Came to the presence of Afrásiyáb
He spake thus: “Tús the general arrived,
And brought a host with trump and kettledrum,
While as for Paláshán and other nobles,
Their heads were brought down to the dust in anguish.
The foeman fired the marches and the fields,
Destroying all the herds.”
Afrásiyáb
Was grieved thereat and sought a remedy.
He spake thus to Pírán the son of Wísa:—
“I bade thee: ‘Gather troops from every side,’
But thou hast loitered through old age or sloth,
Or disaffection; many of our kin
Are slain, and watchful fortune's face is from us;
But now we may not tarry, for the world
Hath grown strait even to the vigilant!”
Then all in haste Pírán the general
Went from the presence of Afrásiyáb,
Called up the troops from all the provinces,
Served arms out, paid the soldiers, and marched forth.
The frontier passed he gave each man his post,
Two cavaliers whose strength was that of lions—
The left wing to the valiant Nastíhan—
One in whose clutches lions were as lambs.
The world was filled with blast of clarions,
And clang of cymbals and of Indian bells,
Air was a blaze of or, gules, and purpure
With all the spears and divers-coloured flags,
While what with troops, steeds, elephants, and camels
There was no passage left 'twixt sea and sea.
Pírán went forth in haste. Afrásiyáb
Departed from his palace to the plains,
And numbered all the army man by man
To see how many noble warriors
There were. He made the total five score thousand—
All lion-men and wielders of the sword—
Then bright and glad oft blessed Pírán, and said:—
“Thou settest forth with joy to victory:
Ne'er may thine eye behold the bale of time.”
The army marched along troop after troop,
No plain was visible or sea or height;
Pírán commanded: “Quit the accustomed route,
Take the short road; the foeman must not hear
Of these my noble and illustrious troops,
So may I bring this great host like a mountain
Down unawares upon yon army's head.”
He sent intelligencers out forthwith,
And shrewdly sought to learn how matters stood;
Then, stubbornly proceeding on his march,
Advanced toward Giravgard prepared for battle.
“Tús the commander tarrieth where he was:
No sound of drums hath risen from the troops,
For all of them are drinking themselves drunk,
And wine is in their hands both day and night.
He hath no mounted outpost on the road,
Not recking of the army of Túrán.”
Pírán, when he had heard this, called the chiefs,
Spake unto them at large about the foe,
And said thus: “Never in the fight have we
Held such a vantage o'er the enemy!”
Out of that noble host Pírán made choice
Of thirty thousand horse with scimitars,
Who marched at dead of night; no tymbal sounded,
No trumpet blared, none raised the battle-cry.
Now when the wary chief led forth his troops
Seven leagues remained betwixt them and the foe,
And first they came upon the Íránians' herds
At large upon the desert of Túrán,
Took many beasts and bore them off withal—
Mishap unparalleled! The overseers
And herdsmen were all slain, the Íránians' fortune
Had grown averse. Thence like a murky cloud
The Turkmans marched upon the Íránian host—
All drunken and disposed in groups unarmed;
Howbeit Gív was in his tent alert,
Gúdarz the chieftain sober. Then arose
The war-cry with the crash of battle-axes,
And Gív—that fight-engrosser—was astound.
A steed caparisoned in battle-gear.
The gallant hero lion-like arrayed
His body in the mail of Siyáwush,
And, raging like a leopard at himself
In shame for his own indolence and sloth,
“Up! Up!” quoth he. “How is it that to-night
My brain is filled with fumes instead of war?”
Then having mounted rushed forth like a blast.
He saw the heaven dark with night and dust,
And entering the chief's pavilion
Exclaimed: “Up! Up! The enemy hath come
While we—the warriors of the Sháh—are sleeping!”
Departing thence he visited his sire,
An ox-head mace in hand. As quick as smoke
He went about the host, awoke the sober,
And chode Bízhan: “Is this the place for wine
Or fighting?”
The Íránians were hemmed in,
The war-cry rose, the tumult dazed the drunken,
A cloud ascended and its rain was arrows.
Soft pillows were beneath the drunkards' heads,
Above were sword, hot mace, and scimitar.
Now when dawn showed forth from the Sign of Leo,
And gallant Gív surveyed the host, he saw
The waste all covered with Íránian slain,
And watchful fortune's head averse from them.
Gúdarz too looked about on every side;
The foemen's number grew continually;
Against the little force there ranged itself
A host like ants and locusts. Tús too looked,
And saw no fighting-men save Gív, Gúdarz,
And other cavaliers all sore bestead.82
The flags were rent, the kettledrums o'erturned,
And the survivors' cheeks like ebony,
For sires had lost their sons and sons their sires,
And that great host was utterly o'erthrown,
Since so the swiftly circling vault, which now
Affordeth pleasure and now pain, decreed.
Unable to resist they turned their backs,
Abandoning their camp in their confusion,
Disorganised, without their drums and baggage,
And sorely stricken both on left and right.
On this wise fared they toward the Kása rúd—
A strengthless mob. With vengeful souls and tongues
All jeers the Turkman horsemen followed Tús,
And thou hadst said that maces from the clouds
Rained in the rear on hauberk, helm, and mail.
None made a stand, the warriors took refuge
Among the mountains, foundered like their steeds,
And had no spirit, strength, or staying power.
Now at the heights the Turkman host turned back,
Exhausted by the fight and long pursuit,
And Tús no farther feared the foe's assault.
The Íránian troops bewailed their many lost,
Who if they lived were wounded or in bonds—
Alike a cause for tears. No crown or throne
Remained, no tent, no steed, no warrior;
The land was barren and provided nothing,
While nobody went forth to seek the wounded.
The son bewailed the father bitterly,
And burned in anguish for the suffering.
The use and custom of the world is this:
To keep back from thee what its purpose is.
It acteth harshly and capriciously,
While in greed's grip we travail long, and none
Can tell appearance from reality.
From wind thou camest and to dust wilt go:
What They83
will do to thee how canst thou know?
The more part of the Íránian troops were slain,
The rest had come back wounded; at their beds
No leeches were, but grief and tears of blood.
Tús battle-maddened was beside himself,
So to Gúdarz the hoary veteran,
Deprived of child and grandchild, home and land,83a
There came the other veteran warriors
With broken hearts to seek his leadership.
He placed a watchman on a mountain-top
To keep his eyes intently on the foe,83b
While outposts went their rounds on every side
To find perchance a cure for this distress.
He bade a noble of the Íránians
To girdle up his loins to give the Sháh
The news of what the captain of the host
Had done, and how, by their ill day opprest,
They had small profit from their vengeance-quest.
The courier carried to the Sháh the tidings
Of that eclipse of fortune. Brave Khusrau
Was troubled when he heard, his bosom throbbed
With grief. To anguish at his brother's case
Was added anguish on the troops' account.
Till cock-crow. Summoning a prudent scribe,
And pouring out the fulness of his heart,
He wrote a letter in a wrathful strain,
With eyes all tears in mourning for his brother,
To Faríburz the son of Sháh Káús—
A letter for the chieftains of the host.
First in the letter came the praise of Him,
Who made both earth and time, thus: “In the name
Of Him Who is the Lord of sun and moon,
And giveth power alike to good and bad!
From Him come triumph and defeat, from Him
Both good and bad get might and their desire.
He fashionèd the world and place and time,
He fashionèd ant's foot and massy mountain,
And hath bestowed life, lustihood, and wisdom,
High throne and majesty and diadem.
No man can free himself from that control;
The lot of one is Grace and throne, another's
Misfortune, want, grief, suffering, and hardship;
Yet see I that All-holy God is just
In everything, from yonder shining sun
To darksome dust.
Tús with the flag of Káwa,
And forty warriors wearing golden boots,
I sent out with a host against Túrán,
And, first fruit of revenge, my brother perished!
Let not Irán have such another chief!
Let not the host have such another leader!
Alas! Alas! my brother, young Farúd—
The head of nobles and the stay of heroes!
I was in tears of anguish for my sire,
A long while was I burning in that sorrow,
And now my brother is the cause of tears!
I know not who are friends and who are foes.
‘Go not,’ I said to Tús, ‘toward Charam;
Breathe not upon Kalát or Mount Sapad,
Because Farúd is with his mother there.
He is a warrior of royal race;
And if they be Íránian troops or what;
He will come forth to stop the way and stake
His head upon the issue of a fight.’
Alas! that warrior of royal birth
Whom wretched Tús hath given to the wind!
If he had been commander heretofore
It had been evil hap for Sháh Káús,
And furthermore he slumbereth in battle,
And only rouseth to sit down to drink.
There is no prowess in his neighbourhood,
And may a soul so darkened cease to be!
When thou shalt read this letter stir thyself;
Put far away from thee food, rest, and sleep;
Send Tús back with all speed, observe mine orders,
And heed not other counsels. Thou art chief,
The captain of the host; 'tis thine to wear
The golden boots and hold the flag of Káwa.
Illustrious Gúdarz will counsel thee
In all; haste not to fight, keep far from wine,
Abstain from slumber, seek not at the first
To fight through anger, tarry as thou art
Until the wounded are restored to health;
Then Gív will lead thy van for he possesseth
Grace, stature, and the clutches of a leopard;
Bring from all sides material for the war,
And God forfend thou think of banqueting!”
They sealed this letter with the Sháh's own signet,
Who thus enjoined the messenger: “Depart
Upon the road; repose not night or day,
And take another horse at every stage.”
So sped the messenger until he came
To Faríburz and gave him the dispatch,
Who summoned Tús and Gív and all the chiefs,
And then a new Tree fruited in the world.
The nobles and the Lions of Írán
All called a blessing down upon the Sháh,
The leader Tús gave up the royal standard,
The drums, the elephants, and golden boots
To Faríburz, and said to him: “They come
As worthy comrades to a worthy man.
May fortune always give thee victory,
Be every day of thine a New Year's Day.”
Then Tús took all the kindred of Naudar,
Those warlike cavaliers and their command,
And making no delay upon the road
Came from the field of battle to the Sháh,
And kissed the ground before him, while Khusrau
Vouchsafed not so much as to look at him,
And only spake to utter malisons,
Disgraced Tús in the presence of the court,
And said at last: “Thou man of evil mark!
Let thy name cease among the illustrious.
Dost thou not fear the holy Lord of earth?
Hast thou no awe or reverence for heroes?
I gave to thee a royal helm and girdle,
And sent thee forth to fight against the foe.
Did not I say: ‘Go not toward Charam’?
Yet didst thou go and give my heart to sorrow,
Didst first of all take vengeance on myself,
And minishedst the race of Siyáwush!
My noble brother—brave Farúd—whose peer
The age had not thou slewest, and to fight
With him 'twould need a host of men like thee!
Thou wast absorbed in minstrelsy and feasting!
Thou hast no place among the throng of men,
The things for thee are chains and straps and madhouse;
Nor hast thou business with the men of rank,
Because thou hast no wise considerance.
Thy white beard and descent from Minúchihr
Have given thee hope of life; else had I bidden
One of thine enemies to be thy headsman.
Go! Let a prison be thy home henceforth,
And let thine evil nature be thy jailor.”
He drave Tús out, put him in bonds, and tore
The root of gladness from his bosom's core.
So Faríburz, since he was paladin
As well as prince, assumed the casque and bade
Ruhhám display his name and native worth
By going from the mountain to Pírán
To treat with him: “Go to Pírán,” he said,
“Convey to him a friendly embassage,
And say: ‘The process of the turning sky
Hath been fraught ever thus with hate and love:
It lifteth one to heaven on high, another
It maketh vile, sad, and calamitous,
Him specially that seeketh warriors' hurt.
Now night-attacks are not the wont of heroes
And mighty men that brandish massive maces.
If thou wilt cease from arms we too will cease;
If thou preferrest war then we will fight,
In order that the wounded may recruit.’”
The brave Ruhhám went out from Faríburz,
And took with him the message and the letter.
He went his way, the Turkman outposts saw him,
And asked him who he was and whence he came.
Ruhhám replied: “A warrior am I,
A man of prowess, weight, and watchfulness—
The bearer of a message to Pírán
From Faríburz the son of Sháh Káús.”
A horseman of the outpost went like dust
To tell the tidings, and thus spake: “Ruhhám,
Son of Gúdarz, hath come to see the chief.”
Pírán commanded him to be brought in,
And treated with all honour and respect.
The eloquent Ruhhám approached in dread
Of what the foe might purpose, but Pírán,
On seeing him, received him graciously,
And placed him on the throne. Ruhhám then told
His business, and Pírán said: “'Tis no trifle;
Ye stirred up strife; we marked no sloth in Tús;
He crossed the border like a savage wolf,
And slaughtered great and small remorselessly.
What multitudes he slew or carried off!
Our country's weal and woe were one to him.
Still now, although they took us unaware,
The Íránians are repaid for their ill deeds;
So if thou art the captain of the host
Demand of me according as thou needest.
If thou wilt have a month of armistice
None of our horsemen shall go forth to fight.
If thou wilt fight I too am fain for war;
Prepare and set the battle in array.
In marching from the frontiers of Túrán,
And in a swift retreat to your own borders,
Ye will behold your reputation saved;
But if not we will close with you in fight;
Ask not for any armistice henceforth.”
He gave a robe of honour to Ruhhám,
One suited to a man of his repute,
And brave Ruhhám conveyed to Faríburz
A letter like the one that he had brought.
When Faríburz had gained a month's delay
He clutched in all directions like a lion.
They loosed the fastenings of the money-bags,
They gathered bows and lassos from all sides;
They went about, reorganised the host,
And partially regained what had been lost.
When with the ending of the month came war,
For they observed their compact honourably,
The soldiers' shouts went up on every side,
And all set forward to the battlefield;
The din of trumpet, drum, and bell shook heaven,
While what with chargers' crests, reins, hands, and
swords,
Bows, battle-axes, lances, maces, bucklers,
And lassos, gnats could find no way. “The world,”
Or heaven level with earth!”
Upon the right
Was Gív son of Gúdarz, an archimage
And marchlord, on the left the skilled Ashkash,
Who shed blood in a river when he fought;
Before the standard at the army's centre
Was Faríburz, the son of Sháh Káús,
With men of battle. He harangued his troops,
And said: “Till now our prowess hath been hidden,
But we will fight to-day as lions fight,
And make the world too narrow for our foes;
Else will our maces and our Rúman casques
Laugh at the host for this disgrace for ever.”
They made a heavy rain of arrows fall
Like autumn tempests beating on a tree.
For arrows and the dust of shouting troops
No bird had room to fly, the falchions shone
Like diamonds and flamed amid the dust.
Thou wouldst have said: “Earth is a negro's face;
The stars are warriors' hearts.” The multitudes
Of maces, spears, and trenchant scimitars
Brought Doomsday on the world. Gív from the centre
Advanced with lips a-foam and raised his war-cry.
He with the noble kinsmen of Gúdarz,
With whom the issue lay for good or ill,
From steel. Gúdarz fought fiercely with Pírán,
And slew nine hundred of his kin. Lahhák
And Farshídward saw how their mighty host
Was going up in dust and charged on Gív,
Upon his mace-men and his valiant troops.
