When she whose sire was Gazhdaham had heard:—

“The chief is worsted!” she was grieved, exclaimed
In her distress, and heaved a deep cold sigh.
A woman like some valiant cavalier
Was she and ever famous in the fight.
Her name was Gurdáfríd, and none as yet
Had seen her match. Hajír's discomfiture
So shamed her that her tulip-checks became
Like red chrysanthemums.*

Time pressed, she armed,
Concealed her tresses underneath her mail,
Secured her Rúman casque upon her head,
And came down, like a lion, from the hold
With girded waist upon a wind-foot steed.
She sped like dust and cried in thunder-tones:—
“What are these troops and who commandeth them?
What lusty Crocodile is there among you
To match himself with me in single combat?”
None volunteered until Suhráb beheld her.
He bit his lips and laughed. “Again,” said he,
“An onager hath come within the toils
Of him that hath both strength and scimitar.”
He armed like wind, put on a helm of Chín,
And rushed out to encounter Gurdáfríd,
Who when she saw him strung her bow up, drew it,
And broadened out her breast. No bird had found
A passage through her shafts; she showered them
Upon Suhráb and wheeled to left and right.
He saw and was abashed, waxed wroth and charged,
His shield above his head. Thus pressed she hung

Her bow upon her arm and, while her steed
Pranced to the clouds, couched at Suhráb her lance,
And plied her reins with fury. He too shook
His reins and urged his charger on like lightning,
Fierce as a leopard, at his doughty foe.
He thrust a deadly dart with all his strength,
Struck Gurdáfríd upon the belt and rent
Her coat of mail, but even as she reeled
She drew her sword and clave the dart asunder,
Regained her seat and sent the dust-clouds flying;
But liking not such fighting turned and fled.
He urged his dragon-steed, and he too made
In wrath day dark with dust. He pressed upon her
With loud cries, jostled her, and snatched her helm.
Her hair escaped, her face shone like the sun.
He said: “It is a girl! Her head of hair
Is worthy of a crown. If such a girl,”
He said amazed, “come from the Íránian host
Upon the field, good sooth their cavaliers
Will send dust cloudward on the day of battle!”
He loosed his coiled up lasso from the straps
And caught her round the waist, then said to her:—
“Why seekest thou the fray, O moon-faced maid?
No onager like thee hath ever come
Within my toils. Thou wilt not 'scape my clutch,
So struggle not.”

She saw no other course,

So showed her face and said: “O warrior,
Midst warriors a lion! two hosts watch
Our prowess with the mace and scimitar,
And now that I have shown my face and hair
The troops will say: ‘He sent the dust-clouds flying
And all to fight a girl!’ 'Twill be disgrace
To persevere in such a fight as this.
Chiefs should be wise, so let us keep it dark
And save thee from reproach on mine account.
Our troops and stronghold are at thy command,
There is no need to fight, the castle, treasure,
And castellan are thine when thou shalt please.”
She showed her face, her smiles displayed the pearls
Within her jujube-lips, a garden she
In Paradise; no villager e'er set
So tall a cypress. She had eyes like deer's,
With arching eyebrows, and thou wouldst have
said:—
“She bloometh ever.”

“Keep thy word,” said he,

“For thou hast seen me on the day of battle.
Trust not yon castle-wall, it is not higher
Than heaven, and my mace will bring it down,
While no foe's lance will ever reach my neck.”

She turned and rode with him toward the hold,
And Gazhdaham himself came to the gate.
They opened it and Gurdáfríd came in
Both bruised and bound. They shut it and lamented
For her and for Hajír. Then Gazhdaham
Approached with chiefs and troops, and said to
her:—
“Brave-hearted lion-smiter! we were troubled
On thine account. Thy fighting and address
Have not disgraced us, and no foe hath harmed
Thy life, thank God!”

Then laughing much she went

Upon the ramparts to observe the foe,
Beheld Suhráb still mounted, and exclaimed:—
“O warrior of Túrán! why take such pains?
Be off with you and give up battlefields.”
Suhráb replied: “O fair of face! I swear
By crown and throne and sun and moon to raze
These ramparts to the ground and capture thee,
Thou minx! Thou wilt repent thy foolish words
When thou art writhing in thy helplessness.
Where is thy promise?”

But she laughed and mocked him:—

“The Turkmans win no helpmates from Írán,
And thou hast failed with me, but never mind!
Thou art no Turkman who art so commended
Among the great, and with such strength and limbs
Art peerless midst the paladins! However,

When news shall reach the Sháh: ‘A chief is leading
An army from Túrán,’ he will march forth
With Rustam whom ye cannot stand against.
And all thy host will perish. What mishap
Will then descend upon thy head I know not.
But woe is me that such a neck and shoulder
Should disappear within the maw of pards!
So do not trust too much those arms of thine
Or else the stupid ox will graze beside thee.
'Twere best to issue orders for retreat.”
Suhráb, who thought the hold his own, was shamed.
He gave to pillage all the land and crops
Around the walls, then for a moment washed
The evil hand, and said: “Our time for action
Is not to-day; our hands are stayed from fight.
At daybreak we will raise dust from these walls
And carry war's alarms inside the place.”
With that he turned about his charger's rein
And took the way to his own camp again.