Now Monzar was directing his sons to move beyond the precincts of Hirah, when the form of victory and triumph appeared to him in the odour of that black lion. He sat down in his tent, and seated Antar by him, for he was dearer to him than all his family and relations; he congratulated him, and gave him to eat, and there was no end to his attentions and kindness; and as he engaged to him every favour, he said, if I knew your heart would be gratified by remaining with me, I would send a messenger to your King, and would offer him my friendship, and I would direct him to take Ibla from her father and send her to us, whether he will or not. But I fear you will not allow me to do, what your heart would not sanction.
I cannot possibly remain here, replied Antar; every day appears a thousand years to me; but I swear by all your munificence towards me, were even my heart to burst with the fierceness of my love and passion, I will not quit this country till I have accomplished your wishes in destroying your foul enemies: to-morrow, by the grace of God, I will rout their army. To-morrow I will go out to the field of battle; I will challenge Khosrewan; and I will invite him to terminate the affair, and if he engages me, I will make him drink of the cup of death; and afterwards I will put to flight these troops of horse over the plains and the deserts. When they had finished eating and drinking, and their conversation about the battle and the contest, they retired to rest and sleep. As soon as the morning dawned with a smile, the horsemen rushed on anxious for the fight and the conflict; and as Khosrewan was preparing to proceed to the field, lo! from the Arab army there came forth a man between the two ranks, and stood conspicuous amidst the two armies, and both parties gazed at him. He was like a strong battlement, quite immersed in steel; in his hand was a sparkling blade, and he had a long spear slung over him, and under him was a steed of the colour of gold, indefatigable in labour, as an Arab poet has described.
“Praise a yellow steed of the colour of gold, for he is of the horses noblest in pedigree; his rider shall outstrip every warrior in the beauty of his shape and paces. He may be in the evening at Tekmet, and in the morning at Aleppo.”
And he gallopped over the plain to and fro, and he disclosed a countenance like that of a Ghoul; the warriors and heroes marked him: and lo! it was the illustrious chieftain and intrepid warrior, Aboolfawaris, Antar the son of Shedad; and he came forth to put an end to the Persian contest and to slay their general; and thus return to his family and country with wealth and riches. He dashed into the centre of the army; he disdained the common herd, and would not condescend to challenge them. He burst on the right, and discomfited it; and slew threescore and ten—he rushed on to the left, and forced it in confusion on the right; he returned again to the centre, seeking carnage and bloodshed. He was mounted on a mare, for his horse Abjer, wounded the day before, was still unfit for the day of encounter. And when he was in the centre, between the two armies—he thus spoke.
“Relieve my pains—ease my sorrows. Sally forth, aye, every lion warrior. Taste a draught at the edge of my sword, more bitter than the cups of Absynth. When death appears in the crowded ranks, then challenge me to the meeting of armies. Ye Persians, I heed ye not, I heed ye not. Where is he who wishes to fight me, and wants to make me drink the liquor of death. Bring him forth, let him see what he will meet from my spear under the shades of the war-dust. I swear, O Ibla, he shall eat of death. By thy teeth, luscious to the kiss, and by thine eyes, and all the pangs of their enchantment, and their beauty, were thy nightly visionary form not to appear to me, never should I taste of sleep. O thou my hope! O may the western breeze tell thee of my ardent wish to return home. May it waft thee my salutation, when the sparkling dawn bursts the veil of night. May God moisten thy nights, and bedew thee with his rain-charged clouds. May peace dwell with thee as long as the western and northern breeze shall blow.”
When Antar had finished—behold Khosrewan—he appeared on the plain, and he was mounted on a long tailed steed, marked with the new moon on his forehead, and on his body was a strong coat of mail well knit together, the workmanship of David; and armed with an imperial casque and a glittering sword; and under his thighs were four small darts, each like a blazing flame. And when he came forth on the field of battle he roared aloud, and contemptuously of the Arabs. Antar assailed him: high arose the dust about them, so that they were hid from the sight. They exhibited most extraordinary prowess; they separated, they clung to each other, now they sported, now they were in earnest; they gave and took, they were close, they were apart, until it was mid-day, and both had severely toiled. But whenever Khosrewan attempted to assail Antar and strike him with his mace, he ever found him vigilant and on his guard, and aware of his intent. So he darted away from him in order to gallop over the field, and would exhibit all his manœuvres and stratagems; but Antar kept him employed, and wearied him, and prevented his executing his designs, so that the chieftain’s wrath became intense. He snatched up one of his darts, and shook it and hurled it at him—it flew from his hand like the blinding lightning, or descending fate. Antar stood firm, and when it came near him, he met it, and dexterously turning it off by his shield, it bounded away, and fell upon the ground far off. Khosrewan snatched out a second dart and levelled if at him; but Antar sprang out of its way, and it passed harmless. He aimed a third; but Antar rendered it fruitless by his dexterity and his persevering activity. He hurled the fourth, but it shared the same fate as the others.
