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(Translated by Sir Richard F. Burton, 1885–7)
O FOLK I have a wondrous tale, so rare | |
| Much shall it profit hearers wise and ware! | |
| I saw in salad-years a potent Brave | |
| And sharp of edge and point his warrior glaive; | |
| Who entered joust and list with hardiment | 5 |
| Fearless of risk, of victory confident, | |
| His vigorous onset straitest places oped | |
| And easy passage through all narrows groped: | |
| He ne’er encountered foe in single fight | |
| But came from tilt with spear in blood stained bright; | 10 |
| Nor stormed a fortress howso strong and stark— | |
| With fencèd gates defended deep and dark— | |
| When shown his flag without th’ auspicious cry | |
| “Aidance from Allah and fair victory night!” | |
| Thuswise full many a night his part he played | 15 |
| In strength and youthtide’s stately garb arrayed, | |
| Dealing to fair young girl delicious joy | |
| And no less welcome to the blooming boy. | |
| But Time ne’er ceased to stint his wondrous strength | |
| (Steadfast and upright as the gallows’ length) | 20 |
| Until the Nights o’erthrew him by their might | |
| And friends contemned him for a feckless wight; | |
| Nor was a wizard but who wasted skill | |
| Over his case, nor leach could heal his ill. | |
| Then he abandoned arms abandoned him | 25 |
| Who gave and took salutes so fierce and grim; | |
| And now lies prostrate drooping haughty crest; | |
| For who lives longest him most ills molest. | |
| Then see him, here he lies on bier for bed:— | |
| Who will a shroud bestow on stranger dead? | 30 |
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