Forthwith the host descended from the mountain;
The world was blackened by the horsemen's dust.
Bahrám Chúbína for his part was troubled,
Repenting all his conduct, but advanced,
Not having any choice, his powers apace.
There was no daylight left. He said: “All those
Commanding troops need wisdom, mastery,
And courage. Seeing how I ply the dart,
And have the making of a paladin,

The brave preferred me to Khusrau Parwíz,
And I will bring the crown of Núshírwán
To dust.”

Advancing rashly toward the Sháh

He strung his bow and loosed a whole wood arrow,
Which in a moment struck the Sháh's belt whence
It dangled point-arrested by the silk.
A slave that saw came and extracted it
From the brocade. The Sháh's spear struck his foe
Upon the belt which was of mail and broke not,
But though the spear-head snapped the usurper quailed.
The Sháh, indignant that his spear was broken,
Brought down his mace upon his foeman's casque.
The mace's head was broken by the blow,
And stuck upon the crest, while all that saw,
Or heard the iron ring, acclaimed the Sháh,
Whose troops were heartened, for Bahrám Chúbína
Had had a check, who, when the sun and moon
Loured on him, turned reluctantly away,
Aware how hard his task had grown—one past
Both prowess and endeavour. The Sháh's host,
When they beheld his lion-manlihood,
All—Rúmans and Íránians—unsheathed
The sword of vengeance and charged mountain-like
In mass. The magnates followed in his steps,
And utterly o'erthrew those mighty powers.
Bandwí came to the Sháh and said: “O thou,
Whose crown is higher than the sky and moon!
This host like ants and locusts is dispersed
Upon the plain, the sands, and stony ground.
It is unworthy to shed needless blood,
And for the Sháh to strive against his slave.
'Tis better that they should appeal to us
For quarter than be slain or maimed in fight.”
Khusrau Parwíz replied: “I seek not vengeance
On any that repent. I grant them grace;
They are the earrings of my crown.”

Night's flag

Rose o'er the darksome hills, both hosts withdrew,
The sentries challenged, bells rang, and the troops
Had little sleep. Bandwí, the ambitious, went
Between the hosts, chose from the troops a chief—
A herald fluent, with a goodly voice—
Bade him to mount upon his Arab steed,
And make him ready to proclaim. They rode
Between the hosts till close upon the foe,
And then the herald shouted: “O ye slaves,
In fault yourselves and followers of fortune!

By God! the Sháh will pardon all, e'en those
That have done worst and in the war achieved
Most fame, be their faults patent or concealed.”
The sound went through the darkness of the night,
And all gave ear. Bahrám Chúbína's chiefs
Girt up their loins to quit him. When the sun
Rose o'er the hills, and day spread taffeta
Upon the ground, the tents upon the plain
Were all abandoned, but Bahrám Chúbína
Was not aware of what had passed that night.
None but his friends were to be seen in camp.
On hearing of the troops he visited
The tents and told his comrades: “To retreat
Is better now than waking on a Doomsday.”
He bade the master of his camels furnish
Two thousand lusty and foam-scattering,
And all his treasures that were portable,
The hangings and the carpets and the plate
Of gold and silver, with the ivory thrones,
The golden torques, the armlets and the crowns,
They loaded up and then themselves took seat
Upon their steeds and girt them for retreat.