ABSTRACT
This done, he called on God and marched his powers Prom Samarkand. On that side Sháh Pírúz, The frantic, led his troops on like a blast ; On this side Khúshnawáz with fearful heart
Prayed privily before the holy Judge. The drums and trumpets sounded in both hosts, The air was ebon with the armies’ dust, And from them both such showers of arrows rained That blood ran down like water in a stream. Then, like a dust-cloud, Sháh Pírúz advanced With mace and Rúman helm, and as he drew Anear to Khúshnawáz,1 the Turkmans’ chief Retreated, turned his rein, and showed his back. The foeman followed fiercely. Sháh Pírúz Spurred forward with few followers and fell With others-chiefs and Lions of the day Of battle-in the fosse, such as Hurmuz His brother, glorious Kubád and othersGreat men and princes of the royal raceTill seven had fallen headlong, men of name With golden casques. Then Khúshnawáz returned Rejoicing to the fosse and lifted thence The living while the throne bewailed their fortune. Now Sháh Pírúz, that chief of chiefs endowed With Grace and state, had broken head and back, While of the princes, save Kubád, none lived : Thus host and empire went adown the wind. Then Khúshnawáz advanced with heart content, And head exalted with his warrior-host, And gave to spoil the baggage and the foe, For right and left were indistinguishable. They made some prisoners and what numbers more Were stretched by arrows on the sombre soil !
