When from afar Akwán saw Rustam sleeping
He came as swift as wind, delved round about
The place where Rustam lay, and raised it skyward.
When Rustam woke from sleep he woke to sorrow,
And his wise head was filled with consternation.

He thought: “So this foul dív hath laid for me
A snare like this! Woe for my strength and courage,
My neck, and blows with mace and scimitar!
This matter will make desolate the world,
Achieving all Afrásiyáb's desire,
While Tús, Gúdarz, Khusrau, the throne and crown,
The elephants and drums, will be no more.
Through me the world will suffer, since Akwán
Hath spoiled my marketing. Who will take vengeance
On this curst dív? No one will match him now.”
Then said Akwán to Rustam in his plight:—
“Now, elephantine chieftain! take thy choice
To fall upon the mountains or the waves;
So whither shall I fling thee far from men?”
The elephantine hero communed thus:—
“In every case naught bettereth artifice.
He will do contrary to what I say;
He will not recognise an oath or keep
A pact. If I say, ‘Throw me in the sea,’
Then will this evil-natured Áhriman
Fling me upon the mountains, dash me there
To pieces, and destroy me. I must use
Some scheme to make him fling me into water,”
Then said: “A sage of Chín hath spoken well:—
‘Whoe'er is drowned his soul will never see
Surúsh in Paradise, his lot will be
To tarry in his place in misery,
And not to find a welcome to the sky.’
Let me not therefore fall upon the ocean
To make the fishes' maws my winding-sheet,
But drop me on the mountains that the lions
And tigers may behold a brave man's hands.’
Akwán at this roared like the sea, and answered:—
“Now will I fling thee to the place wherein
Thou wilt be lost for ever to both worlds.”
And, acting contrary to Rustam's words.
Dropped him upon the sea. As Rustam fell
He drew his sword, and when the crocodiles
Approached they turned aside from fighting him.
He struck out with his feet and his left hand
While with his right he fought his way along,
Not resting for a moment from his toils,
But acting as a warrior in all.
If valour could avert the fatal day
Time had not taken Rustam's stance away,
But know that circling time is ever thus—
At whiles all sweet, at whiles all venomous.
He struggled bravely, reached the shore, beheld
The desert, and gave praises to the Maker,
Who had delivered thus His slave from ill.
He rested, took his armour off, and laid
His tiger-skin cuirass beside the stream.
Whenas his lasso and his armour dried
That savage Lion donned his coat of mail,
And went back to the stream where he had slept
When that malignant dív had raged at him;
But glossy Rakhsh was nowhere in the mead,
And Rustam, wroth and raging at his luck,
Went plodding doggedly with reins and saddle
In Rakhsh's track till in his quest he came
Upon a meadow-land of streams and shaws
Well stocked with francolins and cooing doves.
The herdsman of Afrásiyáb who kept
The steeds lay fast asleep within a coppice,
While Rakhsh was prancing madly like a dív
Among the herd and neighing. Rustam cast
His royal lasso, caught Rakhsh by the head,
Then rubbed the dust away and saddled him,
With thanks to God, the Giver of all good,
Put on the bridle, mounted, took in hand
His trenchant scimitar, and drove the herd
Therewith, still calling on the name of God.
The herdsman, at the tumult, raised his head,
Still half asleep, and called the horsemen with him
To mount upon their lofty-crested steeds.
They took each man his lasso and his bow
To learn what foe dared come upon the pasture,
And to approach so many cavaliers.
These went together hotly in pursuit
To strip the warlike Lion of his hide,
But Rustam, when he saw them rushing on,
Drew quickly from his waist his vengeful sword,
Roared like a lion, and proclaimed: “My name
Is Rustam son of Zál the son of Sám.”
He slew the more part with his scimitar,
Which when the herdsman saw he showed his back,
And fled away with Rustam following,
His bow upon his arm slung by its string.