§ 11 How Afrásiyáb fled

When half dark night had passed, and heaven half
turned
Above the hills,*

the Turkman leader packed
His baggage, gave out helms and mail to all

V. 1315
His troops, and bade ten thousand Turkman horse
On barded chargers to be outpost-guards.
He spake thus to the host: “When I have passed
The river follow me, troop after troop,
Leave day and night unreckoned.”

From Ámwí

He crossed Jíhún that night with all his host,
While all the country, road and waste alike,
Was naught but empty tents and tent-enclosures.
When dawn brake forth upon the mountain-tops
The outposts saw no soldiers on the plain,
And brought the joyful tidings to Khusrau:—
“The Sháh hath no occasion for more strife:
We see the tent-enclosures and the tents,
But not a horseman of the foe remaineth.”
Khusrau forthwith fell prostrate on the ground
While giving praises to the All Just and Holy,
And saying: “O Thou glorious and almighty,
The Worldlord, the Provider, and the Judge,
Who gavest me Grace, strength, and diadem,
And now hast blinded my foes' hearts and souls!
Oh! banish this oppressor from our world,
And burden him with terror all his years.”
Whenas the sun took up its golden shield,
And night assumed its hair of turquoise hue,
The world's lord sat upon the ivory throne,
And donned the crown that brighteneth the heart.
The army praised him: “May he live for ever,
This Sháh who is so worthy of the state.”
The soldiers lacked no booty; it was there,
Left by the army of Afrásiyáb,
But all the people said: “We have been tricked;
He hath departed with host, trump, and drum;
The famous monarch hath escaped unhurt
At night-time from the clutches of the free!”
The shrewd Sháh said: “Chiefs of the Íránian host!
'Tis good whene'er the Sháh's foe hath been slain,
And good when he retreateth in confusion.
Since God, the Arbiter, hath given us Grace,
Crown, majesty, and kingship over kings,

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Give ye thanksgiving everywhere to Him
With benedictions offered day and night,
Because He maketh luckless whom He will,
And setteth up the worthless on the throne;
We cannot question or advise or move
Therein, for no slave can withstand His word.
Here shall I tarry for five days; the sixth
Is sacred to Urmuzd, the light of earth;
Upon the seventh we will march; the foe
Provoketh me and I desire revenge.”
Five days they searched for their Íránian slain,
And having washed the dust off gave them all,
As they deserved, a worthy burial.