Book B5The Seven Labors of Rostam

Then Rostam, world-illuming, left his sire,And urged brave Rakhsh along with fierce desire.

He rode through darkest night as if by day,And pressed ahead without a pause or stay.

Two days of travel into one he made,Through blackest night and noon he never stayed.

Then hunger seized his elephantine frame;A plain of Gur-e-Khar before him came.

Gur-e-Khar in countless numbers strayed;He pressed his thighs; swift Rakhsh their speed outweighed.

His Kayanian kamand flew and caughtOne beast; none fled the speed with which he fought.

He struck his arrowhead till sparks took fire,And heaped dry thorn and brush to feed the pyre.

He roasted flesh until his hunger fled,Then cast the bones beside the embers red.

The beast his pot, the plain his banquet ground;No richer table could have there been found.

He found a meadow green with grazing spread,And slipped the bridle free from Rakhsh’s head.

He let him graze where tender grasses grew,Then sought the reeds where night lay thick with dew.

He made his bed among the reeds obscure,Mistaking deadly ground for ground secure.

A lion ruled that reed-grown hunting ground;No elephant would cut those reeds around.

One watch had passed; the lion neared his bed,And saw brave Rakhsh beside the sleeper’s head.

He saw the steed, and Rostam sleeping sound,An elephantine body, like a mound.

“First crush the horse,” he thought, “and clear my way;The sleeping man will then become my prey.”

He sprang; but Rakhsh, like fire, rose in flame,And charged the lion as the lion came.

He struck its head with both forelegs in rage,Then seized its back, his sharpened jaws a cage.

He smashed the lion hard against the ground,And tore it till no trace of life was found.

Then Rostam woke and saw the lion slain,Its shattered body stretched across the plain.

He cried: “O reckless Rakhsh, who told you to fightA lion while I slept away the night?

Had it slain you, what would my helm avail,My jowshan, Babr-e Bayan, if you fail?

How could I bear my kamand, bow, and blade,My heavy gorz, along the road we made?

Had I awakened, short would be the fight.”He spoke, then laid his head to rest till light.

Above the darkened mountain rose the Sun;Tahamtan woke when sweetest sleep was done.

He groomed and saddled Rakhsh, whose courage stood,Then praised pure Yazdan, giver of all good.

Before him stretched a road he could not shun,Across the desert underneath the sun.

The waterless waste seethed in blinding heat,And scorched the birds that crossed on failing feet.

The plain lay scorched as if by heaven’s flame,A lifeless tract no living thing could claim.

Rakhsh labored on beneath the crushing glare,While thirst consumed his rider with despair.

His tongue was parched, his strength began to fail;His sight grew dim, his senses weak and frail.

Javelin in hand, he staggered in pain,Like one made drunk, and searched the burning plain.

He raised his eyes: “O Judge who ends all woe,Let this affliction too its ending know.

If this ordeal should please You in Your sight,Fill up my worldly treasure by Your might.

Yet still I strive that Kavus may be freed,And Iran leave the Divs’ claws in its need.

Though they have sinned, they still belong to You;Forgive Your servants who have strayed from true.”

Thus spoke the hero, faint with thirst and heat,Then sank upon the burning dust at his feet.

His tongue was cracked, his breath had nearly flown,When sudden hope before his eyes was shown.

A blessed ram moved lightly on the ground,Untouched by drought, in limb and body sound.

Rostam beheld and thought: “This creature’s wayMust lead to water hidden from the day.

In this I see the World-Creator’s grace;Some spring must lie beyond this burning place.”

Through God’s own power he rose, though nearly dead,And followed where the blessed ram had led.

With sword in hand, he held the reins drawn tight,And pressed ahead beneath the burning light.

At last he reached the spring the ram had found,And life returned beside its waters’ sound.

He looked to heaven: “O Judge whose rule is right,Your mercy led me through this deadly plight.

No sheep-track leads to where these waters shine;This wild ram surely is no kin of mine.

Such guidance shows the mercy of Your hand;No mortal chance could lead across this land.

When hardship closes every mortal way,Seek refuge in pure Yazdan; do not stray.

Who turns from the One Just has wisdom none;The mind grows dark when faith in Him is done.”

Rostam said, “May heaven bring you no ill;May fortune guard and favor you there still.

May greenest pasture flourish where you tread,And no fierce leopard rejoice to see you dead.

Who bends a bow against you for your death,May bowstring snap and darkness cloud his breath.

You gave the elephant-limbed hero life;Else I would now lie fallen in the strife.

Or in a dragon’s maw or wolf’s embrace,Be torn by beasts till foes found but my trace.”

He took the saddle from brave Rakhsh’s back,Then washed away the dust of that hard track.

He washed him in the spring’s clear water bright,Until Rakhsh shone like sunlight to the sight.

Refreshed, he girded up and strung his bow,Then filled his quiver, hunting forth to go.

He loosed a shaft; a Gur-e-Khar went down,Then stripped its hide upon the desert ground.

He heaped dry brush and set the wood aflame,Then roasted flesh from which new vigor came.

He ate his fill, then picked each bone clean bare,And stripped the final morsels he could tear.

He drank his fill beside the shining stream,Then laid him down to court a welcome dream.

He spoke to Rakhsh: “If danger should draw near,Come swiftly to my side and wake me here.

Do not engage a lion, Div, or foe;Let me confront it and return the blow.”

Then Rostam slept in silence, spent and still,While Rakhsh grazed freely, roaming at his will.

Proud Rakhsh went grazing through the silent night,And fed until the midnight hour took flight.

A dragon rose upon the barren sand,No elephant could flee its dread command.

Its den lay deep; no Div would venture near,Nor cross that deadly ground without great fear.

It saw the hero sleeping on the plain,With restless Rakhsh beside him, tugging rein.

It thought: “What mortal dares to rest his headWhere all who ventured here before lie dead?”

No Div, no elephant, no lion boldWould dare that road or cross its deadly hold.

Who entered once was caught beneath its paws;No living thing escaped those killing jaws.

It turned on Rakhsh; the stallion, filled with dread,Rushed to his lord and stamped beside his bed.

He lashed his tail and raised a thunderous cry;His brazen hooves beat earth and dust on high.

The hero woke, his mind prepared for war,And scanned the waste but saw the beast no more.

Then anger seized him at his faithful steed;He cursed him for his sudden, restless deed.

Again the dragon issued from the night;Rakhsh pawed beside his lord with all his might.

The sleeper woke, his yellow cheeks drawn tight,And cursed the horse that woke him in his fright.

He searched the desert, restless and alone,But nothing met his eyes but dust and stone.

“Disturb me once again and you shall fall;My sharpened sword shall silence you for all.

My Babr-e Bayan, sword, and gorz I bear;On foot toward Mazandaran I shall fare.

If lion comes against you, let it stand;I said that I would face it with my hand.

I gave no leave, before the day grew bright,To rush upon me; wait till I see light.”

He wrapped his Babr-e Bayan round him tight,And slept a third time in the depth of night.

The dragon roared, its breath like furnace flame;Rakhsh left the grass but near his lord scarce came.

