Then for the second time the son-in-law
Of Tús came forth—the laughing-stock of heaven—
And left the road that leadeth to Charam
For Mount Sapad, his fierce heart set on outrage.
Farúd descried him from the mountain-top,
And, drawing from its case his royal bow,
Said to Tukhár the veteran: “Tús hath spurned
The message, for a horseman not Bahrám
Hath come! My heart is confident but heavy.
See if thou canst remember who he is.
Why is he clad in mail from head to foot?’
Tukhár replied: “A valiant cavalier,
Rívníz by name. He is an only son
With forty sisters like the jocund spring.
He is unserupulous, sly, plausible,
Accomplished, young, and son-in-law to Tús.”
Farúd returned: “Such talk is not for war-time.
If he approach for combat I will send him
To sleep upon his sisters' skirts. If merely
Mine arrow make him feel its wind in passing,
And he surviveth, hold me not a man.

Which shall mine arrow slay—the horse or rider?
How sayest thou, O veteran Tukhár?”
Tukhár replied: “The time for strife hath come.*

Loose at the man; perchance the heart of Tús
May be perturbed for him. Tús knoweth not
Thy resolution for thou soughtest peace;
If he attacketh thee in wantonness
He will but bring disgrace upon thy brother.”
When sword in hand Rívníz drew nigh, Farúd
Strung his curved bow, shot down a poplar shaft,
And pinned the Rúman helmet to the head
Of him that came. He fell. His fleet steed left him.
Rívníz came headlong to the dust. When Tús,
The general, beheld this from Mayam
The mountain disappeared before his eyes!
Now wisdom hath a saw in this regard:—
“Man's evil nature is its own reward.”