Thereafter from the look-out came a cry:—
“The dust of horse hath risen from the way;
I see afar three steeds, each with a corpse
Bound wretchedly upon it, and therewith
One cavalier.”

The Iránian chieftains all

Turned to the road their eyes in wonder, asking:—
“Who is this warrior of Irán that cometh
So hardily across the battlefield?”
Anon Bízhan came riding up; his bow
Hung on his arm; Lahhák and Farshídward
Were flung across two steeds, all blood and dust,
While on another steed was Gustaham,
In pain and grief, borne in a Turkman's arms.
Bízhan drew nigher still. He laid his face
Upon the ground and kissed it when he saw
His monarch's head and crown and lofty throne.
Khusrau joyed at the sight of him and asked:—
“O lion-man! how went it on the field?”
Bízhan then told the tale of Gustaham,
Lahhák, and valiant Farshídward, the plight

And wounds of Gustaham, the fight between
The cavaliers, and all things great and small.
He added: “Gustaham hath one desire,
And one not grievous for the Sháh to grant:
He hath a wish to look upon the Sháh,
And then is ready to give up the ghost.”
Thereat the Sháh commanded in his kindness
That Gustaham should be produced before him.
Now Gustaham was hurt so grievously
That thou hadst said: “He barely draweth breath,”
Yet at the perfume of the king of kings
The warrior writhed and turned toward Khusrau
His eyes wherefrom he showered drops of love;
The monarch bathed his countenance in tears
Of blood, the nobles wept as they had been
Consuming in fierce fire. Khusrau was grieved
To lose a chief whose head beneath his helm
Was battle's anvil. From Húshang, Jamshíd,
And Tahmúras, the Sháh inherited
An amulet—the hope of wounded men—
And ever bare it on his arm but, since
His heart was yearning upon Gustaham,
He took the precious jewel off and bound it
Upon the warrior's arm, and stroked his wounds.
He placed by Gustaham physicians brought
From Hind, Rúm, Chín, Túrán, and from Írán
By world-wide quest for such contingencies,
Recited over him all manner of spells,
And thence departing to the place of prayer
Much communed with the Maker of the world.
Two sennights thus passed o'er the wounded man,
Who was restored to health and happiness.
They carried him on horseback to the Sháh;
The monarch of the world, on seeing him,
Said to the Íránians: “Through the grace of God
We all are fortunate and happy now;
When we had gained the day did not our grief
For Gustaham subdue our mirthfulness?
This is in brief the All Provider's love,
And not man's knowledge or solicitude.”
He called Bízhan, the son of Gív, and set
In his the hand of gallant Gustaham,
And said: “Know that good fortune is of God;
So take not any credit to thyself,
Because He ever is the Succourer,
And only He can help us in our need.
If any dead man ever came to life
The World-lord hath so dealt with Gustaham.”
To Gustaham he said: “In these our days
I have not seen a helper like Bízhan.
Had he not chosen toil on thine account
Who would have seen thanksgivings such as these?”
The Sháh stayed yet a sennight at Raibad,
Bestowing drachms, dínárs, and various gifts,
While sending messengers on every side
To great men and to nobles with commands
That they should come to court equipped for war,
“For we intend to fight the king of Gang.”

Now that the battles of Pírán are told,
The combatings of Kai Khusrau unfold,
And marshal, poet! in thine expert brain
The choicest words to tell the vengeance ta'en
By that impetuous Sháh—the wreak that he
Sought on Afrásiyáb laboriously.