He dared not close; his heart was split by fear,Of dragon’s rage and Rostam’s anger near.

At last his love overcame fear’s command;He rushed like wind and neighed and pawed the sand.

He struck the ground with all his gathered might,Till earth itself seemed shattered in the night.

Then Rostam started once again from sleep,And turned on faithful Rakhsh with anger deep.

The World-Creator willed the truth revealed;The dragon’s form could no more lie concealed.

He saw the dragon clearly in the night,And drew his sharpened sword, prepared to fight.

He roared as spring clouds roar across the sky;The fire of battle made the earth reply.

“Declare your name! Your death is drawing near;No joy remains for you to cherish here.

I will not have your soul from dark flesh fly,Unnamed beneath my hand when you must die.”

The dragon roared: “None leaves my claws alive;No beast that enters here can long survive.

A hundred by a hundred is my plain;The highest arch of heaven crowns my reign.

No eagle dares to cross the sky I claim,Nor star in dreams looks down upon the same.

Now speak your name before your life is torn,So she who bore you knows whom she must mourn.”

“I am Rostam,” the fearless hero said,“From Dastan, Sahm, and Nariman I am bred.

Alone I am an army on the field;On Rakhsh I make the stubborn earth to yield.

You soon shall learn the measure of my blade;Your head shall fall and in the dust be laid.”

The dragon grappled fiercely in the fray,But from Tahamtan found no path away.

It battled him with overwhelming might,And Rakhsh beheld his master pressed in fight.

But seeing Rostam hard beset and near,He rushed upon the beast and cast off fear.

He laid his ears back, sprang as lions would,And bit the towering dragon where it stood.

He tore its shoulder with his sharpened teeth,Like lion’s jaws that rend the flesh beneath.

At Rakhsh’s deed great Rostam stared amazed,To see his steed against the dragon raised.

Then Rostam struck with one resounding blow;His flashing blade laid low the monstrous foe.

The severed head fell crashing to the plain,And blood poured forth like rivers after rain.

The monstrous body covered all the ground;The earth beneath its bulk could scarce be found.

A spring of blood burst from the severed frame,And over darkened earth the warm flood came.

Rostam drew breath, astonished at the sight;Even his heart was shaken by its might.

He saw warm blood stream over earth and spread,Then praised pure Yazdan, viewing what was shed.

He washed his head and body in the stream,Till every limb beneath the water gleamed.

“Through strength of the World-Keeper I prevail;Without His aid all mortal powers must fail.

O righteous Judge, from You my powers are:You gave me wisdom, strength, and royal farr.

What fear have I of lion, Div, or foe,Or elephant, when You sustain my blow?

Nor waterless desert nor the Nile’s broad tide;With You as guard I cast all fear aside.

When anger drives me forward to the fray,The many and the few are one that day.”

His praises done, he swung up on Rakhsh’s back,And took the road along the wizards’ track.

For long across the farsang path he strode,Till trees and running waters plainly showed.

There grass grew thick beside the waters green,A place for youthful pleasure, fresh, serene.

A spring there shone like some bright pheasant’s eye,With sudden bounty that would beckon by.

Wine red as pigeon’s blood, wild mutton spread,With salt and richal set beside the bread.

He left the saddle lying on the ground,And marveled at the feast that he had found.

He gazed upon the roasted meat nearby,And bread arranged before his wondering eye.

The feast was spread within the wizards’ lair;A Div withdrew and vanished into air.

He sat beside the stream with cup in hand,And found a fine tanbur upon the sand.

He struck its strings; the wilderness seemed allTransformed around him to a feasting hall.

He sang: “Ill-starred, I wander year by year;Few joyful days have ever brought me cheer.

My life is war with dragon and with Div;Through desert wilds no respite they will leave.

Wherever I may go, the field is war;The mount and desert are my garden floor.

No wine, no cup, no fragrant meadow’s bloomHas Fortune granted me to ease my gloom.

My lot is still the nahang to withstand,Or face the leopard roaming through the land.”

A witch then heard his song and tanbur ring,And came toward Rostam at the sound of string.

She dressed her face in colors like the spring,Though beauty was no gift that she could bring.

With scent and color bright she reached his side,Then greeted him and sat beside his ride.

Then Rostam raised his voice in grateful prayer,And praised pure Yazdan for such bounteous fare.

For feast and wine and tanbur graced the ground,And now a youthful drinking friend he found.

He did not know what evil shape lay near,That Ahriman beneath her charms was here.

He placed a cup of wine within her hand,And praised the Giver of Good across the land.

At once her borrowed beauty left her face;Her painted charms dissolved without a trace.

Her soul knew no devotion, prayer, or light;At Yazdan’s name her features blackened quite.

Swift as the wind he cast his kamand wide,And caught her head and bound her at his side.

“Declare what thing you are, and let me seeThe face and form that truly you may be.”

Within the coils a foul old hag was seen,Deep-wrinkled, stinking, hideous in mien.

With guile and magic bonds and harm replete,Her false enchantments ended at his feet.

He drew his khanjar, struck without delay,And cut her through the middle where she lay.

The other sorcerers were seized with dread;Through all of them her death’s swift terror spread.

He journeyed on and reached a realm of night,So black no star could lend the darkness light.

Within that gloom no ray could mark the way;The blackness swallowed every trace of day.

A star seemed caught within a kamand’s snare,While darkness sealed the road and blinded air.

He loosed the rein and trusted Rakhsh to tread,Where sight was lost and every landmark fled.

No height from stream appeared within his sight,So Rakhsh alone must choose the road that night.

At last he broke beyond that shadowed seam,And saw a land alive with field and stream.

Like painted silk the fertile valley lay,As though the world renewed its youth that day.

His clothes were drenched with sweat; he longed for rest,And stripped the Babr-e Bayan from his breast.

He took his sweat-soaked helmet from his head,And set them in the sunlight where it spread.

He slipped the bridle free from Rakhsh’s rein,And let him graze among the ripened grain.

When helm and Babr-e Bayan both were dry,He donned them once again beneath the sky.

Like lion then upon the grass he lay,And gave his weary limbs to sleep that day.

The watchman saw the charger in the grain,And hurried toward the sleeper in disdain.

He struck the hero’s foot with sudden force,And cursed both sleeping man and grazing horse.

He woke him, crying Ahriman by name,Then turned on Rakhsh and laid the fault and blame.

“Why loose your steed among another’s toil?Why let him graze and trample planted soil?”

Then Rostam rose in fury at his jeers,And tore out by the roots the watchman’s ears.

He spoke no word of evil or of good;The watchman gathered both where he had stood.

He clutched them in his hands and fled in pain,His blood and cries pursuing him across the plain.

He reached Ulad, the marzban young and bold,A famous Pahlevan whom men extolled.

He found Ulad engaged upon the chase,With famed companions riding at his pace.

His severed ears he carried in each hand,While blood ran down his face upon the land.

“Black as a Div, iron-helmed before my eyes,In leopard armor, Ahriman in guise!

