Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
Streak'd with its first grey hairs;-hope fill'd his soul,
And he ran forward and embraced 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 eyed 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. And on a feast-tide, in Afrasiab's hall,

In Samarcand, he will arise and cry:

"I challenged 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 dared; then he and I
Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away."
So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud;

Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed 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? .
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.'

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 proved, I know, and I am young-
[NAR. & EL.]

C

*

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,

Poised 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.'

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,
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 seized 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

By their dark springs, the wind in winter-time
Has made in Himalayan forests wrack,
And strewn the channels with torn boughs-

huge

The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck
One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside,
Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came
Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum's

hand.

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 unsheathed his sword,
And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay
Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand;
But he look'd on, and smiled, nor bared 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?

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

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 ceased, 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,