Page:Persian Literature (1900), vol. 1.djvu/184

 For when she marks the victim of her power, A thousand daggers speed the dying hour. Writhing with pain Sohráb in murmurs sighed-- And thus to Rustem--"Vaunt not, in thy pride; Upon myself this sorrow have I brought,  Thou but the instrument of fate--which wrought  My downfall; thou are guiltless--guiltless quite;  O! had I seen my father in the fight,  My glorious father! Life will soon be o'er,  And his great deeds enchant my soul no more!  Of him my mother gave the mark and sign,  For him I sought, and what an end is mine!  My only wish on earth, my constant sigh,  Him to behold, and with that wish I die.  But hope not to elude his piercing sight,  In vain for thee the deepest glooms of night;  Couldst thou through Ocean's depths for refuge fly,  Or midst the star-beams track the upper sky!  Rustem, with vengeance armed, will reach thee there,  His soul the prey of anguish and despair."

An icy horror chills the Champion's heart, His brain whirls round with agonizing smart; O'er his wan cheek no gushing sorrows flow, Senseless he sinks beneath the weight of woe; Relieved at length, with frenzied look, he cries: "Prove thou art mine, confirm my doubting eyes! For I am Rustem!" Piercing was the groan, Which burst from his torn heart--as wild and lone, He gazed upon him. Dire amazement shook The dying youth, and mournful thus he spoke: "If thou art Rustem, cruel is thy part, No warmth paternal seems to fill thy heart;  Else hadst thou known me when, with strong desire,  I fondly claimed thee for my valiant sire;  Now from my body strip the shining mail,  Untie these bands, ere life and feeling fail;  And on my arm the direful proof behold!  Thy sacred bracelet of refulgent gold!  When the loud brazen drums were heard afar,  And, echoing round, proclaimed the pending war,  Whilst parting tears my mother's eyes o'erflowed,  This mystic gift her bursting heart bestowed:  'Take this,' she said, 'thy father's token wear,  And promised glory will reward thy care.'  The hour is come, but fraught with bitterest woe,