“Go,” said he, “to the Tartar chiefs, and say to them, ‘No more shall war between us stain the earth with blood.’” A moment more, and the young warrior was dead, and on a Persian bier his lifeless form was laid, while Rustem, sick of martial pomp and show, ordered the gorgeous pageantry of war to be consigned to the flames,[257] for all the warrior’s pride lay in dust and ashes as he followed the bier to the imperial resting place which was provided for Sohrāb. But to the mother was carried the most fearful blow, when the Tartar chiefs led back the splendid steed all riderless, and laid at her feet the coat of mail her son had worn, while they told the story of his fall beneath his father’s hand. What a terrible penalty her falsehood had brought upon her head and heart! “Distracted, wild, she sprang from place to place, With frenzied hands deformed her beauteous face. The strong emotion choked her panting breath, Her veins seemed withered by the cold of death. Then gazing up, distraught, she wept again, And frantic, seeing midst her pitying train The favorite steed—now more than ever dear— The hoofs she kissed and bathed with many a tear; Clasping the mail Sohrāb in battle wore, With burning lips she kissed it o’er and o’er. His martial robes she in her arms comprest, And like an infant strained them to her breast. Day after day, night after night, she gave way to her helpless grief. Unceasingly she raved and wept by turns for one long year, then nature gave way, and she found rest in the arms of Death—“the great Consoler.” Footnote 241: Unless otherwise indicated, the poetical quotations in this legend will be from Atkinson’s Translation. Footnote 242: The Anka of the Arabians. Footnote 243: Iliad, B. 24. Footnote 244: The Narcissus, to which the beautiful eyes of Eastern women are often compared. Footnote 245: Called the “Serpent King” because he at one time allowed an evil creature to kiss his shoulder, and from the spot two fearful serpents sprang that required human brains for their food. The king used to select the victims by lot, and when the blacksmith Kaveh found his name upon the fatal register he tore the document in pieces, and “On his javelin’s point He fixed his leathern apron for a banner, And lifting it high he went abroad To call the people to a task of vengeance.” The multitude of rebels joined a foreign foe, and the hated Zohak was destroyed, and then the leathern banner was splendidly adorned with gold and jewels, and it is said that this legend gave rise to the blacksmith’s apron as the royal ensign of Persia. Footnote 246: