Were she to be the spoil of conqueror,
You'd hear abroad the tale of my exploits.
I'd take her by main strength from all who vied.
Were she the meed of furious encounters
I'd fight for years for her, and win at last!
For I am brave. But since it is the will
Of God, the mighty and compassionate,
I cannot ward away from me this blow.
I'll wait in patience for the happy day
When I shall join thee. For I only think
Of thee, my dearest love, of thee alone!
My gray steed fell dead as he leaped. O friends,
After my love, he's gone and left me, too.
My charger, 'mid these hills, was of all steeds
The fleetest, and in fiercest war's attack
All saw him at the head of the platoon.
What prodigies he wrought in war's red field!
He showed himself ahead of all his peers.
A blood-mare was his mother. He excelled
In all the contests 'twixt the wandering camps;
I tourneyed with him careless of my fate.
When just a month had passed I lost the steed.
Hyzyya first, and then this noble horse.
He did not long survive my well-beloved.
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