And the first gray of morning filled the east, And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream. But all the Tartar camp along the stream Was hushed, and still the men were plunged in sleep. Sohrab alone, he slept not; all night long He had lain wakeful, tossing on his bed: But when the gray dawn stole into his tent, He rose, and clad himself, and girt his sword, And took his horseman’s cloak, and left his tent, And went abroad into the cold wet fog, Through the dim camp to Peran-Wisa’s tent. Through the black Tartar tents he passed, which stood Clustering like bee-hives on the low flat strand Of Oxus, where the summer-floods o’erflow When the sun melts the snows in high Pamere; Through the black tents he passed, o’er that low strand, And to a hillock came, a little back From the stream’s brink,--the spot where first a boat, Crossing the stream in summer, scrapes the land. The men of former times had crowned the top With a clay fort; but that was fallen, and now The Tartars built there Peran-Wisa’s tent, A dome of laths, and o’er it felts were spread. And Sohrab came there, and went in, and stood Upon the thick piled carpets in the tent, And found the old man sleeping on his bed Of rugs and felts, and near him lay his arms. And Peran-Wisa heard him, though the step Was dulled; for he slept light, an old man’s sleep; And he rose quickly on one arm, and said,-- “Who art thou? for it is not yet clear dawn. Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?” But Sohrab came to the bedside, and said,-- “Thou know’st me, Peran-Wisa! it is I. The sun has not yet risen, and the foe Sleep: but I sleep not; all night long I lie Tossing and wakeful, and I come to thee. For so did King Afrasiab bid me seek Thy counsel, and to heed thee as thy son, In Samarcand, before the army marched; And I will tell thee what my heart desires. Thou know’st if, since from Ader-baijan first I came among the Tartars, and bore arms, I have still served Afrasiab well, and shown, At my boy’s years, the courage of a man. This too thou know’st, that while I still bear on The conquering Tartar ensigns through the world, And beat the Persians back on every field, I seek one man, one man, and one alone,-- Rustum, my father; who I hoped should greet, Should one day greet, upon some well-fought field, His not unworthy, not inglorious son. So I long hoped, but him I never find. Come then, hear now, and grant me what I ask. Let the two armies rest to-day; but I Will challenge forth the bravest Persian lords To meet me, man to man: if I prevail, Rustum will surely hear it; if I fall-- Old man, the dead need no one, claim no kin. Dim is the rumor of a common fight, Where host meets host, and many names are sunk; But of a single combat fame speaks clear.”