A dragon armored, sleeping on the ground;No mortal man so terrible is found.

He tore my ears away and nothing said,Then calmly turned and laid him on his bed!”

Ulad rode forth with nobles at his side,To seek the stranger in his wounded pride.

He left the hunt and followed Rostam’s trace,With chosen chiefs who rode at hunting pace.

He sought to learn what stranger lay ahead,And why his watchman fled in pain and dread.

They reached the field and found him on the plain,Where Rakhsh had fed among the trampled grain.

He armed and mounted, sword drawn from its shroud,And rode to meet them like a thundercloud.

“What is your name?” cried Ulad. “Who are you?What king protects you, whom do you pursue?

This is the road where savage lions stand;No stranger passes lightly through this land.

Why tear his ears? What grievance did he breed?What cause had he to suffer such a deed?

Why loose your horse to ravage planted grain?Why waste another’s labor for your gain?

I shall make all the world before you black,And grind your iron helmet under attack!”

Rostam replied: “My name is Cloud in fight,A lion-cloud that fills the field with night.

My rain is spear and sword, my fruit men’s heads;No field survives where such a tempest spreads.

If you should hear the name by which I am known,Your breath and blood would freeze, your heart turn stone.

Have you not heard what bow and kamand madeOf chiefs whose battle ranks were left dismayed?

The mothers who bear sons like you, we callShroud-sewers, born to mourn their sons who fall.

You brought an army, boasting as you came;Such empty words will win you only shame.”

With that he drew his sword of deadly light,And rode among them eager for the fight.

Like lion among sheep he tore their rank,And horsemen fled before him, flank from flank.

He struck so hard two heads fell in one sweep,And rolled together, tumbling in a heap.

The chiefs beneath his strokes were hurled to ground,Their heads beneath the pounding hooves were found.

Their ranks broke wide; their courage turned to dust,They fled as shattered armies flee when thrust.

The plain and hills were veiled in clouds of sand,As horsemen fled to cave and mountain land.

Around his arm lay sixty coils wound tight;He chased them like an elephant in fight.

When Rakhsh drew near, Ulad’s bright day turned night;The fleeing chief saw darkness close his sight.

Rostam cast out the long kamand ahead,And caught the fleeing Ulad by the head.

He hauled him from the saddle, bound each hand,And drove him on before him through the land.

“If you speak truth and harbor no deceit,And guide me where the White Div keeps his seat,

Where Pulad Ghandi and Bid make their lair,And where the Shah lies bound in grim despair;

Show every place and make its pathway clear;Let nothing false or crooked reach my ear.

If every place you show me true and plain,I shall strip crown and throne from that king’s reign.

His heavy gorz as well shall pass from him;Then you shall rule his realm from rim to rim.

But if deceit is hidden in your lies,A river of blood shall flow from both your eyes.”

Ulad replied: “Be merciful today;I shall reveal whatever marks the way.

Cast anger from your mind and clear your sight;Look on me now with judgment firm and right.

Restrain your wrath, and let me not be slain;Ask what you will, and I shall all explain.

I shall guide you through the roads and hidden ways,To where the Shah endures his captive days.

The house of Bid, the White Div’s secret place,I shall reveal if mercy grants me grace.

To Kavus is a hundred farsangs’ road;A hundred more to the White Div’s abode.

That second hundred winds through evil ground,A harsh road where no easy path is found.

Between two mountains runs that dreadful way,Where even Homa will not cross by day.

Two hundred chasms scar that fearful waste;Their depth and span no measure ever traced.

Twelve thousand fighting Divs guard every height,And hold the mountain passes through the night.

Pulad Ghandi commands that dreadful band,While Bid and Sanja guard the outer land.

The White Div rules the males who him obey;Before him mountains tremble like willow spray.

His body rises like a mountain wall;His strength could make the proudest warrior fall.

Ten ropes would span his chest and shoulders wide;No living foe could match him side to side.

Though sword and gorz and spear obey your art,To fight that Div is folly from the start.

Beyond are rocks no gazelle can cross,A savage ground where every step is loss.

Beyond those rocks a mighty river lies,More than two farsangs wide before your eyes.

A Div kanarang stands upon its side;The male Divs all obey him far and wide.

From Buzgush to Narmpai runs the long road,Three hundred farsangs under traveler’s load.

From Buzgush toward Mazandaran’s town,A harsh long road runs winding up and down.

And then a thousand thousand horsemen wait,All armed and gathered by the city’s gate.

Their troops have arms and wealth in rich array,And all stand ready for the battle day.

Twelve hundred war elephants fill each stall;Their numbers overflow the city wall.

Though you were forged of iron head to heel,Ahriman’s file would grind you down like steel.”

Rostam laughed loudly at the tale he heard:“One man stands firm where armies have been stirred.

Guide me, and you shall see that Divish bandBroken by one elephant-bodied hand.

With Yazdan’s victory, fortune, sword, and skill,I shall break their ranks and bend them to my will.

When they behold my shoulders and my frame,And feel my heavy gorz descend like flame,

Their skin and sinews split beneath the blow,And terror through their stricken ranks shall flow.

They will not know their stirrup from their rein;So lead me now to Kavus in his chain.”

He sprang on Rakhsh; Ulad ran on ahead,Like wind before him down the road he fled.

Through blackest night and brightness of the day,They reached Mount Ispuruz without delay.

Here Kavus brought his army to the field,Till Divs and sorcery compelled it yield.

When half the blackened night was spent and done,A mighty roar arose before the sun.

Then watchfires flamed through Mazandaran wide,And countless candles burned on every side.

“What place is this that blazes left and right?Why do these fires consume the face of night?”

Ulad replied: “Mazandaran is near;For two parts of the night no sleep comes here.

For Arzhang Div is there; when cries arise,His roaring tumult shakes the darkened skies.”

Rostam slept on until the shining SunRaised up its face and night at last was done.

At dawn he took his kamand, coiled it round,And to a tree Ulad was tightly bound.

His fathers’ gorz he laid across the seat,Then rode, his heart with stratagem replete.

In royal helm and Babr-e Bayan sweat-stained,He sought out Arzhang where the Divs all reigned.

He entered camp and gave so vast a cry,It seemed to split the sea and vaulted sky.

The mountains reeled beneath that dreadful sound,And terror swept the Divs on every ground.

At that great cry, from out his tent he sprang,While through the camp the dreadful tumult rang.

Like Azargashasp, Rostam spurred ahead,And closed on Arzhang with a lightning tread.

He seized his head, his ears, his hair, and droveThe warlord backward, though he fought and strove.

Then lion-like he tore the head away,And cast the lifeless trunk aside as prey.

Before the gathered Divs he flung the head,Its blood still flowing as their courage fled.

At sight of that, the Divs broke into run,And fleeing fathers overtook each son.

They thought no more of homeland or of stay,But cast both home and safety far away.

Their ranks dissolved; each sought a separate track,And none among them dared to turn his back.

Then Rostam drew revenge’s sharpened blade,And cleared the field of Divs who stood arrayed.

