When Tús the general had made an end
Of fighting with Farúd, and left the heights,
He halted at Charam three days. The blare
Of trumpets rose upon the fourth; then Tús
Led forth the host and sounded pipe and tymbal,
While all the earth from mountain unto mountain
Turned ebon. Whatso Turkman troops he saw
He slew and flung them down upon the road,
Left all the marches neither woof nor warp,
And thus proceeded to the Kása rúd,
Where he encamped the army: all the earth
Was covered by his tents.

“Troops from Írán

Are at the Kása rúd!” Such tidings reached
Túrán, and from the Turkmans there came forth
Shrewd Paláshán, a youthful warrior,
The leader of their host, to view the foe,
And count the camp-enclosures and the flags.
Within the lines there was a rising ground
On one side, and unoccupied by troops:
There Gív was sitting with Bízhan, conversing
On matters great and small. Appeared the flag
Of Paláshán, come from the Turkman host,
Upon the road, whereat the gallant Gív
Unsheathed his sword. “I will go forth,” quoth he,
“Behead, or bring him captive to our folk.”
Bízhan said: “Man of name! the Sháh bestowed
A robe of honour on me for this end;

According to his order I must gird
Myself to fight the warrior Paláshán.”
“Haste not to battle with this savage Lion,”
Gív answered. “God forbid that thou shouldst fight
him,
And straiten mine own day. A Lion he,
This desert is his feeding-ground, he preyeth
On none but warriors.”

Bízhan replied:—

“Oh! put me not to shame before the world-lord
By speaking thus, but let me have the armour
Of Siyáwush. Be mine to hunt this Leopard.”
Then gallant Gív gave him the coat of mail.
Bízhan, when he had made the buckles fast,
Bestrode a rapid charger, and rode off
Upon the desert with a spear in hand.
Now Paláshán, who had brought down a deer,
Was roasting some kabáb upon a fire,
And eating with his bow upon his arm,
The while his horse was ranging free to graze
It saw afar the charger of Bízhan,
Neighed loudly, and ran in; so Paláshán
Knew that a horseman came prepared for fight,
And shouted to Bízhan: “I fling down lions,
And fetter dívs. Declare thy name; thy star
Shall weep for thee.”

He said: “Bízhan am I—

A brazen-bodied dív when fight is toward.
My grandsire is a Lion of the fray,
My sire is gallant Gív, and thou shalt see
My prowess. This brave day, when battle breatheth,
Thou, like a carrion wolf*

upon the mountains,
Eat'st ashes, smoke, and blood! How cometh it
That thou art leading troops upon the waste?”
He answered not but gave his mighty steed

The rein. The warriors closed, the dark dust flew.
Their spear-points brake; both took their scimitars,
Which shivered with their strokes. The riders shook
Like leaves upon a tree, the steeds were drowned
In sweat, and staggered. Then the noble Lions,
The combatants, drew forth their heavy maces.
Thus went it till Bízhan with mace on shoulder
Sent up a shout, struck valiant Paláshán
Upon the waist, and brake his spine. His corpse,
All helmed and mailed, fell headlong from his charger.
Bízhan, dismounting with the speed of dust,
Cut off the warrior's head and carried it
Together with the arms and steed to Gív,
Who had been troubled o'er the fight, and thought:—
“How will the wind of battle blow to-day?”
And groaned and fidgeted upon the watch
Until Bízhan's dust rose upon the road.
The youth came bringing head and mail and charger,
And placed them all before his sire who cried:—
“For ever be victorious, O my son!”
They went with joy toward the chief's pavilion,
And brought to him the breastplate, helmet, steed,
And head of Paláshán. Tús gladdened so
That thou hadst said: “He will pour out his soul.”
“Son of the Backbone of the host,” said he,
“Head of the famed of our Sháh's diadem!
Live ever joyfully, aspiring still,
And banished far from thee be foeman's ill.”