“No curious eye has yet these features seen, My voice unheard beyond the sacred screen. But often have I listened with amaze To thy great deeds, enamoured of thy praise. How oft from every tongue Ive heard the strain, And thought of thee, and sighed, and sighed in vain. The ravenous eagle hovering o’er his prey, Starts at thy gleaming sword and flies away! Thou art the slayer of the demon brood And the fierce monsters of the echoing wood. Enchanted with the stories of thy fame, My fluttering heart responded to thy name. Oh, claim my hand, and grant my soul’s desire, Ask me in marriage of my royal sire!” Not a word was lost upon Rustem, whose heart beat out a glad response to her plea, and before another day had passed his suit had been duly presented to the king. “Oerjoyed the king the honoring suit approves, Oerjoyed to bless the doting child he loves, And happier still in showering smiles around, To be allied to warrior so renowned.” The nuptials were not long delayed, and the marriage bower were crowned with roses and decked with white lilies, while the royal abode was flooded with music and light. It seemed to Rustem that all the world, like some vast tidal wave, had rolled away and left him on a golden shore—alone with his beloved. SOHRĀB. Not long could the Persian warrior remain with his Tartar bride, for his king claimed his allegiance, and summoned him to lead important campaigns. Before their son was born he was called away, but he left a radiant bracelet set with rare and peculiar gems as a heritage for his child, and mounted upon his faithful Rakush he was borne away to the field of conflict. The wife Tamīneh was later blessed with a wondrous boy—the image of his noble sire. But when the father’s fond inquiry came, the coward-heart of the mother betrayed her into falsehood. Fearing that the boy might be taken away and educated at the Persian court, and thus alienated from his Tartar blood, she sent her husband word that it was a daughter that had been born unto them, and the fact was carefully hidden from the father that he had a son. So little were daughters prized in the East, that he never asked to see the child, and the boy came to manhood with very little knowledge of his father. Sohrāb bore the splendid physique of his noble race; as a hunter or wrestler he had no equal in all the realms of Tūrān. The Tartar king placed him at the head of his armies, and mounted on his splendid horse—the son of Rakush—the gallant youth took his place at the head of the glittering host.