At sunset back to Ispuruz he came,Returning swiftly from the field of flame.

Beneath a lofty tree, with gentle hand,He freed Ulad from the binding kamand.

Then asked, “What road leads where Kavus is bound?What path will take me to that captive ground?”

Ulad described the road and took the lead,On foot he ran before the mounted steed.

They reached the city; Rakhsh gave out a cryLike thunder rolling through the darkened sky.

Kavus heard and knew that thunderous sound,And raised his weary head from captive ground.

He cried, “Our evil days have reached their close;My heart grows young, my spirit newly rose.

I knew that call in Kay Qobad’s old day,When Rostam drove Turan’s king from the fray.”

The captives said, “These bonds have crushed his mind,And ruined the soul that suffering confined.

His wisdom, sense, and farr have left his head;He speaks as though still dreaming in his bed.

No cure remains within these bonds we bear;Our Fortune turned and left us to despair.”

Then Rostam, lover of the clash, drew near,The mighty chief who made his foes know fear.

Gudarz and Tus and Giv came to his side,With Bahram, hearts with sudden hope supplied.

Then Gostaham and Shidush joined the throng,While tears of joy rose up, restrained too long.

He wept, then bowed in homage at his feet,And asked what trials had made their grief complete.

Kavus embraced him, drew him to his breast,Asked after Zal and hardships of his quest.

Then Kavus whispered, “Hide brave Rakhsh from sight;Let no sorcerer behold him day or night.

If White Div learns that Arzhang has been slain,And you are here, the male Divs flood the plain.

They all will gather, filling every way;Your toil will fail beneath their vast array.

Go now toward the White Div’s dark abode;With body, sword, and arrows bear the road.

If pure Yazdan grants you strength and aid,Bring sorcerers’ heads to dust beneath your blade.

Beyond lie seven mountains in a chain,With bands of Divs arrayed on every plain.

Then comes a cave, a place of dread and night;Male Divs like leopards guard its inward height.

Within, the White Div gives them hope and dread;Strike down their chief, and all their strength lies dead.

Grief darkened every captive warrior’s eye;My own, too, sunk in endless darkness lie.

The healers place their hope in blood they gainFrom White Div’s heart and from his monstrous brain.

A wise physician says his blood must fallLike tears; three drops are cure enough for all.

Let those three drops fall in the darkened eye;The blood will draw the blindness out and dry.”

Then Rostam rose and girded for the fight,His purpose fixed, his warrior’s spirit bright.

He said, “Stay wakeful; keep your courage true;My purpose now is White Div to pursue.

A battle-elephant, shrewd in the fray,A cunning strategist who knows the way.

A mighty army gathers at his side,With countless male Divs standing as his pride.

If he should bend my back beneath his chain,Long shame and sorrow will with you remain.

But if Yazdan of Sun will be my shield,And strengthen my good star, my heart is steeled,

Then land and throne shall rise from grief made free,And Iran once again its realm shall see.

The royal tree shall bear the fruit it bore,And ancient royal glory we restore.”

He girded for revenge and took the way,And urged brave Rakhsh toward the coming fray.

Ulad beside him served as faithful guide,While Rakhsh like wind went racing at his side.

When he had crossed the seven mountain chains,He saw the Divish camps across the plains.

Before a cavern black as starless night,He paused and judged the ground and guarded site.

Around the cavern countless Divs were found,Their guarding army ringed the sunken ground.

He said to Ulad: “You have led me true;Now show the hidden road I must pursue.”

Ulad replied: “When noon burns fierce and high,The Divs grow weary and in slumber lie.

Wait till they sleep; few watchers will remain,Then trust the Victorious One upon the plain.”

He waited till the noonday Sun blazed hot,Bound Ulad head to foot in tightened knot.

He mounted Rakhsh and drew his tempered blade,And toward the guards his thunderous onset made.

He cried his name like thunder wrapped in flame,And charged among the Divs who heard that name.

He struck down chiefs and drove the rest away;None dared remain to bar Tahamtan’s way.

Like shining Sun he rode where White Div lay,And pressed toward the cavern without delay.

A hell-like pit yawned cavernous and deep;Its bottom vanished where the shadows sleep.

With sword in hand he sought a place to fight;No path to flee appeared within the night.

He waited till his eyes could bear the gloom,And let their sight grow used to that dark room.

He rubbed his lashes, cleared his eyes of haze,Then through the heavy dark he fixed his gaze.

He searched the cavern, scanning left and right;At last a monstrous shape appeared in sight.

Like some vast mountain, dark and huge, it lay;Its monstrous breadth concealed the cave away.

The cavern seemed beneath its bulk to hide;No empty space appeared on either side.

Its heavy mane hung thick about its frame,A living shadow vast in bulk and name.

Its face was black as jet within the lair,And like a lion’s mane hung down its hair.

He found it sleeping, yet refused to slay;He roared like leopard, calling it to fray.

Its breadth and height seemed all the cave to fill,A mountain formed of flesh and brutal will.

It woke and surged, a black mount armed for fight,With iron arms and helmet iron-bright.

A millstone in its grasp it raised and threw,Then rushed on Rostam as the missile flew.

For one brief breath his heart knew sudden dread;He saw what mortal peril lay ahead.

Like raging lion Rostam struck awayOne thigh and leg from White Div in the fray.

Though maimed, upon one leg it fought him still;Its fury shook the cavern with its will.

It overturned the cavern in its rage;The walls resounded like a shattered cage.

It seized at Rostam’s neck with crushing grip,And strove to make the Pahlevan’s footing slip.

They grappled close and tore at flesh and bone,Each fought as though the world were his alone.

Their streaming blood made mud across the ground,While flesh was torn and scattered all around.

They wrestled long, each striving to prevail,Until the cavern echoed with travail.

Then Rostam thought: “If I survive today,I shall live forever after this affray.”

The White Div thought: “Sweet life is lost to me;If I escape this dragon, none shall see.

No great or small in Mazandaran shall knowWhere I have gone if from his claws I go.”

The Life-Creator strengthened Rostam’s hand,And gave him force that none could long withstand.

He seized the White Div, lifted him on high,And hurled him down with force that shook the sky.

The life fled out beneath that crushing fall,And silence spread along the cavern wall.

He drew his khanjar, drove it through the core,And tore the heart the monstrous creature bore.

He ripped the liver from the monster’s side,While blood like rivers streamed both deep and wide.

The cavern filled with corpses of the dead;The world seemed like a sea of blood run red.

Then Rostam turned, his dreadful labor done,And left the cavern where the blood had run.

He freed Ulad and cast the cords aside;The marzban rose and stood at Rostam’s side.

His royal kamand to the saddle strap he tied,Then turned brave Rakhsh toward the outward ride.

He placed the liver in Ulad’s own care,And said: “Guard well the cure that you now bear.”

Then back toward Kay Kavus he made his way,The White Div slain within his cave that day.

Ulad then said: “O lion fierce in war,Your sword has humbled all who stood before.

The marks of your kamand still score my side;To break your pledged word would your fame deride.”

Rostam replied: “I pledge each field and town;When all is finished, yours shall be its crown.

