stern voice, and said:--

"Ruksh, now thou grievest; but, O Ruksh, thy feet 735
Should then have rotted on thy nimble joints,
When first they bore thy master to this field."

But Sohrab look'd upon the horse and said:--
"Is this then Ruksh? How often, in past days,
My mother told me of thee, thou brave steed! 740
My terrible father's terrible horse; and said,
That I should one day find thy lord and thee,
Come, let me lay my hand upon thy mane.
O Ruksh, thou art more fortunate than I;
For thou hast gone where I shall never go, 745
And snuff'd the breezes of my father's home.
And thou hast trod the sands of Seistan,
And seen the river of Helmund,[44] and the lake
Of Zirrah; and the aged Zal himself
Has often strok'd thy neck, and given thee food, 750
Corn in a golden platter soak'd with wine,
And said--'O Ruksh! bear Rustum well!'--but I
Have never known my grandsire's furrow'd face,
Nor seen his lofty house in Seistan,
Nor slak'd my thirst at the clear Helmund stream; 755
But lodg'd among my father's foes, and seen
Afrasiab's cities only, Samarcand,
Bokhara, and lone Khiva in the waste,
And the black Toorkmun tents; and only drunk
The desert rivers, Moorghab and Tejend, 760
Kohik, and where the Kalmuks feed their sheep,
The northern Sir;[45] and this great Oxus stream--
The yellow Oxus, by whose brink I die."

And, with a heavy groan, Rustum replied:--
"Oh that its waves were flowing over me! 765
Oh that I saw its grains of yellow silt[46]
Roll tumbling in the current o'er my head!"

[_Sohrab's dying wish. "Draw off your forces; build for me a
memorial pillar in Seistan." He foretells the death of Rustum_.]

And, with a grave mild voice, Sohrab replied:--
"Desire not that, my father; thou must live.
For some are born to do great deeds, and live, 770
As some are born to be obscur'd, and die.
Do thou the deeds I die too young to do,
And reap a second glory in thine age.
Thou art my father, and thy gain is mine,
But come: thou seest this great host of men 775
Which follow me; I pray thee, slay not these:
Let me entreat for them: what have they done?
They follow'd me, my hope, my fame, my star.
Let them all cross the Oxus back in peace.
But me thou must bear hence, not send