Now will we tell the warfare of Arjásp
Afresh and by our insight clear the garth
Of weeds:—Arjásp had tidings that the Sháh
Had set forth with his host toward Sístán,
And gave commandment that Kuhram, the swordsman,
Should lead the troops before him, for Kuhram
Was eldest-born to him and raised his head
O'er radiant Sol. Arjásp said: “Choose thee horsemen
War-worthy from the host and haste to Balkh,
Which hath embittered and o'ercast our days.
Those of our foes, those worshippers of Fire,
Those Áhrimans, whom thou shalt take, behead,
Burn up their homes, and turn their day to night.
Smoke from the palace of Gushtásp must rise
And lick the azure sky. If thou shalt find
Asfandiyár with fetters on his feet
Put thou an end to him; part instantly
His body and his head, and make the world
Re-echo with thy name. Throughout Írán
The cities have been left at thy disposal,
The foe—the scabbard—left for thee—the sword.
I shall not loiter in Khallukh but follow
Apace, recall our scattered troops, and lavish
My hoarded wealth.”

Kuhram replied: “Thy bidding

Will I perform and pledge my life thereto.”
When from its waist the sun drew forth its sword,
And darksome night drew back its skirts therefrom,

There gathered five score thousand of Khallukh
About Arjásp—choice cavaliers and swordsmen.
Kuhram led forth the army to Írán,
While earth grew like an Ethiop's face for gloom,
And coming to those marches spread his hands,
And overthrew whome'er he saw. The Turkmans
Had set their hearts on vengeance, were prepared
To pillage and to slay, and as they drew
Anear to Balkh spake much and bitterly.
Luhrásp heard of Kuhram, was grieved, and fared
With travail. Thus he prayed: “Omnipotent!
Thou art supreme o'er time's vicissitudes,
Thou art almighty, wise, and merciful,
The Master of the shining sun. Preserve
My Faith, my person, and mine energies,
My watchful heart and intellect withal,
So that I may not perish in their hands
A thrall, or in dismay cry out for succour.”
There was no chief or mace-armed cavalier
At Balkh. A thousand came from the bázár,
But all unfit for war. Luhrásp assumed
His mail what time the Turkman host drew nigh,
He left the oratory for the field,
And donned the Kaian casque. Old as he was
He roared out like a maddened elephant,
Bare in his hand an ox-head mace, and dashed
To earth therewith a warlock of the chiefs
At every charge till all folks said: “This noble
Is dealing buffets like Asfandiyár!”
Where'er he spurred he mingled dust with blood;
The galls were split of all that heard his voice.
Kuhram said to the Turkmans: “Fight no longer
Against him single-handed, strive amain,
Surround him, and roar out like mighty lions.”
Arose the crash of bills, the shouts of horsemen
All eager to monopolize the fray,
Whereat Luhrásp, abandoned midst the foe,
Invoked in his resourcelessness God's name,
For old age and the burning of the sun
Oppressed him, and his fortune went to sleep.
That veteran, that worshipper of God,
Fell headlong, smitten by the Turkmans' arrows;
The head that wore the crown came to the dust.
Then many cavaliers surrounded him;
They hacked his Kaian harness into bits,
His body piecemeal with their scimitars.
They took him for a youthful cavalier,
But when they raised the helmet from his head,
And saw his ruddy cheek, his camphor hair,
And heavenly visage livid now with iron,
All marvelled at the miracle, exclaiming:—
“To think that one so old should sword it thus!
Had but Asfandiyár himself come hither
Our host would have been busy on this plain!
Why have we come here with such puny powers,
For we have come but as a flock to pasture?”
Then to his comrades said Kuhram: “The toil
And travail in the fight was due to this,
That he who wore the crown was Sháh Luhrásp—
Sire of Gushtásp, the master of the world.
As king of kings he had the Grace of God,
And passed his life in feasting and the field,
But in old age became a devotee,
And plucked his heart away from crown and throne.
Now will Gushtásp, whose throne is thus bereaved,
Quail for the diadem of king of kings.”
The host reached Balkh, the world was wrecked with
sack
And slaughter. Making for the Fane of Fire,*

For hall and palace decked with gold, they gave
Them and the Zandavasta to the flames.
The fane had eighty priests, God's worshippers,
And all before the Fire the Turkmans slew,
And swept that cult away. The Fire, that erst
Zarduhsht had litten, of their blood did die;
Who slew that priest himself I know not I.*