"And hast thou never heard of men on foot,
Who conquered horsemen? I am sent by Tús,
To take for him the horse of Ushkabús."
"What! and unarmed?" inquired the Tartar chief;
"No!" cried the champion, "Mark, my bow and arrow!
Mark, too, with what effect they may be used!"
So saying, Rustem drew the string, and straight
The arrow flew, and faithful to its aim,
Struck dead the foeman's horse. This done, he laughed,
But Ushkabús was wroth, and showered upon
His bold antagonist his quivered store--
Then Rustem raised his bow, with eager eye
Choosing a dart, and placed it on the string,
A thong of elk-skin; to his ear he drew
The feathered notch, and when the point had touched
The other hand, the bended horn recoiled,
And twang the arrow sped, piercing the breast
Of Ushkabús, who fell a lifeless corse,
As if he never had been born! Erect,
And firm, the champion stood upon the plain,
Towering like mount Alberz, immovable,
The gaze and wonder of the adverse host!

When Rustem, still unknown to the Túránian forces, returned to his own
army, the Tartars carried away the body of Ushkabús, and took it to the
Khakán of Chin, who ordered the arrow to be drawn out before him; and
when he and Kámús saw how deeply it had penetrated, and that the
feathered end was wet with blood, they were amazed at the immense power
which had driven it from the bow; they had never witnessed or heard of
anything so astonishing. The fight was, in consequence, suspended till