Seeing this opponent Lü Pu left the pursuit of Tsan and engaged the new adversary. Fei fought with all his energies. They two were worthily matched and they exchanged half a hundred bouts with no advantage to either side. Then Kuan Yü rode out with his huge and weighty moon-curved sword and attacked Lü Pu on the other flank. The three steeds stood like the letter T and their riders battered away at each other for nearly two score bouts, yet still Lü Pu stood firm. Then Liu Yüan-tê rode out to his brothers’ aid, his double sword raised ready to strike. The steed with the flowing mane was urged in at an angle and now Lü Pu had to contend with three warriors at whom he struck one after another, and they at him, the flashing of the warriors’ weapons looking like the revolving lamps suspended at the new year. And the spectators gazed rapt with amazement at such a battle. But Lü Pu’s guard began to weaken and fatigue seized him. Looking hard in the face of Yüan-tê he feigned a fierce thrust thus making him suddenly draw back. Then, lowering his halberd, Lü dashed through the angle thus opened and got away. But was it likely they would allow him to escape? They whipped their steeds and followed hard. The men of the eight armies cracked their throats with thunderous cheers and all dashed forward, pressing after Lü Pu as he made for the shelter of the Pass. And first among his pursuers were the three heroic brothers. An ancient poet has told of this famous fight in these lines: The fateful day of Han came in the reigns of Huan and Ling, Their glory declined as the sun sinks at the close of day. Tung Cho, infamous minister of state, pulled down the youthful sovereign from his throne. It is true Liu Hsieh was a weakling, too timid for his times. Then Tsʻao Tsʻao proclaimed abroad these wicked deeds, And the great lords, moved with anger, assembled their forces. In council met they and chose as their oath-chief Yüan Shao, Pledged themselves to maintain the ruling house and tranquillity. Of the warriors of that time peerless Lü Pu was the boldest. His valour and prowess are sung by all within the four seas. He clothed his body in silver armour like the scales of a dragon, On his head was a golden headdress, fastened with a massive pin, About his waist a shaggy belt, the clasp, two wild beasts’ heads with gripping jaws, His flowing, broidered robe fluttered about his form, His swift courser bounded over the plain, a mighty wind following, His terrible halberd flashed in the sunlight, bright as a placid lake. Who dared face him as he rode forth to challenge? The bowels of the confederate lords were torn with fear and their hearts trembled within them. Then leaped forth Chang Fei, the valiant warrior of the north, Gripped in his mighty hand the long snakelike spear, His moustache bristled with anger, standing stiff like wire. His round eyes glared, lightning flashes darted from them. Neither quailed in the fight, but the issue was undecided. Kuan Yün-chʻang stood out in front, his soul vexed within him, Black Dragon his sword shone white as hoar frost in the sunlight, His bright coloured fighting robe fluttered like butterfly wings, Demons and angels shrieked at the thunder of his horse hoofs, In his eyes was fierce anger, a fire to be quenched only in blood. Next Yüan-tê joined the battle, gripping his twin sword blades, The heavens themselves trembled at the majesty of his wrath. These three closely beset Lü Pu and long drawn out was the battle, Always he warded their blows, never faltering a moment. The noise of their shouting rose to the sky, and the earth re-echoed it, The heat of battle ranged to the frozen pole star. Worn out, feeling his strength fast ebbing, Lü Pu thought to flee, He glanced at the hills around and thither would fly for shelter, Then, reversing his halberd and lowering its lofty point, Hastily he fled, loosing himself from the battle; With head low bent, he gave the rein to his courser, Turned his face away and fled to Hulaokuan.
Brewitt-Taylor · 1925 · public domain