When Khosrewan saw how Antar had parried the darts, his indignation was extreme. Again he took up his mace, and he roared even as a lion roars—then stretching himself out with it, he hurled it, backing it with a howl that made the plains and the air rebellow. Antar threw away his spear and met the mace and caught it with his right hand in the air; then, aiming it at Khosrewan, he cried out, take that, thou son of a two thousand horned cuckold! I am the lover of Ibla, and am alone—the Phœnix of the world. Khosrewan saw him grasp the mace in the air, and was horrified, for his strength and force were exhausted. He retreated, and attempted to fly from his antagonist, for he was now convinced of his destruction. He moved round his shield between his shoulders; but he felt that his fate was nigh at hand, for the mace fell upon his shield more forcible than the stone of a sling; furiously it rattled on the Persian chief, and hurled him off his saddle to the distance of twelve cubits, and broke his ribs and snapped his spine.
Every warrior was intensely agitated at this surprizing deed; and when the Persians saw it they were bewildered; they rushed upon Antar, agonized as they were at this calamity, and exposed their lives to certain death. The Arabs received them with undaunted courage at the points of their spears; and their spirit was exhilarated by the acts of Antar. The two armies assailed, and the earth was pounded under the trampling of the horses. The horsemen and the clans encountered, clouds of dust thickened over their heads. And their fury increased, till they were like the waves of the boisterous ocean. Spears penetrated through hearts and waists, heads were flying off, blood was boiling, cowards were scared, the courageous full of fire; the King of Death circled round the cup of mortality; and the commands of the Most High were executed upon them.[5]
Antar, the ferocious lion, felt his heart assuaged in the midst of slaughter, and in the concussion of heroes and warriors. He exhibited terrors amidst the concourse of heroes, and scattered whole armies over the plains and the mountains. King Monzar cried out aloud to his troops, and they exposed themselves to the enemy: roused afresh was the flame of war; it fiercely raged, and its sparks flashed; the dust blackened the whole land, so that both earth and heaven were veiled. The ground tottered under the hoofs of the noble steeds, until the sweat even moistened their entrails. Blood flowed from the throats of the chiefs. Antar strewed the brave on the earth, and souls complained of their sufferings to him who knows the secrets of the world. Heads were hewn from the branches of their bodies; and the Persians saw in the deeds of Antar that day, what terrified them, and magnified their horror. They fell back in flight upon the plains in agony at their dispersion and discomfiture, and complaining of what had befallen their nobles and their chiefs. The Arabs in their rear drove them on to their fate, and truly their desires and wishes were accomplished. As they exulted in the realization of their hopes and expectations, they crowded round Antar to thank and praise him, and he stood before them like one immersed in a sea of blood. Then as he recollected the horrors he had suffered, these verses boiled in his heart, and he thus exclaimed:—
“Ask, O Absian maid, my spear and my sword what they did on the day of the battle of the Persians. I steeped them, whilst the spear gored through the horse, in the blood of the foe mixed with bitter Absynth. I dispersed the army that bellowed out their thunders, and beneath it flashed the lightning of their swords, mounted as I was on a noble Arab charger, that flies when the sword blades crash in the fight; he neighs for joy whilst the spears are directed at him, that vibrate like speckled serpents. I urged him into the sea of deaths; he snorted, and plunged into the tempestuously roaring waves. How many horsemen, O Ibla, at the edge of my faulchion have torn their hands with their teeth in repentance! but I felled them down on the battle plain, that the wild beasts and eagles and hovering vultures might drink of their blood. I must love the tribe of Abs, were they even to shed my blood unrevenged,—such is my love for thee, thou daughter of noble chiefs! I will endure the burthen of grievances, and sorrows, and captivity, and shew that I am a warrior and the son of a warrior May the peace of God be with thee, O Ibla—soon will I come to thee with my trophies!”