Matthew Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum and Other Poems Part 4

He spoke, and smiled; and Gudurz made reply:-- "What then, O Rustum, will men say to this, When Sohrab dares our bravest forth, and seeks Thee most of all, and thou, whom most he seeks, 245 Hidest thy face? Take heed lest men should say: _Like some old miser, Rustum h.o.a.rds his fame, And shuns to peril it with younger men."_ 248

And, greatly moved, then Rustum made reply:-- "O Gudurz, wherefore dost thou say such words? 250 Thou knowest better words than this to say.

What is one more, one less, obscure or famed, Valiant or craven, young or old, to me?

Are not they mortal, am not I myself?

But who for men of nought would do great deeds? 255 Come, thou shalt see how Rustum h.o.a.rds his fame!

But I will fight unknown, and in plain arms; 257 Let not men say of Rustum, he was match'd In single fight with any mortal man."

He spoke, and frown'd; and Gudurz turn'd, and ran 260 Back quickly through the camp in fear and joy-- Fear at his wrath, but joy that Rustum came.

But Rustum strode to his tent-door, and call'd His followers in, and bade them bring his arms, And clad himself in steel; the arms he chose 265 Were plain, and on his shield was no device, 266 Only his helm was rich, inlaid with gold, And, from the fluted spine atop, a plume Of horsehair waved, a scarlet horsehair plume.

So arm'd, he issued forth; and Ruksh, his horse, 270 Follow'd him like a faithful hound at heel-- Ruksh, whose renown was noised through all the earth, The horse, whom Rustum on a foray once Did in Bokhara by the river find A colt beneath its dam, and drove him home, 275 And rear'd him; a bright bay, with lofty crest, Dight with a saddle-cloth of broider'd green 277 Crusted with gold, and on the ground were work'd All beasts of chase, all beasts which hunters know.

So follow'd, Rustum left his tents, and cross'd 280 The camp, and to the Persian host appear'd.

And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts Hail'd; but the Tartars knew not who he was.

And dear as the wet diver to the eyes Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on sh.o.r.e, 285 By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf, 286 Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night, Having made up his tale of precious pearls, 288 Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands-- So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came. 290

And Rustum to the Persian front advanced, And Sohrab arm'd in Haman's tent, and came.

And as afield the reapers cut a swath Down through the middle of a rich man's corn, And on each side are squares of standing corn, 295 And in the midst a stubble, short and bare-- So on each side were squares of men, with spears Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.

And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw 300 Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came.

As some rich woman, on a winter's morn, Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge Who with numb blacken'd fingers makes her fire-- At c.o.c.k-crow, on a starlit winter's morn, 305 When the frost flowers the whiten'd window-panes-- And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth 310 All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused 311 His spirited air, and wonder'd who he was.

For very young he seem'd, tenderly rear'd; Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight, Which in a queen's secluded garden throws 315 Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf, By midnight, to a bubbling fountain's sound-- So slender Sohrab seem'd, so softly rear'd. 318 And a deep pity enter'd Rustum's soul As he beheld him coming; and he stood, 320 And beckon'd to him with his hand, and said:--

"O thou young man, the air of Heaven is soft, And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold!

Heaven's air is better than the cold dead grave.

Behold me! I am vast, and clad in iron, 325 And tried; and I have stood on many a field Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe-- Never was that field lost, or that foe saved. 327 O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death?

Be govern'd! quit the Tartar host, and come 330 To Iran, and be as my son to me, And fight beneath my banner till I die!

There are no youths in Iran brave as thou."

So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice, The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw 335 His giant figure planted on the sand, Sole, like some single tower, which a chief Hath builded on the waste in former years Against the robbers; and he saw that head, Streak'd with its first grey hairs;--hope filled his soul, 340 And he ran forward and embraced his knees, And clasp'd his hand within his own, and said:--

"O, by thy father's head! by thine own soul! 343 Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he?" 344

But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth, 345 And turn'd away, and spake to his own soul:--

"Ah me, I muse what this young fox may mean!

False, wily, boastful, are these Tartar boys.

For if I now confess this thing he asks, And hide it not, but say: _Rustum is here_! 350 He will not yield indeed, nor quit our foes, But he will find some pretext not to fight, And praise my fame, and proffer courteous gifts A belt or sword perhaps, and go his way.

And on a feast-tide, in Afrasiab's hall, 355 In Samarcand, he will arise and cry: 'I challenged once, when the two armies camp'd Beside the Oxus, all the Persian lords To cope with me in single fight; but they Shrank, only Rustum dared; then he and I 360 Changed gifts, and went on equal terms away.'

So will he speak, perhaps, while men applaud; Then were the chiefs of Iran shamed through me."

And then he turn'd, and sternly spake aloud:-- "Rise! wherefore dost thou vainly question thus 365 Of Rustum? I am here, whom thou hast call'd By challenge forth; make good thy vaunt, or yield! 367 Is it with Rustum only thou wouldst fight?

