Káran returned and told the prince, who said:—
“May horse and mace and saddle ne'er lack thee.
When thou hadst gone another host approached,
Led by a young and battle-loving chief,
A grandson of Zahhák, and called, I hear,
Kákwí—an infidel—with haughty horsemen
And men of name a hundred thousand strong,
And slaughtered many of our lion-warriors.
Salm now is bent on fight since this ally
Hath come to help him from Gang-i-Dizhhukht.
* They tell me that he is a warlike dív,
In battle unappalled and strong of hand.
I have not reached him in the combat yet,
Nor ta'en his measure with the warriors' mace,
But when he cometh next to fight with us
I will essay him and will try his weight.”
Káran replied: “O prince! who can confront thee
In battle? If he were a pard his skin
Would burst upon him at the thought of fight.
Who is Kákwí? What is Kákwí? Thy foes
Will never play the man. I will devise
A shrewd device in this emergency
That none like vile Kákwí may ever come
Henceforth to fight us from Gang-i-Dizhhukht.”

The noble prince replied: “Be not concerned.
Thou art exhausted with thy late exploit,
Thy marching and revenge; it is my turn
To do the fighting: breathe awhile, great chief!”
The din of trump and pipe arose without,
The tymbals sounded and the horsemen's dust
Made air pitch-black and earth like ebony.
Thou wouldst have said: “These Diamonds have life,
These maces and these javelins have tongues!”
Shouts rose around and arrows fledged the air
Like vulture's wings, blood grouted hand to hilt
And spurted from the murk; thou wouldst have said:—
“The earth will rise in waves and whelm the sky.”
Kákwí the chieftain raised the battle-shout
And came forth like a dív, while Minúchihr
Advanced with Indian sword in hand. Both raised
A cry that rent the hills and frayed the hosts.
Thou wouldst have said: “These chiefs are elephants,
Both terrible, both girt, both bent on vengeance.”
Kákwí thrust at the girdle of the prince,
Whose Rúman helmet shook: his mail was rent
Down to the belt so that his waist appeared.
The prince's falchion struck Kákwí's cuirass
And clove it by the neck, and thus they fought
Till noon like pards and puddled earth with blood.
As day declined the prince, sufficed with fight,
Reached out and gripping firmly with his legs
Caught with all ease the girdle of Kákwí,
Dragged from his steed his elephantine form,
Flung him upon the burning sand and gashed
His chest and bosom with the scimitar.
Thus went that Arab to the winds a prey;
His mother bare him for so ill a day!