And hide it not, but say, 'Rustum is here,'
He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes,
But he will find some pretext not to fight,
And praise my fame, and proffer courteous
gifts,

351

A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way.
And on a feast day, in Afrasiab's hall,
In Samarcand, he will arise and cry:
'I challeng'd once, when the two armies camp'd
Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords
To cope with me in single fight; but they
Shrank; only Rustum dar'd: then he and I
Chang'd gifts, and went on equal terms away.'
So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud.
Then were the chiefs of Iran sham'd through
me."

And then he turn'd, and sternly spake aloud:

"Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus

Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call'd

By challenge forth: make good thy vaunt, or yield.

364

Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight?
Rash boy, men look on Rustum's face and flee.
For well I know, that did great Rustum stand
Before thy face this day, and were reveal'd,
There would be then no talk of fighting more.
But being what I am, I tell thee this;
Do thou record it in thine inmost soul:
Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt, and
yield;

370

Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds

Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer floods, Oxus in summer wash them all away."

He spoke and Sohrab answer'd, on his feet:

"Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me

SO.

I am no girl, to be made pale by words.

Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand Here on this field, there were no fighting then. But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here. Begin thou art more vast, more dread than I, 382 And thou art prov'd, I know, and I am young

But yet Success sways with the breath of Heaven.

And though thou thinkest that thou knowest

sure

Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know. For we are all, like swimmers in the sea,

390

Pois'd on the top of a huge wave of Fate,
Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall.
And whether it will heave us up to land,
Or whether it will roll us out to sca,
Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death,
We know not, and no search will make us
know:

Only the event will teach us in its hour."

He spoke; and Rustum answer'd not, but hurl'd

His spear: down from the shoulder, down it came,

As on some partridge in the corn a hawk
That long has tower'd in the airy clouds
Drops like a plummet: Sohrab saw it come,
And sprang aside, quick as a flash: the spear
Hiss'd, and went quivering down into the
sand,

401

"Thou strik'st too hard: that club of thine will float

Upon the summer-floods, and not my bones. But rise, and be not wroth; not wroth am I: No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul. Thou say'st thou art not Rustum: be it so. Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?

430

Boy as I am, I have seen battles too;
Have waded foremost in their bloody waves,
And heard their hollow roar of dying men;
But never was my heart thus touch'd before.
Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the
heart?.

O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!
Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears,
And make a truce, and sit upon this sand,
And pledge each other in red wine, like friends,
And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum's deeds.
There are enough foes in the Persian host 440
Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no
pang;

Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou Mayst fight; fight them, when they confront thy spear.

But oh, let there be peace 'twixt thee and me!" He ceas'd: but while he spake, Rustum had risen,

And stood erect, trembling with rage: his club He left to lie, but had regain'd his spear, Whose fiery point now in his mail'd right-hand Blaz'd bright and baleful, like that autumn Star,

The baleful sign of fevers:1 dust had soil'd 450 His stately crest, and dimm'd his glittering

arms.

His breast heav'd; his lips foam'd; and twice his voice

Was chok'd with rage: at last these words broke way:

"Girl! Nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!

Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words! Fight; let me hear thy hateful voice no more! Thou art not in Afrasiab's gardens now With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance;

But on the Oxus sands, and in the dance

Of battle, and with me, who make no play 460 Of war: I fight it out, and hand to hand. Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine! Remember all thy valour: try thy feints

1 The belief that the stars caused epidemics was universal in ancient times.

Dash'd with a clang together, and a din
Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters
Make often in the forest's heart at morn,
Of hewing axes, crashing trees: such blows
Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.
And you would say that sun and stars took
part

In that unnatural1 conflict; for a cloud
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark'd the sun
Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose 480
Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain,
And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair.
In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they
alone;

For both the on-looking hosts on either hand
Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure,
And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream.
But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot
eyes.

And labouring breath; first Rustum struck the shield

488 Which Sohrab held stiff out: the steel-spik'd

spear

Rent the tough plates, but fail'd to reach the skin,

And Rustum pluck'd it back with angry groan. Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum's

eyes

510

Glar'd, and he shook on high his menacing spear,

And shouted, "Rustum!" Sohrab heard that shout,

And shrank amaz'd: back he recoil'd one step, And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing Form:

And then he stood bewilder'd; and he dropp'd His covering shield, and the spear pierc'd his side.

He reel'd, and staggering back, sunk to the ground.

And then the gloom dispers'd, and the wind fell,

And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all The cloud; and the two armies saw-the pair; Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet, 522 And Sohrab, wounded, on the bloody sand.

Then with a bitter smile, Rustum began: "Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse, And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab's tent. Or else that the great Rustum would come down

Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would

549

The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death!
My father, whom I seek through all the world,
He shall avenge my death, and punish thee!"
As when some hunter in the spring hath
found

A breeding eagle sitting on her nest,
Upon the craggy isle of a hill-lake,
And pierc'd her with an arrow as she rose,
And follow'd her to find her where she fell
Far off; -anon her mate comes winging back
From hunting, and a great way off descries
His huddling young left sole; at that, he
checks

His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps 561
Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she
Lies dying, with the arrow in her side,
In some far stony gorge out of his ken,
A heap of fluttering feathers: never more
Shall the lake glass her, flying over it;
Never the black and dripping precipices
Echo her stormy scream as she sails by:-
As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his
loss-

So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood
Over his dying son, and knew him not.

