The atheling laid face upon the ground
Awhile before the Maker of the world,
Then pitched his camp-enclosure in the wood.
They spread the board in fitting mode and then
Asfandiyár gave orders to the deathsman:—
“Bring hither in his bonds that wretch Gurgsár.”
They brought him to the prince who, seeing him,
Gave him three cups of royal wine. Now when
The ruddy wine had gladdened him thus said
Asfandiyár: “Thou wretched Turkman! mark
Upon the tree the head of that old witch,
‘Who turneth,’ so thou saidst, ‘the plain to sea,
And doth exalt her o'er the Pleiades.’
And now what marvel shall I see next stage,
Judged by the standard of this witch?”

He answered:—

“O Elephant of war in battle-time!
Upon this stage thou hast a harder task:
Be more than ever cautious and alert.

Thou wilt behold a mount, with head in air,
And thereupon a bird imperious,
One like a flying mountain, combative,
And called Símurgh by merchants. With its claws
It beareth off the elephant at sight,
The pard on land, the crocodile from water,
And feeleth not the effort. Weigh it not
With wolf and witch. Upon its mountain-home
It hath two young,*

their wills to hers affined,
And when it flieth the earth is impotent,
The sun is put to shame. 'Twill profit thee
To turn back for thou canst not strive against
Símurgh and mountain-height.”

The hero laughed.

“A wonder!” he exclaimed. “I will sew up
Its shoulders with mine arrows, cleave its breast
With Indian scimitar, and bring its head
From height to dust.”

When bright Sol showed its back,

Which ruffled all the bosom of the west,
The chief of warriors led the army forth,
And pondered that account of the Símurgh.
Thus he and host fared onward all the night.
Whenas the shining sun rose o'er the mountains
The Lamp of time gave freshness to the earth,
Transforming dale and plain. Asfandiyár
Gave up the army to its chief*

and took
To steed and box and break. He sped along,
Like an imperious blast, and spying in air
A peak stayed in its shadow break and steed,
Absorbed in contemplation. The Símurgh
Marked from the mount the box, the troops behind it,
And all their trumpeting, and, swooping down
Like some dark cloud obscuring sun and moon,
Essayed to seize the chariot with its talons,
As leopard seizeth quarry, but transfixed
Its legs and pinions with the swords, and all
Its might and glory passed away. It beat

Awhile with claws and beak while strength remained,
And then was still. On seeing this its young
Flew off with screams and weeping tears of blood
Down from the eyry, blurring every eye
Beneath their shade. When the Símurgh thus sank
With all its wounds and bathed steeds, box, and break
In blood, Asfandiyár, all armed and shouting,
Emerged and hewed to pieces with his sword
That bird now mastered, once so masterful;
Then prayed thus to the Maker who had given
Such mastery to him in good and ill,
And said: “O righteous Judge! Thou hast bestowed
Upon me wisdon, puissance, and prowess,
Hast driven out the sorcerers and been
My Guide to every good.”

With that arose

The sound of clarions, and Bishútan
Set forward with the host. None could behold
The desert for the bird, but only saw
Its form and talons bathed in blood which covered
The earth from range to range, and thou wouldst say:
“The plain was lost in plumes!” Men saw the prince
Blood-boltered, 'twas a sight to fray the moon,
And all the captains, cavaliers of war,
And mighty men applauded him. Anon
Gurgsár heard tidings of that famed chief's triumph,
Quaked, paled, and fared with tears and heart all
anguish.

The world's king had the tent-enclosure pitched,
His joyous warriors round him. Then to dine
They spread brocade, took seat, and called for wine.