And showed a sign in faint vermilion points Pricked; as a cunning workman, in Pekin, Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase, An emperor’s gift,--at early morn he paints, And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands,-- So delicately pricked the sign appeared On Sohrab’s arm, the sign of Rustum’s seal. It was that griffin which of old reared Zal, Rustum’s great father, whom they left to die, A helpless babe, among the mountain rocks; Him that kind creature found, and reared, and loved; Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign. And Sohrab bared that image on his arm, And himself scanned it long with mournful eyes, And then he touched it with his hand, and said,-- “How say’st thou? Is that sign the proper sign Of Rustum’s son, or of some other man’s?” He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood Speechless; and then he uttered one sharp cry,-- _O boy--thy father!_ and his voice choked there. And then a dark cloud passed before his eyes, And his head swam, and he sank down to earth. But Sohrab crawled to where he lay, and cast His arms about his neck, and kissed his lips, And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks, Trying to call him back to life; and life Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes, And they stood wide with horror; and he seized In both his hands the dust which lay around, And threw it on his head, and smirched his hair,-- His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms; And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast, And his sobs choked him; and he clutched his sword, To draw it, and forever let life out. 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, 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 hurled me on my father’s spear. 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!_ Quick, quick! for numbered are my sands of life, And swift; for like the lightning to this field I came, and like the wind I go away,-- Sudden, and swift, and like a passing wind; But it was writ in Heaven that this should be.” So said he; and his voice released the heart Of Rustum, and his tears broke forth; he cast His arms round his son’s neck, and wept aloud, And kissed him. And awe fell on both the hosts,