One long and difficult task still remains;Its road climbs heights and falls through bitter pains.

First Mazandaran’s king must lose his throne;I shall cast him in a well of stone.

Then countless thousands of the Divs remain;Their sorcerous heads must fall beneath the slain.

If I go down to dust once this is through,My pledge remains; if living, I serve you.”

He reached the Shah; a joyful cry rang clear,And all the captive champions gathered near.

They rushed to greet him, praising Rostam’s name,And hailed the chief who crowned himself with fame.

He said: “Rejoice! The White Div now is slain;His power is broken and his strength made vain.

I ripped the liver from his body dark;Of White Div’s dreaded name remains no mark.”

Kavus embraced him, tears upon his brow:“May crown and army never lack you now.

Blessed the mother who gave birth to you;No woman bore a champion half so true.

A thousand blessings fall on Zal’s great line,And on your Zabul, for this deed divine.

No age has seen your equal in its span,Nor Time produced another such a man.

My Fortune too is happier in renown,To have such lion-slayer serve my crown.

Now place White Div’s blood upon our eyes,That I may see your face beneath the skies.”

He touched the blood to every darkened lid,And sight returned; the darkness from them slid.

Their darkened eyes grew Sun-like, clear and bright,And all the chiefs rejoiced in new-found sight.

An ivory throne was raised beneath the king,Above it hung the crown in glittering ring.

The Shah then took Mazandaran’s royal seat,With Rostam and the chiefs before his feet.

With Rostam stood the chiefs in proud array:Tus, Fariborz, Gudarz, and Giv that day.

Rohham and Gorgin, Bahram famed in fight,All gathered round the Shah with hearts made light,

Together round the rescued monarch stood,Their sight restored, their spirits bright and good.

For one full week they feasted, cup in hand,With wine and rud resounding through the land.

Upon the eighth day all the chiefs bestrodeTheir horses and resumed the martial road.

Their heavy gorz rose high, a sight of dread;Through Mazandaran their gathered forces spread.

Like fire they spread through fields of brittle reed,And struck with gorz and blade in ruthless speed.

Their sharpened swords struck sparks and kindled flame;The city burned wherever warriors came.

A stream of blood ran red across the land,As sorcerers fell beneath Iran’s hand.

At nightfall all the warriors ceased the fight,And rested from the slaughter through the night.

At last the Shah declared: “The debt is paid;Full recompense for every wrong is laid.

They have received the fruit their deeds increase;Enough of killing; let the slaughter cease.

Choose now a weighty man, both wise and gray,Who knows the hour for haste, the hour for stay.

Send him before Mazandaran’s royal heart,To wake his mind through wisdom and through art.”

Zal’s son and all the chiefs approved the plan,And chose their course before the gathered clan.

Then to the king their written words took flight,To kindle his dark spirit into light.

On white silk Kavus set the page in place,And called a practiced scribe of skill and grace.

He shaped the letter, weighing every word,Both mild and stern, so hope and fear were stirred.

He praised the Just One, source of every art,Who grants mankind discernment, mind, and heart.

Who turns the sphere and fashioned wrath and love,And set the circling heavens high above.

Who gave mankind the choice of good and ill,And guides the sun and moon by sovereign will.

“If one stands just, with faith both firm and clear,All people praise him and will hold him dear.

But if he turns to harm and crooked path,He draws down on himself the heavens’ wrath.

If God is just, why spurn His law and stray?Why turn from truth and draw His wrath your way?

You now have heard what fate befell your band:Yazdan swept Divs and sorcery from land.

If sense and judgment still within you live,Then weigh the choice that reason bids you give.

Come to my court and set your pride aside,As subject now beneath my rule abide.

Submit like all who bow before the throne,And live secure with lands still called your own.

For none can stand when Rostam takes the field;His strength has forced the proudest foes to yield.

Pay tribute then, and keep your lands in peace;Let conflict end and needless bloodshed cease.

But if defiance is the path you tread,Join Arzhang and White Div among the dead.”

With musk and ambergris the seal was made,And in a warrior’s hands the letter laid.

Farhad, known among the nobles for his skill,Was charged to bear the Shah’s commanding will.

No idleness had ever checked his pace,And vigor marked his bearing and his face.

“Take this wise counsel to the Div who fled,Escaped from bonds; now speak what I have said.”

He kissed the earth and took the letter sealed,Then rode until Mazandaran stood revealed.

He reached the Narmpai country, native homeWhere steel-chewers on leathern feet would roam.

There Mazandaran’s king and chiefs were found,With bold sepahbods gathered all around.

He sent a rider on to tell the kingThat Kavus’s envoy came his word to bring.

The king was told a wise envoy drew near,From Kavus’s court with counsel for his ear.

He chose his warriors one by one for might,And bade them show their prowess in his sight.

“Let him behold what separates mankindFrom Divs whose strength leaves mortal force behind.

Go meet him like the leopard on its prey,And let your Div-like strength his heart dismay.”

They came in force and grimly closed him round,Their anger thick as storm-clouds on the ground.

One seized his hand and crushed with savage force,Till pain through bone and sinew ran its course.

Yet Farhad held his ground beneath the strain;His face showed neither pallor nor the pain.

The king received him, asked how Kavus fared,And what hard trials upon the road he shared.

They scattered wine and musk on silk of white,Then set the scented letter in plain sight.

A Mobad read the letter to them all,And every word struck like a karnay call.

The king grew tense and darkened at the tone,While pride and fury claimed him for their own.

When he heard tell of Arzhang fallen low,And of the White Div struck by fatal blow,

Heart’s blood seemed gathered in his burning eyes,As grief and anger in his breast would rise.

“The sun may sink; the weary world may sleep,But Rostam’s name no night can bury deep.”

He grieved for Bid and Pulad Ghandi’s plight,Both stricken in the ruin of that fight.

For three full days Farhad remained his guest,Among his chiefs and comrades, taking rest.

Three days had passed; and when the fourth day broke,Farhad stood by until the monarch spoke.

At last he spoke with scorn and rising heat:“Go to your foolish Shah, and this repeat:

Tell Kavus: when can sea-water turn to wine?Your counsel cannot alter my design.

Am I the sort to yield my crown and landAt another’s word, or bow to his command?

My court stands higher than your king’s renown;My armies dwarf the forces of his crown.

Thousands on thousands answer to my call,And where they march, the mightiest kingdoms fall.

Wherever they advance in war’s attack,No stone, no color, scent remains intact.

I stand resolved and ready for the fight,And yield no span of kingdom or of right.

My lions will advance with roaring sweep,And wake you, Kavus, from your sweetest sleep.

Twelve hundred war-elephants, fierce and strong,And not one beast of yours can match their throng.

Such dust shall rise across Iran’s whole face,Till height and abyss seem the selfsame place.”

When Farhad heard the pride within that speech,He saw the gulf no reason now could reach.

He took his leave and rode through hill and dale,To bear the Shah that proud and vaunting tale:

“The king exalts himself beyond the sky,And counts the world as nothing in his eye.

