who is the warrior of princely heart,
All black with courage, who will raise his neck
To touch the sun by undertaking this?”
Kishwád accepting struck his breast and said:—
“My hand is ready for an act so just.”
The glorious Zál approved him, saying thus:—
“Live happily while months and years endure.”
So from Zábul a troop of warriors
Intent on war set face toward Ámul.
When they had journeyed for a stage or two
The tidings came to Ighríras their friend,

Who blew the brazen trumpets, marched away
His troops and left the captives at Sarí.
When fortunate Kishwád arrived he found
The key to loose their bonds, provided steeds,
And from Ámul sped toward Zábul. When Zál
Was told: “Kishwád is coming back in triumph,”
He gave a largess to the mendicants,
The robe that he was wearing to the messenger,
And when Kishwád approached went out to meet him
In state, while weeping tears of joy for those
That had been captive in the Lion's clutch,
And then with dust upon his head wept tears
Of grief o'er famed Naudar. He took the loved ones
Within the city, gave them palaces,
And they became as when Naudar was king,
Possessed of crowns and thrones and diadems,
While Zál distributed his treasure-store
Until the army could desire no more.