"The scourge of the wicked am I,
And my days still in battle go by;
Not for me is the red wine that glows
In the reveler's cup, nor the rose
That blooms in the land of delight;
But with monsters and demons to fight."
The music and the voice of the singer reached the ears of a witch that was in those parts. Forthwith, by her art, she made her face as fair as spring, and, approaching Rustem, asked him how he fared, and sat down by his side. The hero thanked Heaven that he had thus found in the desert such good fare and excellent company; for he did not know that the lovely visitor was a witch. He welcomed her, and handed her a cup of wine; but, as he handed it, he named the name of God, and at the sound her color changed, and she became as black as charcoal.
When Rustem saw this, quick as the wind he threw his lasso over her head.
"Confess who you are," he cried; "show yourself in your true shape."
Then the witch was changed into a decrepit, wrinkled old woman. Rustem cut her in halves with a blow of his sword.