Pílsam with angry looks and vengeful heart
Came to the centre to Afrásiyáb,
And said: “O full of wisdom, famous king!

Unless thou here forbiddest me the use
Of charger, helmet, falchion, and cuirass
I will myself to-day encounter Rustam,
And cover all his name with infamy,
Will bring to thee his head, his steed, his mace,
And world-apportioning sword.”

The king rejoiced

Thereat and raised his spearpoint o'er the sun,
Then answered: “O thou Lion of renown!
In sooth no elephant will conquer thee.
If thou dost take that elephantine chief
The age will rest from strife, and not a man
Within Túrán shall equal thee in rank,
In throne, in signet-ring, in crown, and sword.
Thou wilt exalt my head to turning heaven,
And I will give to thee my crown and daughter;
The more part of Írán and of Túrán
With treasures, gems, and cities shall be thine.”
Pírán was grieved and, coming to the king,
Said to him: “This young man in his rash youth
Is laying violent hands upon himself,
For, if he combat with the matchless Rustam,
He will but lay his own head in the dust.
The king will share in his disgrace, 'twill break
The spirit of the troops: he is, thou knowest,
My younger brother, and my love for him
Is greater than an elder brother's love.”
Pílsam rejoined: “My heart doth not misgive me,
And, if I fight this warlike Crocodile,
By thy good fortune I will bring no shame
Upon the king. Thou once beheld'st my prowess
In fighting with four famous warriors,*

And verily my strength is greater now.
It is not right of thee to break my spirit;
The enterprise is well within my reach:
Haunt not the portal of an evil star.”
The monarch, hearing what Pílsam replied,

Gave him a barded charger, helm, cuirass,
A sword, and massive mace. Pílsam made ready,
And lionlike impetuously advanced,
Exclaiming to the Íránians: “Where is Rustam,
Who is, they say, a Dragon on the day
Of battle? Bid him come to fight with me,
For I am ready to encounter him.”
Gív, furious at the challenge, drew his sword
And answered: “Rustam fighteth not one Turkman,
'Twould be disgrace.”

The champions closed. Pílsam

Struck with his spear at Gív, who in dismay
Lost both his stirrups. Farámarz saw this,
And went at once to aid his gallant comrade;
He struck athwart Pílsam's spear with his sword,
And cut it like a reed; he struck once more,
The blade was shivered on his foeman's helm,
Who wheeled like some fierce lion on the plain
With those two warriors. Rustam from the centre
Espied them fighting with one lion-man,
The dust sent cloud-ward with their wind-like speed,
And thought: “Pílsam alone among the Turkmans
Hath dash and spirit.” He had heard moreover
From hoar archmages and astrologers,
Amid his wanderings, how the stars foretold
That: “If Pílsam survive his evil day,
And heed his counsellors, no warrior
Like him in all the world shall gird his loins
For battle in Írán or in Túrán,”

And thought: “Assuredly his time hath come,
For he hath set forth to encounter me.”
He spake thus to his troops: “Let none advance
A single step from where he standeth now.
I go to prove the prowess of Pílsam,
And try his lustihood, his strength, and spirit.”
He took a weighty spear, gripped fast his steed
With both his legs, and, putting on his helmet,
Pressed on the stirrups, let the reins hang loose,
And lowered the shining spear-head to his eye.
He wheeled about and foaming at the lips
Rushed from the centre toward the foemen's lines,
And cried: “O famed Pílsam! thou called'st me
To scorch me with thy breath! Thou shalt behold
The onslaught of the warrior-crocodile,
And ne'er turn rein toward a battle more.
My heart is burned with pity for thy youth:
Alas for thine estate of paladin!”
He spake and urged his charger on. He came
To battle like high heaven. With his spear
He smote Pílsam upon the girdlestead,
And took him from the saddle like a ball,
Rushed to the centre of the Turkman host
And there flung down the corpse contemptuously,
Exclaiming: “Dress it in brocade of gold,
For now 'tis lapislazuli with dust!”
Then wheeling round he went back to the centre.
Pírán rained tears; the body of Pílsam
Was past a leech's skill. The heart of all
The army of the monarch of Túrán
Was broken and the battlefield was darkened.
A shout rose from both hosts; the din of chiefs
Keen for the fray, the drumming on the backs
Of elephants, were heard for miles around.
Earth trembled with the chargers' tramp, the hills
Were seas of blood, the plains were hills of slain.
The cries and blaring clarions shook the sky,
The stones were coral and the dust was gore;
The heads of many chieftains were laid low,
And thou hadst said: “The sky is raining blood.”
It was no time for love 'twixt sire and son.
A breeze arose upon the battlefield,
And murky dust usurped the firmament.
Then both hosts charged with fury o'er the plain
While neither could distinguish foe from friend;
The world became as sombre as the night,
And day in sooth had well nigh spent its light.