Page:Persian Literature (1900), vol. 1.djvu/182



Sternly the mighty Champion cried, "Away-- Hence with thy wiles--now practised to delay;  The promised struggle, resolute, I claim,  Then cease to move me to an act of shame." Sohráb rejoined--"Old man! thou wilt not hear The words of prudence uttered in thine ear;  Then, Heaven! look on."

Preparing for the shock, Each binds his charger to a neighbouring rock; And girds his loins, and rubs his wrists, and tries Their suppleness and force, with angry eyes; And now they meet--now rise, and now descend, And strong and fierce their sinewy arms extend; Wrestling with all their strength they grasp and strain, And blood and sweat flow copious on the plain; Like raging elephants they furious close; Commutual wounds are given, and wrenching blows. Sohráb now clasps his hands, and forward springs Impatiently, and round the Champion clings; Seizes his girdle belt, with power to tear The very earth asunder; in despair Rustem, defeated, feels his nerves give way, And thundering falls. Sohráb bestrides his prey: Grim as the lion, prowling through the wood, Upon a wild ass springs, and pants for blood. His lifted sword had lopt the gory head, But Rustem, quick, with crafty ardour said:-- "One moment, hold! what, are our laws unknown? A Chief may fight till he is twice o'erthrown;  The second fall, his recreant blood is spilt,  These are our laws, avoid the menaced guilt."

Proud of his strength, and easily deceived, The wondering youth the artful tale believed; Released his prey, and, wild as wind or wave, Neglecting all the prudence of the brave, Turned from the place, nor once the strife renewed, But bounded o'er the plain and other cares pursued, As if all memory of the war had died, All thoughts of him with whom his strength was tried.

Húmán, confounded at the stripling's stay, Went forth, and heard the fortune of the day; Amazed to find the mighty Rustem freed, With deepest grief he wailed the luckless deed. "What! loose a raging lion from the snare, And let him growling hasten to his lair?  Bethink thee well; in war, from this unwise,  This thoughtless act what countless woes may rise;  Never again suspend the final blow,