me the slaves of the infidel Tartars?'

"Rustem stood confounded to hear such words. 'If there were fear in my
heart, then I would tear my soul from my body. But you know that it is
not; only the king has treated me with scorn.'

"But he perceived that he must yield to the old man's advice. So he went
back with the nobles.

"As soon as the king saw him, he leaped upon his feet, and said, 'I am
hard of soul, but a man must grow as God has made him. My heart was
troubled by the fear of this new enemy. I looked to you for safety, and
you delayed your coming. Then I spoke in my wrath; but I have repented,
and my mouth is full of dust.'

"Rustem said, 'It is yours to command, O king, and ours to obey. You are
the master, and we are the slaves. I am but as one of those who open the
door for you, if indeed I am worthy to be reckoned among them. And now I
come to execute your commands.'

"Kaoos said, 'It is well. Now let us feast. To-morrow we will prepare
for war.'

"So Kaoos, and Rustem, and the nobles feasted till the night had passed
and the morning came. The next day King Kaoos and Rustem, with a great
army, began their march."

Matthew Arnold, the great English critic, scholar and poet, has used the
incidents that follow as the subject of one of his most interesting
poems. To that poem we will look for a continuation of the story. Arnold
alters the story at times to suit the needs of his poem, and he often
employs a slightly different spelling of proper names from that used in
the above account.

SOHRAB AND RUSTUM

AN EPISODE

_By_ MATTHEW ARNOLD

And the first gray of morning fill'd the east,
And the fog rose out of the Oxus[173-1] stream.
But all the Tartar camp along the stream
Was hush'd, and still the men were plunged in sleep;
Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long
He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed;
But when the gray dawn stole into his tent,
He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword,
And took his horseman's cloak, and left his tent,
And went abroad into the cold wet fog,
Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa's[173-2] tent.
Through the black Tartar tents he pass'd, which stood
Clustering like beehives on the low flat strand
Of Oxus, where the summer floods o'erflow
When the sun melts the snow in high Pamere;[173-3]
Through the black tents he pass'd, o'er that low strand,
And to a hillock came, a little back