When morning breathed above the mountain-tops,
And dark night's skirt was no more seen, Húmán
Equipped himself, and told Pírán: “I challenged
Bízhan, the son of Gív, and spent the night
Preparing.”

Calling an interpreter,

He mounted on his wind-swift bay and reached
The appointed place, expectant of Bízhan,
Who with his own interpreter anon
Came dight for combat, riding Shabáhang,
Girt tightly, and advancing haughtily
Like warrior-pard to battle. He was mailed
Withal on his heroic breast, his head
Shone with his royal casque. He thus addressed
Húmán: “O light of wit! but yesternight
Thou didst bear off a souvenir from me—
Thy head! To-day my hope is that my sword
Will part it from its body in such wise
As with thy blood to turn the dust to clay.
Thou mayest take to heart an apologue:

The mountain-sheep once said to the gazelle:—
‘Though all the plain were silk no more again
The snare once 'scaped for me! Be thine the plain.’”
Húmán replied: “To-day Gív's heart shall break
For his bold son. Wilt thou contend with me
Upon Mount Kanábad, or make the scene
Raibad, and far from aid on either side?”
Bízhan said: “Why this talk? Fight where thou
wilt.”
They left Mount Kanábad, rode toward the waste,
And reached a desert-spot where they beheld
No footprints left by man, where vultures flew not,
And lions trod not, far from host and help.
There they agreed: “Whichever shall survive
Shall spare the fallen man's interpreter
To bear his king the news of what befell.”
This done, they lighted from their steeds, made
fast
The divers straps and buckles of their mail,
And fixed their saddles firmly; then the twain—
Those wrathful warriors with vengeful hearts—
Next gat their bows in order for the fray,
And hurried forward to the battleground.
They strained their bows until the notches touched,
Discharged their poplar arrows tipped with steel,
Then took their spears, and wheeled to left and right
While bits of armour flew and spearheads gleamed.
Watch how the fortune of the day inclined!
Their mouths gaped like a lion's with the heat;
Both longed for rest and water; presently
They damped their burning rage and stayed to breathe,
Then took their shields and trenchant scimitars:
Thou wouldst have said: “The Day of Doom hath
come!”
But steel was foiled by steel, though in the fight
The flashing sword-strokes showered down like fire;
Each hero failed to shed the other's blood,
And both their hearts were still insatiate.
They took their maces, having done with swords,
And passed all measure in their combating;
Thereafter they essayed each other's strength;
Each grasped his foeman's girdle and endeavoured
To drag him from his steed and fling him down.
The stirrup-leathers in the violent strain
Snapped, but each rider still retained his seat,
And neither of them had the mastery.
Then both the warriors lighted from their chargers,
And breathed themselves a while. The interpreters
Held the two steeds. Anon the combatants
Rose like fierce lions, wearied as they were,
And gat them ready for a wrestling-bout.
Thus from the morning till the shadows lengthened
These champions, on the poise of hope and fear,
Contended with each other; neither turned
His head away; their mouths were parched, their bodies
A-sweat with toil and with the blazing sun:
Then by consent they hastened to a pool.
Bizhan, when he had drunk, arose in anguish,
All shaking like a willow in a gale,
And, in his heart despairing of sweet life,
Called upon God and said: “Omnipotent!
Thou knowest all within me and without.
If thou perceivest justice in my cause,
Both in my challenge and my purposes,
The strength which I possess take not away,
And give me self-possession in the fray.”