The Persian Literature Volume I Part 18

The valiant Giw with Rustem pondering stood, And, sad, recalled the scene of death and blood; Grief and amazement heaved the frequent sigh, And almost froze the crimson current dry.

Rustem, oppressed by Giw's desponding thought, Amidst his Chiefs the mournful Monarch sought; To him he told Sohrab's tremendous sway, The dire misfortunes of this luckless day; Told with what grasping force he tried, in vain, To hurl the wondrous stripling to the plain: "The whispering zephyr might as well aspire To shake a mountain--such his strength and fire.

But night came on--and, by agreement, we Must meet again to-morrow--who shall be Victorious, Heaven knows only:--for by Heaven, Victory or death to man is ever given."

This said, the King, o'erwhelmed in deep despair, Pa.s.sed the dread night in agony and prayer.

The Champion, silent, joined his bands at rest, And spurned at length despondence from his breast; Removed from all, he cheered Zuara's heart, And nerved his soul to bear a trying part:-- "Ere early morning gilds the ethereal plain, In martial order range my warrior-train; And when I meet in all his glorious pride, This valiant Turk whom late my rage defied, Should fortune's smiles my arduous task requite, Bring them to share the triumph of my might; But should success the stripling's arm attend, And dire defeat and death my glories end, To their loved homes my brave a.s.sociates guide; Let bowery Zabul all their sorrows hide-- Comfort my venerable father's heart; In gentlest words my heavy fate impart.

The dreadful tidings to my mother bear, And soothe her anguish with the tenderest care; Say, that the will of righteous Heaven decreed, That thus in arms her mighty son should bleed.

Enough of fame my various toils acquired, When warring demons, bathed in blood, expired.

Were life prolonged a thousand lingering years, Death comes at last and ends our mortal fears; Kirshasp, and Sam, and Nariman, the best And bravest heroes, who have ever blest This fleeting world, were not endued with power, To stay the march of fate one single hour; The world for them possessed no fixed abode, The path to death's cold regions must be trod; Then, why lament the doom ordained for all?

Thus Jemshid fell, and thus must Rustem fall."

When the bright dawn proclaimed the rising day, The warriors armed, impatient of delay; But first Sohrab, his proud confederate nigh, Thus wistful spoke, as swelled the boding sigh-- "Now, mark my great antagonist in arms!

His n.o.ble form my filial bosom warms; My mother's tokens shine conspicuous here, And all the proofs my heart demands, appear; Sure this is Rustem, whom my eyes engage!

Shall I, O grief! provoke my Father's rage?

Offended Nature then would curse my name, And shuddering nations echo with my shame."

He ceased, then Human: "Vain, fantastic thought, Oft have I been where Persia's Champion fought; And thou hast heard, what wonders he performed, When, in his prime, Mazinderan was stormed; That horse resembles Rustem's, it is true, But not so strong, nor beautiful to view."

Sohrab now buckles on his war attire, His heart all softness, and his brain all fire; Around his lips such smiles benignant played, He seemed to greet a friend, as thus he said:-- "Here let us sit together on the plain, Here, social sit, and from the fight refrain; Ask we from heaven forgiveness of the past, And bind our souls in friendship that may last; Ours be the feast--let us be warm and free, For powerful instinct draws me still to thee; Fain would my heart in bland affection join, Then let thy generous ardour equal mine; And kindly say, with whom I now contend-- What name distinguished boasts my warrior-friend!

Thy name unfit for champion brave to hide, Thy name so long, long sought, and still denied; Say, art thou Rustem, whom I burn to know?

Ingenuous say, and cease to be my foe!"

Sternly the mighty Champion cried, "Away-- Hence with thy wiles--now practised to delay; The promised struggle, resolute, I claim, Then cease to move me to an act of shame."

Sohrab rejoined--"Old man! thou wilt not hear The words of prudence uttered in thine ear; Then, Heaven! look on."

Preparing for the shock, Each binds his charger to a neighbouring rock; And girds his loins, and rubs his wrists, and tries Their suppleness and force, with angry eyes; And now they meet--now rise, and now descend, And strong and fierce their sinewy arms extend; Wrestling with all their strength they grasp and strain, And blood and sweat flow copious on the plain; Like raging elephants they furious close; Commutual wounds are given, and wrenching blows.

Sohrab now clasps his hands, and forward springs Impatiently, and round the Champion clings; Seizes his girdle belt, with power to tear The very earth asunder; in despair Rustem, defeated, feels his nerves give way, And thundering falls. Sohrab bestrides his prey: Grim as the lion, prowling through the wood, Upon a wild a.s.s springs, and pants for blood.

His lifted sword had lopt the gory head, But Rustem, quick, with crafty ardour said:-- "One moment, hold! what, are our laws unknown?

A Chief may fight till he is twice o'erthrown; The second fall, his recreant blood is spilt, These are our laws, avoid the menaced guilt."