572

But, with a cold, incredulous voice, he said:

"What prate is this of fathers and revenge? The mighty Rustum never had a son."

And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied: "Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I. Surely the news will one day reach his ear, Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long. Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here;

And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee. Fierce Man, bethink thee, for an only son! What will that grief, what will that vengeance be! 584

Oh, could I live, till I that grief had seen!
Yet him I pity not so much, but her,
My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells

With that old King, her father, who grows grey

590

With age, and rules over the valiant Koords.
Her most I pity, who no more will see
Sohrab returning from the Tartar camp,
With spoils and honour, when the war is done.
But a dark rumour will be bruited up,
From tribe to tribe, until it reach her ear;
And then will that defenceless woman learn
That Sohrab will rejoice her sight no more;
But that in battle with a nameless foe,
By the far distant Oxus, he is slain."

He spoke; and as he ceas'd he wept aloud, Thinking of her he left, and his own death. 600 He spoke; but Rustum listen'd, plung'd in thought.

Nor did he yet believe it was his son

Who spoke, although he call'd back names he knew;

For he had had sure tidings that the babe,
Which was in Ader-baijan born to him,
Had been a puny girl, no boy at all:

So that sad mother sent him word, for fear
Rustum should take the boy, to train in arms;
And so he deem'd that either Sohrab took,
By a false boast, the style of Rustum's son;
Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame.
So deem'd he; yet he listen'd, plung'd in
thought;

612

His youth; saw Sohrab's mother, in her bloom;

621 And that old King, her father, who lov'd well His wandering guest, and gave him his fair child

With joy; and all the pleasant life they led, They three, in that long-distant summertime

The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt
And hound, and morn on those delightful hills
In Ader-baijan. And he saw that Youth,
Of age and looks to be his own dear son,
Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand,
Like some rich hyacinth, which by the scythe
Of an unskilful gardener has been cut,
Mowing the garden grass-plots near its bed,

AE

630

And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom, On the mown, dying grass; - so Sohrab lay, Lovely in death, upon the common sand. And Rustum gaz'd on him with grief, and said:

"O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have lov'd!

Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men 640 Have told thee false; - thou art not Rustum's

son.

For Rustum had no son: one child he had
But one
a girl who with her mother now
Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us
Of us she dreams not, nor of wounds, nor war."
But Sohrab answer'd him in wrath; for now
The anguish of the deep-fix'd spear grew
fierce,

And he desired to draw forth the steel,

And let the blood flow free, and so to die; But first he would convince his stubborn foeAnd, rising sternly on one arm, he said: 651 "Man, who art thou who dost deny my words?

Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And Falsehood, while I liv'd, was far from mine.

I tell thee, prick'd upon this arm I bear That seal which Rustum to my mother gave, That she might prick it on the babe she bore."

He spoke and all the blood left Rustum's cheeks;

And his knees totter'd, and he smote his hand, Against his breast, his heavy mailèd hand, 660 That the hard iron corslet clank'd aloud: And to his heart he press'd the other hand And in a hollow voice he spake, and said:— "Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie.

If thou shew this, then art thou Rustum's son."

Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loos'd

His belt, and near the shoulder bar'd his arm, And shew'd a sign in faint vermilion points Prick'd: as a cunning workman, in Pekin, Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain

It was that Griffin, which of old rear'd Zal, Rustum's great father, whom they left to die, A helpless babe, among the mountain rocks. Him that kind Creature found, and rear'd, and lov'd

Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign. And Sohrab bar'd that figure on his arm, 681 And himself scann'd it long with mournful eyes,

And then he touch'd it with his hand and said:

"How say'st thou? Is that sign the proper sign

Of Rustum's son, or of some other man's?" He spoke but Rustum gaz'd, and gaz'd, and stood

Speechless; and then he utter'd one sharp

701

To draw it, and forever let life out. But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,

And with a soothing voice he spoke, and said:

"Father, forbear: for I but meet to-day The doom that at my birth was written down In Heaven, and thou art Heaven's unconscious hand.

Surely my heart cried out that it was thou, When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,

I know it but Fate trod those promptings down Under its iron heel; Fate, Fate engag'd

710

The strife, and hurl'd me on my father's spear.
But let us speak no more of this: I find
My father; let me feel that I have found.
Come, sit beside me on this sand, and take
My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my
cheeks,

And wash them with thy tears, and say: 'My son!'

Quick! quick! for number'd are my sands of life,

And swift; for like the lightning to this field I came, and like the wind I go away - 720 Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind. But it was writ in Heaven that this should be." So said he and his voice releas'd the heart Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast His arms round his son's neck, and wept aloud, And kiss'd him. And awe fell on both the hosts

When they saw Rustum's grief and Ruksh, the horse,

With his head bowing to the ground, and mane Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute

"Is this then Ruksh? How often, in past days,

739

My mother told me of thee, thou brave Steed!
My terrible father's terrible horse; and said,
That I should one day find thy lord and thee.
Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane.
O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;
For thou hast gone where I shall never go,
And snuff'd the breezes of my father's home.
And thou hast trod the sands of Seïstan,
And seen the River of Helmund, and the Lake
Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself
Has often strok'd thy neck, and given thee
food,

Corn in a golden platter soak'd with wine, 751
And said 'O Ruksh! bear Rustum well!'-

but I