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. 575 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. 580 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. 585 With joy; and all the pleasant life they And, rising sternly on one arm, he said: led, They three, in that long-distant summer time The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt "Man, who art thou who dost deny my 655 words? Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine. And hound, and morn on those delightful I tell thee, pricked upon this arm I bear hills 630 In Ader-baijan. And he saw that youth, Of age and looks to be his own dear That seal which Rustum to my mother gave, That she might prick it on the babe she son, bore." 660 proper sign Of. Rustum's son, man's?" He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood Speechless; and then he uttered one sharp cry: 690 O boy thy father!· and his voice choked there. And then a dark cloud passed before his eyes, And his head swam, and he sank down to earth. But Sohrab crawled to where he lay, and cast His arms about his neck, and kissed his lips, 695 And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks, Trying to call him back to life; and life Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes, And they stood wide with horror; and he seized In both his hands the dust which lay around, 700 And threw it on his head, and smirched his hair, His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms; And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast, And his sobs choked him; and he clutched his sword, To draw it, and for ever let life out. 705 But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands, And with a soothing voice he spake, and said: "Father, forbear! for I but meet today The doom which at my birth was written down In Heaven, and thou art Heaven's unconscious hand. 710 Surely my heart cried out that it was thou, When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too, Should first have rotted on their nimble joints, I know it! but fate trod those promptings Or ere they brought thy master to this down field!" 740 Afrasiab's cities only, Samarcand, The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend, Kohib, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep, The northern Sir; and this great Oxus The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die." |