Now Gustaham meanwhile was drawing nigh
The spot. His charger smelt the other steeds,
Began to neigh, and hurried on apace.
The charger of Lahhák by that same token
Neighed back again as though it had been mad,
While Farshídward came rushing to Lahhák,
And roused him from sweet slumber, saying thus:—
“Bestir thee from thy pleasant sleep and slay
The head of evil fortune like a man,
Because a sage once spake this weighty saw:—
‘Whenas the lion from the wolf shall flee
Let not the wolf go in pursuit, for he
Will bring upon himself calamity.’
Ho! rouse thee, for an army from Írán
Hath cut us off!”

Both mounted, left the meadow,

And scanned the plain to see what course to take.

They sighted Gustaham far off alone,
And, having craned their heads and recognised
The foe, spake thus together: “One approacheth.
It cannot be but Gustaham that cometh,
The banner of the brave in hand, to battle.
We need not flee unless to draw him on
Out to the open; there he shall not 'scape
Unless our evil fortune play the tyrant.”
Thence turned they toward the plain with Gustaham,
The vengeful, in pursuit, who drawing nigh
Roared like a furious lion, raining arrows
Of poplar, and when Farshídward advanced
To combat smote him on the head—a sword-stroke
That mixed his brains with blood. He tumbled head-long,
And yielded up the ghost. So passed away
That famous warrior of Wísa's seed.
Whenas Lahhák beheld his brother's face,
And knew that he was then at peace from strife,
He trembled and became distraught with grief,
While all turned black to him. His ardent soul
Grew sick of life, he strung his bow, came on
With weeping eyes and shot at Gustaham.
First one shot, then the other. Not an arrow
Fell to the ground. Both cavaliers were wounded,
Then fought with scimitars, till suddenly
The advantage came to Gustaham, who twitched
His reins, charged, smote Lahhák upon the neck,
And brought upon him Doom's Day in a moment.
His head rolled under foot as 'twere a ball,
And all his battles and his warfare ended.
Such usage hath the turning sky above,
Withdrawing from its fosterlings its love!

V. 1260

Wouldst thou its head? A foot will offered be!
Wouldst thou a foot? The head affronteth thee!
So hurt was Gustaham, though not unhorsed,
That thou hadst said: “The man will break in
pieces!”
Bent down upon his saddle he advanced,
And, as he urged his charger, dripped with blood.
He came anear a spring, saw stream and shade,
Alighted, tied his charger to a tree,
And, having drunken largely of the water
That he had chanced upon, gave thanks to God,
But thou hadst said: “The earth hath bound him
down,”
So writhed he wallowing in the grimy dust,
His form all gashes with the scimitar,
And said: “Almighty Ruler of the world!
Of all mine army and my family
Inspire affection for me in Bízhan,
Gív's son, or other famous warrior,
That he may carry me alive or dead
Hence to the host that they may know that I
Have died with glory, and I ask no more.”
He moaned till morning and throughout the night
Writhed snake-like on the dust in painful plight.