Shafts fell in showers from the chieftains' bows
Upon those famous warriors clad in mail
Till none could see the surface of the ground,
Earth was so hidden by the mass of slain,
While no man turned his back upon another
Or left his post. At length Húmán spake thus
To Farshídward: “We must attack the centre,
And, routing Faríburz, deprive the host
Of his support; it will be easy then
To beat the right wing and to seize the baggage.”
They fell upon the centre, Faríburz
Fled from Húmán, the fighting line was broken,
The haughty chiefs gave way, each took his course,
Not one Íránian warrior stood his ground.
They saw the drums and standard in position
No more, and so with eyes bedimmed with fighting
They turned their backs upon the enemy,
And in that action only grasped the wind.
The tymbals, spears, and standard were o'erthrown,
Men could not tell the stirrup from the rein,
The mountains and the plains were drenched with blood.
Then Faríburz, as foes were gathering
On every side, made for the mountain-skirt
With those Íránians whose life was whole,
Although for such a life one needs must weep.
Gúdarz and Gív with many warriors
Of fame among the troops still held their own;
But when Gúdarz observed the centre bare,
No flag of Faríburz, no chiefs or troops,
He turned with heart afire as if to flee:
'Twas Doomsday for the kindred of Gúdarz.
Gív said to him: “O ancient general!
Much hast thou seen of mace, and sparth, and arrow,
And if thy purpose is to flee Pírán
I needs must scatter dust upon my head.
Of chieftains and of veteran warriors
There will remain not one alive on earth.
For thee and me there is no cure for dying.
Death is the very last calamity,
And, since our ruggéd hour hath come upon us,
The foe should see thy face and not thy back.
I will not quit my post, let us not shame
Thy father's dust. Hast thou heard never then
This ancient saying from some man of lore:—
‘When buttressed back to back two brethren stand
A mountain-mass is but as dust in hand’?
Thou art alive with seventy valiant sons,
And thou hast many Elephants and Lions
Among thy kindred. Break we with our swords
The foe's heart and uproot him though a Mountain.”
Gúdarz, when he had heard the words of Gív,
And marked the helmed heads of his warrior-kin,
Repented of his cautious rede and took
A firmer stand. Guráza, Gustaham,
With Barta and brave Zanga came to them,
And made a compact by a binding oath:—
This field, but, back to back, strive to retrieve
Our honour lost.”
They took their stand and plied
The mace. Full many a noble foe was slain,
But fortune favoured not the Íránians.
Then old Gúdarz said to Bízhan: “Depart
Hence quickly, take with thee thy mace, and arrows,
Direct thy horse's reins toward Faríburz,
And bring me Káwa's standard. It may be
That Faríburz will come with it himself,
And flush the face of earth with violet.”
Bízhan on hearing this urged on his steed,
Came like Ázargashasp to Faríburz,
And said to him: “Why art thou hiding here?
Employ thy reins as warriors use to do,
And stay no longer on the mountain-top;
But if thou wilt not come entrust to me
The flag and horsemen with their blue steel swords.”
But Faríburz, no mate for wisdom then,
Cried out: “Away! Thou art in action rash
And new to war. The Sháh gave me the standard,
The host, crown, throne, and leadership. This flag
Becometh not Bízhan the son of Gív,
Or any other warrior in the world.”
Bízhan laid hand upon his blue steel sword,
Struck at the standard, clove it in the midst,
Seized half thereof and, rushing from the throng,
Made off to bear the banner to the host.
Now, when the Turkmans saw it on the way,
A band of lion-hearted warriors
Went toward Bízhan and drew their iron sparths,
And blue steel swords, to fight for Káwa's standard.
Then spake Húmán: “Yon is the violet flag
Wherein is all the virtue of Írán;
Strait to the Sháh.”
Bízhan strung up his bow
As quick as dust, discharged a shower of arrows
Upon his foes, and, as he drove them back,
Prepared a banquet for the ravening wolf.
The cavaliers hard by said unto Gív
And Gustaham: “The Turkmans are retreating;
Perchance Bízhan is coming with the standard.”
The brave chiefs of the Íránian host advancing
With massive maces slew the Turkman horse
In numbers. Famed Bízhan arrived apace,
And thence the chieftains held the ground for him
Up to the host. Like lion fierce he came
With Káwa's flag, the soldiers gathered round it,
And air grew violet-dim with horsemen's dust.
Once more the Íránian host advanced to fight,
And in the foremost rank Rívníz was slain,
Who was as dear as life to Kai Káús,
A younger son, a prince who wore a crown,
Beloved by Faríburz. When that head fell
Full many a noble hero rent his clothes,
And Gív exclaimed: “Chiefs, valiant warriors!
Upon this field of battle Faríburz,
The son of Sháh Káús, esteemed Rívníz
Above all else. The grandson and the son
Of old Káús—Farúd the son of Siyáwush
And now Rívníz—have perished all in vain!
What greater wonder hath the world in store?
Amid the ranks of war, for that would be
Disgrace upon disgrace through it and through
The slaughter of Rívníz.”
Now brave Pírán,
The noble chieftain, heard the words of Gív,
And o'er that crown the battle rose afresh.
On both sides many fell and fortune quitted
The Íránians, yet Bahrám the warrior
Charged lion-like the foe and carried off
The crown upon his spear-point, while both hosts
Stood wondering, the Íránians full of joy
At rescuing that crown so late assumed.
The combat waxed more fierce, none turned aside,
They raged and smote each other on the head
Until the day grew dark, and eyes were baffled.
Eight of the kinsmen of Gúdarz survived;
The rest had fallen on the battlefield.94
Of Gív's seed there had perished five and twenty—
Men who were fit for diadem and treasure—
With seventy of the offspring of Káús,
All cavaliers and Lions in the fight,
Besides Rívníz that crownèd warrior,
No unit merely in the reckoning.
Nine hundred horsemen, kinsmen of Pírán,
Were missing in the battle on that day,
While of the lineage of Afrásiyáb
The fortunes of three hundred slept, howbeit
The field, the day, and therewithal the standard—
The lustre of the world—were with Pírán:
Their combat-seeking ended in mishap,
They turned their faces from the battlefield,
Abandoning the wounded to their fate.
Now Gustaham had had his charger killed
As fortune turned away, and he in mail
Went spear in hand afoot like one bemused.
Bízhan, approaching him as day grew dark,
Said to him: “Ho! Get up and ride behind me:
There is none dearer to me than thyself.”
So both of them bestrode a single charger.
When day was done they sought the mountain-skirt,
Abandoning the battle in a rout.
The Turkman cavaliers, with joyful hearts
Released from travail and anxiety,
Returned to their own camp with haughty mien
And fit for fight, while on the Íránian side
The ears were deafened by heart-rending cries,
As all mourned on the mountain friend or kinsman.
Such is the process of this ancient sky!
Turn as it may there is no remedy,
And still it turneth o'er us loving none,
But treating friend and enemy as one,
Well may it be a cause of dread to all
Whose fortune's head is bending to a fall!
That night, when both the armies were at rest,
“O mine illustrious sire and worshipful!
When I retrieved that crown, and raised it cloudward
Upon my spear, I lost a whip of mine.
Those villain Turkmans, when they pick it up,
Will break their jests upon the great Bahrám;
The world will be all ebon in mine eyes.
The Turkman general will use a whip
That hath my name inscribed upon the leather.
I will go quickly and recover it
However great and long the toil may be.
Doth this ill come upon me from the stars
That my renown may go down to the dust?”
Said old Gúdarz: “O son! thou wilt but end
Thy fortunes. Wilt thou face the foemen's breath
So madly for a stick bound round with leather?”
Gív said: “My brother! go not forth. New whips
Have I in plenty—one whose haft is gold
And silver, two with handles of fine pearls
And other gems. When Farangís unlocked
The treasury and gave so many arms
And belts to me I took this whip and breastplate;
The rest I left unheeded in Túrán.96
Moreover Sháh Káús bestowed upon me
And five I have besides of golden work
Inwrought with royal gems, and all the seven
Will I bestow upon thee. Go not forth
And wantonly provoke a new engagement.”
Said brave Bahrám to Gív: “I cannot hold
This shame of small account. Your talk is all
Of colour and design, mine of a name
Now wedded to disgrace. I will recover
My whip or, by endeavouring this, will bring
Mine own head to the shears.”
Bahrám misread
God's purpose, and his fortune proved averse.
The fool is all agog to take his leap
Just when his fortune falleth into sleep!
Bahrám pricked forth by moonlight to the field,
And bitterly bewailed the slain, those luckless
And heart-seared ones. The body of Rívníz
Was whelmed in blood and dust, his tunic rent.
Bahrám the Lion wept for him and cried:—
“Alas! O young and valiant cavalier!
Men slain like thee are but a pinch of dust!
For nobles palaces, for thee a trench!”
Among his brethren flung on that broad plain
He roamed. One, stricken by the scimitar,
Of all those chiefs still lived. He marked Bahrám,
Wailed, asked his name, and said: “O Lion! I live,
Though flung among the slain, and I have craved
For two days bread and water and a robe
To sleep upon!”
Bahrám made haste to him
With loving spirit and a kinsman's heart,
Rent his own raiment into strips to bind
The wounds, and said: “Fear not; 'tis but a scratch,
And merely needeth binding. Thou shalt go,
When I have bound it, to the host again,
And speedily recover of thy hurts.”
He thus restored one that was lost but knew not
That he himself was doomed to lose his way.
He said: “Stay here, youth! till I hurry back.
While I was fighting for the crown I dropped
My whip; when I have found it I will come,
And take thee to the army with all speed.”
Thence hasting to the centre of the field
He searched about until he found the whip,
Which was amid a heap of wounded men
With much dust showered thereon and blood withal.
Alighting from his steed he took it up,
And heard the sound of neighing. His steed likewise
Perceived the neighing of some mares, became
As nimble as Ázargashasp, rushed off,
And turned its head toward them while Bahrám
In dudgeon followed after in his tunic
And helmet, with the sweat upon his face
With hurrying, until he reached the horse
And, having caught it, mounted carrying
In hand an Indian sword; but, when he spurred,
The steed moved not a foot. Both man and horse
Were covered o'er with dust and sweat. Bahrám
Was so chagrined that with his scimitar
He slew the steed. Thence to the battlefield
He went as swift as wind. There all the plain
Was covered with the dead, and all the ground
Upon the plain,” he said, “without a horse?”
The foe grew ware of him and from the centre
There hasted forth a hundred cavaliers
To capture him and from the battlefield
Convey him to Pírán. Bahrám the Lion
Strung up his bow and showered shafts upon them—
A hero's shafts—so who could bide about him?
He slew or wounded most of them and sprang
Like some fierce lion at his enemies.
The rest withdrew and sought Pírán, exclaiming:—
“Behold a Lion both in pluck and might,
Who though afoot will do his kind in fight!”
The troops on their return informed Pírán
Of that youth's deeds, and much talk passed thereon.
Pírán inquired: “Who is this man? What name
Hath he among the noble?”
One replied:—
“Bahrám the lion-queller, the host's lustre.”
Pírán said to Rúín: “Arise. Bahrám
Can not escape. If thou canst take him living
The age will rest from strife. Take troops enough,
For he is famed and valiant.”
Rúín went off on hostile thoughts intent.
Bahrám perceived him quick as dust and showered
Shafts on him, sitting on a mound the while,
A Lion bold with shield before his head.
Rúín son of Pírán was arrow-pierced,
The others lost all keenness for the fight.
They came disheartened to the paladin,
Full of concern and dudgeon, saying thus:—
“None ever fought so, and we have not seen
In any stream so fierce a crocodile.”
Pírán was sore distraught at this account,
And trembled like the leaf upon the tree;
Then mounting on his fiery steed went forth,
Accompanied by many warriors,
And coming to Bahrám said: “Famous chief!
Why is it that thou combatest afoot?
When thou wast in Túrán with Siyáwush99
Thou usedst to be prudent, shrewd, reserved:
We should eat bread and salt together, we
Should sit together and become fast friends.
With such high lineage and native worth,
Such lion-manhood and exceeding prowess,
Thy head must not be levelled with the dust,
And kin and country sorrow for thy sake.
Come let us make a covenant by oath
On such wise as shall satisfy thy heart;
Then will I make affinity with thee
And, having made it, will advance thee more.
Thou canst not fight against these famous troops
On foot! Be not a traitor to thyself.”
Bahrám said: “Paladin wise, shrewd, and ardent,
My lips have tasted nothing for three days,
And day and night have I been combating;
Unless thou wilt provide me with a steed
To bear me back to the Íránians,
Back to the old Gúdarz son of Kishwád.”
Pírán said: “Know'st thou not, O atheling!
That I can countenance no such design?
What I suggested is the better course:
Thou art a brave man; act not recklessly.
Consider that the horsemen of our host
Hold it no small dishonour to themselves
That many of the scions of the great—
Men who wore diadems, well skilled in war—
Were killed or wounded by thee in the fight,
And smirched with dust. Who will approach Írán
Now but with tingling in his blood and brain?
If there were no fear of Afrásiyáb,
And that his heart would be enraged at me,
I would, O youth! provide thee with a steed
To bear thee homeward to the paladin.”
He spake thus, turned about, and went his way,
Love in his heart but prudence in his head,
While from the host Tazháv—a man whose might
Surpassed an elephant's—came forth to meet him,
And asked him what had passed. Pírán replied:—
“There is no warrior equal to Bahrám.
I gave him out of kindness much good counsel,
Showed him his course, and proffered goodly league;
Mine offers found no access to his heart;
He fain would go back to the Íránian host.”
Tazháv replied: “Love will not win his soul;
Now I will go and if I capture him
Afoot will put him 'neath the stones forthwith.”
Where brave Bahrám was all alone in arms,
And, when he saw Bahrám with spear in hand,
Cried loudly like a furious elephant,
And said to him: “Thou wilt not get away
In this fight from these famous warriors.
Dost thou expect to go back to Írán?
Dost thou expect to lift thy head on high?
Thou hast cut off our princes' heads. Abide,
For now thine own time draweth to a head.”
He bade his mates: “Lay on and give it him
With arrow, double-headed dart, and dagger.”
The troops closed in a body on Bahrám,
All who were chief among the valiant men,
While he the hero having strung his bow
Dimmed with his shafts the brightness of the sky.
When arrows failed he took his spear in hand,
Till plain and hill were like a sea of gore,
And when the spear was cloven he still shed blood
With mace and sword like raindrops from a cloud.
The fight continued on this wise: Bahrám
Was wounded by the shafts of his brave foes,
And, when the hero's strength and vigour failed,
Tazháv came up and struck him from behind
A sword-cut on the shoulder. Brave Bahrám
Fell from the hillock on his face; the hand
That used to wield the sword was smitten off;
He ceased from combating and all was over.
E'en fell Tazháv grew hot of heart for him,
And, as in shame and grief he turned his reins,
He felt the warm blood tingling in his veins.
