Eir Grief Might Mean; And From His Dark, Compassionate Eyes, The Big Warm Tears Roll'D Down, And Caked The Sand. But Rustum Chid Him With Stern Voice, And Said: "Ruksh, Now Thou Grievest; But, O Ruksh, Thy Feet Should First Have Rotted On Their Nimble Joints, Or Ere They Brought 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, 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 Has Gone Where I Shall Never Go, And Snuff'D The Breezes Of My Father'S Home. And Thou Hast Trod The Sands Of Seistan And Seen The River Of Helmund, And The Lake Of Zirrah; And The Aged Zal Himself Has Often Stroked Thy Neck, And Given Thee Food, Corn In A Golden Platter Soak'D With Wine, And Said; O Ruksh! Bear Rustrum Well! But I Have Never Known My Grandsire'S Furrow'D Face, Nor Seen His Lofty House In Seistan, Nor Slaked My Thirst At The Clear Helmund Stream; But Lodged 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, Kohik, And Where The Kalmuks Feed Their Sheep, The Northern Sir; And This Great Oxus Stream, The Yellow Oxus, By Whose Brink I Die." Then, With A Heavy Groan, Rustum Bewail'D: "Oh, That Its Waves Were Flowing Over Me! Oh, That I Saw Its Grains Of Yellow Silt Roll, Tumbling In The Current O'Er My Head!" But, 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, As Some Are Born To Be Obscured, 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 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 With Them, But Carry Me With Thee To Seistan, And Place Me On A Bed, And Mourn For Me, Thou, And The Snow-Hair'D Zal, And All Thy Friends. And Thou Must Lay Me In That Lovely Earth, And Heap A Stately Mound Above My Bones, And Plant A Far-Seen Pillar Over All. That So The Passing Horseman On The Waste May See My Tomb A Great Way Off, And Cry: Sohral!, The Mighty Rustum'S Son, Lies There, Whom His Great Father Did In Ignorance Kill! And I Be Not Forgotten In My Grave." And, With A Mournful Voice, Rustum Replied: "Fear Not! As Thou Hast Said, Sohrab, My Son, So Shall It Be; For I Will Burn My Tents, And Quit The Host, And Bear Thee Hence With Me, And Carry Thee Away To Seistan, And Place Thee On A Bed, And Mourn For Thee, With The Snow-Headed Zal, And All My Friends. And I Will Lay Thee In The Lovely Earth, And Heap A Stately Mound Above Thy Bones, And Plant A Far-Seen Pillar Over All, And Men Shall Not Forget Thee In Thy Grave. And I Will Spare Thy Host; Yea, Let Them Go! Let Them All Cross The Oxus Back In Peace! What Should I Do With Slaying Any More? For Would That All Whom I Have Ever Slain Might Be Once More Alive; My Bitterest Foes And They Who Were Call'D Champions In Their Time, And Through Whose Death I Won That Fame I Have And I Were Nothing But A Common Man, A Poor, Mean Soldier, And Without Renown, So Thou Mightest Live Too, My Son, My Son! Or Rather Would That I, Even I Myself, Might Now Be Lying On This Bloody Sand, Near Death, And By An Ignorant Stroke Of Thine, Not Thou Of Mine! And I Might Die, Not Thou; And I, Not Thou, Be Borne To Seistan; And Zal Might Weep Above My Grave, Not Thine; And Say: O Son, I Weep Thee Not Too Sore, For Willingly, I Know, Thou Met'St Thine End! But Now In Blood And Battles Was My Youth, And Full Of Blood And Battles Is My Age, And I Shall Never End This Life Of Blood." Then, At The Point Of Death, Sohrab Replied. "A Life Of Blood Indeed, Thou Dreadful Man! But Thou Shalt Yet Have Peace; Only Not Now, Not Yet! But Thou Shalt Have It On That Day, When Thou Shalt Sail In A High-Masted Ship, Thou And The Other Peers Of Kai Khosroo, Returning Home Over The Salt Blue Sea, From Laying Thy Dear Master In His Grave." And Rustum Gazed In Sohrab'S Face, And Said. "Soon Be That Day, My Son, And Deep That Sea! Till Then, If Fate So Wills, Let Me Endure." He Spoke; And Sohrab Smiled On Him, And Took The Spear, And Drew It From His Side, And Eased His Wound'S Imperious Anguish; But The Blood Came Welling From The Open Gash, And Life Flow'D With The Stream; All Down His Cold White Side The Crimson Torrent Ran, Dim Now And Soil'D, Like The Soil'D Tissue Of White Violets Left, Freshly Gather'D, On Their Native Bank, By Children Whom Their Nurses Call With Haste Indoors From The Sun'S Eye; His Head Droop'D Low, His Limbs Grew Slack; Motionless, White, He Lay White, With Eyes Closed; Only When Heavy Gasps, Deep Heavy Gasps Quivering Through All His Frame, Convulsed Him Back To Life, He Open'D Them, And Fix'D Them Feebly On His Father'S Face; Till Now All Strength Was Ebb'D, And From His Limbs Unwillingly The Spirit Fled Away, Regretting The Warm Mansion Which It Left, And Youth, And Bloom, And This Delightful World. So, On The Bloody Sand, Sohrab Lay Dead; And The Great Rustum Drew His Horseman'S Cloak Down O'Er His Face, And Sate By His Dead Son. As Those Black Granite Pillars, Once High-Rear'D By Jemshid In Persepolis, To Bear His House, Now 'Mid Their Broken Flights Of Steps Lie Prone, Enormous, Down The Mountain Side So In The Sand Lay Rustum By His Son. And Night Came Down Over The Solemn Waste, And The Two Gazing Hosts, And That Sole Pair, And Darken'D All; And A Cold Fog, With Night, Crept From The Oxus. Soon A Hum Arose, As Of A Great Assembly Loosed, And Fires Began To Twinkle Through The Fog; For Now Both Armies Moved To Camp, And Took Their Meal; The Persians Took It On The Open Sands Southward, The Tartars By The River Marge; And Rustum And His Son Were Left Alone. But The Majestic River Floated On, Out Of The Mist And Hum Of That Low Land, Into The Frosty Starlight, And There Moved, Rejoicing, Through The Hush'D Chorasmian Waste, Under The Solitary Moon; He Flow'D Right For The Polar Star, Past Orgunj?, Brimming, And Bright, And Large; Then Sands Begin To Hem His Watery March, And Dam His Streams, And Split His Currents; That For Many A League The Shorn And Parcell'D Oxus Strains Along Through Beds Of Sand And Matted Rushy Isles Oxus, Forgetting The Bright Speed He Had In His High Mountain-Cradle In Pamere, A Foil'D Circuitous Wanderer Till At Last The Long'D-For Dash Of Waves Is Heard, And Wide His Luminous Home Of Waters Opens, Bright And Tranquil, From Whose Floor The New-Bathed Stars Emerge, And Shine Upon The Aral Sea.