SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY
And his sobs choked him; and he clutch'd his sword,
To draw it, and forever let life out. 7°5
But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,
And with a soothing voice he spake, and said :—
*'Father, forbear! for I but meet to-day
The doom which at my birth was written down
In heaven, and thou art heaven's unconscious hand.
Surely my heart cried out that it was thou, 711
When first I saw thee; and thy heart spoke too,
I know it! but fate trod those promptings down
Under its iron heel; fate, fate engaged
The strife, and hurl'd me on my father's spear. 715
But let us speak no more of this! I find
My father; let me feel that I have found!
Come, sit beside me on this sand, and take
My head betwixt thy hands, and kiss my cheeks,
And wash them with thy tears, and say : 'My son!' 72°
Quick! quick! for numbered are my sands of life,
And swift; for like the lightning to this field
I came, and like the wrind I go away—
Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind.
But it was writ in heaven that this should be." 725
So said he, and his voice released the heart
Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast
His arm round his son's neck, and wept aloud
And kiss'd him. And awe fell on both the hosts, 729
When they saw Rustum's grief; and Ruksh, the horse,
With his head bowing to the ground and mane
Sweeping the dust, came near, and in mute woe
First to the one then to the other moved
His head, as if inquiring what their grief 734
Might mean; and from his dark, compassionate eyes,
The big \varm tears roird down, and caked the sand.
But Rustum chid him with stern voice, and said:—
249