Page:Persian Literature (1900), vol. 1.djvu/338

 was as nothing in the balance of his mind compared with the painful subject of his present thoughts and fears. He was ready to engage, but afraid of meriting a bad name.

"If in the battle thou art slain by me, Will not my cheek turn pale among the princes  Of the Kaiánian race, having cut off  A lovely branch of that illustrious tree?  Will not reproaches hang upon my name  When I am dead, and shall I not be cursed  For perpetrating such a horrid deed?  Thy father, too, is old, and near his end,  And thou upon the eve of being crowned;  And in thy heart thou knowest that I proffered,  And proffer my allegiance and devotion,  And would avoid the conflict. Sure, thy father  Is practising some trick, some foul deception,  To urge thee on to an untimely death,  To rid himself of some unnatural fear,  He stoops to an unnatural, treacherous act,  For I have ever been the firm support  Of crown and throne, and perfectly he knows  No mortal ever conquered me in battle,  None ever from my sword escaped his life."

Then spoke Isfendiyár: "Thou wouldst be generous And bear a spotless name, and tarnish mine;  But I am not to be deceived by thee:  In fetters thou must go!" Rustem replied: "Banish that idle fancy from thy brain; Dream not of things impossible, for death  Is busy with thee; pause, or thou wilt die." "No more!" exclaimed the prince, "no more of this. Nor seek to frighten me with threatening words;  Go, and to-morrow bring with thee thy friends,  Thy father and thy brother, to behold  With their own eyes thy downfall, and lament  In sorrow over thy impending fate." "So let it be," said Rustem, and at once Mounted his noble horse, and hastened home.

The champion immediately requested his father's permission to go and fight Isfendiyár the following day, but the old man recommended reconciliation and peace. "That cannot be," said Rustem, "for he has reviled thee so severely, and heaped upon me so many indignities, that my patience is exhausted, and the contest unavoidable." In the morning Zál, weeping bitterly, tied on Rustem's armor himself, and in an agony