White Castle was a stronghold of Írán

And veteran Hajír was castellan—
A man of might and courage, mace and arrow—
For Gazhdaham was failing though still brave
And venturesome. His daughter,*

who was proud,
Renowned, and malapert, bore arms and fought
On horseback. As Suhráb approached, Hajír
Saw him and mounting on his steed like dust
Sped forth upon the field. Suhráb enraged,
And drawing forth the scimitar of fight,
Rushed from the host as 'twere a blast and cried:—
“O fool to throw thy life away and come
Alone! Sit tight and firmly grasp thy reins.
What are thy name and lineage? She that bare

Will have to weep for thee.”

Hajír replied:—

“Enough! I need no help in fighting thee.
Hajír am I, a warrior and chieftain.
I will take off thy head to send the Sháh
And leave the vultures to consume thy body.”
Suhráb laughed out and charged; both hurled their
spears
Too fast for eyes to follow. Brave Suhráb,
Strong as an elephant, came on like fire
Upon his moving mountain of a steed.
Hajír thrust at his waist; the spearpoint glanced,
Suhráb the Lion drove the weapon back,
Struck with the butt his f??e's waist lustily,
And threw him like a boulder to the earth,
As though the matter were not worth a thought,
Astound in heart and soul. Suhráb dismounted,
Sat on his foeman's breast, and had in mind
To cut his head off, but Hajír with effort
Turned on his right side and entreated quarter.
Suhráb accorded it, well satisfied,
Gave him some cautions, made him fast in bonds,
And sent him to Húmán. Those in the hold
On hearing what had chanced cried mournfully:—
“Hajír is lost among the enemy!”