There was a warrior, by name Pílsam,
Of royal race and eager for renown,
His sire was glorious Wísa and his brother
Victorious Pírán. Both in Írán
And in Túrán he had no peer save Rustam.
On hearing what Afrásiyáb had said
He frowned with rage and, hasting to the king,
Cried in his eager longing for the fray:—
“A youthful warrior of this host am I.
What dust before me are the valiant Tús
And gallant Gív—that Lion known to fame—
Bahrám and Zanga son of Sháwarán,
And brave Guráza! At the king's command
I will go lion-like, smite off their heads,
O'ercloud their moon, and bring their crowns to dust.”
The king replied: “O famous warrior!
May victory be thine. Thou must prevail
And come back conquering and glorious.”

Thereat Pílsam roared like a brazen trumpet,
Charged the Íránian centre swift as dust,
And struck to right and left with sword and ax,
With lion-roars assailed Gurgín like wind,
And smote upon the head his foeman's charger,
Which came down headlong in its agony.
This Gustaham, the well approved in war,
Beheld and, swiftly rushing from his post,
Made like a raging lion for Pílsam,
And closing with that fiercely blazing Fire
Thrust at his foeman's belt; the buckles held;
The spear was shivered in his grasp; he flung
The haft away. Pílsam drew his keen sword,
Struck Gustaham with fury on the crest,
And sent his helmet rolling, leaving him
Stunned and disarmed. When Zanga on the right
Saw that fierce struggle he advanced to help,
And marked the evil plight of Gustaham.
Pílsam the Crocodile opposed the charge,
And, coming with an Indian sword in hand,
Struck at and clave the mail of Zanga's steed,
Which tumbled prone. The gallant warrior fell,
Took up, and knit his mail-skirt round his waist
To strive afoot against the great Pílsam
Amid the dust—the prey against the lion.
Dark clouds of dust rose from the scene of strife.
Gív, looking from the centre of the host
And seeing earth dark in the heroes' eyes,
Roared like the thunder on the mountain-top,
Or like the savage lion in the fight.
He went to aid his comrades, and all four
Attacked Pílsam. That hero blenched no jot,
But rushed upon them plying sword and mace:
The four chiefs' hands were paralysed with wonder.
Pírán, beholding from the centre, saw
His brother's desperate case, rushed forth to help him,
And shouted furiously to Gív: “O noble!
It is no glory for you four to fight
One lion-like and famous warrior.”
He spake and charged amid a cloud of dust,
While Rustam too rushed bravely to the mellay
And smote with sword and axe and massive mace
The captains of the army of Túrán.
Then fled Pílsam, well knowing that that Dragon
Would have his life. The Íránian chiefs and warriors
Slew with the massive mace so many Turkmans
That corpses were piled up to reach the moon.
Afrásiyáb looked on and sighing cried:—
“Where is Alkús the warrior who wished
So oft to fight with Lions, in his cups
Would challenge Gív and plan a fight with Rustam?
Írán was all that he would talk of then,
Where are his ardour and his bluster now?”
Alkús was told, urged on his night-hued steed,
And with his hands no doubt already bathed
In blood came to the centre to the king,
And cried aloud: “A man of war am I,
A Lion waiting. At the king's command
I will go forth to battle single-handed.”
The monarch said: “Choose captains from the host.”
More than a thousand valiant cavaliers
Went with him, carrying head-strewing lances,
And glittering like Jupiter and Venus.
Alkús as he approached the Íránians
Obscured the sun and moon in clouds of dust,
And when Zawára showed and challenged fight
Soon countered him and thought: “This should be
Rustam,”
Because he knew the seed of Narímán.
Zawára charged in lion-wise, but when
His lance snapped, he was frayed and drew his sword.
They veiled the world with dust. Both falchions
shivered.
They seized their maces. Quick as wind Alkús
Dealt such a blow as left Zawára senseless,
Who swooned and tumbled speechless from his saddle.
Alkús leaped down to take his foeman's head,
But Rustam seeing how his brother fared
Rushed like a fire toward him with a shout
Which shook Alkús' hand and dulled his sword.
At hearing Rustam's voice thou wouldst have said:—
“His heart showed through his skin.” Swift as the wind
He mounted, all forgetful of his manhood,
And Rustam said: “Thou hadst not measured then
The Lion's claws and therefore wast so brave.”
Then while Zawára, blood-stained, sorely wounded,
And battered by the mace, regained his saddle,
Alkús encountered Rustam and thereby
Robed his bark-saddle with a winding-sheet,
For thrusting with a spear at Rustam's girdle
He failed to pierce the mail, while Rustam thrust
A spear at his foe's head and dashed him down
As 'twere a mountain-crag to earth, his helmet
Drowned in his heart's blood, while both armies wondered.
Then fear came on the soldiers of Túrán,
While lion-like the seven warriors
Drew, and their gallant captains followed them
With massive maces laid upon their shoulders.
Afrásiyáb beheld them with amaze,
Turned, gazed upon his mighty men, and said:—
“The foe hath overcome you. Strive and battle
Like valiant pards.”

The soldiers heard his voice,

And fell on Rustam in a mass, while he
Charged them in fury with the seven warriors.
They drave and routed all the Turkman host,
Incarnadined the land with brave men's blood,
And laid so many low that what with corpses
And trunkless heads no vacant space was seen
For troops to fight on, wheel, or pass between.