There was the hero, with both his shoulders covered, {118a}
By a variegated shield, and possessing the swiftness of a warlike steed;
There was a noise in the mount of slaughter, {118b} there was fire,
{118c}
Impetuous were the lances, there was a sunny gleam, {118d}
There was food for ravens, the raven there did triumph, {118e}
And before he would let them go free,
With the morning dew, like the eagle in his glad course,
He scattered them on either side, and like a billow overwhelmed them in
front.
The Bards of the world judge those to be men of valour,
Whose counsels are not divulged to slaves. {119a}
The spears in the hands of the warriors were causing devastation;
And ere was interred under {119b} the swan-white steed, {119c}
One who had been energetic in his commands,
His gore had thoroughly washed his armour: {119d}
Such was Buddvan, {119e} the son of Bleiddvan the Bold.