Proud of his strength, and easily deceived, The wondering youth the artful tale believed; Released his prey, and, wild as wind or wave, Neglecting all the prudence of the brave, Turned from the place, nor once the strife renewed, But bounded o'er the plain and other cares pursued, As if all memory of the war had died, All thoughts of him with whom his strength was tried.

Human, confounded at the stripling's stay, Went forth, and heard the fortune of the day; Amazed to find the mighty Rustem freed, With deepest grief he wailed the luckless deed.

"What! loose a raging lion from the snare, And let him growling hasten to his lair?

Bethink thee well; in war, from this unwise, This thoughtless act what countless woes may rise; Never again suspend the final blow, Nor trust the seeming weakness of a foe!"[43]

"Hence with complaint," the dauntless youth replied, "To-morrow's contest shall his fate decide."

When Rustem was released, in altered mood He sought the coolness of the murmuring flood; There quenched his thirst; and bathed his limbs, and prayed, Beseeching Heaven to yield its strengthening aid.

His pious prayer indulgent Heaven approved, And growing strength through all his sinews moved;[44]

Such as erewhile his towering structure knew, When his bold arm unconquered demons slew.

Yet in his mien no confidence appeared, No ardent hope his wounded spirits cheered.

Again they met. A glow of youthful grace, Diffused its radiance o'er the stripling's face, And when he saw in renovated guise, The foe so lately mastered; with surprise, He cried--"What! rescued from my power, again Dost thou confront me on the battle plain?

Or, dost thou, wearied, draw thy vital breath, And seek, from warrior bold, the shaft of death?

Truth has no charms for thee, old man; even now, Some further cheat may lurk upon thy brow; Twice have I shown thee mercy, twice thy age Hath been thy safety--twice it soothed my rage."

Then mild the Champion: "Youth is proud and vain!

The idle boast a warrior would disdain; This aged arm perhaps may yet control, The wanton fury that inflames thy soul!"

Again, dismounting, each the other viewed With sullen glance, and swift the fight renewed; Clenched front to front, again they tug and bend, Twist their broad limbs as every nerve would rend; With rage convulsive Rustem grasps him round; Bends his strong back, and hurls him to the ground; Him, who had deemed the triumph all his own; But dubious of his power to keep him down, Like lightning quick he gives the deadly thrust, And spurns the Stripling weltering in the dust.

--Thus as his blood that shining steel imbrues, Thine too shall flow, when Destiny pursues;[45]

For when she marks the victim of her power, A thousand daggers speed the dying hour.

Writhing with pain Sohrab in murmurs sighed-- And thus to Rustem--"Vaunt not, in thy pride; Upon myself this sorrow have I brought, Thou but the instrument of fate--which wrought My downfall; thou are guiltless--guiltless quite; O! had I seen my father in the fight, My glorious father! Life will soon be o'er, And his great deeds enchant my soul no more!

Of him my mother gave the mark and sign, For him I sought, and what an end is mine!

My only wish on earth, my constant sigh, Him to behold, and with that wish I die.

But hope not to elude his piercing sight, In vain for thee the deepest glooms of night; Couldst thou through Ocean's depths for refuge fly, Or midst the star-beams track the upper sky!

Rustem, with vengeance armed, will reach thee there, His soul the prey of anguish and despair."

An icy horror chills the Champion's heart, His brain whirls round with agonizing smart; O'er his wan cheek no gushing sorrows flow, Senseless he sinks beneath the weight of woe; Relieved at length, with frenzied look, he cries: "Prove thou art mine, confirm my doubting eyes!

For I am Rustem!" Piercing was the groan, Which burst from his torn heart--as wild and lone, He gazed upon him. Dire amazement shook The dying youth, and mournful thus he spoke: "If thou art Rustem, cruel is thy part, No warmth paternal seems to fill thy heart; Else hadst thou known me when, with strong desire, I fondly claimed thee for my valiant sire; Now from my body strip the shining mail, Untie these bands, ere life and feeling fail; And on my arm the direful proof behold!

Thy sacred bracelet of refulgent gold!

When the loud brazen drums were heard afar, And, echoing round, proclaimed the pending war, Whilst parting tears my mother's eyes o'erflowed, This mystic gift her bursting heart bestowed: 'Take this,' she said, 'thy father's token wear, And promised glory will reward thy care.'

The hour is come, but fraught with bitterest woe, We meet in blood to wail the fatal blow."

The loosened mail unfolds the bracelet bright, Unhappy gift! to Rustem's wildered sight, Prostrate he falls--"By my unnatural hand, My son, my son is slain--and from the land Uprooted."--Frantic, in the dust his hair He rends in agony and deep despair; The western sun had disappeared in gloom, And still, the Champion wept his cruel doom; His wondering legions marked the long delay, And, seeing Rakush riderless astray, The rumour quick to Persia's Monarch spread, And there described the mighty Rustem dead.

Kaus, alarmed, the fatal tidings hears; His bosom quivers with increasing fears.

"Speed, speed, and see what has befallen to-day To cause these groans and tears--what fatal fray!