When bright Sol showed its back, Gív, heart-oppressed
About his brother, spake thus to Bízhan:—
“Joy of my heart! my brother cometh not!
Let us not have to sorrow for the slain.”
The valiant pair departed swift as dust
Toward the battlefield—the place of strife.
They sought him everywhere and, having found him,
Rushed anxiously toward him, shedding tears
Of blood. He lay—a wreck of gore and dust;
One hand was severed; all was over with him.
The gallant Gív fell from his charger's back,
And roared out like a lion. At the sound
Bahrám moved, turned, and gaining consciousness
Spake thus to Gív: “O seeker after fame!
When thou hast shrouded me upon my bier
Avenge me on Tazháv; that Bull may not
Withstand the Lion. From the first Pírán,
The son of Wísa, proved a friend to me,
Unlike the chiefs of Chín who sought revenge,
And then Tazháv, the injurious, gave these wounds,
Forgetting birth and rank.”
Gív, when Bahrám
Had spoken this, wept tears of gall and said:—
“I swear by God the Judge Omnipotent,
By white day and by azure night that till
I shall avenge Bahrám my head shall see
No covering save a Rúman helm.”
All vengeance
And grief he mounted, Indian sword in hand.
From outpost duty. Spying him afar
Brave Gív rode toward him with a freer breath
On seeing him thus parted from the host,
No chiefs or warriors near. Gív loosed his lasso,
And caught the foe about the waist forthwith,
Then placed the lasso 'neath his thigh, wheeled round,
And lightly dragged Tazháv from saddle-back,
Flung him to earth disgraced and all forlorn,
And springing from the saddle bound his hands.
Gív, mounting, like a madman haled Tazháv
Along the ground who begged for mercy, saying:—
“No fight is left in me, thou valiant man!
What have I done that of this countless host
Thou givest me to-night a glimpse of Hell?”
Gív struck him with the whip two hundred times
Across the head, and answered thus: “No words!
Dost thou not know, thou wretch! that thou hast set
A fresh tree in the garden of revenge—
One that will reach to heaven, one whose trunk
Is fed on blood while daggers are its fruit?
Since thou must hunt Bahrám thou shalt explore
The Crocodile's strait gullet, for the ill
That robbed Bahrám of life wrung Gív's heart too.”
“Thou art the eagle and the lark am I,”
Tazháv replied. “I bore Bahrám no grudge,
Nor caused his death; the cavaliers of Chín
Had slain him ere I came.”
“Pernicious wretch!”
Said Gív, “spare thine excuse and futile words.”
And said: “Behold this faithless head! I pay
The savage with the meed of savagery.
I thank the Maker, the Omnipotent,
That fate hath granted to me time enough
To take thy foeman's life before thine eyes.”
Tazháv begged quarter, saying: “That hath been
Which was to be. How will it profit thee
To take my head?”
Then wallowing in the dust
Before Bahrám he cried: “O noble man!
I will be thy soul's slave and wait upon
The keeper of thy tomb.”
Then said Bahrám
To Gív: “Whoever liveth hath to die.
Though he hath done me hurt he need not taste
The pangs of death, so spare his guilty head
That he may keep my memory alive.”
But Gív, who saw his brother with such wounds,
And him that did the hurt a captive, seized
Tazháv's beard with a shout and headed him
As 'twere a lark! Bahrám wept blood and marvelled
At heaven's processes, then raised a cry
Whose like, so strange it was, none ever heard:—
“If I shall slay, or thou slay in my presence,
My brothers or my kinsmen will be slain!”
This said, the brave Bahrám gave up the ghost.
'Tis ever thus with this world! He that would
Obtain the reins must bathe his hands in blood,
Slay or be slain! Shun thou ambition's mood.
On his own head, then, having bound his brother
Upon Tazháv's steed, mounted presently.
He brought the body from the battlefield,
And had a royal sepulchre prepared.
He filled the skull with spicery and musk,
Enwrapped the corpse in silk of Chín, and set it
In royal state upon an ivory throne
To sleep, suspending over it a crown,
And painting the tomb's portal red and blue:
Thou wouldst have said: “Bahrám hath never been.”
The famous warriors were absorbed in grief
For fortune changed, and for Bahrám their chief.
When bright Sol topped the mountains, and the head
And crown of white day showed, the scattered troops
Began to gather, and their converse ran:—
“Full many of the Íránian host are slain!
Our leader's fortune hath deserted him,
So mighty were the Turkmans' hands in fight!
The army must not tarry longer here:
We verily must go before the Sháh,
And see how fortune turneth. If his heart
Be not intent on war then thou and I
Have no occasion to exert ourselves.
The sires have lost their sons, the sons their sires,
And most are wounded or in sore distress;
But if the Sháh shall bid us to engage,
And shall equip a noble host, then we
Will march, our hearts filled with revenge and strife,
And make the world too narrow for our foes.”
Thus minded they retreated from those marches,
Their eyes surcharged with tears, their hearts with
anguish,
And sighs were on their tongues for kinsmen slain.
They marched together to the Kása rúd,
Farewelling with their tongues their fallen friends.
The scouts that went forth from the Turkman host
Saw none remaining on the battlefield,
And tidings reached Pírán the son of Wísa:—
“The land is cleared of the Íránians.”
Pírán, on hearing this, without delay
Sent forth spies secretly on every side
And, being certified that that proud foe
Was gone indeed, released his heart from care.
He set forth with an escort at the dawn,
And went about to view the battlefield.
The plain and mountains, valleys and ravines,
Had tents and tent-enclosures numberless.
He gave them to the soldiers, marched away,
And marvelled at the process of the world:
One day a rise, another day a fall,
Now all is gladness and then terror all,
In sooth our best course is the cup to raise
That maketh earth look bright, and fleet the days.
Pírán sent one to tell Afrásiyáb,
Who heard and joyed released from care and trouble.
The multitude light-hearted in their gladness
Adorned the road whereby Pírán must pass;
They decorated all the roofs and doors,
And poured out drachms in showers upon his head.
As soon as he approached Afrásiyáb
The king went forth with gifts to welcome him,
And called down many a blessing on him, saying:—
“Thou hast no peer among the paladins.”
Then from the palace of Afrásiyáb
For two weeks rose the sounds of harp and rebeck,
While on the third Pírán resolved to go
Rejoicing to his home. The Turkman king
Impatient if I told of the dínárs,
The royal jewels, belts of gold with gems,
The Arab steeds with golden furniture,
The Indian scimitars with golden sheaths,
The splendid throne of teak and ivory,
The couch of turquoise and the amber crown,
The girls from Chín, the boys from Rúm, with beakers
Of turquoise filled with musk and spicery.
This wealth Afrásiyáb sent to Pírán,
And added many other gifts beside,
While as the general left the royal presence
The king addressed him thus: “My loyal hero!
Be prudent, keep the fellowship of priests,
And guard the army from the enemy.
Dispatch in all directions trusty men
To act as spies and privily withal,
For Kai Khusrau is now possessed of wealth;
Beneficence and justice deck his land.
Since noble lineage and crown and throne
Are thine desire not any good beside.
Be not secure because the foe hath gone,
But seek fresh tidings as occasion serveth.
Thy soul will suffer if thou sleep'st at ease
So long as Rustam is the paladin—
The only man that giveth me concern—
For his whole business is to seek revenge.
I fear that he will rouse himself and lead
The armies of Írán against Túrán.”
Pírán, as captain of the host and kinsman,
Accepted all the counsel of the king,
And set forth with his troops toward Khutan.
Now that the story of Farúd is ended
Hear the campaign wherein Kámús contended.
THE poet, having offered up his praises to the Maker, goes on to tell of the wrath of Kai Khusrau with the host. Ultimately, however, at Rustam's request, he restores Tús to favour, and sends him against Túrán. Tús is again unsuccessful, and is beleaguered on a mountain. The news reaches Kai Khusrau, who dispatches Rustam with reinforcements, while Afrásiyáb sends Kámús of Kashán and the Khán of Chín with vast hosts to assist his general Pírán. Fierce fighting follows, and Kámús is slain by Rustam.
In its earlier scenes this campaign is a variant of the preceding one. In both Tús commands the Íránians and is defeated, in both the Gúdarzians suffer great losses, in both there are a snowstorm and a night-attack, and in both the Íránians take refuge on a mountain. Naturally the details vary, but the general similarity is unmistakable. Nothing but the existence of a variant can account for the fact that Tús is put in command again after his behaviour in the first campaign, and there is a legend, probably known to Firdausí, which puts a different complexion on the matter.108
In the poem the difficulty is got over by the intervention of Rustam, who begs the culprit off, as he does later on in the case of Gurgín.108a
In the second night-attack, in which the positions of assailants and defenders are reversed, Húmán takes just the part that Gív is represented as taking on the first occasion.
If we are content to regard the account given in the poem of the latter part of this campaign merely as Firdausí has presented it, perhaps we may identify the Kashán with which Kámús' name is associated as that mentioned by Tabarí108b
and situated in Ferghána, which is now a province of Russian Turkistán. We ought not, however, to overlook the probability that reminiscences of the Parthian civil wars of the days of Gotarzes and Vardanes have been embodied in the story. In this case, as in that of the wars of Gushtásp and Arjásp later on, what in reality were civil broils came in time to be looked back upon as wars between Írán and Túrán. With the historical fact of the great Persian satraps ranging themselves in opposing camps before us, there seems no reason why the Kashán originally intended may not have been the one in Persia on the highroad between Ispahán and Tihrán. Firdausí's account, however, clearly favours that in Turkistán, and we must not forget that the nomads took part in the contention between the rival Parthian princes.109
§ 28. The story of Rustam's fight with Ashkabús is famous both on account of its own merits and for the curious legend told in connexion with it. One day, it is said, at the court of Mahmúd a discussion arose as to the merits of Firdausí as a poet, and it was arranged between his supporters and detractors in the presence of the Sultán that he should put one of the legends, of which nothing but the bare facts remained, into verse the same day, to ascertain how far his version could be considered an improvement on the original. The story chosen was that of Rustam's fight with Ashkabús of Kashán. Firdausí's rendering of the episode delighted the assembly, the lines about the stringing and discharging of the bow especially fascinating Mahmúd, who repeated them several times and praised them highly. That night Firdausí dreamed that he met Rustam at the gate of Makná Bád. The here was on foot, fully armed, of terrible aspect, and with how in hand, just as the poet had described him. Rustam greeted the poet graciously, but wept and said: “I desire to pay my debt to thee, but have not power to do so. However, when I took the torque from the neck of the fee, and desired not to retain it, I made a hole in the ground yonder with the head of my spear, and buried the torque there. Go now and take it up.” He pointed out a little hillock on the sand, and, having placed an arrow upon his bow, shot at it. Firdausí remembered the dream and, some time afterward, happening to pass by Makná Bád in attendance on the Sultán, he made the story known. The mound was excavated, and several torques of red gold were discovered. The Sultán gave them to Firdausí, who refused to keep them for himself, and distributed them among the other court poets.109a
The name revealed by wisdom to the heart,
The Lord of being and uprightness—One
That brooketh not perverseness on thy part—
The Lord of Saturn, Mars, and Sol, from Whom
Our gospel are, our hopes, and dread of doom!
I know not how to praise Him though in thought
I pour my soul. He fashioned space and time;
The emmet's foot with proofs of Him is fraught.
From yonder circling sun to earthly grime,
Bright fire, air, water, all are witnesses,
And give thy soul assurance, that He is.
Let it be thine the Maker to revere,
Who hath no need of aught, no need of crown
And throne, of minister and treasurer,
Of less or more, of fortune's smile or frown;
Yet, though He needeth naught, His slaves are we,
And bow before His bidding and decree.
Since He created wisdom and the mind,
Past doubt, and set the heaven and stars on high,
In Him supreme the sole Creator find,
And Source of happiness and misery,
Of food and sleep, of anger and of love.
Of Rustam's wondrous deeds there is no scant,
His legend in the hearts of all is rife;
A crocodile in water, elephant
On land, wise, shrewd of heart, a man of strife,
Consummate both in war and valiancy,
A man of knowledge, wit, and weight was he.
His battle with Kámús I next present
In mine own words but based on document,
So turn now to the rustic minstrel's lay,
Mark what that man world-proven hath to say.
The troops with Faríburz, Gúdarz, and Gív—
The shatterer of hosts—went to Írán
In grief with tearful cheeks. When they had reached
The road toward Charam and had Kalát
Above, the waters of Mayam below,
They spake about the conflict with Farúd,
And all their gain was anguish and remorse.
Fear of the Sháh filled every heart with pain,
For they were guilty and their eyes wept blood.
They came before Khusrau with souls abashed,
With wounded livers, and as men in fault
For having slain their monarch's blameless brother,
And yielded crown and signet to the foe;
They came with hearts seared and with folded arms,
As slaves are wont, before their sovereign.
Khusrau regarded them with angry looks;
His heart was full of pain, his eyes of tears,
And thus he spake to God: “O righteous Judge!
Thou gavest to me fortune, throne, and prowess,
But now I shame before Thee. Thou dost know,
Far better than I know, the why and how
A thousand stakes forthwith upon the open,
And Tús and all that carried arms with him
Should be impaled. I mourned my father's death,
My heart was filled with sorrow, pain, and trouble,
And now there is new vengeance for Farúd,
For I must needs smite off the head of Tús.
I said: ‘Avoid Kalát, avoid Charam,
Though people should shower drachms upon thy head,
Because Farúd is with his mother there.
He is a hero of the Kaian race—
A warrior.’ Should he know vile Tús or why
The army marched? Of course he would attack,
And from the mountain slaughter many chiefs.
Why did inhuman and insensate Tús
March in such haste against that hold? Good sooth!
The Master of the sky no longer favoureth
Him and the host. The kindred of Gúdarz
Fared ill through him. Be he, his elephants,
And drums accursed. I gave him robes of honour
And gifts, and sent him forth to fight—my brother!
Away with chiefs like Tús son of Naudar!
May no such paladins be generals!
Alas! alas! the son of Siyáwush—
Farúd—with that stout heart, that mace and sword,
Who, like his sire, was slain though innocent,
Slain by my general and by my troops!
None know I worse than Tús, and he is ripe
For chain and pit. Brainless and veinless too
The wretch is as a dog to me.”
He writhed
With stricken liver to avenge his brother
And father's blood, dismissed the troops disgraced,
Of audience, being wounded to the soul
With anguish for Farúd. The warriors
Went sad and sorry to the court of Rustam,
And thus excused themselves: “God willed it so!
Who wished to fight Farúd? Still when the son.
Of Tús was slain the chieftains' heads grew dark
At that disgrace and, when his son-in-law
Rívníz fell too, misfortune's worst was done.
Who knew the name and bearings of Farúd,
And wished to wound him through our monarch's
heart?
Plead with the Sháh. Perchance he will refrain
From vengeance on the host. Was not Rívníz,
The son of Kai Káús, slain grievously
In fight as well—a younger son and warrior,
Dear to the father of moon-faced Khusrau?
Such is the issue that all battles have,
To this a crown, to that a narrow grave!”
