322

Which in a queen's secluded garden throws
Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,
By midnight, to a bubbling fountain's sound
So slender Sohrab seem'd, so softly rear'd.
And a deep pity enter'd Rustum's soul
As he beheld him coming; and he stood,
And beckon'd to him with his hand, and said:
"O thou young man, the air of Heaven is soft,
And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold.
Heaven's air is better than the cold dead grave.
Behold me: I am vast, and clad in iron,
And tried; and I have stood on many a field
Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe:
Never was that field lost, or that foe sav'd.
O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death?
Be govern'd: quit the Tartar host, and come
To Iran, and be as my son to me,
And fight beneath my banner till I die.
There are no youths in Iran brave as thou." 330
So he spake, mildly: Sohrab heard his voice,
The mighty voice of Rustum; and he saw
His giant figure planted on the sand,
Sole, like some single tower, which a chief

Has builded on the waste in former years
Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
Streak'd with its first grey hairs: hope fill'd his
soul;
337
And he ran forwards and embrac'd his knees,
And clasp'd his hand within his own and said:
"Oh, by thy father's head! by thine own soul!
Art thou not Rustum? Speak! art thou not he?"
But Rustum ey'd askance the kneeling youth,
And turn'd away, and spoke to his own soul:-
"Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean.
False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys.
For if I now confess this thing he asks,
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,
A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way. 351
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;
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."

370

381

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, 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, 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 sea, 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.”

390

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 400 Hiss'd, and went quivering down into the sand, Which it sent flying wide: - then Sohrab threw In turn, and full struck Rustum's shield: sharp rang,

The iron plates rang sharp, but turn'd the spear. And Rustum seiz'd his club, which none but he Could wield: an unlopp'd trunk it was, and huge, Still rough; like those which men in treeless plains To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers, Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up

And Rustum follow'd his own blow, and fell To his knees, and with his fingers clutch'd the sand:

And now might Sohrab have unsheath'd his sword,
And pierc'd the mighty Rustum while he lay 420
Dizzy, and on his knees, and chok'd with sand:
But he look'd on, and smil'd, nor bar'd his sword,
But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said :-
"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?
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?

430

513

Thou art not in Afrasiab's gardens now With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance;

460

But on the Oxus sands, and in the dance
Of battle, and with me, who make no play
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
And cunning: all the pity I had is gone:
Because thou hast sham'd me before both the
hosts

With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl's wiles."

He spoke and Sohrab kindled at his taunts, And he too drew his sword: at once they rush'd Together, as two eagles on one prey

Come rushing down together from the clouds,
One from the east, one from the west: their
shields
471
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 unnatural conflict; for a cloud
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark'd the sun
Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose
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

480

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 helm, Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume, Never till now defil'd, sank to the dust; And Rustum bow'd his head; but then the gloom Grew blacker: thunder rumbled in the air, And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse,

500

Who stood at hand, utter'd a dreadful cry:
No horse's cry was that, most like the roar
Of some pain'd desert lion, who all day
Has trail'd the hunter's javelin in his side,
And comes at night to die upon the sand:-
The two hosts heard that cry, and quak'd for fear,
And Oxus curdled as it cross'd his stream.
But Sohrab heard, and quail'd not, but rush'd on,

And struck again; and again Rustum bow'd
His head; but this time all the blade, like glass,
Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm,
And in his hand the hilt remain'd alone.
510
Then Rustum rais'd his head; his dreadful eyes
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; 521
Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet,
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.

540

And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied: "Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain. Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man! No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart. For were I match'd with ten such men as thou, And I were he who till to-day I was, They should be lying here, I standing there. But that belovèd name unnerv'd my arm That name, and something, I confess, in thee, Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield Fall; and thy spear transfix'd an unarm'd foe. And now thou boastest, and insult'st my fate. But hear thou this, fierce Man, tremble to hear! The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death! 550 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

561

His pinion, and with sort uneasy sweeps
Circles above his eyry, with loud screams
Chiding his mate bac! to her nest; but she
Lies dying, with the rrow in her side,
In some far stony goge out of his ken,
A heap of fluttering feathers: never more
Shall the lake glass er, flying over it;
Never the black a dripping precipices
Echo her stormy scream as she sails by:
As that poor bir. flies home, nor knows his loss –
So Rustum krew not his own loss, but stood 571
Over his dying son, and knew him not.

But, with a cold, incredulous voice, he said: "What rate 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. 582 Fierce Man, bethink thee, for an only son! What will that grief, what will that vengeance be! 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 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."

