The Khán let loose his tongue, reviling Rustam.
“Thou miscreant,” he said, “in soul and body!
For quarter for Írán, its Sháh and people,
Thou must appeal to me. Thou Sigzian,
And vilest of mankind! wouldst seek to make
A common soldier of the king of Chín?”
They sent a very grievous rain of arrows
As when the winds of autumn blast a tree;
The air was clothed with eagles' plumes: no warrior
E'en dreameth of such strife! Gúdarz, beholding
That shower of steel, alarmed for Rustam's safety,
Said to Ruhhám: “O laggard! tarry not,
But with two hundred horsemen ply the reins,
And with your bows of Chách and poplar shafts
Guard in the battle peerless Rustam's back.”
And then to Gív: “Lead on the host and yield not
Before our foes. To-day is not a time
For peace and pageant, leisure or repose.
Advance toward the right wing with the troops,
And find out where Pírán is with Húmán.
Mark how before the Khán the peerless Rustam
Is dashing heaven to earth! Ne'er may the eyes
Be blest that curse him on the day of battle.”
Ruhhám raged like a leopard and rushed forth
To fight at Rustam's back, who said to him,
That Lion: “My Rakhsh, I fear, hath had enough;
When he is weary I will go afoot,
All blood and sweat. This is a host like ants
And locusts! Fight against the elephants

And drivers. We will take them to Khusrau—
A novel present from Shingán and Chín.”
Then from his post he cried: “May Áhriman
Wed Turkistán and Chín! Ho! luckless ones,
Resourceless, wretched, fed on grief, and lost!
Have ye ne'er heard of Rustam? Or hath wisdom
Fled from your brains? He holdeth dragon-men
Of no account, and chooseth elephants
As opposites. Would ye still fight with me
Whose only gifts are mace and scimitar?”
He loosed his twisted lasso from its straps,
Flung the raw coil upon his saddle-bow,
And urged his charger on. A shout arose
To split a dragon's ear. Where'er he cast
The noose he cleared the ground of mighty men,
Yet wished he only to contend with Chín
With lasso on his arm and frowning brow.
Now every time that Rustam in the fight
Unhorsed a chieftain with the coiling noose,
The leader Tús sent cloudward from the field
The sound of trump and drum, while an Íránian
Made fast the prisoner's hands, and took him off
Toward the heights. Now when from elephant-back
The Khán saw earth rise like the Nile, and there,
Astride a lofty Hill, an Elephant
That grasped a lasso made of lion's hide,
And brought down vultures from the murky clouds,
While stars and moon looked on, he chose a chief,
Learned in the Íránian tongue, and said: “Approach
Yon lion-man and say: ‘Fight not so fiercely.
These troops of Chín, of Shakn, Chaghán, and Wahr
Have in their hearts no interest in the feud,
Nor have the kings of Chín and of Khatlán:
Thou hast no quarrel with these aliens,
But with Afrásiyáb, who knoweth not
The fire from water, but hath raised the world,
And by this war brought evil on himself.
We all of us have greed and long for fame,
Yet peace still bettereth war.”

With fluent tongue

And guileful heart the man drew near to Rustam,

And said: “O chieftain, lover of the fray!
Since fight is over for thee now seek feast.
Thou surely harbourest not revenge at heart
For what hath passed against the Khán of Chín!
Withdraw as he withdraweth, for the strife
Is ended now. When by thy hand Kámús
Was slain, the heads of all our chiefs were turned.”
But Rustam answered thus: “The elephants,
The crown, and ivory throne must all be mine.
Ye set your faces to lay waste Írán:
What need is there for talk and blandishments?
He knoweth that his host is in my hands,
And that I check the ardour of mine own.
I spare his own head, but his elephants,
Torque, crown, and throne of ivory are mine.”
The messenger replied: “O lord of Rakhsh!
‘Spare’ not upon the waste the uncaught gazelle!
The plain is all men, elephants, and troops.
Who hath crown, wealth, and grandeur like the Khán?
Who knoweth too the outcome of the day,
And who will quit the field with victory?”
When Rustam heard he spurred on Rakhsh and
cried:—
“I vanquish lions and apportion crowns,
Am strong, and have a lasso on mine arm.
Is this the day for jest, the time for counsel?
Whenas the Khán of Chín shall see my lasso,
When that fierce Lion shall behold mine armlet,
He will be taken and distaste e'en life.”
He flung the lasso coiled and took the heads
Of cavaliers, neared that white elephant,
And then the Khán of Chín, grown desperate,
Smote with the goad the creature's head and, roaring
Like thunder in the month of Farwardín,
Took and hurled forth at Rustam deft of hand
A double-headed battle-dart in hope
To worst him and to take his noble head;
But Rustam, scathless, flung his lasso high,
Dragged from his elephant the Khán of Chín
Noosed by the neck, and dashed him to the ground,
Where others bound his hands and drove him on
Toward the Shahd afoot without his crown,
His litter, throne, or elephant, and there
They made him over to the guards of Tús;
That chieftain sent the drum-roll to the sky.
This tricky Hostelry is ever so:
Whiles it exalteth, whiles it layeth low,
And thus it will be while the sky doth move—
Whiles strife and poison, and whiles sweets and love.
Thou raisest one to heaven on high, and one
Thou makest vile, afflicted, and fordone;
From pit to moon, so dost Thou one elate;
From moon to pit, such is another's fate!
One hath a throne, one is to fishes hurled
In wisdom not caprice, Lord of the world!
Thou art the height and depth thereof, I trow
Not what Thou art Thyself. Thyself art Thou.