Rash boy, men look on Rustum's face and flee!

For well I know, that did great Rustum stand 370 Before thy face this day, and were reveal'd, There would be then no talk of fighting more.

But being what I am, I tell thee this-- Do thou record it in thine inmost soul: Either thou shalt renounce thy vaunt and yield, 375 Or else thy bones shall strew this sand, till winds Bleach them, or Oxus with his summer-floods, Oxus in summer wash them all away."

He spoke; and Sohrab answer'd, on his feet:-- "Art thou so fierce? Thou wilt not fright me so! 380 I am no girl to be made pale by words.

Yet this thou hast said well, did Rustum stand Here on this field, there were no fighting then.

But Rustum is far hence, and we stand here.

Begin! thou art more vast, more dread than I, 385 And thou art proved, I know, and I am young-- But yet success sways with the breath of Heaven.

And though thou thinkest that thou knowest sure Thy victory, yet thou canst not surely know.

For we are all, like swimmers in the sea, 390 Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate, Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall.

And whether it will heave us up to land, Or whether it will roll us out to sea, Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death, 395 We know not, and no search will make us know; Only the event will teach us in its hour."

He spoke, and Rustum answer'd not, but hurl'd His spear; down from the shoulder, down it came, As on some partridge, in the corn a hawk, 400 That long has tower'd in the airy clouds, 401 Drops like a plummet; Sohrab saw it come, And sprang aside, quick as a flash; the spear Hiss'd, and went quivering down into the sand, Which it sent flying wide;--then Sohrab threw 405 In turn, and full struck Rustum's shield; sharp rang, 406 The iron plates rang sharp, but turn'd the spear.

And Rustum seized his club, which none but he Could wield; an unlopp'd trunk it was, and huge, Still rough--like those which men in treeless plains 410 To build them boats fish from the flooded rivers, Hyphasis or Hydaspes, when, high up 412 By their dark springs, the wind in winter-time Hath made in Himalayan forests wrack, 414 And strewn the channels with torn boughs--so huge 415 The club which Rustum lifted now, and struck One stroke; but again Sohrab sprang aside, Lithe as the glancing snake, and the club came 418 Thundering to earth, and leapt from Rustum's hand.

And Rustum follow'd his own blow, and fell 420 To his knees, and with his fingers clutch'd the sand; And now might Sohrab have unsheathed his sword, And pierced the mighty Rustum while he lay Dizzy, and on his knees, and choked with sand; But he look'd on, and smiled, nor bared his sword, 425 But courteously drew back, and spoke, and said:--

"Thou strik'st too hard! that club of thine will float Upon the summer-floods, and not my bones.

But rise, and be not wroth! not wroth am I; No, when I see thee, wrath forsakes my soul. 430 Thou say'st, thou art not Rustum; be it so!

Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?

Boy as I am, I have seen battles too-- Have waded foremost in their b.l.o.o.d.y waves, And heard their hollow roar of dying men; 435 But never was my heart thus touch'd before.

Are they from Heaven, these softenings of the heart?

O thou old warrior, let us yield to Heaven!

Come, plant we here in earth our angry spears, And make a truce, and sit upon this sand, 440 And pledge each other in red wine, like friends, And thou shalt talk to me of Rustum's deeds.

There are enough foes in the Persian host, Whom I may meet, and strike, and feel no pang; Champions enough Afrasiab has, whom thou 445 Mayst fight; fight _them_, when they confront thy spear!

But oh, let there be peace 'twixt thee and me!"

He ceased, but while he spake, Rustum had risen, And stood erect, trembling with rage; his club He left to lie, but had regain'd his spear, 450 Whose fiery point now in his mail'd right-hand Blazed bright and baleful, like that autumn-star, 452 The baleful sign of fevers; dust had soil'd His stately crest, and dimm'd his glittering arms. 454 His breast heaved, his lips foam'd, and twice his voice 455 Was choked with rage; at last these words broke way:--

"Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!

Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!

Fight, let me hear thy hateful voice no more!

Thou art not in Afrasiab's gardens now 460 With Tartar girls, with whom thou art wont to dance; But on the Oxus-sands, and in the dance Of battle, and with me, who make no play Of war; I fight it out, and hand to hand.

Speak not to me of truce, and pledge, and wine! 465 Remember all thy valour; try thy feints 466 And cunning! all the pity I had is gone; Because thou hast shamed me before both the hosts With thy light skipping tricks, and thy girl's wiles." 468

He spoke, and Sohrab kindled at his taunts, 470 And he too drew his sword; at once they rush'd Together, as two eagles on one prey Come rushing down together from the clouds, One from the east, one from the west; their shields Bash'd with a clang together, and a din. 475 Rose, such as that the sinewy woodcutters Make often in the forest's heart at morn, Of hewing axes, crashing trees--such blows Rustum and Sohrab on each other hail'd.

