"This must be Rustem, stronger than the pard, The lion, or the Egyptian crocodile, Or fell Iblís; dreams never painted hero Half so tremendous on the battle plain."
"If this be Rustem, then the time has come, Dreaded so long--for what but fire and sword, Can now await us? Every town laid waste, Soldier and peasant, husband, wife, and child, Sharing the miseries of a ravaged land!"
With tears in his eyes and a heavy heart, Pírán repaired to the Khakán, who, after some discussion, permitted him in these terms to go and confer with Rustem.
"Depart then speedful on thy embassy, And if he seeks for peace, adjust the terms, And presents to be sent us. If he talks Of war and vengeance, and is clothed in mail, No sign of peace, why we must trust in Heaven For strength to crush his hopes of victory. He is not formed of iron, nor of brass, But flesh and blood, with human nerves and hair, He does not in the battle tread the clouds, Nor can he vanish, like the demon race-- Then why this sorrow, why these marks of grief? He is not stronger than an elephant; Not he, but I will show him what it is To fight or gambol with an elephant! Besides, for every man his army boasts, We have three hundred--wherefore then be sad?"
Notwithstanding these expressions of confidence, Pírán's heart was full of alarm and terror; but he hastened to the Persian camp, and made himself known to the champion of the host, who frankly said, after he had heard Pírán's name, "I am Rustem of Zábul, armed as thou seest for battle!" Upon which Pírán respectfully dismounted, and paid the usual homage to his illustrious rank and distinction. Rustem said to him, "I bring thee the blessings of Kai-khosráu and Ferangís, his mother, who nightly see thy face in their dreams."
"Blessings from me, upon that royal youth!" Exclaimed the good old man. "Blessings on her, The daughter of Afrásiyáb, his mother, Who saved my life--and blessings upon thee, Thou matchless hero! Thou hast come for vengeance, In the dear name of gallant Saiáwush, Of Saiáwush, the husband of my child, (The beautiful Gúlshaher), of him who loved me As I had been his father. His brave son, Ferúd, was slaughtered, and his mother too, And Khosráu was his brother, now the king, By whom he fell, or if not by his sword, Whose was the guilty hand? Has punishment Been meted to the offender? I protected, In mine own house, the princess Ferangís; And when her son was born, Kai-khosráu, still I, at the risk of my existence, kept them Safe from the fury of Afrásiyáb, Who would have sacrificed the child, or both! And night and day I watched them, till the hour When they escaped and crossed the boundary-stream. Enough of this! Now let us speak of peace, Since the confederates in this mighty war Are guiltless of the blood of Saiáwush!"