Then like an elephant he mounted Rakhsh,
Whose neighings could be heard two miles away,
And hurried to the river, where the troops
Pressed eagerly to see him, while the hearts
Of those that saw him loved him. All exclaimed:—
“This noble chief resembleth none but Sám,
The cavalier. An iron hill is he
Upon the saddle and thou wouldest say
That Rakhsh is Áhriman's own mount, and were
A mighty elephant his opposite
Then splash its head with mourning hues. The king
Must have a witless pate to give up one
That is possessed of Grace divine and prowess—
A moonlike chieftain like Asfandiyár—
To slaughter for the sake of crown and throne.
He groweth greedier with age and fonder
Of signet and of diadem.”

When Rustam

Drew near, Asfandiyár went forth to meet him.
Said Rustam: “Paladin and glorious youth,
But of new-fangled manners! so thy guest

Was thought unworthy of the summoning!
Thy promise is a promise and no more.
Attend to what I say, and be not hasty
Without a cause with one advanced in years.
Thou thinkest far too highly of thyself,
And art too haughty to the chiefs. Good sooth!
Thou holdest me but light in point of courage,
And slight in counsel and in understanding.
Know that I am the Rustam of the world,
The lustre of the race of Narímán.
I make the Black Dív gnaw his hand, I lay
The heads of sorcerers low. The mighty men
That saw mine iron corslet, and that great
And roaring Lion that I rode, abandoned
The field without a blow and on the plain
Threw down their bows and arrows—valiant horsemen
And fighters like Kámús, the warrior,
Or like the Khán of Chín, whom with coiled lasso
I haled from saddle and bound head and foot.
The warden of the Sháhs am I, the stay
Of brave men everywhere. Mistake me not
Because I begged a boon, nor deem that thou
Art higher than heaven. Thy royal Grace and state
Led me to seek thy rede and fellowship,
And I desire not that a prince like thee
Should have his fortunes ruined by my hand,
Because heroic Sám is mine ideal,
At whose approach the lion fled the wood,
And I am his memorial on earth,
O valiant, royal prince Asfandiyár!
Long have I been the chief of paladins,
But never spent a day in evil-doing,
Have purged the world of foes and undergone
Abundant toil and stress. I thank my God
That in these latter days I have beheld
My peer—a glorious Shoot who will take vengeance
On infidels amid the world's applause.”
Then smiling on him said Asfandiyár:—
“O son of Sám, the horseman! thou wast hurt
In that no summons came whereas I took
Some credit to myself. Be not displeased
Because I spared thee on so hot a day
So long a journey, for I said: ‘At dawn
I will set out to offer mine excuses;
Then shall I have the joy of seeing Zál,
And be for once quite happy!’ But since thou
Hast of thine own self undergone the toil,
Hast left thy home and come across the plain,
Sit down to rest thyself, take up the cup,
And make no show of wrath and bitterness.”
Asfandiyár placed Rustam on his left,
Such was the way in which he did the honours!
Then said the veteran: “This is not my place;
Let me have that to which I am entitled.”
The prince said to Bahman upon his right:—
“Give him the seat as he demandeth it.”
Then Rustam in his wrath said to the prince:—
“Look on me fairly and with open eyes;
Regard my prowess and illustrious stock,
For I am of the seed of valiant Sám.
Though thou hast no seat that befitteth me
I have the Grace, my triumphs, and my prudence.”
Thereat the prince gave orders to his son
To place a golden seat upon the dais,
And with a scented orange Rustam came,
And took his seat but he was all aflame.