Our cavalcade always preserved the same order even during our long night-marches, the tediousness of which suggested that our party wanted a minstrel to shorten the distance by tales of wonder. This want was no sooner hinted, than an old groom, called Joozee Beg, came forward and offered his services. He belonged, he said, to the Zend tribe, and when its chiefs were kings of Persia he was not neglected. "Moorâd Ali Khan, and Lootf Ali Khan, that miracle of valour," said old Joozee Beg, "have listened to my voice, when it was exerted to animate[50] their followers to battle; but these days are gone; a Turkish family wears the crown of Iran;[51] I am, like others of my race, in indigence and obscurity, and now recite verses, which princes loved to hear, to men like myself of low degree; but if the Elchee desires, I will repeat some lines fit for a soldier to listen to, from the Shâh-Nâmeh of Firdousee." This prelude gave more pleasure, from its near resemblance to that of our well-known northern minstrel:
"No longer courted and caressed,
High placed in hall, a welcome guest,
He poured, to lord and lady gay,
The unpremeditated lay.—
Old times are past, old manners gone,
A stranger filled the Stuart's throne.
A wandering harper, scorned and poor,
He begged his bread from door to door,
And tuned, to please a peasant's ear,
The harp a king had loved to hear."
Joozee Beg was told his offer was accepted, and after giving the horse he led to another, and taking his place in the front of the running footmen, he began as follows.
"It is hardly necessary to explain to one with such great knowledge as the Elchee, and to men of such enlightened understandings as those by whom he is surrounded, that Siyâvesh, son of Ky-Kâoos, King of Persia, fled into Tartary, and took refuge with Afrâsiâb, king of that country, who first gave him his beautiful daughter Feringhees in marriage, and then put him to death. The widow of the unfortunate prince was left, with her infant son, the celebrated Ky-Khoosroo,[52] to the persecution of her tyrannical father, whose conduct provoked the vengeance of the king and nobles of Persia; but you shall now hear the first battle, in which the Persians were commanded by that hero Roostem, and the Turks by their king Afrâsiâb."
After this prelude, Joozee Beg cleared his throat, and began to recite in a voice which, though loud and at times almost deafening, was not without melody. The following is a literal translation of the fight as given by our minstrel.
"Hearken to the sound of the drum from two quarters; the restless warriors are impatient of delay; the trumpet's bray is heard afar; and the cymbals, clarions, and fifes of India and China join in the clang of war; the shout of battle reaches the clouds, and the earth vibrates to the neighing of steeds. When the noise of the approaching army was heard upon the plain, the report was conveyed to Roostem, the avenger.[53] They told him the force of Afrâsiâb was near; that his great army rode over the plain as a proud ship rides upon the seas; that his troops were in number like ants and locusts, and covered from the eye of the beholder the mountains, plains, and woods. When Roostem heard that the army of the King of Turan[54] was in sight, he placed himself in the centre of his force; Zevâreh, his brother, was posted in the rear; Ferâmerz, his son, was stationed in front; Toos, with his band, was placed on the right. They were many in number, but one in heart.[55] Feribooz, the son of Ky-Kâoos,[56] was on the left, surrounded by a family of valiant men; Gooderz covered the rear with his relations, who were all free and independent[57] heroes. The air was darkened with the swords of the brave, when the glorious standard of Gâveh[58] was unfurled.
"The leaders of the army of Turan now arrange their shields. Bahamân commanded their wing: he was surrounded by men as powerful as they were valiant. The left was led by Rahrem the renowned, and the centre by King Afrâsiâb in person. The earth from the hoofs of the horses became of the colour of an elephant, the air was spotted with lances like the skin of the leopard. The world had the appearance of a mountain of iron with a crest of steel. The war-horses neighed, and the standards fluttered, while the dark-edged swords scattered heads upon the plain. Peelsem[59] rushed from the centre of the army; his heart was filled with rage, and his visage covered with frowns. He exclaimed aloud to the heroes of Iran, 'Where is Roostem? They tell me he is a dragon in the day of battle.' At this instant a shout was heard from Roostem, which shook all around. He said to his troops, 'Move not forward from the spot on which you now are. I go to silence this Peelsem, whose heart burns with rage, and whose visage is covered with frowns.' Roostem, foaming with passion, rushed to the front of the battle; he couched his strong lance, fixed himself in his seat, and raising his shield to his head, he exclaimed, 'O Peelsem, thou celebrated warrior, hast thou called me forth that thou mightest consume me with thy breath?' Thus saying, he struck his lance through Peelsem's body, and raised him on its point from his saddle, like a light ball. He continued his charge to the centre of the army of Turan, and casting the body from the point of his spear, exclaimed, 'Clothe this corpse of your friend in a pale[60] shroud, for the dark dust has soiled it.' Now the shout of heroes and the blows of maces are heard, and the voice of the trumpets shakes the earth. The deep drum sounds from the back of the elephant to the distance of many miles:[61] the earth was wearied by the tread of horses. Each pool became like a sea with blood, and each plain like a mountain from the slain, and every stone was turned into coral. Many were the proud who were laid low on that day. Heaven seemed to call for blood, and the breast of a father was devoid of mercy for his son. From the dark flights of the eagle-feathered arrows, with their steely points, the air was deprived of the space it occupied: the clashing of swords reached the skies, and blood flowed from the boundary of India to the Oxus. The flashing of scimitars and spears, seen through the thick clouds of dust, appeared like the forked lightning amid the dark clouds of the firmament. The day was made by death, black, like the face of an Ethiopian. The numbers of the slain filled the roads, and the plains were strewed with helmets and shields, and heads were seen as if lamenting for each other. The hearts of the army of the King of Turan were broken, and the field of battle became dark in their sight. 'Our good fortune,' exclaimed Afrâsiâb to his troops, 'is no longer awake, but sleepeth.' They left the field covered with iron, silver, and gold; with helmets, lances, and bucklers. The poorest in the army of Iran became that day a man of wealth, from the quantity of ornaments and jewels.