When Rustam knew that humbleness availed not

Before Asfandiyár he strung his bow,
And set therein the shaft of tamarisk
With baneful points, and said: “O Lord of sun
And moon, who makest knowledge, Grace, and strength
To wax! Thou seest my mind pure in intent,
My soul, and self control, for much I toil
To turn Asfandiyár from strife. Thou knowest
That his contention is unjust, and how
His traffic with me is all fight and prowess;
So visit not my crime with retribution,
O Maker of the moon and Mercury!”
Asfandiyár perceived him tarrying long
From strife, and said to him: “O famous Rustam!
Thy soul is satiate of fight, but now
Thou shalt behold the arrows of Gushtásp,
Luhrásp's own arrow-heads and lion-heart.”
Then Rustam quickly fitted to his bow
The tamarisk-shaft as the Símurgh had bidden;
He struck Asfandiyár full in the eyes,
And all the world grew dark before that chief;
The straight-stemmed Cypress bent, intelligence
And Grace abandoned him. The pious prince
Fell prone, his bow of Chách dropped from his hands.
He clutched his black steed by the mane and crest;
The battlefield was reddened with his blood.
Said Rustam: “Thou hast brought this evil seed
To fruit! Thou art the man who said'st: ‘My form
Is brazen, and I dash high heaven to earth.’
Yet through one arrow hast thou turned from strife,
And fallen swooning on thy noble charger.
Moreover now thy head will come to dust,
And thy fond mother's heart will burn for thee.”
Meanwhile the famous prince had tumbled headlong
Down from his black steed's back and lay awhile
Till he recovered consciousness, sat up
Amid the dust, and??listened. Then he seized
The arrow by its end and drew it out,
Drew it out soaked in blood from point to feather.
When presently the tidings reached Bahman:—
“The Grace divine of empire is obscured,”
He went to Bishútan and said: “Our war
Hath wedded woe, the mighty Elephant's body
Hath come to dust, and this distress hath turned
The world to an abyss for us.”

They both

Ran from the army to the paladin.
They saw the warrior with his breast all blood,
And with a gory arrow in his hand.
Then Bishútan cast dust upon his head
And rent his raiment, uttering loud cries;
Bahman rolled in the dust and rubbed his cheeks
Upon the yet warm blood.

Said Bishútan:—

“What chief or noble knoweth this world's secrets
Since an Asfandiyár, who for the Faith
So bravely drew the scimitar of vengeance,
Who purged the world of foul idolatry,
And never set his hand to work injustice,
Hath perished in the heyday of his youth?
The head that wore the crown hath come to dust,
While o'er the bad man's head, who bringeth anguish
Upon the world and harroweth the souls
Of noble men, unnumbered seasons pass,
Because he seeth not mischance in war.”
The two youths took his head upon their breasts,
And wiped away the gore, while Bishútan,
With cheeks all tears of blood and heart all anguish,
Made lamentation over him, and said:—
“Alack, O warrior Asfandiyár,
The world-lord and the progeny of kings!
Who tore this warrior-mountain from its place?
Who overthrew this furious Lion? Who drew
The tusks redoubted of this Elephant,

And flung him to the waters of the Nile?
Is our race blasted by the evil eye,
For evil surely is for those that do it?
Where are thy courage, thine intelligence,
Thine usages, thy strength, thy star, thy Faith?
Where is thy splendid equipage in war?
Where is thy gracious voice at festivals?
What time thou purged'st all the world of foes
Thou feared'st not the lion or the dív,
And now, when thou shouldst profit by the work,
I see thee bite the dust!”

Asfandiyár

Made answer wisely: “Shrewd and prosperous man!
Distract not thou thyself before me thus,
For sky and moon allotted me this fate.
Dust is the dead man's couch; bewail not then
So grievously my slaughter. Where are now
Húshang, Jamshíd, and Farídún? They came
From wind and vanished in a breath! Thus too
Have mine own ancestors, pure-born, elect,
And high and holy, gone and left their room
To us. None stayeth in this Wayside Inn.
In this world have I toiled exceedingly
In public and in private to establish
The way of God and wisdom as the guide
Thereto, but when through me the enterprise
Had grown illustrious, and when the hands
Of Áhriman were barred from wickedness,

Fate stretched its lion's claws and brought me down
As though an onager! And now my hope
Is that in Paradise my heart and soul
May reap what they have sown. The son of Zál
Hath slain me not by prowess. Mark what I
Have in my hand—a shaft of tamarisk!
That wood hath closed my lifetime by the practice
Of the Símurgh and of resourceful Rustam,
While Zál himself, the adept in grammarye,
Performed the sorceries.”

When Asfandiyár

Spake of that matter Rustam writhed and wept
For agony and, coming to the prince,
Stood pierced by grief and very sorrowful,
Then spake to Bishútan and said in anguish:—
“One should acknowledge prowess in a man.
'Tis as he said; he did not change from prowess
To guile. In sooth 'twas through some felon dív
That fate assigned to me this grievous lot,
For since for prowess' sake I girt my loins,
And sought to fight with chiefs, I have not seen
Arrayed in hauberk and with war-cuirass
A cavalier like to Asfandiyár.
When, after trial of his bow, his breast,
And grip, I left the battle in despair
I sought a shift in mine extremity
To save my head from him for good and all.
I set his destiny upon my bow,
And when his day had come I shot the arrow.
Had fortune been with him how could a shaft
Of tamarisk avail me any whit?
We all shall have to leave this darksome earth;
No caution will prolong our lives one breath.
Good sooth, for this I shall be marked for ill,
And live in story with the tamarisk still!”