590

600

He spoke; and as he ceas'd he wept aloud,
Thinking of her he left, and his own death.
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; 610
Or that men gave it him, to swell his fame.
So deem'd he; yet he listen'd, plung'd in thought;
And his soul set to grief, as the vast tide
Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore
At the full moon: tears gathered in his eyes;

For he remember'd his own early youth,
And all its bounding rapture; as, at dawn,
The Shepherd from his mountain-lodge descries
A far bright City, smitten by the sun,
619
Through many rolling clouds; so Rustum saw
His youth; saw Sohrab's mother, in her bloom;
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 summer-time
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,
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!

630

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 foe
And, 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 mailed hand, 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:

660

"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

515

Speechless; and then he utter'd one sharp cry
"O Boy-thy Father!"- and his voice chok'd
there.

And then a dark cloud pass'd before his eyes,
And his head swam, and he sank down to earth.
But Sohrab crawl'd to where he lay, and cast 691
His arms about his neck, and kiss'd his lips,
And with fond faltering fingers strok'd his cheeks,
Trying to call him back to life: and life
Came back to Rustum, and he op'd his eyes,
And they stood wide with horror; and he seiz'd
In both his hands the dust which lay around,
And threw it on his head, and smirch'd his hair,
His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms:
And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,
And his sobs chok'd him; and he clutch'd his
sword,
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.

711

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
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 !'

720

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 go away-
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 woe
First to the one, then to the other mov'd
His head, as if inquiring what their grief
Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate

eyes,

730

The big warm tears roll'd down, and cak'd the

sand.

But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said:

"Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet

743

Should then have rotted on their nimble joints,
When first they bore thy Master to this field."
But Sohrab look'd upon the horse and said:
"Is this then Ruksh? How often, in past days,
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,
And said 'O Ruksh! bear Rustum well!'
but I

751

Have never known my grandsire's furrow'd face,
Nor seen his lofty house in Seïstan,

Nor slak'd my thirst at the clear Helmund stream:
But lodg'd among my father's foes, and seen
Afrasiab's cities only, Samarcand,
Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,
And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk
The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend,
Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,
The northern Sir; and this great Oxus stream
The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die."

And, with a heavy groan, Rustum replied:
"Oh that its waves were flowing over me!
Oh that I saw its grains of yellow silt
Roll tumbling in the current o'er my head!"

760

771

And, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied: "Desire not that, my father: thou must live. For some are born to do great deeds, and live, As some are born to be obscur'd, and die. Do thou the deeds I die too young to do, And reap a second glory in thine age. Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine. But come: thou seest this great host of men Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these: Let me entreat for them: what have they done? They follow'd me, my hope, my fame, my star. Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace. But me thou must bear hence, not send with them, But carry me with thee to Seïstan, 781 And place me on a bed, and mourn for me, Thou, and the snow-hair'd Zal, and all thy friends. And thou must lay me in that lovely earth, And heap a stately mound above my bones, And plant a far-seen pillar over all: That so the passing horseman on the waste May see my tomb a great way off, and say 'Sohrab, the mighty Rustum's son, lies there, Whom his great father did in ignorance kill’And I be not forgotten in my grave."

791

And, with a mournful voice, Rustum replied: "Fear not; as thou hast said, Sohrab, my son, So shall it be; for I will burn my tents, And quit the host, and bear thee hence with me, And carry thee away to Seïstan,

801

And place thee on a bed, and mourn for thee,
With the snow-headed Zal, and all my friends.
And I will lay thee in that lovely earth,
And heap a stately mound above thy bones,
And plant a far-seen pillar over all:
And men shall not forget thee in thy grave.
And I will spare thy host: yea, let them go:
Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.
What should I do with slaying any more?
For would that all whom I have ever slain
Might be once more alive; my bitterest foes,
And they who were call'd champions in their
time,

And through whose death I won that fame I have;
And I were nothing but a common man, 810

A poor, mean soldier, and without renown;
So thou mightest live too, my Son, my Son!
Or rather would that I, even I myself,
Might now be lying on this bloody sand,
Near death, and by an ignorant stroke of thine,
Not thou of mine; and I might die, not thou;
And I, not thou, be borne to Seïstan;

And Zal might weep above my grave, not thine;
And say -
'O son, I weep thee not too sore,
For willingly, I know, thou met'st thine end.' 820
But now in blood and battles was my youth,
And full of blood and battles is my age;