Thy counsel, and to heed thee as thy son,
In Samarcand, before the army march’d; 40
And I will tell thee what my heart desires.
Thou know’st if, since from Ader-baijan first
I came among the Tartars, and bore arms,
I have still serv’d Afrasiab well, and shown,
At my boy’s years, the courage of a man. 45
This too thou know’st, that, while I still bear on
The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world,
And beat the Persians back on every field,
I seek one man, one man, and one alone —
Rustum, my father; who, I hop’d, should great, 50
Should one day great, upon some well-fought field,
His not unworthy, not inglorious son.
So I long hop’d, but him I never find.
Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask.
Let the two armies rest to-day: but I 55
Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords
To meet me, man: if I prevail,
Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall —
Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin.
Dim is the rumour of a common fight, 60
Where host meets host, and many names are sunk:
But of a single combat Fame speaks clear.’
He spoke: and Peran-Wisa took the hand
Of the young man in his, and sigh’d, and said: —
‘O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine! 65
Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs,
And share the battle’s common chance with us
Who love thee, but must press for ever first,
In single fight incurring single risk,
To find a father thou hast never seen? 70
That were far best, my son, to stay with us
Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war,
And when ‘tis truce, then in Afrasiab’s towns.
But, if this one desire indeed rules all,
To seek out Rustum — seek him not through fight: 75
Seek him in peace, and carry to his arms,
O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son!
But far hence seek him, for he is not here.
For now it is not as when I was young,
When Rustum was in front of every fray: 80
But now he keeps apart, and sits at home,
In Seistan, with Zal, his father old.
Whether that his own mighty strength at last
Feels the abhorr’d approaches of old age;
Or in some quarrel with the Persian King. 85
There go: — Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forebodes
Danger or death awaits thee on this field.
Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost
To us: fain therefore send thee hence, in peace
To seek thy father, not seek single fights 90
In vain: — but who can keep the lion’s cub
From ravening? and who govern Rustum’s son?
Go: I will grant thee what thy heart desires.’
So said he, and dropp’d Sohrab’s hand, and left
His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay, 95
And o’er his chilly limbs his woollen coat
He pass’d, and tied his sandals on his feet,
And threw a white cloak round him, and he took
In his right hand a ruler’s staff, no sword;
And on his head he plac’d his sheep-skin cap, 100
Black, glossy, curl’d, the fleece of Kara-Kul;
And rais’d the curtain of his tent, and call’d
His herald to his side, and went abroad.
The sun, by this, had risen, and clear’d the fog
From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands: 105
And from their tents the Tartar horsemen fil’d
Into the open plain; so Haman bade;
Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa rul’d
The host, and still was in his lusty prime.
From their black tents, long files of horse, they stream’d: 110
As when, some grey November morn, the files,
In marching order spread, of long-neck’d cranes
Stream over Casbin, and the southern slopes
Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries,
Or some frore Caspian reed-bed, southward bound 115
For the warm Persian sea-board: so they stream’d
The Tartars if the Oxus, the King’s guard,
First, with black sheep-skin caps and with long spears;
Large men, large steeds; who from Bokhara come
And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares. 120
Next the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south,
The Tukas, and the lances of Salore,
And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands;
Light men, and on light steeds, who only drink
The acrid milk of camels, and their wells. 125
And then a swarm of wandering horse, who came
From far, and a more doubtful service own’d;
The Tartars of Ferghana, from the banks
Of the Jexartes, men with scanty beards
And close-set skull-cap; and those wilder hordes 130
Who roam o’er Kipchak and the northern waste,
Kalmuks and unkemp’d Kuzzaks, tribes who stray
Nearest the Pole, and wandering Kirghizzes,
Who come on shaggy ponies from Pamere.
These all fil’d out from camp into the plain. 135
And on the other side the Persians form’d:
First a light cloud of horse, Tartars they seem’d,
The Ilyats of Khorassan: and behind
The royal troops of Persia, horse and foot,
Marshall’d battalions bright in burnish’d steel. 140
But Peran-Wisa with his herald came
Threading the Tartar squadrons to the front,
And with his staff kept back the foremost ranks.
And when Ferood, who led the Persians, saw
That Peran-Wisa kept the Tartars back, 145
He took his spear, and to the front he came,
And check’d his ranks, and fix’d them where they stood.
And the old Tartar came upon the sand
Betwixt the silent hosts, and spake, and said: —
‘Ferood, and ye, Persians and Tartars, hear! 150
Let there be truce between the hosts to-day.
But choose a champion from the Persian lords
To fight our champion Sohrab, man to man.’
As, in the country, on a morn in June,
When the dew glistens on the pearled ears, 155
A shiver runs through the deep corn for joy —
So, when they heard what Peran-Wisa said,
A thrill through all the Tartar squadrons ran
Of pride and hope for Sohrab, whom they lov’d.
But as a troop of pedlars, from Cabool, 160
Cross underneath the Indian Caucasus,
That vast sky-neighbouring mountain of milk snow;
Winding so high, that, as they mount, they pass
Long flocks of travelling birds dead on the snow,
Chok’d by the air, and scarce can they themselves 165
Slake their parch’d throats with sugar’d mulberries —
In single file they move, and stop their breath,
For fear they should dislodge the o’erhanging snows —
So the pale Persians held their breath with fear.
And to Ferood his brother Chiefs came up 170
To counsel: Gudurz and Zoarrah came,
And Feraburz, who rul’d the Persian host
Second, and was the uncle of the King:
These came and counsell’d; and then Gudurz said: —
‘Ferood, shame bids us take their challenge up, 175
Yet champion have we none to match this youth.
He has the
wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart.
But Rustum came last night; aloof he sits
And sullen, and has pitch’d his tents apart:
Him will I seek, and carry to his ear 180
The Tartar challenge, and this young man’s name.
Haply he will forget his wrath, and fight.
Stand forth the while, and take their challenge up.’
So spake he; and Ferood stood forth and said: —
‘Old man, be it agreed as thou hast said. 185
Let Sohrab arm, and we will find a man.’
He spoke; and Peran-Wisa turn’d, and strode
Back through the opening squadrons to his tent.
But through the anxious Persians Gudurz ran,
And cross’d the camp which lay behind, and reach’d, 190
Out on the sands beyond it, Rustum’s tents.
Of scarlet cloth they were, and glittering gay,
Just pitch’d: the high pavilion in the midst
Was Rustum’s, and his men lay camp’d around.
And Gudurz enter’d Rustum’s tent, and found 195
Rustum: his morning meal was done, but still
The table stood beside him, charg’d with food;
A side of roasted sheep, and cakes of bread,
And dark green melons; and there Rustum sate
Listless, and held a falcon on his wrist, 200
And play’d with it; but Gudurz came and stood
Before him; and he look’d, and saw him stand;
And with a cry sprang up, and dropp’d the bird,
And greeted Gudurz with both hands, and said: —
‘Welcome! these eyes could see no better sight. 205
What news? but sit down first, and eat and drink.’
But Gudurz stood in the tent door, and said: —
‘Not now: a time will come to eat and drink,
But not to-day: to-day has other needs.
The armies are drawn out, and stand at gaze: 210
For from the Tartars is a challenge brought
To pick a champion from the Persian lords
To fight their champion — and thou know’st his name —
Sohrab men call him, but his birth is hid.
O Rustum, like thy might is this young man’s! 215
He has the wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart.
And he is young, and Iran’s Chiefs are old,
Or else too weak; and all eyes turn to thee.
Come down and help us, Rustum, or we lose.’