When Sol had gilt earth's face, and darksome night
Was taken in the toils, shouts rose before
The palace portal and the peerless Rustam
Came to the Sháh, and said: “O great Khusrau!
Throne, crown, and signet-ring rejoice in thee.
The Sháh is wroth with Tús and with the host,
But pardon their wrong-doing for my sake.
When Tús beheld his son and son-in-law
Both slaughtered, prudence left his brain and heart,
For first, he is not wise but choleric,
And next, a son's life is no light concern;
So when Rívníz was slain before his face,
And that proud cavalier Zarásp withal,
No wonder if he blazed. The Sháh should not
Take vengeance on him. Then again the host
Because he had not visited the Sháh.
Know that the date when each must die is fixed,
And be not grieved hereat. Our spirit passeth,
Or else is made to pass. Three hundred spells
Will not delay it.”
Kai Khusrau replied:—
“O paladin! I sorrowed for this youth,
But now thy rede is solace to my soul,
Though still I ache at heart.”
Then Rustam kissed
The ground before the monarch of the world.
So when the sun had shot its rays on high,
And hastened to ascend upon its curve,
When it had rent its turquoise robes of gloom,
So that its ruddy, shining form showed through,
The general, Gív, and other warriors
Approached the Sháh with blessings, and Tús said:—
“Live fortunate till time shall be no more.
Be earth the basis of thy crown and throne,
And heaven the guardian of thy Grace and fortune.
My heart is sorrowful, my liver wounded
With pain for my misdeed, my mind is full
Of shame, my tongue is all excuse, my soul
All fault, I burn as 'twere Ázargashasp
In anguish for the pure souls of Farúd
And of Zarásp. If I am guiltier
Than others I am writhing for my deed.
When valued with Bahrám and with Rívníz
Mine own life is not worth a single mite;
So if the Sháh will cease from wrath with me,
And with this noble but offending host,
I will go forth to cancel this disgrace,
And will exalt our fallen heads anew;
Be it to keep my life or lose my head.
Henceforth I will not look at throne and crown,
My head shall see naught but a helm of Rúm.”
The monarch graciously received these words;
His heart grew fresh as roses in the spring.
He counselled much with Rustam, with the chiefs
And warriors, then sent Tús 'gainst Túrán
With elephants and shawms and kettledrums.
The company dispersed without delay,
And Rustam also homeward took his way.
When bright Sol showed, and when from night's bent
bow
Dawn brake, Tús with the great men of the host
Came to Khusrau who said: “Trace of this feud
Is never lost. Begun by Salm and Túr
It had fresh impulse given by Minúchihr,
But never was a Sháh so shamed as I,
Or earth so glutted with his warriors' gore!
The hills have girt them with Gúdarzians' blood
For whom weep bird and fish by land and sea.
O'er the Túránians' waste the Íránians' hands
And feet and trunks lie scattered! Are your counsels
Auspicious? Are ye all heart-stirred to vengeance?”
The gallant warriors, with folded arms
Before that sunlike and aspiring one,
All kissed the ground together—warriors,
Such as Ruhhám, Gurgín, Gúdarz, and Tús,
Kharrád and Zanga son of Sháwarán,
Bízhan and Gív and other men of might.
hast
The heart withal to pluck out lions' hearts!
We all of us are slaves of thine and hang
Our heads in reverence, O Sháh! before thee.
If now the Sháh so biddeth we will all
Pour out our souls in fight, nor shall he mark
Aught ill from us if sun and moon shall lour not.”
Khusrau then summoned Gív and seated him
Upon the throne of greatness, praised him much,
Bestowing many a gift and mark of favour,
And said: “Thou seekest toil on mine account,
But sharest not my treasures. Tús though leader
Must not employ the drums and elephants
Against thy counsel rashly. Didst not see
How in Bahrám's case (may his soul rejoice!)
Great skill in warfare fashioned for itself
A dark, strait dwelling through the quest of fame
And ill advice? Brief though our sojourn be
Fame should remain behind us, not disgrace.”
Khusrau gave money, called the commissaries,
Spake much with Tús, and sought a lucky day
According to the stars for setting forth.
The chieftain Tús then came as general,
Received the standard, elephants, and drums,
And did obeisance while the soldiers shouted.
The earth heaved underneath the chargers' tramp;
The trumpet's blast went up. What with the mass
Of mail and Káwa's flag earth's face all turned
To violet. “The sun,” thou wouldst have said,
“Is quenched, the sky and stars are all asleep.”
The Sháh abode upon the plain with mace
And elephant till Tús the general
Had passed, who on an elephant outspread
A turquoise litter and thus Shahd-ward sped.
A cameleer bore blast-like to Pírán
This message: “I have reached the river Shahd
In arms and ready to contend with thee.”
Pírán, on hearing this, was sorely grieved
That, 'gainst his will, he needs must pack the loads,
And went forth with his chiefs—choice cavaliers
And brave—to learn about the Íránian host,
How many chiefs, and who, were there with Tús.
He drew his troops up on his side the stream,
And sent a greeting to the Íránian chief.
He said: “I everywhere showed kindliness
To Farangís and to the Sháh. I cried,
And seethed as on fierce fire, for Siyáwush;
But now the antidote doth bear the bane,
I share in all these ills.”
Tús was distressed,
Grieved at the words and sufferings of Pírán,
And say: ‘If thou speak'st sooth we have no quarrel.
Drop fealty, abandon thy surroundings,
And bar this door of fear and road of loss.
Go to the Sháh alone, he will requite thee,
Give thee a royal crown and paladinship.
When he recalleth thy good deeds thy pangs
Will pain him to the heart. Gúdarz and Gív
And other chieftains, nobles shrewd of heart,
Agree herein.’”
The envoy went like wind
Back to Pírán and told what he had heard
From Tús and from Gúdarz of ardent soul.
Pírán made answer: “I by night and day
Will ope my lips to praise the chieftain Tús.
I will go over, taking of my kin
Those who are wise and list to mine advice,
And send them, bag and baggage, to Írán.
An honoured head is more than crown and throne.”
He did not purpose acting in this way,
But sought to gain occasion by delay.
Pírán dispatched a camel-post by night
To tell Afrásiyáb: “Troops have arrived
With shawms and tymbals from Írán, commanded
By Gív, Gúdarz, and Tús, whom I have duped
And much advised with. Choose a warrior-host
Or else the war will be inglorious.
We may uproot the foe and fire their land,
The Íránian army ne'er will rest from strife.”
Afrásiyáb thereat convoked his captains,
Told what had chanced, and said: “Prepare for war.”
Afrásiyáb arrayed a power that dimmed
The eye of Sol; that host, so great that earth
Was hidden, on the tenth day reached Pírán,
Who having victualled and disposed the troops,
And loaded up the baggage, marched in haste,
Regarding not his promise, to the Shahd.
A scout came in to Tús and said to him:—
“Bind thou the drums upon the elephants
Because Pírán, perceiving downfall nigh,
Spake guilefully. We see the tyrant's standard
And army drawn up on the river-bank.”
Tús put his battle in array. They ranged
The elephants and tymbals on the plain.
The two lines, like two mountains, clashed in fight—
The Íránian horsemen and the Turkman troops.
The dust-clouds of the hosts so dimmed the sun
Of dart and javelin—and thou hadst said:—
“Earth planted air with tulips!” With the stir
Of horsemen with their golden belts, and all
The golden helmets and the golden shields,
A cloud in hue like sandarach arose,
And earth became like ebony with dust.
The horsemen's heads beneath the mighty maces
Seemed anvils 'neath smiths' hammers. Thou hadst
said:—
“The river is a wine-press running blood,
The air is like a reed-bed with the spears!”
Then many heads were caught in lasso-coils,
Then many an honoured form was cast away.
The shroud was mail, the pillow blood and dust;
The bosom had been hacked by scimitars.
Earth was a cercis-bloom, air ebony;
The din of tymbals filled the starry heaven.
What though the ambitious man a crown may gain,
Or but the battle's surge of blood and dust,
Yet from this world of our's depart he must,
Whate'er his portion—antidote or bane.
I wot not of the end but, this I know,
It is a cause for tears to have to go.
There was a famous Turkman named Arzhang,
One whose renown in warfare reached the clouds.
He sent the dust up from the battlefield,
And challenged the Íránians. Tús from far
Saw him and shouted, drew his sword and asked
That son of Zira: “What name bearest thou?
Who is thy fellow in the Turkman host?”
He said: “Arzhang am I, a warrior—
A noble Lion who can bide his time.
Now will I make the earth quake under thee,
And cast thy head upon the field of fight.”
Smote with the glittering falchion in his hand
That chieftain on the helm, and thou hadst said:—
“His body never bore a head at all!”
Pírán grieved sorely and the Turkman host,
And none came forth, but all the warriors
And chieftains of Túrán drew scimitar
And massive mace, and shouted to each other,
Those Lions: “Let us charge and make the world
Strait to the heart of Tús.”
Then said Húmán:—
“To-day we will prepare. Be not cast down.
If any noble of the Íránians
Shall come to challenge us we will dispatch
A man to fight him and will mark the issue,
But not provoke them rashly. What we need
Is respite for a day, but when the host
Is stirring, and the tymbals sound in camp,
Then from beyond the stream be onslaught made
With mace in hand if God and fortune aid.”
Húmán bestrode and spurred his eagle-steed.
Thou wouldst have said: “He is an iron wall,
Or Mount Alburz in mail!” He came before
The host to fight and grasped a glittering spear.
Tús too advanced; earth rang with clarion-blare.
“A miserable Tree like this up-springeth!
Hast thou indeed come forth to fight since thou
Hast come forth mounted and with spear in hand?
By the Sháh's life and head I would oppose thee
Without my breastplate, mace, and Rúman casque,
Just like a pard that clutcheth at its prey
Among the mountains. Thou shalt see how heroes
Fight if thou venturest.”
Húmán replied:—
“Be not o'er-weening for it is not good.
Though fate hath come upon one luckless chief,
And by thy hand, hold not the rest in scorn.
Arzhang had deemed himself no man at all
If matched with me upon the day of battle.
But have the Íránian warriors no shame?
Doth not the warm blood boil in any breast
In that their leader hath to champion them?
Have their hands failed to fight? Where are Bízhan
And Gív—those noble ones—and where Gúdarz,
Son of Kishwád, that taker of the world?
If thou art paladin why hast thou left
The centre for the field? The wise will own not
Thy kinship and the sane will hold thee mad.
Go, hold up Káwa's standard; generals
Come not to fight in person. Look for one
On whom the Sháh bestowed a robe of honour,
Some warrior in quest of crown and signet,
And order him to battle with the Lion,
And bring the hand of the high-handed down.
Ill would befall this noble host of thine
If thou wert slain by me, thy troops become
Discomfited. Save Rustam son of Zál,
And Sám the cavalier, I see no noble
Like thee within Írán whose ancestors
Were men renowned and Sháhs. No need of army
If thou wilt fight in person! Go thy way
That some aspirant from the host may face me;
Besides, if thou wilt list to true advice,
Wherein my soul and heart confirm my tongue,
The bravest smart when they encounter me.”
Tús said: “Exalted man! I am the leader,
But am withal a horseman of the fray.
Thou art a leader of the Turkman troops
Thyself! Why then hast thou come on the field?
If thy heart will accept advice of mine
Seek, 'tis my counsel, for a league with me.
Come with the noble captain of thy host
Before the Sháh because, while one surviveth,
These troops will rest no jot from this revenge.
Give not thyself thus madly to the wind,
And may my counsel ne'er recur to thee.
Leave those who should be slain to fight with us,
For not one guilty shall escape our vengeance,
So act the wise man's part. The Sháh directed:—
‘Harm not Pírán. He is my foster-sire,
Experienced, and my friend. Strive not with him
Unjustly, wantonly, and see that he
Hear thine advice.’”
Húmán said: “Right or wrong,
When bidden by a king of glorious race,
But must surrender all our heart to him.
Pírán himself desireth not this strife,
For he is noble, good, and generous.”
While Tús was parleying, the face of Gív
Resembled sandarach, he left the host
Like wind, “O Tús of glorious race!” he cried,
“A wily Turkman with his lips afoam
Hath come between the lines; why should he speak
So long with thee apart? Seek not the door
Of peace, speak only with thy scimitar.”
Húmán, on hearing, raged and said to Gív
Of sleepless fortune: “Wretchedest of all
The free! perish Gúdarz son of Kishwád!
Upon the day of battle at Ládan
Thou sawest me with Indian sword in hand
Where not one of his seed survived that read not
The inscription thereupon. For thee, thy fortune
Is like the face of Áhriman, and mourning
Is ever in thy house. If Tús slay me
Men still will use the mace and kettledrum.
Pírán is living and Afrásiyáb,
Who will avenge me promptly, but if Tús
Shall perish by my hand none of his troops
Will reach Írán. Bewail thy brothers' pangs,
Why railest thou at Tús son of Naudar?”
Come let us wheel about, begin the encounter,
And bend our brows in battle.”
Then Húmán:—
“All heads beneath a crown or helm must die.
Since death must come 'tis best upon the field,
And by the hand of some skilled cavalier,
A leader, prince, and ardent warrior.”
Then, grasping each his massive mace, they charged.
Earth reeled, day darkened, and a dust-cloud gathered
Above the scene of strife. Thou wouldst have said:—
“The night hath come on them by day, the sun—
The lustre of the world—is blotted out!”
Those mighty maces clashed and bent like bows
Of Chách, the ring of steel rose to the sky,
The wind of that contention reached the Shahd!
Thou wouldst have said: “Stone heads are in those
helms,
Those warriors' blows have blackened death's own face!”
They took in hand their Indian scimitars,
And sent sparks streaming out of stone and steel
First bent, then shivered. Dust-smirched and athirst
Each warrior clutched the other's leathern belt,
And pressed with all his weight upon the stirrups,
But neither came to dust. Húmán's belt snapped.
He leapt upon a fresh steed while Tús took
His quiver, strung his bow, and set thereon
A poplar arrow. He began to shower
His shafts upon his noble foe and wheeled
To left and right as horsemen use to do.
The points of steel and eagle-plumes bedimmed
The mid-day sun, the world became as 'twere
Night's second watch, its face like diamonds.
Pierced by a poplar shaft Húmán's steed fell;
He raised his shield to save his face and head.
On seeing him afoot upon the field,
And holding not his own, the Turkman chiefs
Brought him a noble mount, but when Húmán
Had seated him upon the bark-lined saddle,
With Indian sword in hand, the men of name
And warriors all drew near to him and said:—
“It groweth dark, there is no time, and strife
Is over for the day. May evil eyes
Be far from thee and fighting end in feast.”
His own lance to him), left the field, and sought
Pírán. A shout rose from the Turkman host:—
“How didst thou fare when face to face with Tús,
O warrior? Our hearts were full for thee!
God only knoweth what we felt!”
That Lion
Replied: “O brave and veteran warriors!
The day will bring us triumph, we shall take
Yon shining flag, all joy will be your portion,
And I shall have the stars of heaven for mine.”
