When bright Sol showed its back, Gív, heart-oppressed
About his brother, spake thus to Bízhan:—
“Joy of my heart! my brother cometh not!
Gív, when Bahrám
Had spoken this, wept tears of gall and said:—
“I swear by God the Judge Omnipotent,
By white day and by azure night that till
I shall avenge Bahrám my head shall see
No covering save a Rúman helm.”
All vengeance
And grief he mounted, Indian sword in hand.
“Pernicious wretch!”
Said Gív, “spare thine excuse and futile words.”
Then wallowing in the dust
Before Bahrám he cried: “O noble man!
I will be thy soul's slave and wait upon
The keeper of thy tomb.”
Then said Bahrám
To Gív: “Whoever liveth hath to die.
Though he hath done me hurt he need not taste
The pangs of death, so spare his guilty head
That he may keep my memory alive.”
But Gív, who saw his brother with such wounds,
And him that did the hurt a captive, seized
Tazháv's beard with a shout and headed him
As 'twere a lark! Bahrám wept blood and marvelled
At heaven's processes, then raised a cry
Whose like, so strange it was, none ever heard:—
“If I shall slay, or thou slay in my presence,
My brothers or my kinsmen will be slain!”
This said, the brave Bahrám gave up the ghost.
'Tis ever thus with this world! He that would
Obtain the reins must bathe his hands in blood,
Slay or be slain! Shun thou ambition's mood.