Gurgín was eighth and he went out to fight
Andarímán, one of the Turkman host.
Experienced both and veteran they went
And chose a battlefield. They wheeled with spears.
When these broke down they took their bows, and arrows
Rained while the chiefs held up their wolf-skin shields
To save their faces. Arrows showered like hail
On wolf-skin buckler, helm, and casque. At length
Gurgín shot at Andarímán a shaft
That pinned the Rúman helmet to his head,
And as the cavalier reeled with the smart,
Gurgín shot yet another, pierced his side,
And brought the blood-drops from his eyes with anguish.
Gurgín gat down like wind, took his foe's head,
And strapped it to the saddle. Having mounted
He led the Turkman's charger, and then scaled
In haste the hill, his bow slung on his arm,
By God's strength who had sheltered him from hurt,
And the victorious fortune of the Sháh—
The world-lord. Thus returned triumphantly
He set the heart-illuming flag on high.