Tús for his part was shouting through the night
Till cock-crow: “Is Húmán the man for me?
A raging lion should my foeman be.”
Now when high heaven had made its Crown of Jet,
And flung Pastilles on Lapislazuli,
The pickets hurried forth on every side,
And set the watch around the camps, but when
Sol showed in Cancer, and the world became
Fair as a Rúman's face, from both the camps
The sound of tymbals rose, the world was filled
With the blare of clarions, air was thick with flags,
Which gleamed red, yellow, black, and violet,
To battle. Thou hadst said: “Heaven, earth, and time
Don iron,” while the radiant sun was veiled
By dust of caracoling cavaliers,
And, what with neigh of steeds and din of drums,
Heaven kissed the earth. Húmán the chieftain wheeled
Before the ranks, a shining dart in hand,
And cried: “When I shall raise the battle-shout,
Urge on my charger and seethe up with rage,
Then draw ye forth your falchions as one man,
And hold your shields of Chín above your heads.
See nothing but your horses' crests and reins,
I want no bow, I want no lance's point,
But armed with sword and club and massive mace,
As is the use and wont of warriors,
Throw down your reins upon your horses' necks,
And give and take the buffets as they come.”
This said, the gallant horseman lion-like
Went to Pírán: “O paladin!” he cried,
“Unlock the weapons of our warriors,
Keep not dínárs within the treasury,
And hoard not arms. If we prevail to-day
Thy heart shall pluck the fruit of favouring stars.”
On his side Tús arrayed his host as 'twere
The eye of chanticleer. The warriors blessed him,
And hailed him as the paladin of earth,
Who triumphed in the battle, and whose valour
Sent dust up from Húmán. Then to Gúdarz,
Son of Kishwád, said Tús: “Let all wot well
That if we march forth, and our foes provail,
Our trust must be in God, not in ourselves;
At present let the chiefs with golden boots
Remain with Káwa's standard. Let none quit
The mountain; this is not the day and season
For strife and stir. Good sooth! the enemy
Out-number us two hundred times or more!”
Gúdarz replied: “If God will but avert
Our evil day the fact of more or less
Importeth not. Daunt not the Íránians,
For if the sky turn over us for ill
To wait is no avail. Array the host;
Dash not our souls with what may be.”
So Tús,
The chieftain, put the battle in array—
Men, drums, and elephants of war; the footmen
Went with the baggage to the heights, Gúdarz
Was on the right, Ruhhám shared with Gurgín
The left, the troops were ranked, anon the sky
Shook with the roar of drum and clarion,
Was choked with dust, none saw the ground beneath him,
The murky clouds rained showers of diamonds,
Fire flashed from helm and sword, the spear-heads
gleamed,
And massive maces whirled. Thou wouldst have
said:—
“The air is mace and iron, and the earth
Horseshoes and mail.” The plains and dales ran blood,
And swords were lamps that lit a world of night.
No one knew head from foot, such was the din
Of drum and clarion! Tús said to Gúdarz:—
“Night cometh and the astrologer hath told me:—
‘To-day until the night's third watch is passed
The warriors from their scimitars will pour
Blood on the field, like rain from some dark cloud;
But victory, I fear me, in the end
Will rest with our revengeful foes.’”
Shídúsh,
Ruhhám, Gív, Gustaham, Kharrád, Fárhád,
And brave Barzín came forth between the hosts,
Came liver-wounded, eager for revenge,
Like troops of dívs upon a murky night,
While in all quarters din assailed the clouds.
Húmán on his side mountain-huge led forth
His army troop on troop, and none could tell,
Amid the mass of maces, mallets, swords,
“Our work to-day must not be like the fight
Of yesterday, but we must sweep the earth
Of foemen lest they seek revenge hereafter.”
Then Tús advanced with foot-men, elephants,
And kettledrums, while spear-men, pavisers,
And javelin-men drew up before the horse-men.
“Leave not your posts,” he said, “and hold your shields
And spears in front of you, and we will see
The massive mace-play of their chivalry.”
Among the Turkmans there was one Bázúr
By name, adept in magic, versed in guile
And sorcery, and learnéd in the tongues
Of Chín and ancient Persia. To that warlock
Pírán said: “Scale the mountain-top and send
That sorcerer sped thither, and forthwith
Came snow and storm. The Íránian spearmen's hands
Failed in the snow and stress. Amid the tumult
And icy blast the warriors' war-cry rose,
And arrows rained. “Let all the army charge,”
Pírán bade. “While their hands freeze to their spears
None can show prowess.”
With a shout Húmán
Charged like a lusty dív. They slaughtered so
That 'twixt the lines there was a sea of gore,
The vales and wastes were filled with snow and blood,
The horsemen of Írán were overthrown,
Till corpses left no room to wheel; the ground
Was blocked by snow and fallen. Tús the leader
And other chiefs cried bitterly to heaven:—
“O Higher than all knowledge, sense, and reason,
Not at, or in, but everywhere! we all
Are Thy transgressing slaves and in our straits
Appeal to Thee, for Thou wilt help the helpless,
And art the Lord of fire and icy blast.
Deliver us from this excessive cold;
We look for aid to Thee and Thee alone.”
A sage approached Ruhhám and showed the height
Ruhhám wheeled round and quitting field and host,
And girding up his mail-skirts to his waist,
Clomb to the mountain-top. The warlock saw him,
And, grasping a steel mace of Chín, advanced
To fight. Ruhhám, approaching, quickly drew
His trenchant scimitar and hacked away
The warlock's hand. Like Doomsday came a blast,
And swept the murk from heaven. Staying thus
The sorcerer's hand the brave Ruhhám descended,
Regained the plain, and mounted while the air
Resumed its azure vault and radiant sun.
Ruhhám said to his sire: “'Twas sorcerer's work,
And how he played the mischief as we fought!”
The Sháh's troops saw the field a sea of blood
Strewn with Íránian heads and headless trunks.
Then spake Gúdarz to Tús: “No need have we
For elephant or drum-beat. Let us all
Draw sword and charge, and slay or else be slain.
Good sooth! our time is coming to an end;
This is no day for lasso, shaft, or bow.”
Tús said: “O thou experienced veteran!
The sky is ridded of that icy blast.
Why should our heads be scattered to the winds,
Now that the Helper giveth Grace and strength?
Expose not thou thyself, for in this strife
Our warriors will avail to do our will.
Go not to meet thy fate or recklessly
Advance against our foes but tarry thou
With Káwa's standard at the army's centre,
And blue steel sword in hand. Bízhan and Gív
Together lead the right; upon the left
Before the lines; Guráza's lips are foaming
For vengeance. If I shall be slain, retreat
Back to the Sháh, but death is nobler far
For me than shame and every foeman's jeers.’
Such is the world, all anguish and all woe
Seek not addition if thou canst forbear,
For that will bite thee some day and will ne'er
Prolong existence for thee here below.
Again arose the blast of clarions,
The clangour of the gongs and Indian bells.
What with the din of warlike cavaliers,
The gleam of sword and crash of battle-ax,
What with darts, maces, shafts, and javelins,
The earth became as 'twere a sea of pitch.
The plain was filled with trunkless heads and arms,
The crashing of the maces filled all ears,
But, since the face of cruel fortune loured
The Íránian warriors showed the foe their backs.
Then Tús, Gúdarz, and gallant Gív, Shídúsh,
Bízhan, and lion-like Ruhhám all took
Their lives in hand and went in quest of fame
Before the embattled lines. All those with Tús,
The nobles and the chiefs, poured out their blood
Before the host, but those behind them fled.
Then said an archmage to that warrior-chief:—
“The army is no longer at thy back:
The foe must not surround thee and destroy
Both host and general.”
Tús said to Gív:—
“Our soldiers' brains and wisdom are no mates
Since they have left us thus, and in their folly
Turned from the fight; go thou and rally them;
Protest our foemen's jeers, our monarch's shame.”
Gív went; the host returned; the plain and desert
Seemed filled with slain. Then Tús addressed the
captains:—
“This is a struggle and a strife of chiefs!
And all the land is like a sea of blood,
Seek we a resting-place if night can rest.
Our slain perchance a bed of sand may have,
And coverlet of earth by way of grave.”
The Íránians drew back with heads abashed
And livers wounded for their friends, and when
The moon rose o'er the mountains as it were
A king triumphant on his turquoise throne,
Pírán the chieftain called his warriors,
And said: “Not many of the foe remain,
And, when the Topaz Sea shall dash its waves
Upon the Realm of Lapislazuli,
I will destroy those that survive and make
The Sháh's heart writhe.”
The troops went off rejoicing,
And all the night before the tent-enclosure
Sat sleepless through the sounds of harp and rebeck;
But for their part the Íránians mourned, the sires
Lamented for their sons, the killed and wounded
Hid all the plain, earth ran with great men's blood.
To right and left the field was strewn with hands
And feet unsortable. All night men raised
Their stricken friends, bound up and stitched their
wounds,
Left strangers to their fate, and burned the slain.
Full many of the kindred of Gúdarz
Were hurt or killed or captive. At the news
He wailed, earth shook beneath the Íránians' cries,
Cast dust upon his head, exclaiming: “None
With hoary head hath seen such ills as mine!
Why must I still survive with my white hairs
Now that so many of my sons are laid
In dust? Since that dark day when I was born
I have not doffed my tunic. When I went
With heroes and my cavaliers to war
My grandsons and my sons supported me,
But none of them surviveth our first fight
Upon Túránian soil! May be my sun
Was once for all extinguished with Bahrám,
And hence I see so many chieftains slain.”
Tús, hearing of Gúdarz, wept tears of blood,
And turned as pale as sandarach. He raised
A bitter Magian cry: “Had not Naudar,
That holy man,” he said, “set in life's garth
My feet and roots then travail, pain, and grief,
Woe for the dead and anguish in the strife,
Had ne'er been mine, for since I girt my loins
My heart hath oft been pierced though I survive.
Now where there is a pit inter the slain,
Restore each trunk its head, and bear the baggage
Toward Mount Hamáwan. Take all the army,
The tents, and tent-enclosures to the mountain.
We will dispatch the Sháh a camel-post;
His heart will burn and he will send us troops.
I purposed when I sent the cavalier
To carry news of us before the battle,
That Kai Khusrau should send the son of Zál
To lead the reinforcements to the field.”
He loaded up and, thinking of the slain
With anguish, called his men to horse again.
The Ivory Throne with Camphor, Tús, good sooth!
What while the foe were sleeping with fatigue,
Had marched ten leagues, and fared thus day and night
With heart all sorrow and unbroken fast.
He reached Mount Hamáwan and ranked his troops
Upon its outskirts. Every eye was bloodshot,
Their hearts were seared, their souls like ravens' plumes
With anguish. Then spake Tús to Gív and said:—
“O full of wisdom and illustrious chief!
For three days we have marched with neither food
Nor sleep! Come eat a little and repose
At ease without thy mail; Pírán no doubt
Will follow us anon intent on fight.
Go to the mount thyself, and leave behind
The freshest of our soldiers with Bízhan.”
Gív bare the wounded, weary of the world
And sick of life, up to the mountain-hold,
And chose the freshest of his troops for duty.
“This mountain-top,” he said, “must be our home.
We must recruit.”
The outpost-guards descended
To hold the approaches that no foe might pass,
And, what with challenges and sound of gongs,
Thou wouldst have said: “The stones and rocks cry
out!”
Now when the sun rose o'er the mountain-tops
The Turkmans' hearts were full of eagerness.
A sound rose from Pírán's pavilion
Like fire, and told Húmán: “The contest surely
Will soon be over. All their cavaliers
Are slain or, being wounded, cannot fight.”
He beat the drums; a shout rose from the waste;
He led in person. When they reached the field
They only found a camp without an army,
And one who went to spy came to Pírán,
And said: “There is not an Íránian here!”
A shout of triumph rose, the troops awaited
The orders of Pírán who thus addressed
The wise men: “Sages famed and worshipful!
What shall we do now that our foes have fled?”
The horsemen of the host, both old and young,
Wroth with the paladin, exclaimed: “The Íránians
Have fled defeated, and the battlefield
Is full of dust and blood! This is no time
To fear them. We should follow up the foe.
Strange if thou partest with thy wits and wisdom!
The fugitive from wind plunged into water,
And we had better hasten than delay.”
Pírán replied: “In war the foot of haste
Is feebler than delay's. A sea-like host
Is gathering before Afrásiyáb;
Let us delay till that great power with all
Its warriors and fighting-men shall come;
Then will we leave none living in Írán:
Such is the counsel of the wise. Enough.”
Húmán said to Pírán: “O paladin!
Vex not thy soul so much on this account.
Brave men who wield the lasso and the sword—
Have left their ground, their tents, and tent-enclosures,
Abandoned all and fled. Be sure of this,
That they were forced to flee and once for all
Show us their backs. We will not let them reach
Khusrau and muster at his court afresh;
Then from Zábulistán will Rustam march
Upon us, this delay cause fearful loss.
Now is the time for me to fall on them,
And put in practice ruse and artifice.
We have the certainty of laying hands
Upon Gúdarz and Tús the general,
The royal standard, elephants, and drums:
Shall we do better by delaying here?”
Pírán replied: “Be still thus shrewd and ardent.
So do because thy star and rede are good,
And heaven's vault is not so high as thou.”
He set forth with his army in pursuit,
And bade Lahhák: “Now tarry not but ply
The rein with ten score cavaliers and loose not
The girdle from thy loins till thou hast seen
Where the Íránians are.”
He went like wind,
And took no thought of rest and food. At midnight
The Íránian outpost-guards caught sight of him
Upon the dusky plain, and from the mountain
Rose shout and sound of gong. 'Twas not the time,
He saw, to tarry, went back to Pírán,
And gave him tidings of the Íránian host:—
“'Tis on Mount Hamáwan with front well guarded.”
Pírán said to Húmán: “Ply rein and stirrup
Take nobles, warriors, and men of name,
For with their flag and troops the Íránians
Have taken refuge on Mount Hamáwan.
This war involveth further toil, so sharpen
Thy wits to find a remedy; if thou
Canst capture Káwa's legacy—his standard—
Then daylight will be darkened to our foes.
If thou prevailest cleave the flag and staff
To pieces with thy trenchant scimitar.
Lo, I will follow after thee like wind,
And dally not.”
Húmán chose thirty thousand
Túránian horse with shields and scimitars.
Now, when the shining sun displayed the face
That filleth earth with love, that army's dust
Appeared afar and from the look-out rose
The watchman's shout: “An army from Túrán
Appeareth! Upward to the darksome clouds
Its dust ascendeth!”
Tús, on hearing this,
Assumed his mail, rose din of trump and drum,
And all the Íránian chivalry in mass
Ranged on the mountain's foot. Whenas Húmán
Beheld that mighty army brandishing
Sword, mace, and spear, and raging like fierce lions
With Káwa's standard in their midst, he shouted
Thus to Gúdarz and Tús: “Ye left Írán
With elephants and drums to be avenged
Upon Túrán and to invade our coasts;
Now to the mountain have ye fled like game,
In utter rout and all fordone with fight!
