Gív saw afar the dust raised by the troops,
And having drawn his sword sent up a shout
Like thunder, such a shout as would have dazed
A lion's brain and spirit, then he rushed
Like dust among the troop and made earth dark
By combat. With his sword and mace he showered
Down iron from above, till by the blows
The heads of all the chiefs grew sick of strife,
While to his eyes, such were his pain and rage,
A river seemed a rill. Anon they hemmed him—
A raging Lion in a host of men.
The field became a reed-bed with their spears,
Both sun and moon were hid, the Lion raged,
And made a winefat of the bed of reeds
With blood, o'erthrowing many of his foes:
Those valiant cavaliers were all astound,
Pírán was wroth;
“Enough,” he said, “'tis shame to tell the tale;
Such words as these are not for cavaliers.
Attempt no more to strive with men of war.
Thou wentest forth with noble Nastíhan,
And troops like lions; now thou makest Gív
A maddened elephant; thy fame is sped
With mighty men; Afrásiyáb at hearing
Will fling away from him the imperial crown,
Because two paladins, two gallant horsemen,
Accompanied by soldiers dight for war,
Turned tail before a single cavalier,
Who slaughtered many! Mocking and disgrace
Are thine, not standard, kettledrum, and mace.”