Húmán, distressed and raven-black with pain,
Advanced. All wounded as they were both came
Like pards to fight again, strove mightily,
And first one, then the other, touched the ground.
They put forth all their strength and artifice
Until high heaven's own artifice was seen,
For, though Húmán was mightier, all prowess
Is but defect in him whose sun is set.
Bízhan put forth his hands like leopard's claws
To catch upon Húmán where'er he could;
His left hand gripped his foeman's neck, the right
His foeman's thigh, he bent that mighty Camel,
Raised him aloft, and flung him to the ground;
Then holding down Húmán, and drawing forth
A dagger, swift as wind beheaded him,
And flung away his carcase like a dragon's.
Húmán lay rolled in dust, the waste ran blood.
Bízhan surveyed that elephantine form,
Fall'n like a stately cypress in a meadow,

With great amazement, turned away, looked up
To Him who ruleth o'er the world, and said:—
“O Thou that art above both place and time,
Above the revolution of the sky!
Thou and Thou only rulest o'er the world—
A matter which no wisdom can gainsay.
I have no portion in this doughty deed,
Not having pluck to fight an elephant,
Yet have cut off Húmán's head in revenge
For Siyáwush, and my sire's seventy brothers.
Now may his spirit be in thrall to mine,
His body rent to pieces by the lions.”
He bound Húmán's head to the saddle-straps
Upon Shabrang and flung the trunk to dust,
With armour shattered and with girdle snapped,
His head in this place and his trunk in that.
The world is all imposture, nothing more,
It will not help thee when distress is sore;
It showeth fairly, but it doth not so,
And therefore let thy heart its love forego.
Húmán, the son of Wísa, being slain,
The two interpreters ran to Bízhan
To worship him as Brahmans do an image
In Chín. He looked around the battlefield,
And saw no way save past the Turkman host,
And fearing lest that murderous multitude,
When they perceived the upshot of the fight,
Should come forth in a mountain-mass to battle
While he was not prepared to fight alone,
He put from him the mail of Siyáwush,
And donned instead the armour of Húmán;
Then mounted on the elephantine steed,
And took in hand the banner, of that prince.
He went his way with blessings on the place,
His wakeful fortunes, and the glorious field.
Húmán's interpreter, when he beheld
His master's fate, was fearful of Bízhan,
Who said: “Fear not, I will observe the pact.
Go tell thy host what thou hast seen me do.”
He went what while Bízhan with bended bow
Rode rapidly toward Mount Kanábad.
Now when the Turkman outposts saw afar
The lance and standard of that chief of Túr,
They sprang up cheering in their joy and sped
A cameleer like smoke to tell Pírán:—
“Húmán, such is our king's victorious fortune!
Is hasting from the place of combating,
The standard of the Íránian chief is down,
His corpse defiled in dust and drenched in gore.”
The whole host shouted and their leader listened
To hear Húmán's approach—a short-lived joy,
And then the hail descended on their heads!
Anon the interpreter returned and told
What he had seen, and tidings reached Pírán:—
“The glory of the empire is bedimmed.”
From the Túránian army rose a cry,
The warriors unhelmed themselves; the world
Grew overcast; there was no brightness left,
And all their frantic words availed them not.
Now when Bízhan in crossing 'twixt the hosts
Approached the shadow of the great king's throne,
At once that warrior of lion-heart,
The army's refuge, dipped the sable standard.
The watchmen of the Iránian host, perceiving
The sable banner thus inverted, turned
Their faces toward the paladin and raised
A shouting from the watch-tower. They dispatched
Post haste a cameleer to tell Gúdarz:—
“Bízhan is come in triumph, lionlike,
And carrieth the sable flag reversed.”
Gív bare himself meanwhile like those distraught,
All clamorous and restless everywhere,
In quest of news of his heroic son,
And sorrowed greatly at a time of joy.
Then tidings came. He hurried forth. He saw
The well-loved face. He lighted from his steed—
His fitting course—and wallowed, head in dust,
Returning thanks to God, then clasped his son
Upon his breast, that youth so wise and brave.
Thence, still returning thanks, they sought Gúdarz,
Whose grandson lighting from his steed, which bare
Húmán's head in its saddle-straps, presented,
With mail besmirched with blood and head with dust,
The armour, steed, and head of brave Húmán.
“The paladin,” thou wouldst have said, “will pour
His soul out,” he rejoiced so o'er Bízhan,
And then began to praise the Judge of all
For that good omen and unsleeping fortune.
He next gave orders to the treasurer,
And said: “Bring forth a crown and royal robe
With patterns jewelled on a golden ground,
The crown and belt with pendent pearls like suns.”
He likewise brought ten chargers with gold bridles,
And ten boy-slaves fay-faced and girt with gold,
Bestowed them on Bízhan, and said: “Brave Lion!
None else had laid this Dragon low. Our host
Hast thou delivered by thy sword and hand,
And broken too the Turkman monarch's heart,
While our own warriors like lions ride
On steeds which plunge and caracole in pride.”