Feel ye no shame hereat and no disgrace?
Are food and rest and sleep in rocks and stones?
To-morrow, when the sun shall top the hills,
Will I turn this thy stronghold to a sea,
Will make thy hands fast in the lasso's coils,
And send thee to Afrásiyáb, deprived
Of provand, rest, and sleep, and thou shalt know
That this thy shift is but a shiftless one,
And one to be deplored.”
He sent Pírán
A camel-post full speed. “What sort of fight
Did we expect?” he said. “Our thoughts were other,
And we made ready to attack the foe,
But all the mount is troops and kettledrums,
The standards wave behind Gúdarz and Tús!
Take order that as soon as bright day shineth,
And when the world's Light showeth in the sky,
Thou mayst be here with troops in war-array,
And make the plain's face dark with hosts of men.’
The message roused Pírán; no time was lost;
That night he marched on with a sea-like host.
When Sol, aweary of its veil of gloom,
Had bursten through it and come forth, Pírán,
The leader, reached Mount Hamáwan, and earth
Was hidden by the dust of troops. “Abide,”
Thus said he to Húmán, “here where thou art;
Set not the troops in motion for a while.
I will hold parley with the Íránian leader,
And say: ‘Why hast thou set up Káwa's standard?’
Who told him of Mount Hamáwan and now
When there what hopeth he?”
In hate and vengeance
He came anear the Íránian host and cried:—
“Illustrious Tús, the lord of elephant,
Since thou provokedst war, and on the field
The noblest kinsmen of Gúdarz lie headless,
While thou hast fled, thy soldiers panting after,
And like a mountain-sheep hast taken refuge,
Full of revenge and rancour, in the heights!
But thou wilt surely come within the toils.”
Exalted Tús replied: “I mock thy falsehoods.
Thou didst set wreak afoot among the mighty
Throughout the world for Siyáwush. Hast thou
No shame of thy vain words? Hot though they be
They will not bring me to those toils of thine.
Ne'er may the world possess a paladin
Like thee among the men of might and name.
Thou by an oath didst ruin Siyáwush,
And wreek earth with his blood, thou madest him
Stay in Túrán; now war and vengeance stay
In earth through him. Alas! for that great prince
And noble man whose face once gladdened all!
Thou by this practice, such deceit and lies,
Wilt gain no lustre in a true man's sight.
We could not forage on the battlefield,
And therefore have I marched to Hamáwan.
News now hath reached the monarch of the world,
Who with his mighty men will come anon.
The great men of the host have gathered—Zál
And Rustam of the elephantine form;
And when the Sháh is fairly on the march
I will not leave Túrán field, fell, or crop.
Since thou art here behold a task for men:
This is no time for ruse and ambuscade.”
Pírán on that sent forward troops to seize
Moved, troop on troop, upon that mountain-skirt.
Pírán, when thus the foemen's foraging
Was straitened, laid his plans.
“We,” said Húmán,
“Must get possession of the mountain's foot,
And I will deal so that the Íránians
Shall never gird themselves for vengeance more.”
Pírán replied: “The wind is in our face,
And none would think of fighting with it so;
But as they have not room for foraging,
And nobody would guard a barren rock,
They will no longer heed their general;
With warlike eyes grown dim the troops will come
To seek not fight but quarter; 'tis a day
For grace and not for setting in array.”
Gúdarz and Tús suspected this; the chiefs
Were in dismay. Said old Gúdarz to Tús:—
“We must fight now. If we have three days' provand
We have not more, and not one road is open!
We have no tents, no huts, no baggage-train,
And this great host will starve! So, when the sun
Choose we brave cavaliers, descend the heights,
And try our fortune in a night-attack,
To perish one by one, or else to gain
The hero's crown. Such is the end of battles!
One hath the dust, another rank and glory.”
Tús hearkened to Gúdarz; his heart was full
Of pain and of the ancient feud. He bode
Till night appeared. The sun set; all was dark.
When one watch passed, and men had fallen silent,
Tús made him ready, called the men of action,
Gave one wing to Bízhan, one to Shídúsh
And bold Kharrád; the glorious flag he gave
To Gustaham with much advice and counsel,
Then, shouldering with Gív, Ruhhám, and others
The massive mace, made for Pírán and shocked
Like fire the Turkman centre. All the field
Grew like a sea of blood, a mighty shout
Rose from the host, the standard of Pírán
Was cloven, and his troops were panie-stricken.
Húmán, when he had heard that cry, bestrode
His Arab black, came up, saw many slain,
And many turning from the fight dismayed,
Wept tears of blood upon his breast, and shouted:—
“Was there no outpost here? Had ye no stomach
For fight? We are three hundred to their one;
It is ill sleeping on the field of battle!
Of Chín. Now that the moon o'er yonder height
Is drawing forth its sword, cut off the foe
On every side and let none, combatant
Or laggard, 'scape.”
Arose the clarions' blast,
The warriors pressed forward, and surrounded
The Iránian cavaliers like savage lions.
Sparks flashed from helm and sword: thou wouldst
have said:—
“The sky is raining maces from the clouds!”
Night, scimitars, and dust concealed the stars
And shining moon. Thou'dst said: “The Íránians
Are walled by coats of mail and in a murk
As of a sea of pitch!” Then to his men
Húmán exclaimed: “Enough! slay not the chiefs;
Bring me them captive and not arrow-pierced.”
They shouted back: “Their plight is hopeless now.
Lay on, lay on with mace and javelin,
And crown these chieftains' heads with crowns of blood.”
Then Tús said to Ruhhám and Gív: “Good sooth!
Our lives are but a jest! Unless the Almighty
Shall save our souls and bodies from this seath
We are but poised upon an eagle's wings,
Or struggling in the waters of the deep!”
Like savage lions leaping from their lairs
They charged together, while the sound of drum
And pipe and clang of Indian bells and gongs
Rose from the foe, men could not see their reins,
The horses' crests, or spear-points at their eyes.
“Ye have no room,” exclaimed Húmán, “for fight
That ill might reach the guilty.”
'Mid such strife
Abode that warrior-three with paltry powers!
Much thought they then of Rustam, everywhere
The prowest in the fray, and of Shídúsh,
Bízhan, and Gustaham, of great and small;
“Good sooth!” said they, “one of the Íránian host
Would help us here! We came not to a fight,
But madly to the maw of crocodiles!
Woe to the throne and portal of the Sháh,
For they will capture us anon! Great Rustam
And Zál are in Zábulistán! Írán
Will be destroyed!”
The din of mace and drum
Reached the Íránian host, and Gív and Tús
Returned not! Said Shídúsh and Gustaham,
The Lion: “Tús is long engaged!”
Guráza
Said to Bízhan: “Our leader's task is long!”
Anon the din of drums rose from the plain,
Air turned pitch-dark and earth to ebony.
The warriors made toward the voice of Tús.
The field ran blood. As they came up behind
All drew their massive maces. Tús, aware
Loosed rein, and pressed his stirrups, for he felt
His fortune rising, while Ruhhám and Gív,
Cheered by the voice of brave Bízhan, became
Like lions. Thus they fought till break of day,
Until the world's Light shone above the mountains,
Then they recalled the host and drew it off
Toward the rocky heights. The chieftain Tús
Harangued the troops: “From set of sun to drum-beat
Far from the noble be the evil eye,
And may our fighting end in festival.
I never heard of warriors displaying
Such gallantry as I have seen in you.
My first prayer is that Holy God will keep
Afar from us the eyes of evil ones.
He is my refuge evermore and He
Will take you out of this. I trust withal
In Him that presently and swift as smoke
An army may come up to our support.
Assuredly my speedy camel-post
Hath reached ere now the monarch of the world.
My letter will inflame his heart anew,
The elephantine chief will come to aid us,
And with a noble company of Lions.
We shall return in triumph, well content,
And eager to behold Khusrau again.
We will report to that triumphant world-king
All that hath passed in public and in private,
Obtain, each one of us, the fruits of fortune.”
Both hosts ceased fighting,142
breathed themselves, and
left
The battle drawn. On both sides scouts advanced
Upon that plain of valiant warriors.
Húmán came forth, saw corpses block the road,
And thus addressed Pírán: “Withdraw to-day;
The battle hath not answered our desires,
But when our warriors, approven horsemen,
And men have rested I will make a fight
Such as the sun and moon ne'er saw.”
They went,
Their converse done, each on his schemes intent.
News reached Khusrau: “Pírán hath gained the day,
Tús hath retired upon Mount Hamáwan,
And many a chieftain of the host is missing.
The portal of the palace of Gúdarz,
Son of Kishwád, is void of men of war
And chiefs. The very stars are wailing them,
The rose no longer groweth in the garden,
The world through them is filled with dust and blood,
And Tús high star hath fallen!”
Kai Khusrau,
The famous, heard, and his heart quaked. He bade
The elephantine Rustam come to court,
And with his host. The sages and the archmages,
Famed and experienced of Írán, all came;
Told how the host had fought, and said to Rustam:—
“Exalted one! our ancient state, I fear,
Is tottering, whereat my heart is full
Of dread. Thou fosterest the crown and throne,
World-ruling fortune hath its light from thee,
The heart of heaven is on thy sabre's point,
And under thee are sky and time and earth.
Thou didst dig out the White Dív's heart and brain;
The age's hopes are based upon thy love,
Earth is the servant of thy charger's dust,
And time to thee is like a loving mother.
The sun is set a-burning by thy sword,
And Venus weepeth at that mace of thine.
Thy plumed and pointed shafts make lions weary
Of fighting with thee on their day of bale.
Since thou hast been a man and worn a helm
No foe hath cast his eye upon Írán.
Now Tús, Gúdarz, and Gív and other chiefs,
With many of the warriors of this land,
Have with full hearts and eyes that flowed with tears
Fled from the soldiers of Afrásiyáb.
Full many of the kindred of Gúdarz
Fell on the day of fight and sleep in dust.
Those of the army that escaped with life
Are broken-hearted on Mount Hamáwan;
Their heads are lifted heavenward; they pray
The Almighty, who is Lord of time and place,
That elephantine Rustam may perchance
Come to them in God's strength at my command.
As I perused the letter in the night
I shed my heart's blood freely on my cheeks.
Save only unto God the Succourer,
But now, because the matter hath surpassed
All bounds, my heart is full of care therefor.
Thou art the hope of host and general:
Mayst thou be sound in health and bright in mind;
May thy head flourish and thy heart rejoice,
Be thy pure person free from hurt of foe.
Ask me for plenty of whate'er thou wilt,
Of steeds, of arms, of treasure, and of troops.
Go with good counsels and a joyful heart:
So great a work must not be slackly done.”
The hero answered: “May the signet-ring
And crown ne'er lack thee. Heaven remembereth not
A king like thee for Grace, for stature, justice,
And rede. Khusrau hath heard that ever since
Kubád assumed the imperial diadem
I have been girded in Íránian quarrels,
And have not sat at rest a single day.
Mine have been waste, gloom, lion, elephant,
Enchanters, lusty dragons, mighty men
Both of Túrán and of Mázandarán,
Dark nights, and massive maces, and withal
Long journeyings and thirsts, for I preferred
The door of travail to the stead of ease.
So many toils and hardships have I seen
That I have never asked a day of pleasure.
Thou art the world's king, and a slave am I
Girt to perform thy hests. Let not the Sháh
Grieve for the slain, but let thy foes look wan.
And gird me to avenge the Íránians,
For liver-wounded have I been and girt
With mourning for the scions of Gúdarz.”
When Kai Khusrau heard Rustam's words he wept.
And said: “Without thee I desire not life,
Or majesty or crown or royal throne.
Now be the welkin in thy lasso's noose,
And crowned heads in thy bonds.”
The treasurer
Unlocked the royal hoard of jewels, crowns,
Dínárs, helms, lassos, bows, and belts, oped too
The sacks of drachms. The Sháh gave all to Rustam,
Thus saying: “O illustrious warrior!
Go with the mace-men of Zábulistán,
And mighty men and warriors of Kábul,
Swift as the blast, not tarrying thyself
Or bidding others tarry. From the host
Choose thirty thousand swordsmen dight for war,
And give to Faríburz son of Káús
Some troops to go on first and seek revenge.”
The peerless Rustam kissed the ground and said:—
“The bridle and the stirrups are my mates.
We will urge on the chiefs; far be repose
And idleness from us.”
He paid the troops,
Went forth upon the plain, prepared for war,
And said to Faríburz: “Lead forth at dawn,
Conduct the van, and sleep not day or night
Until thou come to Tús the general.
Say to him: ‘Risk not fight, use guile, gain time,
And be not rash. Lo! like a blast I come,
Not dallying upon the road. Gurgín,
What to advise thy host in weal and woe.’”
“O warrior, distributor of crowns,
Lord of the breastplate, battle-ax, and Rakhsh!”
Said Faríburz, “I have a secret wish
That I can tell to no one in the world
Except to thee, O paladin of earth,
Who well deservest ring and crown and signet,
And art the stay and refuge of the host!
In thee the warriors exalt their helms.
Know great one of Írán! and may God bless thee,
That I and noble Siyáwush were brothers,
And one in blood. 'Tis fit that I should take
His widow as my wife, exalted chief!
Urge this upon the Sháh, and thou wilt set
A crown upon my head.”
Then Rustam answered:—
“'Tis thine to bid. I will achieve thy wish.”
The elephantine chief went in and said:—
“O famed Khusrau! I have a thing to ask
That will exalt my head above the moon,
And I will ask it with the monarch's leave,
For God approveth. Love and justice reach
All men through thee, twin-visaged like the sky.
Now Faríburz among the chiefs and princes
I do not see his match, and he desireth
This of the Sháh—the place of Siyáwush,
So that, when he is marching to avenge
His brother's blood, the guardian of his house
And wealth, the confidant in all his cares,
May be the daughter of Afrásiyáb,
None else, they twain to be as sun and moon.”
Khusrau on hearing gave consent and said:—
“O famous man! the feet of fortune trample
All that reject thy counsel. Naught but good
Will come from words of thine. Live ever glorious!
I cannot urge this, as thou know'st. Such speech
To her would be misplaced, but I will give
My mother, if she will consent to listen,
The counsels most conformable with wisdom.”
They went together to the moonlike dame—
The peerless Rustam and benignant Sháh,
Who said to her: “Thou memory of my sire,
In good and ill my refuge! I may govern,
But thou art Sháh to me. Thou know'st the toil
And travail of the army in this war,
How many of our mighty men have perished
In battle with Túrán! I mean to send
A host with Rustam son of Zál as chief,
While Faríburz will lead the van, and Rustam
Himself be champion. He would have thee be
Therein? Be greatness and all good thy mates.”
On hearing this she thought about old times,
Distressed and vexed at heart; at length in tears
She said: “I blame not Rustam; if I did
It would be misplaced now, for only heaven
Can say him nay when he requesteth aught.”
Then Rustam said to her: “O dame of dames,
Extolled for spotless worth! Oh! may thy foes
All perish! Thou, may be, wilt hear my counsel.
