The generous Noufal was not content with the change so nearly wrought, but he gathered his bravest men in battle array, and marched at their head to the mountain fortress of the Bedawīn encampment. The troops of Arabian horsemen were halted and sword and helmet glittered in the sun, while Noufal sent his messenger forward with a demand for the hand of the coveted bride. His request was haughtily refused, and when the messenger was again sent forward with a threat of revenge if his wishes were not complied with, his power and vengeance were alike defied. Then the word of command rang along the glittering lines. There was a rattling of helmets and spears, a twanging of the bowstring and a gallant charge was made upon the foe that was so well entrenched in the mountain fastnesses. Amidst the clangor of brazen drums and trumpets, the fearful fight went on and “Arrows, like birds, on either foeman stood, Drinking with open beak the vital flood; The shining daggers in the battle’s heat Rolled many a head beneath the horse’s feet; And lightnings hurled by death’s unsparing hand Spread consternation through the weeping land.” There was no pause in the sound of the trumpets, no stay in the wild flight of the arrows, as the dreadful work went on, and the dripping swords were bathed with the crimson tide of shame. The shades of night came down ere the fate of the battle was decided, but the assaulting party had suffered most, and in another hour of conflict the friends of Majnūn had been undone. With the coming of the morning light the assault was renewed, and the desert rang again with the sounds of war; all along the long line glittered the sword and buckler, the helmet and spear; swords clashed and the desert sands were wet again with the blood of the fallen. At last the tribe of Lailī’s sire gave way, and Noufal won the bitter fight, though many of his bravest men lay bleeding on the burning sand. “And now the elders of that tribe appear, And thus implore the victor. Chieftain, hear! The work of slaughter is complete; Thou seest our power destroyed; allow Us wretched suppliants at thy feet To humbly ask for mercy now. How many warriors press the plain? Khanjer and spear have laid them low; At peace, behold our kinsman slain, For thou art now without a foe. Then pardon what of wrong has been; Let us retire unharmed—unstay’d— Far from this sanguinary scene, And take thy prize—the Arab maid.” The aged father came forth with dust and ashes upon his hoary head, and admitted that his tribe was fully conquered, and offered the life of his daughter for a peace offering, while still refusing to allow her to wed with a maniac.