The world-lord, resolute to go to Marv,
Wrote to Máhwí of Súr, the governor,
In rage and pain, in tears and hope deferred,
And calling an experienced scribe poured forth
His heart, and it was full. He first praised God,
The all-wise Lord, the Fosterer, the Master
Of circling Mars and Sol, of elephant
And ant, at will creating out of naught,
And needing no instructor, then proceeded:—
“What hath befallen us! And gone are all
This kingship's hue and perfume. Rustam's death
Upon the battlefield and by the hand
Of one whose name is Sa'ad, son of Wakkás,
A landless, low-born, witless, aimless man,
Hath straitened all the world to us through sorrow.
Now that Sa'ad's army is at Taisafún,
With woods and foot-hills fronting them, array

Thy host to fight with his and summon all
Thy troops to that same end.*

Lo! I will follow
Behind my letter swiftly as the wind,
And give thee what I purpose in my mind.”*