And you would say that sun and stars took part 480 In that unnatural conflict; for a cloud 481 Grew suddenly in Heaven, and dark'd the sun Over the fighters' heads; and a wind rose Under their feet, and moaning swept the plain, And in a sandy whirlwind wrapp'd the pair. 485 In gloom they twain were wrapp'd, and they alone; For both the on-looking hosts on either hand Stood in broad daylight, and the sky was pure, And the sun sparkled on the Oxus stream. 489 But in the gloom they fought, with bloodshot eyes 490 And labouring breath; first Rustum struck the shield Which Sohrab held stiff out; the steel-spiked spear Rent the tough plates, but fail'd to reach the skin, And Rustum pluck'd it back with angry groan.

Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum's helm, 495 Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest He sh.o.r.e away, and that proud horsehair plume, 497 Never till now defiled, sank to the dust; And Rustum bow'd his head; but then the gloom 499 Grew blacker, thunder rumbled in the air, 500 And lightnings rent the cloud; and Ruksh, the horse, Who stood at hand, utter'd a dreadful cry;-- No horse's cry was that, most like the roar Of some pain'd desert-lion, who all day Hath trail'd the hunter's javelin in his side, 505 And comes at night to die upon the sand.

The two hosts heard that cry, and quaked for fear, And Oxus curdled as it cross'd his stream. 508 But Sohrab heard, and quail'd not, but rush'd on, And struck again; and again Rustum bow'd 510 His head; but this time all the blade, like gla.s.s, Sprang in a thousand shivers on the helm, And in the hand the hilt remain'd alone.

Then Rustum raised his head; his dreadful eyes Glared, and he shook on high his menacing spear, 515 And shouted: _Rustum_!--Sohrab heard that shout, 516 And shrank amazed; back he recoil'd one step, And scann'd with blinking eyes the advancing form; And then he stood bewilder'd; and he dropp'd His covering shield, and the spear pierced his side. 520 He reel'd, and staggering back, sank to the ground; And then the gloom dispersed, and the wind fell, And the bright sun broke forth, and melted all The cloud; and the two armies saw the pair-- Saw Rustum standing, safe upon his feet, 525 And Sohrab, wounded, on the b.l.o.o.d.y sand.

Then, with a bitter smile, Rustum began:-- 527 "Sohrab, thou thoughtest in thy mind to kill A Persian lord this day, and strip his corpse, And bear thy trophies to Afrasiab's tent. 530 Or else that the great Rustum would come down Himself to fight, and that thy wiles would move His heart to take a gift, and let thee go.

And then all the Tartar host would praise Thy courage or thy craft, and spread thy fame, 535 To glad thy father in his weak old age. 536 Fool, thou art slain, and by an unknown man!

Dearer to the red jackals shalt thou be 538 Than to thy friends, and to thy father old."

And, with a fearless mien, Sohrab replied:-- 540 "Unknown thou art; yet thy fierce vaunt is vain Thou dost not slay me, proud and boastful man!

No! Rustum slays me, and this filial heart.

For were I match'd with ten such men as thee, And I were that which till to-day I was, 545 They should be lying here, I standing there But that beloved name unnerved my arm-- That name, and something, I confess, in thee, Which troubles all my heart, and made my shield Fall; and thy spear transfix'd an unarm'd foe. 550 And now thou boastest, and insult'st my fate.

But hear thou this, fierce man, tremble to hear The mighty Rustum shall avenge my death!

My father, whom I seek through all the world, He shall avenge my death, and punish thee!" 555

As when some hunter in the spring hath found 556 A breeding eagle sitting on her nest, Upon the craggy isle of a hill-lake, And pierced her with an arrow as she rose, And follow'd her to find her where she fell 560 Far off;--anon her mate comes winging back From hunting, and a great way off descries His huddling young left sole; at that, he checks 563 His pinion, and with short uneasy sweeps Circles above his eyry, with loud screams 565 Chiding his mate back to her nest; but she Lies dying, with the arrow in her side, In some far stony gorge out of his ken, A heap of fluttering feathers--never more Shall the lake gla.s.s her, flying over it; 570 Never the black and dripping precipices Echo her stormy scream as she sails by-- As that poor bird flies home, nor knows his loss, So Rustum knew not his own loss, but stood Over his dying son, and knew him not. 575

But, with a cold incredulous voice, he said:-- "What prate is this of fathers and revenge?

The mighty Rustum never had a son."

And, with a failing voice, Sohrab replied:-- "Ah yes, he had! and that lost son am I. 580 Surely the news will one day reach his ear, Reach Rustum, where he sits, and tarries long, Somewhere, I know not where, but far from here; And pierce him like a stab, and make him leap To arms, and cry for vengeance upon thee. 585 Fierce man, bethink thee, for an only son!

What will that grief, what will that vengeance be?

Oh, could I live, till I that grief had seen!

Yet him I pity not so much, but her, My mother, who in Ader-baijan dwells 590 With that old king, her father, who grows grey With age, and rules over the valiant Koords.