He spoke: but Rustum answer’d with a smile: — 220
‘Go to! if Iran’s Chiefs are old, then I
Am older: if the young are weak, the King
Errs strangely: for the King, for Kai-Khosroo,
Himself is young, and honours younger men,
And lets the agèd moulder to their graves. 225
Rustum he loves no more, but loves the young —
The young may rise at Sohrab’s vaunts, not I.
For what care I, though all speak Sohrab’s fame?
For would that I myself had such a son,
And not that one slight helpless girl I have, 230
A son so fam’d, so brave, to send to war,
And I to tarry with the snow-hair’d Zal,
My father, whom the robber Afghans vex,
And clip his borders short, and drive his herds,
And he has none to guard his weak old age. 235
There would I go, and hang my armour up,
And with my great name fence that weak old man,
And spend the goodly treasures I have got,
And rest my age, and hear of Sohrab’s fame,
And leave to death the hosts of thankless kings, 240
And with these slaughterous hands draw sword no more.’
He spoke, and smil’d; and Gudurz made reply: —
‘What then, O Rustum, will men say to this,
When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks
Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks, 245
Hidest thy face? Take heed, lest men should say,
Like some old miser, Rustum hoards his fame,
And shuns to peril it with younger men.’
And, greatly mov’d, then Rustum made reply: —
‘O Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words? 250
Thou knowest better words than this to say.
What is one more, one less, obscure or fam’d,
Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?
Are not they mortal, am not I myself?
But who for men of naught would do great deeds? 255
Come, thou shalt see how Rustum hoards his fame.
But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms;
Let not men say of Rustum, he was match’d
In single fight with any mortal man.’
He spoke, and frown’d; and Gudurz turn’d, and ran 260
Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy,
Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came.
But Rustum strode to his tent door, and call’d
His followers in, and bade them bring his arms,
And clad himself in steel: the arms he chose 265
Were plain, and on his shield was no device,
Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold,
And from the fluted spine atop a plume
Of horsehair wav’d, a scarlet horsehair plume.
So arm’d he issued forth; and Ruksh, his horse, 270
Follow’d him, like a faithful hound, at heel,
Ruksh, whose renown was nois’d through all the earth,
The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once
Did in Bokhara by the river find
A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home, 275
And rear’d him; a bright bay, with lofty crest;
Dight with a saddle-cloth of broider’d green
Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work’d
All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know:
So follow’d, Rustum left his tents, and cross’d 280
The camp, and to the Persian host appear’d.
And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts
Hail’d; but the Tartars knew not who he was.
And dear as the wet diver to the eyes
Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore, 285
By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf,
Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night,
Having made up his tale of precious pearls,
Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands —
So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came. 290
And Rustum to the Persian front advanc’d,
And Sohrab arm’d in Haman’s tent, and came.
And as afield the reapers cut a swathe
Down through the middle of a rich man’s corn,
And on each side are squares of standing corn, 295
And in the midst a stubble, short and bare;
So on each side were squares of men, with spears
Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.
And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast
His eyes towards the Tartar tents, and saw 300
Sohrab come forth, and ey’d him as he came.
As some rich woman, on a winter’s morn,
Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge
Who with numb blacken’d fingers makes her fire —
At cock-crow, on a starlit winter’s morn, 305
When the frost flowers the whiten’d window panes —
And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts
Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum ey’d
The unknown adventurous Youth, who from afar
Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth 310
All the most valiant chiefs: long he perus’d
His spirited air, and wonder’d who he was.
For very young he seem’d,
tenderly rear’d;
Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,
Which in a queen’s secluded garden throws 315
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, 320
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, 325
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 330
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.’
So he spake, mildly: Sohrab heard his voice,
The mighty voice of Rustum; and he saw 335
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; 340
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, 345
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 — 350
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, 355
In Samarcand, he will arise and cry —
“I challeng’d once, when the two armies camp’d
Besides the Oxus, all the Persian lords
To cope with me in single fight; but they
Shrank; only Rustum dar’d: then he and I 360
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.’
Delphi Complete Poetical Works of Matthew Arnold Page 17