Thou knowest that a woman cannot rest
Without a spouse, the young without the young,
And best of all a mate of Kaian race,
For man is for the woman's sake, and she
Is far more eager than her spouse for her.
Victorious Faríburz son of Káús,
Fit for the crown, the lustre of the throne,
The brother and the peer of Siyáwush,
Is ruler of the more part of Írán;
The peopled land and desert both are his.
By leave, advice, and order of the Sháh
Do I approve thee as the prince's spouse.
What sayest thou? Is he approved by thee?
Doth Faríburz appear a fitting mate?
Thou wilt do well to hearken to my words:
Heed what I tell thee and the Sháh's advice.”
The Sháh of ladies held her peace awhile
In grief, ashamed to speak before her son,
Then sighing deeply answered Rustam thus:—
“O full of prowess, leader of the folk!
He cannot take the place of Siyáwush;
Yet is my tongue, as thou mayst say, in fetters
By reason of thy words, O paladin!
What doth the famous monarch now command?
I must be girded to perform his will.”
Thus, blushing like the roses in the spring,
The monarch's mother gave consent. The matter,
Since Rustam was so instant, was soon sped:
They called the archmages and drew up the contract.
Then Faríburz became Sháh's sire-in-law,
And being franked by Kai Khusrau and Rustam
Increased his quality and dignity,
And gained a robe of honour and new crown.148
Three days prepared, the fourth achieved, the business,
Then Rustam with his gallant warriors
Fared toward the plain, while Faríburz with troops
Went in advance, resplendent as a star
In heaven. Arose the din of clarions,
And matchless Rustam led his army forth.
The Sháh, the world-lord, with his mind all care,
Fared with him for two leagues, while Rustam turned
Two stages into one upon his way,
And rested not at all by night or day.
Heart-seared and full of trouble, slept and dreamed
That from the deep a radiant lustre rose
About an ivory throne, and Siyáwush
Thereon with Grace and crown, with smiling lips
And tongue fair-spoken, turned a sun-like face
Upon him. “Stay the Íránians here,” he said,
“For thou shalt conquer in the fight. Lament not
The kindred of Gúdarz, for there is here
A rosary all new, and we will quaff,
How long we wot not, underneath its blooms.”
With joyful heart released from pain and grief
Tús woke. Then to Gúdarz: “World-paladin!
I have beheld a vision in my sleep!
Take note that Rustam like a rushing wind
Will come anon!”
He bade the pipes to sound,
The troops upon the mountain left their posts,
The warriors of Írán girt up their loins,
And set up Káwa's standard, while Pírán
Upon the other side led forth his powers;
The dust-clouds dimmed the sun; its eye was dazed
By warriors' shouts and by the rain of arrows.
The two hosts met, but not a champion showed
Before the lines. Húmán said to Pírán:—
“We must attack. Why hesitate? The troops
Are not out hunting. Man and beast bear weight.”
Pírán said: “Peace! 'Tis not the time for haste
Or argument. Yestreen from yonder lines,
And unawares, three with a paltry force
Assailed us, hungry lions they, we sheep
Whom cold is driving from the mountain-tops.
And famous heads laid low. The Íránians hold
A barren rock, their chargers sniff at thorns
Like musk. Wait till they burn upon the crags,
And die resourceless. Leave no way to pass,
Side, front, or rear-ward. Since without your fighting
The foe will come to hand, why change delay
For haste? Why should we fight? Ten horse will
serve
As scouts upon the plain. Wait we until
Our foes lack food and drink, and ask for quarter.
Unless they can subsist on thorns and flints
When provand faileth they will take to them
And die.”
They left the field, went to their tents,
And scouts were posted while the warriors loosed
Their belts and turned to sleep and banqueting.
The chieftain Tús went also to his camp,
With full heart and with cheeks of ebony,
And thus addressed Gúdarz: “Affairs grow dark;
The fortunes of the Íránians are distraught.
Troops compass us, our beasts' feed is all thorny,
And food is not o'er-plenteous with the host!
Unsheathe at dawn. Rank on the mountain-skirts.
If our good star prove helpful it will give us
Our will upon our foes, while if the Judge
Of heaven shall end us with the scimitar,
No more or less can hap than His decree,
So measure not your breaths in your dismay.
Death too with high renown is goodlier
Than life with fear and overthrow.”
With what their fortune-favoured chief proposed.
When from the sign of Cancer Sol reached out,
And rent the musk-hued Veil, a messenger
Came from the monarch to Pírán and said:—
“Troops throng from every side—a host whose dust
Would make a desert of the sea of Chín
Upon the battle-day. A chief is there
From Má wara 'u'n-Nahr; his head is raised
O'er circling heaven; a hundred lions' strength
Is his; he quelleth mighty elephants!
In height a cypress and in looks a moon,
A potentate whose toys are crowns and thrones,
Kámús, this chief of chiefs, will have his will
Upon Gúdarz and Tús. The troops comprise
All those that dwell 'twixt Sipanjáb and Rúm.
I reckon first the Khán of Chín, whose crown
Is heaven, his throne the earth, next brave Manshúr,
Whose falchion layeth warriors' heads in dust,
And next Kámús, the swordsman of Kashán,
Whose eyes ne'er saw defeat. His works all prosper;
When he is wroth he bringeth blast and snow.”
Pírán harangued the army of Turán,
And said: “Ye chiefs and warriors of the king!
Rejoice ye, young and old! at this good news,
Sent by the king, and be ye bright of soul;
Now must we wash the trouble from our hearts
I will not leave Írán field, fell, or crop.
The pains and troubles of the king are over
In seeking vengeance and arraying troops,
By land and sea, at home and in Írán.”
From those approaching powers fresh messengers
Kept coming to the captain of the host
With joyful news: “O famous paladin!
Live glad and bright of soul for evermore.
Be thy heart joyful to behold these kings,
And may thy soul cease troubling. From Kashmír
All, till thou comest to the river Shahd,
Is elephants and litters, flags and troops,
While from Sakláb Kundur the lion-man
Is coming with that warring Heaven Bíward
Of Kát, with Garcha from Sagsár, Shangul
From Hind. Flags fill the air and swords the earth.
Chaghán hath sent Fartús, the Light of hosts,
Gahán hath sent Gahár, who scorcheth heroes,
With Shamírán of Shakn, first of the age,
Who scattereth poison with his spear and sword.
Now lift thy head and take thy pleasure here,
For this glad news would make an old man young.”
Pírán laughed out with all his heart and soul,
Thou wouldst have said: “He that was dead reviveth!”
Thus spake he to Húmán: “I will go forth
To meet them. They have had a longsome march,
Equipped for fight and full of care. They hold
Their heads as high as doth Afrásiyáb,
For they have treasure, lustre, throne, and state.
I will go forth and see what men they are,
How many, with what chiefs and warriors,
Will do obeisance to the Khán of Chín,
And kiss the ground before his throne withal:
I will behold Kámús, the exalted one,
And find Tús an opponent in Shangul.
Returning hither I will gird myself
To rob the Íránians of the breath of life,
And, if they cannot hold their own, will make
Day dark and strait to them. I will secure
Those that survive among the Íránian chiefs,
And then dispatch them to Afrásiyáb,
Not taking rest or sleep till it be done,
Behead the common soldiers that I capture,
Burn them, commit their ashes to the winds,
And take no thought about the place again.
Then will I part our army into three,
And darken the Íránian monarch's day.
I will dispatch one army unto Balkh,
And make day bitter to the Íránians,
Another to Kábulistán and bring
Kábul the ashes of Zábulistán,
And lead the third compact of mighty Turkmans
And Lions 'gainst Írán. I will spare none,
Not women, little children, young or old,
But overthrow Írán, both field and fell.
May not a hand or foot be left to them!
But till I order matters seek not fight.”
Thus spake Pírán and went with wreakful heart;
Thou wouldst have said: “His very skin hath burst.”
Húmán said to the troops: “A way with care!
For two days let us labour but to keep
Watch on Mount Hamáwan, for fear our foes
Steal off by night just when our flags will fill
Completely road, plain, valley, stream, and hill.”
Pírán on reaching his allies beheld
The plains and valleys full of horses' hoofs.
The tents and tent-enclosures filled the world
With red and yellow, blue and violet.
Amidmost each enclosure was a standard
Wrought of brocade of Chín and painted silk.
“Is this a paradise, or banquet-hall,
The starry heaven, or orbit of the moon?”
He came afoot and kissed the ground before
The Khán, who, seeing him, embraced him, marvelled
At such a chest and neck, much greeted him,
Made much of him, set him upon the throne,
And said: “Oh! well is me that I should sit
In such good spirits by the paladin!”
He then asked: “Of the army of Írán
Who hath the signet, and who hath the crown?
What troops have they? Who are their warriors,
And wherefore sit they on the mountain-top?”
Pírán replied: “O monarch! live for ever,
And may the Maker bless thee who hast joyed
Thy slave's heart with thy questions. Through thy
fortune
I am both well and happy, and my soul
Desireth but the dust upon thy feet.
The king inquireth of the Íránians:
They have no signet, diadem, or throne,
And, having longed for war beyond all measure,
Are left with only rocks to gaze upon;
For foiled, dishonoured, and reduced in strength,
They went in full flight to Mount Hamáwan.
Their general is Tús, a man of valour,
Who feareth not a lion in the field.
Their chieftains are Gúdarz son of Kishwád,
Gív, and Ruhhám—all men of noble birth.
Now by the fortune of the illustrious Khán
This is the last host that their chief shall see.
They come not on the plain at battle-time,
And save the flinty rocks have naught to hand.”
The Khán said: “Stay, and bring thy comrades too.
And not anticipate.”
He decked the tents
Like gardens in the spring: “'Tis Paradise,”
Thou wouldst have said, “for colour and device.”
Now when Sol mounted to the vault of heaven
The hearts of Tús and of Gúdarz grew troubled:—
“Why are the Turkmans still to-day? Are they
At counsel or bemused? But be they sad
Or glad I look for ill! Know that if aid
Hath come to them ill hap hath come to us!
Consider all the Íránian troops as slain
Or, if still living, fleeing from the fight.
If Rustam cometh not upon the field
Disaster will befall us from yon host,
And we shall have no sepulture, no grave,
But horses' hoofs will trample on our heads!”
Gív said to Tús: “O general of the Sháh
What aileth thee to think upon mishap?
We need not look for ill; God is thy Helper;
We are His worshippers, and have broadcast
Much seed of good. Such fortune hath the Sháh,
The lord of scimitar and throne and crown,
That God will not withdraw His help from us,
And leave our enemies to work their will.
With Rustam's coming all our soldiers' cares
Will end. Let no man cease to trust in God
Though day should turn to night. Let not thy heart
Be straitened needlessly because our foes
Forbear to fight one day: they have not shut
Heaven's door on us. Fear not the foe's designs.
Quit vain imaginings for come it will.
Let us construct a trench before the host,
As warriors use, then draw the sword, provoke
A fight and slay our foes; we shall no doubt
Perceive their aims and lay their secret bare.
News from Írán will come and there will be
Light on the boughs of our tall Cypress-tree.”
Gúdarz departed from the host and clomb
The mountain-summit. From the look-out came
A grievous cry: “The Íránian warriors
Are ruined now! As yon bright sun declined
The whole world eastward grew as dark as night
With dust, which standard-bearing elephants
Sent up, and through that dust the shining sun
Was lustreless!”
Gúdarz heard that and cried:—
“Dark earth is my sole hiding-place!”
His cheeks
Became as pitch, and like one arrow-pierced
He cried: “My share is ever strife and battle,
My lot ill-hap and bane for antidote.
I had a host of sons and grandsons, men
Reputed in the land, but all were slain
For Siyáwush, and all my luck hath gone!
Would that my mother had not brought me forth,
High heaven ne'er turned o'er me!”
To the watch
He said: “Long-sighted man and bright of mind!
Look forth upon the hosts and see who cometh.
Where is the banner of the Íránian chief?
Look to our left and right.”
The watchman answered:—
“I see no movement and reconnaissance
On our side, but on theirs all is astir;
Of us thou wouldest say: ‘They are asleep.’”
Thereat the paladin shed bitter tears,
And cried in sorrow: “Saddle me my steed,
And for the future make my bed of brick!
I go to fill mine eyes and arms once more,
Embrace Shídúsh, Bízhan, Ruhhám, and Gív,
Those brave, impetuous cavaliers, kiss each
Farewell upon the cheek and shower tears.”
His gallant bay was saddled when there came
The watchman's shout: “Rejoice, world-paladin!
And banish care, for on the road that leadeth
Toward Írán a black, day-darkening dust
Ariseth; many standards like the moon
Are lifted from the centre of a host;
The first one hath a wolf, a moon the next,
The third a dragon with a lion's head
In gold upon the staff!”
“Then live for ever,
And may the evil eye be far from thee!”
Gúdarz exclaimed. “When what thou utterest
To such good purpose shall be brought to pass
That thou shalt have no need to toil henceforth.
Hereafter, when we go back to Írán,
Some day, and to the monarch of the brave,
I will forthwith present thee at his throne,
And lift thy head above the nobles there.
Now prithee leave thy look-out-post, approach
Our generals, and tell what thou hast seen;
Be quick; use whom thou wilt upon the road.”
“I may not leave the look-out for the host,”
The watchman said, “but when 'tis grown so dark
That I can see no longer I will carry,
Like the Símurgh, the tidings to the troops
Down from my station here.”
The paladin
Rejoined: “Be shrewd of heart and bright of soul.
Look forth from this high mountain yet again,
And see how soon they will be here.”
He answered:—
“Yon host will reach Mount Hamáwan to-morrow
At dawn.”
The paladin conceived such joy
As would have brought a corpse to life.
Pírán,
For his part, swift as flying dust-clouds led
Those reinforcements158
to the battlefield.
A horseman went on first to tell at large
The joyful news which when Húmán had heard
He laughed and said: “Now surely sleepless fortune
Is with us.”
From the field a shout of joy
Rose cloud-ward from the army of Túrán.
The Íránian nobles full of care and pain,
With faces sallow and with livid lips,
Dispersed themselves upon the mountain-side
To give their last instructions. Everywhere
Groups gathered and bewailed themselves, and said:—
“Woe for these warriors of royal race,
Who are forgotten by the Íránians,
And earth be saturate with heroes' blood!”
The chief bespake Bízhan: “Arise, explore
This secret, scale the mountain-top and mark
The character and number of this host.
See by what road they are approaching us,
What camp-enclosures and what thrones they have.”
Bízhan the son of Gív then went apart,
And climbed the mountain's solitary peak,
Saw flags and horsemen, elephants and troops
On all sides, ran back to the general,
With heart all pain and soul all care, and said:—
“Earth's surface hath become like indigo,
So many are the troops and elephants!
The flags and spears pass count, the sun is dim
In heaven with dust, the troops are countless, boundless,
The ear is deafened by their kettledrums!”
