Now when the sun had set up on the plain
Its standard, and its sword had turned the rear
Of night to violet, Tazháv the chieftain
Led forth his men. Shouts from the look-out reached
The Íránians: “From Túrán a host hath come
To fight. Their leader is a Crocodile
With flag in hand.”

Then from the nobles Gív

Went forth to him, escorted by a troop
Of valiant warriors, fiercely asked his name,
And said: “O lover of the fray! hast come
With such a force as this to meet the claws
Of Crocodiles?”

The bold Tazháv replied:—

“A lusty heart and lion's claws are mine.
Tazháv am I, I fling down men and pluck
The heads of valiant Lions from their trunks.
By birth and worth I am Íránian,
Sprung from the warriors and the Lions' seed.
Now I am marchlord of the country round—
A chosen chief, the king's own son-in-law.”
Gív said: “Nay say not so, 'twill dim thy glory.
Would any leave Írán and settle here
Unless he lived on blood or colocynth?
If thou art marchlord and king's son-in-law
How is it that thou hast not mightier powers?
With such a band as this seek not the fray,
Nor go with vehemence against the brave;
For I who speak—a hero worshipful
And famous—trample on the heads of marchlords.
If thou with all thy troops wilt do my bidding,
And hence depart Íránward to the Sháh,
Go first of all to Tús our general,
Apply to him, and hearken to his words.
I will take care that thou shalt have a gift
From him—goods, slaves, and steeds caparisoned.
This seemeth well to me, O prudent man!
What say'st thou? Shall I have to fight to-day?”

Tazháv the traitor said: “O gallant one!
None lowereth my flag. Now I have here
The throne and signet, horses, flocks, and soldiers;
Moreover in Írán no person dreameth
Of such a king as is Afrásiyáb.
Slaves too have I, and herds of wind-foot steeds,
Which wander over mountain, vale, and plain.
Look not upon my little band but me,
And at the mace upon my saddle-bow,
For I will maul thy troops to-day till thou
Repent thy coming.”

Then Bízhan exclaimed:—

“O famous chief—engrosser of the fight,
Exalted and shrewd-hearted paladin!
In age thou art not as thou wast in youth.
Why givest thou this counsel to Tazháv?
Why so much love and amity for him?
Our business is to draw the sword and mace,
And to cut out these peoples' hearts and brains.”
He urged his steed; the battle-cry went up;
They laid upon their shoulders sword and mace.
A cloud of murky dust rose in the midst
So that the sun became invisible,
The world grew gloomy as a winter's cloud,
And men beheld not shining star or moon.
Bold Gív who used to rob the sky of lustre
Was in the midst, Bízhan the deft of hand,
Who dallied not in action, led the van.
Tazháv, who wont to fight the rending lion,
And wore his crown, opposed them with Arzhang
To help him and Mardwí the Lion—two
That wearied not of fight yet gat small fruit
That day, for brave Arzhang withdrew himself,
The more part of the Turkman troops were slain,
And froward fortune turned its head away.
Tazháv the valiant fled. That famous Lion,
Bízhan, pursued him, shouting eagerly,

And with a spear in hand. Thou wouldst have said:—
“It is a maddened, roaring elephant!”
One spear-blow struck Tazháv upon the waist,
And all his lustihood departed from him.
The man reeled, but the Rúman coat of mail
Gave not, nor did the fastenings of it break.
Bízhan flung down his spear and made a clutch,
Like leopard springing at a mountain-sheep,
And then, as falcon bindeth lark, snatched off
That crown of great price which Afrásiyáb
Had set upon his head, a crown that never
Was absent from his thoughts and from his dreams.
He urged his steed toward the castle-gate,
Pursued thus by Bízhan at lightning-speed,
And, when he neared the castle, Ispanwí
Came wailing with her face suffused with tears,
And cried out loudly to him: “O Tazháv!
Where are thy host, thy mettle, and thy might
That thou shouldst turn thy back upon me thus,
And leave me in this castle shamefully?
Give me a seat behind thee; let me not
Be left inside the castle for the foe.”
The heart of proud Tazháv was set on fire,
And his cheeks flamed. She mounted swift as wind
Behind him on his steed and clasped his waist.
He rushed along like dust with Ispanwí;
They made toward Túrán. The charger sped
Awhile till man and beast were both fordone,
And then Tazháv addressed his handmaid, saying:—
“O my fair mate! here is a grievous case!
My charger is exhausted with this work,
Foes are behind, in front is a ravine,
And though we race Bízhan some distance yet
Still they will have their will of us at last;
So as they are not enemies to thee
Remain behind while I urge on my horse.”
Then Ispanwí alighted from the steed:
Tazháv's face was all tears at losing her,
Yet sped he on to reach Afrásiyáb,
And all the while Bízhan was in pursuit,
Who when he spied the moon-faced Ispanwí,
Her musky hair descending to her feet,
Came to her, took her with all gentleness,
Made room for her behind him, and returned
Toward the army of the paladin.
He reached the entrance of the tent of Tús,
Rejoicing, whence arose the sound of drums,
Because Bízhan, that horseman brave and wary,
Was coming with his quarry from the fight.
Tús and the chiefs—those lovers of the fray—
Then set themselves to pillaging the hold,
And afterward they went to seek the herds
That roamed about the desert of Túrán.
They took, as warriors are wont, their lassos,
And quickly furnished all the host with steeds,
While in the palace whence Tazháv had fled
Were fierce Íránian horsemen lodged instead.