News of that foul dív's acts reached Siyámak,
Who listened eagerly; his heart seethed up
With rage. He gathered troops, arrayed himself
In leopard-skin, for mail was yet unworn,
And went to fight. When host met host he came
In front unarmed to grapple with the son
Of Áhriman. That horrible Black Dív
Clutched at, bent down that prince of lofty stature
And rent him open. Thus died Siyámak
By that foul hand and left the army chiefless.
When Gaiúmart heard this the world turned black
To him, he left his throne, he wailed aloud
And tore his face and body with his nails;

His cheeks were smirched with blood, his heart was broken,
And life grew sombre. All the soldiers wept,
Consumed upon the flames of woe, and wailed
As clad in turquoise-coloured garb they stood
Before the portal of the Sháh. All cheeks
Were wine-red, for all eyes shed tears of blood.
Birds, timid beasts and fierce, flocked to the mountain
With doleful cries in anguish, and dust rose
Before the court-gate of the mighty Sháh.
When one year had passed thus the blest Surúsh
Was sent by God; he greeted Gaiúmart
And said: “Lament no more, control thyself,
Do as I bid, collect thy troops and turn
Thy foemen into dust, relieve earth's surface
Of that vile dív and thine own heart of vengeance.”
The famous Sháh looked up and cursed his foes,
Then, calling by the highest of all names
Upon his God, he wiped his tears away
And prosecuted vengeance night and day.