Tús listened, sad at heart and face all tears,
Then called to him the captains, sorely grieved
A bout his men, and said: “Time showeth me
Naught but the woes of war. I have experienced
Full many a rise and fall, but never fear
Like this. We have but one resource: although
Our arms and troops are few we will get ready,
Attack to-night, and make earth a Jíhún
With blood. If we shall perish in the fray
There will be generals while there are kings:
Men shall not say: ‘He died ingloriously,’
Although they have to lay me in the dust.”
The leaders present all agreed thereto.
Now when the face of earth became like pitch,
When Venus, Mars, and Mercury were hidden,
And to the navel rent the robe of night,
The watchman with a face like sandarach
Ran in to Tús and said: “O General!
The Shah hath sent an army from Írán!”
The leader Tús laughed with the other chiefs,
And said: “O men of name and warriors!
We need not now seek fight since aid hath come,
We have our times for haste and for delay.
The elephantine hero by God's strength
Will come to our assistance with this host;
Then on the Turkmans will we satisfy
Our lust, and our renown shall reach the sun.”
They thought no more about a night-attack;
The troops and leader joyed; the watchman made
Their spirits bright again, and young and old
Told those glad tidings. Tús sent forth his scouts,
Shouts and the clang of bells rose from the mount,
And all the folk, grown happy and soul-bright,
Talked of the chief of paladins all night.
Whenas the sun arrayed its host in heaven,
And black night disappeared, the Khán of Chín
Assembled the Túránian chiefs and warriors,
And thus addressed Pírán: “We will not fight
To-day, and we do need a day's repose,
But, while our proud chiefs and man-slaying horsemen
Rest from the travail of the tedious road,
And from their hurried march o'er hill and dale,
Upon the field.”
Pírán replied: “The Khán
Is a wise king and worshipful, so let him
Do what he will to-day for he is leader.”
There rose a clamour from the camp-enclosure
With sounds of kettledrum and clarion.
They mounted seats upon five elephants,
Housed with brocade of Chín of turquoise hue,
And broidered with gold thread. The seats themselves
Were gemmed with emeralds, the fittings golden,
The saddle-flaps were made of leopard-skin,
And golden were bells, gongs, and rattle-boxes.
The drivers' heads were decked with crowns, and all
Wore torques and ear-rings. With so many flags
Of painted silk the air was yellow, red,
And violet like some bázár in Chín.
The troops marched to the field as if to keep
A feast, the earth was beauteous as the eye
Of chanticleer with trappings, colours, drums,
And pipes. The kings set forth, the air was filled
With blare of clarions, the spearpoints gleamed,
The plain was black with troops. Tús from afar
Saw them and ranged in line what men he had,
The warriors of Írán girt up their loins,
And Gív brought Káwa's standard. From the plain
Of battle to the summit of the mount
The army of Írán stood troop on troop.
Now when Kámús went forward with Manshúr,
Bíward, Shangul the preseient, and the Khán
To view Mount Hamáwan, they never thought
To face a foe, but when the Khán afar
Looked forth and heard the Íránian horsemen's war-cry
It pleased him and he said: “Behold a host
Of men-o'erthrowing, warlike cavaliers!
But brave men's qualities should not be hidden.
The chieftain masketh the pit's mouth with brambles,
And thither will his horse speed at the chase.
What better is it vainly to besmirch
The foemen's prowess on the day of fight?
I have not looked on cavaliers and chiefs
So stamped with chivalry and manliness.”
“Men reck not of so few,” Pírán replied,
“Upon a field like this.”
“But,” said the Khán,
“What shall we do?”
Pírán said: “Thou hast fared
Far over hill and dale. Let us remain
Three days to rest the troops. I will divide
The host; the day of fight and fear is over.
Half of our warlike, glorious cavaliers
Shall fall upon the foe from dawn till noon
With double-pointed dart, sword, bow, and mace;
And then till night ariseth from the hills
The other half shall strive. At dark will I
Bring up the rested troops and press the foe;
We will not let them have a moment's peace—
We and our eager cavaliers in arms.”
Kámús replied: “Not good! No such delay
For me! With all these men and such strife toward
Why seek so long a respite? Let us both
Attack and straiten dale and height for them.
Hence we will march upon Írán, will leave not
Throne, crown, or diadem, lay waste all fields
And fells, and act as warriors and Lions.
No women, little children, old or young,
No Sháh, or man of rank or paladin
No hall or palace or four-footed beast.
Why should we pass so many evil days
To get but care and grief and needless pain?
But ope not to our foes a door to-night
To get away. As soon as morning breatheth
The troops must move. I with the king of Hind
Will bear my flag up yonder height. To-morrow
Thou shalt behold a heap of corpses there
To make the Íránians weep that look thereon.”
The Khán said to Pírán: “There is no course
Save this: he is a peerless general.”
The nobles all agreed to what Kámús,
The conqueror of Lions, had proposed.
The conference being o'er they went their way,
And passed all night in ordering their array.
Whenas the sun had pitched a camp-enclosure
Of gold brocade upon the azure realm
A loud cry from the look-out reached Gúdarz:—
“O captain of the host! the troops have come!
They are at hand! Their dust hath dimmed the day!”
Gúdarz sprang up, had his swift charger brought,
And rode toward that dark dust with anxious heart.
He came. When near to them he spied the flag
The well approven and the new Sháh's kinsman.163
Then old Gúdarz alighted as withal163a
Did Faríburz the wise, the army's Lustre.
The twain embraced. Gúdarz wept tears of blood
Upon his breast. “Old chief,” said Faríburz,
“Still forced to fight! revenge for Siyáwush
Hath cost thee dear! Alas! those cavaliers
Gúdarzian! May much good news of them
Still reach thee, may the fortune of the foe
Be over-turned! Praise to the Lord of sun
And moon that I have seen thee safe and sound.”
Gúdarz wept blood for those that slept in dust.
“Observe,” he made reply, “how evil fortune
Is ever bringing evil on my head!
No son or grandson hath survived this strife,
No soldiers, flags, and kettledrums are left!
But I dismiss all thought of conflicts past;
Now is the time for fighting and emprise.
The troops on plain and dale have made earth like
A raven's wing, so many are they, and all
The host of Tús is as the one black hair
Upon a white bull by comparison!
The wastes and settlements of Chín, Sakláb,
Of Rúm and Hind, can have no creature left!
All must have girt themselves to fight with us!
But till thou tellest me where Rustam is
My back will not be straightened from its griefs.”
“He is behind me,” Faríburz replied,
“Intent on war. All through the night till dawn
He marcheth with all speed. Now where shall I
Encamp and whither lead this little band?”
Gúdarz made answer: “What did Rustam say?
His words should be reported.”
Faríburz
Replied: “Illustrious one! the peerless Rustam
Bade us not fight. ‘Stay on the field,’ he said.
‘Ye must not show yourselves before the host,
But take your ease until my flag appeareth.’”
Then Faríburz, Gúdarz in company,
Marched toward Mount Hamáwan right speedily.
When from his look-out the Túránian watch
Espied these troops he went back to the host.
“Gird all your loins for fight,” he told Pírán,
“For from Írán an army hath arrived,
Advancing o'er the plain!”
The general
Went to the Khán of Chín, and said: “An army
Is coming from Írán, how great I know not,
Or who the leader is. What shall we do?”
Kámús said: “Keep thyself to thine own force.
Thou hast the warriors of Afrásiyáb—
An army like the waters of the sea—
Yet what hast thou accomplished in five months
Against a foe so small? Now that the earth
Is full of troops led by the Khán, Manshúr,
And me, let us display our prowess; thou
Hast locked the door but we will bring the key.
Although the world's face be as silk of Chín
With soldiers from Kábul, Zábul, and Hind,
Yet, should I fight alone, the Íránians
Were nothing. Thou wilt say of them: ‘They are
not.’
Thou wouldest scare me with illustrious Rustam;
Him will I slaughter first; if once I catch him
His name shall not be talked of any more.
Thou art oppressed and fearful of this host
My hand in battle, when the dust-cloud riseth
Upon the plain, and thou wilt recognise
A hero in the world, what brave men are,
And what fight is.”
Pírán said: “Live for ever!
May evil's hand be always far from thee.
Enough! may what thou sayest be fulfilled,
And no one prove thine equal.”
Said the Khán:—
“Thou hast allowed Kámús to lead the attack;
He will perform his word, for he hath Mountains
As his allies and Elephants for mates.
Daunt not the troops, for these Íránians
Are no great matter, and I will not leave
One noble in Írán, but send up dust
From hill and vale; as for the men of worship,
I will dispatch them to Afrásiyáb
In heavy fetters and behead the rest.
We will not leave Írán a leaf, a tree,
A Sháh, a palace or a crown or throne.”
Pírán with smiles did reverence to the chiefs,
And to the Khán of Chín, then went rejoicing
Back to the camp, where all the nobles sought him,
Such as Húmán, Lahhák, and Farshídward—
Great men and Lions on the day of battle.
“A host,” they said, “arriveth from Írán,
Led by a sable flag; a noted scout
Went forth to spy and is but now returned.
They say 'tis Faríburz son of Káús,
A noble, loyal soldier.”
Said Pírán:—
“Let us dismiss our cares. In Rustam's absence
We need not be afraid of Faríburz;
His breath is no cure for a bane like this.
But though according to Kámús indeed
The elephantine Rustam is no man
Be such a Crocodile!”
Húmán replied:—
“Why dost thou keep thy spirit dark with care?
This is not he, or army from Sístán:
Here are the blood and dust of Faríburz.”
Pírán said: “I have given up the throne
And state in dudgeon with the sun and moon,
For when I heard that from Írán a host
Marched, and was coming to this battlefield,
My brain went, anguish filled my soul and head,
And from my heart I drew a chilly sigh.”
Kulbád said: “Why this grief? What need is there
To weep because of Rustam or of Tús?
With all our soldiers, maces, elephants,
And scimitars we block the wind itself.
Why fear then Rustam, Tús, and Kai Khusrau?
What are the Íránians but as dust to us?
They were dispersed in flight from yonder field,
And straggled to their tents.”
Anon Tús heard:—
“The land is full of beat of kettledrum,
And elephantine Rustam hath arrived
With Faríburz and soldiers from Írán.”
He bade bring forth the drums, Mount Hamáwan,
Wherefrom shouts rose, grew ebon with dark dust,
And earth shook underneath the trampling steeds.
Then Tús harangued the troops, he spake at large
About Mázandarán, what Rustam did
In battle with the dívs, and how he triumphed.
The soldiers called down blessings on their chief,
They said: “Be ware of heart and bright of mind.
We may pour out our souls at this good news,
Which easeth them. When peerless Rustam cometh
Yon host will not withstand the Crocodile.
Then will we battle on this mount forthwith
To cast this shame off from the Íránians.
The standard of the illustrious Khán, the crown,
The golden shields, and throne of ivory,
Their golden girdles and their golden torques,
Their golden cymbals and their golden bells,
Unmatched on earth, his jewelled parasol
Of peacocks' tails, these will we seize, and more,
When we are fighting with our lives at stake.”
Tús said: “We are exposed to fear and blame;
Our foes surround the mount, our nobles' heads
Are snared. When Rustam cometh he will speak
Upbraidingly, not asking what hath chanced,
And say: ‘Thou wast a bird caught in a net;
The cause was sodden but the fight was raw.
As with the general so with the host
I have not seen one eager for the fray!’
So let us charge like lions, and the foe
May yet be shifted on this side the mount.”
The troops replied to him: “Soar not so high.
Refrain from words like these, let none advance
Till Rustam hath surveyed the scene of strife.
We will make prayer to God, the Guide to good.
By His command, Who holdeth sun and moon,
The matchless Rustam will approach this field.
Why have disaster for thy star? Bestow
Dínárs and drachms upon the poor.”
The troops
Raised shouts of joy upon the mountain-top
As merrily they sought their place of rest,
Each man to spend the night as seemed him best.
When Sol laid hand on Taurus, and the larks
Began to carol o'er the plain, a shout
That man-o'erthrowing chief who led the van.
He massed his troops and gave out mail; his heart
Was full of fight, his head of vapouring.
He changed his robe for armour, donned a helm
Instead of crown, a breastplate for a tunic,
And chose troops panoplied in steel and iron.
The armies' dust began to show itself,
Men could not see their way for scimitars
And coats of mail. Then from the Íránian look-out
A shout rose: “On our side a host hath come;
The standard of the elephantine chief
Is visible behind it. On the other168
Túránian troops have clouded all the air.
Their leader is a horseman like a rock,
And earth is shaken by his charger's hoofs.
His mace's head is like a buffalo's;
Troops follow him and spearmen lead the way.
Thou well mayst muse at one that shouldereth
A mace like that!”
On his side Tús sent up
The drum-roll to the clouds, he heard the watchman,
His soul grew bright, he joyed, while from Gúdarz
A horseman sped to Faríburz to say:—
“The army of Túrán arrayed for battle
Is near at hand. They must not in full force
Assail us scattered thus and overthrow us.
Act as thy nature biddeth, for thou art
A noble and Sháh's son. The dust of Rustam
Is rising from the road, and he is entering
The field.”
Then Faríburz joined force with Tús
And Gív. They ranged the host on Hamáwan,
And raised the glorious flag. All being ready,
Right, left, and centre, rear and baggage-train,
The clarions blared and all the host came on
As 'twere the starry sky; so when Kámús
Advanced to fight he had no need to wait,
But, like a river speeding down a height,
Led on his troops and fronted Hamáwan.
Air was like indigo and earth was hidden.
When he was near he faced toward the mount,
And with his cheeks all smiles addressed his powers:—
“It is a coward's business to oppose
The Íránians, yet a vast, brave host is here
And not Pírán, Húmán, and all that crew!
What champion have they to contend with me?”
Then shouting to Mount Hamáwan he cried:—
“Ye lion-men upon the day of battle!
Behold my breast, my stature, and my bearing,
This arm of mine, this sword and mace!”
Then Gív,
On hearing, flared up, raged, and drew his sword,
But said, when he drew nearer to Kámús:—
“None but a furious elephant can match him!”
He took and strung his bow, he called on God,
The Giver of all good, and showered arrows
From bow like clouds in spring upon Kámús,
Who, when he marked Gív's mastery, concealed
His own head 'neath his shield, and with his lance
Charged wolf-like. Air was full of dust, and earth
Of death. On drawing near his foe he speared
Plucked out his own sword, shouted, raged, proclaimed
His name, came grimly on the cavalier,
And clave his lance obliquely like a pen.
Tús from the centre saw the fight with grief,
And thought: “Gív is not man enough; I only
Can wield a spear like that.”
He left the centre
With shouts to succour Gív and join the fray.
Kámús wheeled, rode between the chiefs, and struck
The steed of Tús a sword-blow on the neck;
That prince's face became like ebony.
The charger fell, the gallant rider rose;
Then like a roaring lion took his stand,
And on the battlefield with spear afoot
Contended with Kámús before the hosts.
Two noble warriors fought one cavalier;
He of Kashán was still insatiate!
Thus, till the sun's place darkened, all the field
Was in confusion and, when it grew ebon,
Kámús and Tús gave o'er. The hosts again
Went to their several camps on mount and plain.