Sikandar, ware of what Dárá was doing,
And how he had become upon the throne
The moon's own diadem, led from 'Irák
His powers while all invoked on him God's blessing.
His army had no middle and no end;
Dárá's good fortune was not young withal,
But still the Sháh prepared to meet his foe,
And led so vast an army from Istakhr

That thou hadst said: “The earth can not sustain them,
And heaven itself will have not room to turn!”
Both kings arrayed the forces of both realms,
They all had spear and mace and sword in hand,
And such a shout ascended from both hosts
As split the ears of heaven. The earth became
A sea of warriors' blood, and all the field
Of battle was o'erstrewn with headless trunks,
Paternal love itself grew pitiless,
And heaven revolved indifferent to all.
Night came, Dárá was worsted, while Sikandar
Was girding up his loins for fresh assaults.
The Sháh fell back upon Kirmán and thus
Escaped alive the clutches of his foe;
Meanwhile Sikandar reached Istakhr of Párs—
The crown of Sháhs, the glory of that land.
A proclamation went up at the courtgate:—
“Ye noble men and showers of the way!
Whoe'er desireth quarter for his life,
And is a penitent before his God,
Shall be 'neath my protection, one and all,
And know it if they are but true to me.
All that are wounded will we recompense,
And likewise cease to shed our foemen's blood.
We will forbear the goods of private folk,
And make our wisdom manifest. Since God,
The Conqueror, hath given us Grace divine,
With greatness and the imperial diadem,
A man had better trample on the neck
Of dragons than transgress our ordinance.”
Whatever spoil was taken on the field
Sikandar shared in full among his troops.
When from Írán Dárá had reached Kirmán
He missed the more part of the Íránian chiefs.
A wail rose from amid the troops. They saw
Not any one with helmet on his head.
Dárá assembled all the great and wise,
All those who had been with him in the fight.
They came together grievously lamenting,
And burning at the evil of their lot.
Thus spake Dárá: “We verily have brought
Heaven's wrath upon ourselves. None in the world
E'er hath experienced such discomfiture,
Or heard of such from statists of old time.
The wives and children of Írán are captives,
Our souls are hurt by fate, our flesh by arrows.
What are your views and what device have ye
To make our enemy repent hereof?
We have no realm, no city, throne or crown,
No kingship, children, treasury or host,
And we are ruined if God pity not!”
The chiefs that still survived wept bitterly
Before Dárá, and cried: “We all, O king!
Are stricken by the evil of the time.
The matter is beyond the host's endeavours,
The waves have risen higher than our heads.
The sire is sonless and the son is sireless,
For so revolving heaven hath decreed.
Our mothers and our sisters and our daughters
Are all within the clutches of Sikandar,
While all the ladies of thy family,
Who trembled for thy safety, all the wealth
Transmitted by thy noble ancestors,
Whereto thou wast the undisputed heir,
The royal offspring and the Kaians' treasure,
Are in possession of thine enemies.
No longer can we stand against our foe
To battle with him in the way of fight.
Complete submission is our one resource,
For none can keep the crown of majesty,
And this same turning sky is passing too
O'er him as every man of wisdom knoweth.
Present thyself in person as his liege,
And make thy court with many flatteries.
Then shall we see how matters will result,
For heaven's process is beyond our ken.
So write a letter unto him and fill
His gloomy soul with thought because the man
Whose tongue is bright with knowledge will make shift
To pluck up evil from its base.”

Dárá,

On hearing this, announced his own intent—
One in accord to royal precedent.