Next there went out Gurwí, the son of Zira—
A valiant dív—with Gív, son of Gúdarz.
They fought long with their spears and mixed the dust
With blood till with the horsemen's combating
Their spearheads dropped affrighted at the fray.
They took their bows and arrows and fought on.

Gív purposed to dismount his foe alive,
And carry him still living to Khusrau—
A novel present to him from the Turkmans.
Gurwí, when Gív was closing, dropped his bow
In terror and laid hold upon his sword,
But gallant Gív came charging furiously,
While grasping in his hand an ox-head mace,
And, roaring like a mighty leopard, struck
His foeman's casque and drenched his face with blood.
Gív, keeping his own seat, put forth his hand
And, seizing, strained Gurwí against his breast,
Who, fainting in the saddle, fell to earth
Insensible. The warrior-pard alighted,
Bound his foe's hands firm as a rock behind him,
Then, mounting, made his prisoner run in front,
And rode toward his comrades. Flag in hand
He scaled the hill; his shouts brought down the moun-tains.
The king of earth had given him grace to win
That triumph and he blessed the paladin.