He spoke; and Peran-Wisa took the hand Of the young man in his, and sighed, and said,-- “O Sohrab, an unquiet heart is thine! Canst thou not rest among the Tartar chiefs, And share the battle’s common chance with us Who love thee, but must press forever first, In single fight incurring single risk, To find a father thou hast never seen? That were far best, my son, to stay with us Unmurmuring; in our tents, while it is war, And when ’tis truce, then in Afrasiab’s towns. But if this one desire indeed rules all, To seek out Rustum--seek him not through fight! Seek him in peace, and carry to his arms, O Sohrab, carry an unwounded son! But far hence seek him, for he is not here. For now it is not as when I was young, When Rustum was in front of every fray: But now he keeps apart, and sits at home, In Seistan, with Zal, his father old; Whether that his own mighty strength at last Feels the abhorred approaches of old age; Or in some quarrel with the Persian king. There go!--Thou wilt not? Yet my heart forebodes Danger or death awaits thee on this field. Fain would I know thee safe and well, though lost To us; fain therefore send thee hence in peace To seek thy father, not seek single fights In vain. But who can keep the lion’s cub From ravening, and who govern Rustum’s son? Go, I will grant thee what thy heart desires.” So said he, and dropped Sohrab’s hand, and left His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay; And o’er his chilly limbs his woollen coat He passed, and tied his sandals on his feet, And threw a white cloak round him, and he took In his right hand a ruler’s staff, no sword; And on his head he set his sheep-skin cap, Black, glossy, curled, the fleece of Kara-Kul; And raised the curtain of his tent, and called His herald to his side, and went abroad. The sun by this had risen, and cleared the fog From the broad Oxus and the glittering sands. And from their tents the Tartar horsemen filed Into the open plain: so Haman bade,-- Haman, who next to Peran-Wisa ruled The host, and still was in his lusty prime. From their black tents, long files of horse, they streamed; As when some gray November morn the files, In marching order spread, of long-necked cranes Stream over Casbin and the southern slopes Of Elburz, from the Aralian estuaries, Or some frore Caspian reed-bed, southward bound For the warm Persian seaboard,--so they streamed. The Tartars of the Oxus, the king’s guard, First, with black sheep-skin caps and with long spears; Large men, large steeds, who from Bokhara come And Khiva, and ferment the milk of mares. Next, the more temperate Toorkmuns of the south, The Tukas, and the lances of Salore, And those from Attruck and the Caspian sands; Light men and on light steeds, who only drink