§ 10 How the Túránians used Sorcery against the Host of Írán

Among the Turkmans there was one Bázúr
By name, adept in magic, versed in guile
And sorcery, and learnéd in the tongues
Of Chín and ancient Persia. To that warlock
Pírán said: “Scale the mountain-top and send

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Snow, cold, and blast upon the Íránians.”
That sorcerer sped thither, and forthwith
Came snow and storm. The Íránian spearmen's hands
Failed in the snow and stress. Amid the tumult
And icy blast the warriors' war-cry rose,
And arrows rained. “Let all the army charge,”
Pírán bade. “While their hands freeze to their spears
None can show prowess.”

With a shout Húmán

Charged like a lusty dív. They slaughtered so
That 'twixt the lines there was a sea of gore,
The vales and wastes were filled with snow and blood,
The horsemen of Írán were overthrown,
Till corpses left no room to wheel; the ground
Was blocked by snow and fallen. Tús the leader
And other chiefs cried bitterly to heaven:—
“O Higher than all knowledge, sense, and reason,
Not at, or in, but everywhere! we all
Are Thy transgressing slaves and in our straits
Appeal to Thee, for Thou wilt help the helpless,
And art the Lord of fire and icy blast.
Deliver us from this excessive cold;
We look for aid to Thee and Thee alone.”
A sage approached Ruhhám and showed the height

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Where bold Bázúr was stationed with his spells.
Ruhhám wheeled round and quitting field and host,
And girding up his mail-skirts to his waist,
Clomb to the mountain-top. The warlock saw him,
And, grasping a steel mace of Chín, advanced
To fight. Ruhhám, approaching, quickly drew
His trenchant scimitar and hacked away
The warlock's hand. Like Doomsday came a blast,
And swept the murk from heaven. Staying thus
The sorcerer's hand the brave Ruhhám descended,
Regained the plain, and mounted while the air
Resumed its azure vault and radiant sun.
Ruhhám said to his sire: “'Twas sorcerer's work,
And how he played the mischief as we fought!”
The Sháh's troops saw the field a sea of blood
Strewn with Íránian heads and headless trunks.
Then spake Gúdarz to Tús: “No need have we
For elephant or drum-beat. Let us all
Draw sword and charge, and slay or else be slain.
Good sooth! our time is coming to an end;
This is no day for lasso, shaft, or bow.”
Tús said: “O thou experienced veteran!
The sky is ridded of that icy blast.
Why should our heads be scattered to the winds,
Now that the Helper giveth Grace and strength?
Expose not thou thyself, for in this strife
Our warriors will avail to do our will.
Go not to meet thy fate or recklessly
Advance against our foes but tarry thou
With Káwa's standard at the army's centre,
And blue steel sword in hand. Bízhan and Gív
Together lead the right; upon the left
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Is Gustaham; Ruhhám is with Shídúsh
Before the lines; Guráza's lips are foaming
For vengeance. If I shall be slain, retreat
Back to the Sháh, but death is nobler far
For me than shame and every foeman's jeers.’
Such is the world, all anguish and all woe
Seek not addition if thou canst forbear,
For that will bite thee some day and will ne'er
Prolong existence for thee here below.
Again arose the blast of clarions,
The clangour of the gongs and Indian bells.
What with the din of warlike cavaliers,
The gleam of sword and crash of battle-ax,
What with darts, maces, shafts, and javelins,
The earth became as 'twere a sea of pitch.
The plain was filled with trunkless heads and arms,
The crashing of the maces filled all ears,
But, since the face of cruel fortune loured
The Íránian warriors showed the foe their backs.
Then Tús, Gúdarz, and gallant Gív, Shídúsh,
Bízhan, and lion-like Ruhhám all took
Their lives in hand and went in quest of fame
Before the embattled lines. All those with Tús,
The nobles and the chiefs, poured out their blood
Before the host, but those behind them fled.
Then said an archmage to that warrior-chief:—
“The army is no longer at thy back:
The foe must not surround thee and destroy
Both host and general.”

Tús said to Gív:—

“Our soldiers' brains and wisdom are no mates
Since they have left us thus, and in their folly
Turned from the fight; go thou and rally them;
Protest our foemen's jeers, our monarch's shame.”
Gív went; the host returned; the plain and desert
Seemed filled with slain. Then Tús addressed the
captains:—
“This is a struggle and a strife of chiefs!

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But since the cheek of day is darkling now,
And all the land is like a sea of blood,
Seek we a resting-place if night can rest.
Our slain perchance a bed of sand may have,
And coverlet of earth by way of grave.”