Káús perceived on Rustam's countenance
How great his love was by his tears of blood,
And out of shame said nothing in reply,
But poured down scalding tears. The chief departed
And went toward the palace of Súdába.
He dragged her from the bower by her hair,
Dragged her all bleeding from her throne and clave her
Asunder with his dagger in the street
While Sháh Káús sat passive on his throne;
This done, the matchless Rustam felt a pang
Yet keener in his heart, he sought his palace
In pain and woe, with blood-drops in his eyes,
And livid checks. Írán was all in mourning,
And people flocked around him in their trouble,

While he for seven days in grief and tears
Sat in his palace wrathful and distressed.
Upon the eighth he sounded trump and drum,
And to his palace came Gúdarz and Tús,
Shídúsh, Farhád, Gurgín, Gív, and Ruhhám,
Shápúr, Kharrád the warrior, Faríburz—
The son of Kai Káús—Bahrám the Lion,
And dragon-bold Guráza. Rustam said:—
“I stake heart, soul, and body on revenge,
For in this world there is no man of name
In arms like Siyáwush the cavalier.
Treat not the matter lightly. None can deem
Such vengeance trifling. Banish all dismay,
And make the earth run like Jíhún with blood.
By God! while I am living in the world
I will not cease to grieve for Siyáwush.
On that unwatered waste where rash Gurwí
Poured on the ground the life-blood of the prince
I fain would chafe my face and eyes; perchance
It may relieve my heart of grief for him.
Perchance my hands like his may be secured,
A yoke placed on my neck, and both my wrists
Bound with a twisted lasso, and myself
Thrown like a hapless sheep upon the ground;
But if not, with my trenchant scimitar
And mace will I bring Domesday on the world;
Mine eyes shall see naught but the dust of fight,
And I renounce for life the cup of pleasure.”
The chiefs and paladins on hearing this
All shouted like one man: thou wouldst have said:—
“Írán is seething.” From the land the uproar
Rose to the clouds. “Earth is a lion's den,”
Thou wouldst have said.

Then from his elephant

He dropped the ball into the cup. The troops
Unsheathed the sword of vengeance. Rose the din
Of horn, of brazen trump, and kettledrum;
The world was all revenge, and thou hadst said:—
“It is a seething sea!” Earth had no room
For walking, air was ambushed by the spears;
The stars began the fray, and time and earth
Washed hands in mischief. The Íránian warriors
Girt up their loins and Kawá's standard led them.
Then Rustam of Zábul chose from Kábul,
Írán, and from the forest of Nárwan,
Troops that were wielders of the seimitar:
There mustered five scoro thousand men of war.