§ 33
How Makátúra was slain by Bahrám Chúbína

When night withdrew its sombre skirt, and dawn
Brake o'er the gloomy mountains, Makátúra
Put on his battle-armour and went forth,
Túránian sword in hand. Bahrám Chúbína,
On hearing, called for steed and royal breastplate.
The spot they chose was one whose plain and waste
No leopards e'er resorted to for fight.
The Khán, on hearing, mounted on his steed,
And went accompanied by the loyal Turks
To see which raging Lion of the twain
Would have the better fortune. Makátúra,
On coming to the scene of strife, dispatched
Dust cloudward from the plain and shouted thus
To haught Bahrám Chúbína: “What hast thou
To say of manhood now? Wilt thou begin,
Or shall the loyal, lion-hearted Turk?”
Bahrám Chúbína said: “Begin thyself,
For thou didst start this quarrel by thy words.”
Then Makátúra called on God and strung

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His bow, grasped joyfully the string and arrow,
Drew to the point and then released his thumb.
He struck the cavalier upon the belt,
But that bright iron point pierced not the mail.
Bahrám Chúbína held aloof awhile
That Makátúra might grow tired of fight,
Who, thinking that his enemy was shent,
Turned shouting from the field.

“O warrior!”

Bahrám Chúbína cried, “thou hast not slain me;
Depart not to thy tent. Thy say is said;
Stop and hear my reply and, if thou livest
When thou hast heard it, go.”

With that he chose

A breastplace-piercing shaft of poplar-wood,
One to which stone and iron were as wax,
And hit the valiant horseman on the girdle.
That chief grew satiate of dínárs and fight,
And wept and slept upon his bast-bound saddle,
For he, on mounting for the fray, had tied
His two feet to the saddle and thus kept
His seat though wounded, while his wounder rode
Up to the Khán and said: “Imperious!
Yon noble needeth one to dig his grave.”
The Khán said: “Look more closely. He is swooning,
But living on the saddle.”

Thus replied

Bahrám Chúbína: “Puissant sovereign!
His body cometh even now to dust.
May all thy foemen swoon as he is swooning
On his Túránian steed.”

The valiant Khán

Dispatched a cavalier to that famed Lion,
Whom they saw bound, slain vilely, and released
From fate's vicissitudes. The Khán thereat
Laughed to himself in secret, wondering
At that chief horseman of the world's exploit;
Then full of thought returned to his own palace
With crown that soared to Saturn in his joy.
He called for arms and drachms, for steeds and slaves,
Gemmed trinketry, imperial crown, dínárs,
King-worthy jewels, and all kinds of gear
Of war. These from the Khán a messenger
Bare to Bahrám Chúbína's treasurer.