He would not hear the counsel I made known;His will is fixed, his arrogance full-grown.”

Then Kavus called the champion to his side,And told him all the envoy had replied.

The hero answered, steady, fierce, and clear:“I will remove the shame that lingers here.

Let me return his answer with my blade,Not sealed in ink, but openly displayed.

Not words alone, but thunder in their sound,To shake his throne and tear his power down.

I will go myself; my words shall strike with dread,And rivers through his land shall run blood-red.”

The Shah replied: “Through you my crown has light;You are my envoy and my strength in fight.

You are my envoy, tiger fierce and strong,A lion in revenge against the wrong.”

A scribe was called; his pen like arrow flew,And shaped a letter forceful, sharp, and true.

“Such speech ill suits a ruler sound of mind;Cast off your pride and leave such words behind.

Obey at once, submit, and bend the knee,As servants do when kings give their decree.

But if you turn and choose defiant strife,My armies will descend to end your life.

From sea to sea my banners will extend,And bring your rule to sudden, final end.

The White Div’s spirit gives the vultures cheer:Your brain shall be their feast when I draw near.”

The letter sealed, bold Rostam rode away,His mighty gorz prepared for coming fray.

The king was told: “The Shah has sent his best,A savage envoy on a martial quest.

A lion-man with kamand at his side,An elephant in frame, on Rakhsh astride.”

The king sent chiefs in springtime robes to meetThe lion-envoy riding toward his seat.

But Rostam marked a tree beside the track,Gripped two great branches, twisted both far back.

He tore it root and all from earth below,And raised it like a reed before the foe.

He hurled it forth; its branches, wide and vast,Struck down the riders as it thundered past.

A foremost chief then seized him by the hand,To test his strength and see if he could stand.

He crushed it hard, intent to make him yield,But Rostam laughed and no distress revealed.

Then Rostam crushed his hand with sudden force,Till all the noble’s strength had run its course.

The chief grew pale; his senses left him quite,And from his horse he fell, bereft of might.

The king was told what happened on the way,And summoned Kalahur without delay.

He came as leopard-fierce, his spirit high,A battle-hardened chief with fearless eye.

“Go meet this envoy; test his vaunted might,And fill his eyes with tears before my sight.”

He came to Rostam, proud and fierce of face,And seized his hand with measured, testing grace.

He pressed it hard till veins rose dark and blue,Yet Rostam smiled and let no anguish through.

Then with one grip he crushed Kalahur’s hand,Till nails fell off like leaves upon the sand.

He staggered back, his hanging hand in pain,With nails and sinews torn beneath the strain.

“No man can stand against this one in strife;His strength exceeds the bounds of mortal life.

Seek peace at once and pay the tribute due;Make terms before this champion ruins you.”

Then Rostam strode before the monarch’s seat,A raging elephant no force could meet.

The king received him, set him high in place,And spoke with guarded tone and measured grace:

“Tell me of Kavus, of his men and might,What hardships met you over depth and height.

Are you that Rostam? Such a chest and armCould strike the boldest warrior with alarm?”

He said: “I serve the greatest warrior known;No man can match the might in Rostam shown.

Since World-Creator first gave earth its frame,No chief has risen equal to his name.

In war he stands, a mountain none can move;No words suffice his mighty deeds to prove.

He makes the mountain sea when pressed to fight,And makes the sea a mountain by his might.

No tongue can tell of Rakhsh, the gorz he wields;No champion dares confront him on the fields.

He is an army in himself complete,And sends me here his message to repeat.

If you are wise, then cease from evil ways;You have sown ruin through your reckless days.

How have you treated Iran’s Shah and men,And laid such cruel hands upon them then?

Perhaps you have not heard of Rostam’s name,Who bends the world and puts the stars to shame.

If Kavus gave him leave to enter fight,Not one of all your men would see the light.

Your head shall crown the point of Rostam’s spear;His mighty arm will end your kingship here.”

He placed the letter in the monarch’s hand,Its cutting words were more than he could stand.

The king read on and darkened at the tone,While anger hardened in his heart like stone.

“What are these words? What folly and what pride?Why should I heed the threats they hold inside?

Say this to Kavus: ‘Though you bear the crown,I will not bend to you or bow me down.

I rule Mazandaran with crown and might;My throne stands firm, my armies armed for fight.

To summon me as though I were your slaveIs neither just nor fitting for the brave.

Turn back to Iran and draw your bridle round,Or my sharp spear will strike you to the ground.

If once my armies march in battle’s heat,You will not know your head from your own feet.’

Say also this to Rostam, famed in might:Whatever Kavus grants, I grant outright,

A hundredfold; I raise him over all,And set his name the highest in my hall.

Command my chiefs; my treasures yours to hold;And take my riches, silver, gems, and gold.”

He answered then, his anger fierce and plain:“O witless king, pride has deranged your brain!

Has Rostam need of troops or rich reward?His strength exceeds what any king can hoard.

The son of Zal stands peerless in the land;No rival born can meet him hand to hand.

Restrain your tongue, or ruin follows fast;Whoever challenges him will not last.”

The king grew wild; his heart was set on death,And called the headsman forth with furious breath:

“Seize him at once and do as I command;Strike off his head before the gathered band!”

The headsman came, prepared to strike him dead,And strode toward Rostam to remove his head.

But Rostam roared like lion roused to kill,And seized the man with overwhelming will.

He hurled him down and seized him by the thighs,Then tore him into two before their eyes.

All stared in shock; the hall fell deathly still,Appalled before such brutal strength and skill.

Then Rostam said: “Had Kavus let me slay,I would have dealt with all your men this way.”

The frightened king sent robe and horse and gold,To soothe the envoy, furious and bold.

He spurned them all; such gifts could bring him shame,No belt or crown could purchase Rostam’s name.

He left Mazandaran, his anger high,And moon and stars grew dark before his eye.

He came before the Shah and told him all,The threats, the boasts, the words within the hall.

He said: “Take heart; array the troops for fight;Their strength is nothing worth a moment’s fright.

I count them not; my gorz will strike them low,And sweep their vaunted champions at a blow.

They weigh not even one small speck of dust;My gorz will grind their iron might to rust.”

When Rostam left, the sorcerer-king moved fast,And marshaled all his warriors grim and vast.

He raised his tents and spread his forces wide,Their dust concealed the sun on every side.

The hills grew dim beneath their marching tread,And earth beneath the elephants seemed dead.

He marched like wind that sweeps the desert’s face,And none could stand before his rushing pace.

When Kavus heard, “The Divs are drawing near,”He bade his men take up their shield and spear.

To Rostam first he gave the battle sign,Then Tus took right and Gudarz left the line.

With Giv and Gorgin, proven chiefs of fame,He called the warriors each by rank and name.

They dressed their shields and spearpoints for the fray,And drew the royal pavilions in array.

They pitched their camps across the open plain,And set their lines with care from van to train.

On Kavus’s right, Tus made the war-horn cry,Its brazen thunder rolled against the sky.

Upon the left stood Gudarz, battle-wise,Son of Keshvad, beneath the darkened skies.

