How Suhráb fought with Gurdáfríd

When she whose sire was Gazhdaham had heard:—"The chief is worsted!" she was grieved, exclaimedIn her distress, and heaved a deep cold sigh.A woman like some valiant cavalierWas she and ever famous in the fight.Her name was Gurdáfríd, and none as yetHad seen her match. Hajír's discomfitureSo shamed her that her tulip-cheeks becameLike red chrysanthemums. Time pressed, she armed,Concealed her tresses underneath her mail,Secured her Rúman casque upon her head,And came down, like a lion, from the holdWith girded waist upon a wind-foot steed.She sped like dust and cried in thunder-tones:—"What are these troops and who commandeth them?What lusty Crocodile is there among youTo match himself with me in single combat?"

None volunteered until Suhráb beheld her.He bit his lips and laughed. "Again," said he,"An onager hath come within the toilsOf him that hath both strength and scimitar."

He armed like wind, put on a helm of Chín,And rushed out to encounter Gurdáfríd,Who when she saw him strung her bow up, drew it,And broadened out her breast. No bird had foundA passage through her shafts; she showered themUpon Suhráb and wheeled to left and right.He saw and was abashed, waxed wroth and charged,His shield above his head. Thus pressed she hungHer bow upon her arm and, while her steedPranced to the clouds, couched at Suhráb her lance,And plied her reins with fury. He too shookHis reins and urged his charger on like lightning,Fierce as a leopard, at his doughty foe.He thrust a deadly dart with all his strength,Struck Gurdáfríd upon the belt and rentHer coat of mail, but even as she reeledShe drew her sword and clave the dart asunder,Regained her seat and sent the dust-clouds flying;But liking not such fighting turned and fled.He urged his dragon-steed, and he too madeIn wrath day dark with dust. He pressed upon herWith loud cries, jostled her, and snatched her helm.Her hair escaped, her face shone like the sun.He said: "It is a girl! Her head of hairIs worthy of a crown. If such a girl,"He said amazed, "come from the Íránian hostUpon the field, good sooth their cavaliersWill send dust cloudward on the day of battle!"

He loosed his coiled up lasso from the strapsAnd caught her round the waist, then said to her:—"Why seekest thou the fray, O moon-faced maid?No onager like thee hath ever comeWithin my toils. Thou wilt not 'scape my clutch,So struggle not."

She saw no other course,So showed her face and said: "O warrior,Midst warriors a lion! two hosts watchOur prowess with the mace and scimitar,And now that I have shown my face and hairThe troops will say: 'He sent the dust-clouds flyingAnd all to fight a girl!' 'Twill be disgraceTo persevere in such a fight as this.Chiefs should be wise, so let us keep it darkAnd save thee from reproach on mine account.Our troops and stronghold are at thy command,There is no need to fight, the castle, treasure,And castellan are thine when thou shalt please."

She showed her face, her smiles displayed the pearlsWithin her jujube-lips, a garden sheIn Paradise; no villager e'er setSo tall a cypress. She had eyes like deer's,With arching eyebrows, and thou wouldst have said:—"She bloometh ever."

"Keep thy word," said he,"For thou hast seen me on the day of battle.Trust not yon castle-wall, it is not higherThan heaven, and my mace will bring it down,While no foe's lance will ever reach my neck."

She turned and rode with him toward the hold,And Gazhdaham himself came to the gate.They opened it and Gurdáfríd came inBoth bruised and bound. They shut it and lamentedFor her and for Hajír. Then GazhdahamApproached with chiefs and troops, and said to her:—"Brave-hearted lion-smiter! we were troubledOn thine account. Thy fighting and addressHave not disgraced us, and no foe hath harmedThy life, thank God!"

Then laughing much she wentUpon the ramparts to observe the foe,Beheld Suhráb still mounted, and exclaimed:—"O warrior of Túrán! why take such pains?Be off with you and give up battlefields."

Suhráb replied: "O fair of face! I swearBy crown and throne and sun and moon to razeThese ramparts to the ground and capture thee,Thou minx! Thou wilt repent thy foolish wordsWhen thou art writhing in thy helplessness.Where is thy promise?"

But she laughed and mocked him:—"The Turkmans win no helpmates from Írán,And thou hast failed with me, but never mind!Thou art no Turkman who art so commendedAmong the great, and with such strength and limbsArt peerless midst the paladins! However,When news shall reach the Sháh: 'A chief is leadingAn army from Túrán, he will march forthWith Rustam whom ye cannot stand against,And all thy host will perish. What mishapWill then descend upon thy head I know not,But woe is me that such a neck and shoulderShould disappear within the maw of pards!So do not trust too much those arms of thineOr else the stupid ox will graze beside thee.'Twere best to issue orders for retreat."

Suhráb, who thought the hold his own, was shamed.He gave to pillage all the land and cropsAround the walls, then for a moment washedThe evil hand, and said: "Our time for actionIs not to-day; our hands are stayed from fight.At daybreak we will raise dust from these wallsAnd carry war's alarms inside the place."

With that he turned about his charger's reinAnd took the way to his own camp again.