souls, perplext,
Joy not in this world or the next.'
The brothers of my murdered boy,
Who could a father's hopes destroy,
An equal punishment will reap,
And lasting vengeance o'er them sweep.
They rooted up my favourite tree,
But yet a branch remains to me.
Now the young lion comes apace,
The glory of his glorious race;
He comes apace, to punish guilt,
Where brother's blood was basely spilt;
And blood alone for blood must pay;
Hence with your gold, depart, away!"

When the messenger heard these reproaches, mingled with poison, he
immediately took leave, and trembling with fear, returned to Silim and
Tur with the utmost speed. He described to them in strong and alarming
terms the appearance and character of Minuchihr, and his warriors; of
that noble youth who with frowning eyebrows was only anxious for battle.
He then communicated to them in what manner he had been received, and
repeated the denunciations of Feridun, at which the brothers were
exceedingly grieved and disappointed. But Silim said to Tur:

"Let us be first upon the field, before
He marshals his array. It follows not,
That he should be a hero bold and valiant,
Because he is descended from the brave;
But it becomes us well to try our power,--
For speed, in war, is better than delay."

In this spirit the two brothers rapidly collected from both their
kingdoms a large army, and proceeded towards Iran. On hearing of their
progress, Feridun said: "This is well--they come of themselves. The
forest game surrenders itself voluntarily at the foot of the sportsman."
Then he commanded his army to wait quietly till they arrived; for skill
and patience, he observed, will draw the lion's head into your toils.

As soon as the enemy had approached within a short distance, Minuchihr
solicited Feridun to commence the engagement--and the king having
summoned his chief warriors before him, appointed them all, one by one,
to their proper places.

The warriors of renown assembled straight
With ponderous clubs; each like a lion fierce,
Girded his loins impatient. In their front
The sacred banner of the blacksmith waved;
Bright scimitars were brandished in the air;
Beneath them pranced their steeds, all armed for fight,
And so incased in iron were the chiefs
From top to toe, their eyes were only seen.

When Karun drew his hundred thousand troops
Upon the field, the battle-word was given,
And Minuchihr wa