His ranks, an iron mountain, stood arrayed,With spearpoints massed beneath the darkened shade.

The Shah himself stood centered, firm and grand,And ordered every line at his command.

The armies formed, while Rostam led the van,Whose arm had never yielded to a man.

Then Juya came, fierce fighter, vain and proud,His boasts of fame rang loudly through the crowd.

Juya his name, who sought the battle’s flame,And swung the heavy gorz wherever he came.

With gorz in hand and armor shining bright,He strode before the ranks to claim the fight.

By his king’s command he crossed the field,And came before the Shah with gorz and shield.

His armor blazed; his sword burned fierce below,Till earth itself seemed scorched beneath its glow.

He shouted till the hills and plains replied:“Let him who dares now meet me side by side!”

“Who dares come forth,” he roared, “and face my thrust?Who here can raise from water clouds of dust?”

No champion came; the chiefs stood still and mute,As though their hearts had withered at the root.

Then Kavus spoke: “Why stand you thus in dread?Why hangs this shadow dark above your head?”

No man replied; fear settled on the field,As though their strength before his boast must yield.

Then Rostam seized the reins and raised his spear,And spoke: “Permit me, Shah, to face him here.”

The Shah replied: “The task is yours to claim,For none else seeks the hazard or the fame.

Go forth, and may the Maker guide your hand,And make all Divs your quarry where they stand.”

Then Rostam urged brave Rakhsh into the plain,And grasped his spear with might no foe could chain.

He came like some wild elephant in wrath,And churned the dust that darkened all his path.

Beneath him, leopard-like, Rakhsh stretched his stride,While in his hand a dragon seemed to ride.

He wheeled and roared, and shook the battlefield,As though the world itself must break or yield.

“O wretch! Your name is struck from champions’ fame;Today your boast shall perish with your name.

This is no hour for peace or idle breath;Your mother shall lament your coming death.”

The foe replied: “My khanjar reaps the head;Before this field is done, you will lie dead.

Your mother’s liver soon shall burn with pain,Her tears shall wash your helm and shattered chain.”

When Rostam heard, he raised his battle cry,And charged as though a mountain shook the sky.

His foe drew back, unwilling now to stand,And wheeled aside in fear of Rostam’s hand.

But swift as dust, with spearpoint fixed and true,He struck the girdle clean and split it through.

The spear tore through jowshan and straps apart,And hurled him reeling, stunned in strength and heart.

Unseated, flung aloft in shattered gear,Like some spitted bird he hung upon the spear.

He plunged into a ravine, bloodied, torn,His jowshan split, from breast and shoulder shorn.

Blood filled his mouth; his strength and senses fled,And dust and stone received him with the dead.

The warriors of the foe beheld in dread,Their faces blanched, their courage all but shed.

A murmur spread across the shaken field,And hearts that burned for war began to yield.

Their king cried out: “Lift up your heads and stand!Fight like the leopards native to this land!”

They heard his call and rallied to his side,A countless tide advancing fierce and wide.

The Shah perceived and ordered ranks to close,And moved at once to meet the rising foes.

Both armies drew the sword and rushed to meet,Tabira, karnay driving iron feet.

The sky grew black; earth darkened indigo,As gorz flashed bright and blades struck blow on blow.

Like lightning bursting from a clouded height,The steel flared wild across the field of fight.

Red, black, and violet stained the battle sky,Where spears and many-colored banners fly.

The air grew thick with banners, dust, and spears,With cries like iron ringing in their ears.

Tabiras roared, the chargers screamed in strain,And shook the hills like thunder loosed in rain.

No eye had seen such battle joined before,The iron crash and clang, the ceaseless roar.

The plain became a sea where slaughter spread,And iron surged among the heaped-up dead.

The earth beneath them turned to pitch-black tide,Its waves were sword and gorz on every side.

Swift steeds like ships across that torrent tore,Then reeled and fell among the slain and gore.

The gorz on helmets crashed with blow on blow,Like autumn winds that strip the willows low.

Gorz, sword, and arrow swept the crowded flood,The plain became a pool of warriors’ blood.

Thus for a week those glory-hungry bands,Contended fiercely over blood-soaked lands.

Upon the eighth day Kavus ceased the fray,And laid his Kayanian crown aside to pray.

Before the Judge of truth the monarch bowed,And cast aside the pride that kingship allowed.

He pressed his face upon the earth and cried:“O Judge of truth, whose word is not denied,

These fearless male Divs rise against my crown;By Your just power, O Maker, strike them down.

Grant victory and farr through Your own grace,And set my royal throne again in place.”

He donned his helm and joined his warriors then,Renewed in will, and led again his men.

A shout arose, the karnays split the sky,And all his forces thundered with the cry.

At karnay’s cry, like elephant Rostam rose,And drove brave Rakhsh against the waiting foes.

He bade that Tus bring elephants in train,Tabiras at the rear upon the plain.

With Gudarz came brave Zangeh to the fray,And Gorgin, Rohham eager for the day.

Guraza charged, a boar, his banner high;Eight baz in height, it towered to the sky.

With Farhad, Kharrad, Barzin pressing near,They surged once more with vengeance sharp and clear.

First Rostam drove upon the center line,And drenched the ground in blood like bursting wine.

Upon the right Gudarz, Keshvad’s son, pressed,Tabiras, banners, battle in his breast.

While Giv ranged wide from right to left in might,A wolf among the flocks throughout the fight.

From dawn until the sun grew dark with stain,Blood flowed like water through the battle plain.

All shame and custom vanished from each face;Affection fled and mercy left no trace.

The grass ran slick with brains beneath the slain,While gorz fell like heaven’s iron rain.

Horns and tabiras thundered through the air;The sun withdrew behind an ebony glare.

Then Rostam drove toward Mazandaran’s king,With chosen warriors tightening the ring.

He held his ground and would not move a pace,But stood steadfast before the battle’s face.

The Divs and elephants opposed his way;He called on God and held them all at bay.

His spear-bearer passed the tempered spear;Then naked blades flashed bright as ranks drew near.

He raised his gorz and gave a lion’s roar,Its thunder rolled from mountainside to shore.

No Div kept life, no elephant kept wit,So hard the hero’s roaring fury hit.

Severed elephant trunks lay thick around,And corpses stretched for many a mil of ground.

Then Rostam took his spear and held it low,And drove straight toward the Mazandaran foe.

Like thunder both rushed roaring to the fray,The sorcerer-king and Rostam closed that day.

The king beheld the spearhead drawing near;His rage and courage failed and turned to fear.

Then vengeance set the hero’s heart aflame,He roared like lion as the spearpoint came.

Rostam struck the girdle with his spear;Through jowshan, belt, the tempered point drove clear.

At once by sorcery his body changed;A mass of mountain-stone before them ranged.

Iran’s warriors stared; Rostam stood amazed,And at the sudden stone in wonder gazed.

His spear-bearer lifted up the shaft,While Rostam stared in wonder at the craft.

Then Kavus came with elephants in train,Tabiras, banners rolling through the plain.

