all occasions where assistance
might be necessary. The old man then prostrated himself in prayer, and
said, "O God, turn from us all affliction, and vouchsafe to us a
prosperous day." Rustem being prepared for the struggle, directed Zuara
to wait with the troops at a distance, whilst he went alone to meet
Isfendiyar. When Bashutan first saw him, he thought he was coming to
offer terms of peace, and said to Isfendiyar, "He is coming alone, and
it is better that he should go to thy father of his own accord, than in
bonds."--"But," replied Isfendiyar, "he is coming completely equipped in
mail--quick, bring me my arms."--"Alas!" rejoined Bashutan, "thy brain
is wild, and thou art resolved upon fighting. This impetuous spirit will
break my heart." But Isfendiyar took no notice of the gentle rebuke.
Presently he saw Rustem ascend a high place, and heard his summons to
single combat. He then told his brother to keep at a distance with the
army, and not to interfere till aid was positively required. Insisting
rigidly on these instructions, he mounted his night-black charger, and
hastened towards Rustem, who now proposed to him that they should wait
awhile, and that in the meantime the two armies might be put in motion
against each other. "Though," said he, "my men of Zabul are few, and
thou hast a numerous host."

"This is a strange request," replied the prince,
"But thou art all deceit and artifice;
Mark thy position, lofty and commanding,
And mine, beneath thee--in a spreading vale.
Now, Heaven forbid that I, in reckless mood,
Should give my valiant legions to destruction,
And look unpitying on! No, I advance,
Whoever may oppose me; and if thou
Requirest aid, select thy friend, and come,
For I need none, save God, in battle--none."
And Rustem said the same, for he required
No human refuge, no support but Heaven.

The battle rose, and numerous javelins whizzed
Along the air, and helm and mail were bruised;
Spear fractured spear, and then with shining swords
The strife went on, till, trenched with many a wound,
They, too, snapped short. The battle-axe was next
Wielded, in furious wrath; each bending forward
Struck brain-bewildering blows; each tried in vain
To hurl the other from his fiery horse.
Wearied, at length, they stood apart to breathe
Their charges panting from excessive toil,
Covered with foam and blood, and the strong armor,
Of steed and rider rent. The combata