rocodile,
Or fell Iblis; dreams never painted hero
Half so tremendous on the battle plain."

The old man said to him:

"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, Piran repaired to the Khakan,
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, Piran'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 Piran's name, "I am Rustem of Zabul, armed as thou seest for
battle!" Upon which Piran respectfully dismounted, and paid the usual
homage to his illustrious rank and distinction. Rustem said to him, "I
bring thee the blessings of Kai-khosrau and Ferangis, 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 Afrasiyab, his mother,
Who saved my life--and blessings upon thee,
Thou matchless hero! Thou hast come for vengeance,
In the dear name of gallant Saiawush,
Of Saiawush, the husband of my child,
(The beautiful Gulshaher), of him who loved me
As I had been his father. His brave son,
Ferud, was slaughtered, and his mother too,
And Khosrau 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 Ferangis;
And when he