He asked, “Why linger here, O champion, still?What holds you from the battle and your will?”

Said Rostam, “Fortune favored me in fight;The fire of victory rose before my sight.

He saw my water-tempered spear draw near,Its tempered point before him bright and clear.

I gave brave Rakhsh the rein and struck his waist;I thought to see him from his seat displaced.

Instead he turned to stone before us all;Now bear him to the camp at Kavus’s call.”

The strongest warriors strained with hand and knee;The stone stayed rooted where it seemed to be.

Then Rostam laughed; he needed no such test;He spread his arms and pressed it to his chest.

He raised the massive stone without a groan;The army marveled at his strength alone.

On foot he crossed seven mountains with the stone,While all behind him roared at strength thus shown.

They praised the Maker, shouting at the sight,And scattered gold and jewels for his might.

He bore it to the royal tenting-ground,And set it down while warriors gathered round.

“Reveal yourself and end this magic art,Or gorz and axe will hew the stone apart.”

Like one dark cloud the sorcerer arose,With steel on head, jowshan from neck to toes.

Then Rostam took his hand and laughed aloud,And led him toward the Shah before the crowd.

“I brought this mountain captive to your hand;The axe persuaded him to leave his stand.”

Kavus looked hard upon the captive’s face,And judged him unfit for the royal place.

Misshapen-faced, he towered above them all,Boar-necked and broad of shoulder, huge and tall.

He called to mind what he had suffered long,And all his buried anger surged up strong.

He bade the headsman ready for the deed,To cut the captive down with ruthless speed.

Then Rostam seized his beard with iron hand,And dragged him from the Shah at his command.

At Kavus’s command they struck him down,And cut apart the wearer of the crown.

He sent his men at once across the plain,To gather all the treasure that remained.

Rich spoils were gathered from the broken line,Gold, gems, and treasures shaped in rare design.

The tents were stripped; men heaped the wealth they bore,And joy returned where grief had ruled before.

Thrones, crowns and girdles, horses, arms arrayed,With pearls and jewels from the diadems displayed.

The spoils rose mountain-high across the ground;The Shah gave most to those whose toil was crowned.

The hostile Divs who still would not obeyWere put to death beside the public way.

“O just and provident Judge,” the monarch cried,“Through You my every need is now supplied.

You gave me power to break the sorcerers’ might,And made my aging fortune young and bright.”

For seven days the Shah withdrew to pray,And on his face before the Just One lay.

Then every treasury stood open wide,And gifts flowed freely to the poor outside.

Another week he spent in gifts and care,Till those in need had each received a share.

The third week saw the troubled realm made right;Then wine and jeweled cups restored delight.

For seven days the wine-cup passed in cheer,And Mazandaran knew no grief or fear.

When Kavus once again resumed his seat,He praised the champion for his noble feat.

Then Kavus hailed the hero’s deathless fame,For crushing him and raising Iran’s name.

“Through you I hold the throne I lost in war;May heart and faith shine brighter than before.”

Then Rostam brought Ulad before the throne,Whose guidance through the wilds was clearly shown.

He said: “This man has served with loyal hand;Now grant the just reward his deeds demand.

Each kind of man may serve some needed end;A wise man values every useful friend.

Through Ulad’s guidance, victory was won;He showed the road by which these deeds were done.

I pledged him Mazandaran as his prize;I gave my word, and truth must bind the wise.

First grant a robe of honor from your hand,Then seal a covenant for all the land.

While Ulad lives, let every noble heedHis rule, and serve him faithfully in deed.”

The Shah set Mazandaran’s crown upon his head,And gave the realm to Ulad as was said.

He called Mazandaran’s nobles to the hall,And spoke of Ulad’s right before them all.

They heard the Shah and pledged their service true,To serve Ulad in all he bade them do.

Then Kavus turned from Mazandaran’s plain,And set his course toward Pars with all his train.

The army’s dust concealed the world from sight,As Kay Kavus returned in royal might.

Such clamor rose as high as heaven’s dome,While all the people hailed the monarch home.

With wine and rud and musicians in array,They filled the land with song throughout the day.

The world grew young beneath the new Shah’s light,A newborn moon made all Iran grow bright.

Victorious, he took the royal seat,Unlocked old hoards and spread their wealth complete.

Within the divan he called those charged to pay,And bade them give the dinars out that day.

Before great Rostam’s gate the shouting swelled,As captains came, their ranks in honor held.

They stood rejoicing in their monarch’s grace,Exulting in the radiance of his face.

Then matchless Rostam, helmet on his head,Sat near the Shah where royal splendor spread.

He bowed and asked the Shah for leave to rideTo Zal, whose wisdom long had been his guide.

The Shah prepared a khilat rich and bright,And blessed the champion for his deeds of might.

A throne with turquoise rams’ heads, wondrous sight,A royal crown ablaze with jeweled light.

A gold-brocade robe fit for royal fame,A steed and torque befitting Rostam’s name.

A hundred moon-faced youths with belts of gold,A hundred musk-haired maidens to behold.

A hundred steeds, gold and silver arrayed,A hundred black-haired mules, gold bridles laid.

With rich brocades from Rum and Chin displayed,And Pahlav cloth in splendid colors made,

A hundred purses, dinars shining white,With every hue and fragrance for delight.

A ruby cup with purest musk was sent,A turquoise cup breathed rosewater’s scent.

A charter drawn on silk of finest thread,With musk, oud, ambergris, and perfume spread.

To Rostam, famed throughout the world for might,He granted all Nimruz as royal right,

That after Kavus none should take that throne,For Nimruz was assigned him as his own.

He blessed him thus: “May none behold the lightOf sun or moon without you in their sight.

May noble hearts be ever drawn to you,And modesty and reverence dwell there too.”

Then Rostam sprang, the royal throne he kissed,And bound his gear, his purpose firm and fixed.

Tabira sounded through the city’s ways,And joy rose everywhere in shouts of praise.

The city shone; daray, koust, karnay rang,And from the crowded streets the echoes sprang.

Then Rostam rode toward Zal, his leave complete,While Kavus ruled by law from royal seat.

The Shah divided lands among the great,And portioned every province of the state.

He made brave Tus the sepahbod of his force,To turn all harm from Iran at its source.

He gave Gudarz Isfahan as his seat,With full command and governance complete.

Then Kavus turned to revelry and wine,His sovereign might throughout the world would shine.

He cut grief’s neck with justice for his blade,Nor thought of death within his heart was laid.

The earth grew green, a garden richly dressed,Like Iram’s fields in bloom and beauty blessed.

And rich through justice, safe beneath his reign,The hand of Ahriman was bound in chain.

Then joyful tidings spread through every zone:“Kavus has seized Mazandaran’s crown and throne!”

All marveled at the greatness he had gained,At such a height of glory now attained.

The loyal came with gifts and offerings great,And formed in ordered ranks before the gate.

The world like Paradise was decked and dressed,With wealth and justice everywhere possessed.

Mazandaran’s war has now been fully told;Now hear how Hamavaran’s war took hold.