If he be lost, if breathless on the ground, And this young warrior, with the conquest crowned-- Then must I, humbled, from my kingdom torn, Wander like Jemshid, through the world forlorn."[46]

The army roused, rushed o'er the dusty plain, Urged by the Monarch to revenge the slain; Wild consternation saddened every face, Tus winged with horror sought the fatal place, And there beheld the agonizing sight-- The murderous end of that unnatural fight.

Sohrab, still breathing, hears the shrill alarms, His gentle speech suspends the clang of arms: "My light of life now fluttering sinks in shade, Let vengeance sleep, and peaceful vows be made.

Beseech the King to spare this Tartar host, For they are guiltless, all to them is lost; I led them on, their souls with glory fired, While mad ambition all my thoughts inspired.

In search of thee, the world before my eyes, War was my choice, and thou the sacred prize; With thee, my sire! in virtuous league combined, No tyrant King should persecute mankind.

That hope is past--the storm has ceased to rave-- My ripening honours wither in the grave; Then let no vengeance on my comrades fall, Mine was the guilt, and mine the sorrow, all; How often have I sought thee--oft my mind Figured thee to my sight--o'erjoyed to find My mother's token; disappointment came, When thou denied thy lineage and thy name; Oh! still o'er thee my soul impa.s.sioned hung, Still to my father fond affection clung!

But fate, remorseless, all my hopes withstood, And stained thy reeking hands in kindred blood."

His faltering breath protracted speech denied: Still from his eye-lids flowed a gushing tide; Through Rustem's soul redoubled horror ran, Heart-rending thoughts subdued the mighty man, And now, at last, with joy-illumined eye, The Zabul bands their glorious Chief descry; But when they saw his pale and haggard look, Knew from what mournful cause he gazed and shook, With downcast mien they moaned and wept aloud; While Rustem thus addressed the weeping crowd "Here ends the war! let gentle peace succeed, Enough of death, I--I have done the deed!"

Then to his brother, groaning deep, he said-- "O what a curse upon a parent's head!

But go--and to the Tartar say--no more, Let war between us steep the earth with gore."

Zuara flew and wildly spoke his grief, To crafty Human, the Turanian Chief, Who, with dissembled sorrow, heard him tell The dismal tidings which he knew too well; "And who," he said, "has caused these tears to flow?

Who, but Hujir? He might have stayed the blow, But when Sohrab his Father's banners sought; He still denied that here the Champion fought; He spread the ruin, he the secret knew, Hence should his crime receive the vengeance due!"

Zuara, frantic, breathed in Rustem's ear, The treachery of the captive Chief, Hujir; Whose headless trunk had weltered on the strand, But prayers and force withheld the lifted hand.

Then to his dying son the Champion turned, Remorse more deep within his bosom burned; A burst of frenzy fired his throbbing brain; He clenched his sword, but found his fury vain; The Persian Chiefs the desperate act represt, And tried to calm the tumult in his breast: Thus Gudarz spoke--"Alas! wert thou to give Thyself a thousand wounds, and cease to live; What would it be to him thou sorrowest o'er?

It would not save one pang--then weep no more; For if removed by death, O say, to whom Has ever been vouchsafed a different doom?

All are the prey of death--the crowned, the low, And man, through life, the victim still of woe."

Then Rustem: "Fly! and to the King relate, The pressing horrors which involve my fate; And if the memory of my deeds e'er swayed His mind, O supplicate his generous aid; A sovereign balm he has whose wondrous power, All wounds can heal, and fleeting life restore;[47]

Swift from his tent the potent medicine bring."

--But mark the malice of the brainless King!

Hard as the flinty rock, he stern denies The healthful draught, and gloomy thus replies: "Can I forgive his foul and slanderous tongue?

The sharp disdain on me contemptuous flung?

Scorned 'midst my army by a shameless boy, Who sought my throne, my sceptre to destroy!

Nothing but mischief from his heart can flow, Is it, then, wise to cherish such a foe?

The fool who warms his enemy to life, Only prepares for scenes of future strife."

Gudarz, returning, told the hopeless tale-- And thinking Rustem's presence might prevail; The Champion rose, but ere he reached the throne, Sohrab had breathed the last expiring groan.

Now keener anguish rack'd the father's mind, Reft of his son, a murderer of his kind; His guilty sword distained with filial gore, He beat his burning breast, his hair he tore; The breathless corse before his shuddering view, A shower of ashes o'er his head he threw; "In my old age," he cried, "what have I done?

Why have I slain my son, my innocent son!

Why o'er his splendid dawning did I roll The clouds of death--and plunge my burthened soul In agony? My son! from heroes sprung; Better these hands were from my body wrung; And solitude and darkness, deep and drear, Fold me from sight than hated linger here.

But when his mother hears, with horror wild, That I have shed the life-blood of her child, So n.o.bly brave, so dearly loved, in vain, How can her heart that rending shock sustain?"

Now on a bier the Persian warriors place The breathless Youth, and shade his pallid face; And turning from that fatal field away, Move towards the Champion's home in long array.