When nine slow-circling months had roll'd away, Sweet-smiling pleasure hailed the brightening day-- A wondrous boy Tahmíneh's tears supprest, And lull'd the sorrows of her heart to rest; To him, predestined to be great and brave, The name Sohráb his tender mother gave; And as he grew, amazed, the gathering throng, View'd his large limbs, his sinews firm and strong; His infant years no soft endearment claimed: Athletic sports his eager soul inflamed; Broad at the chest and taper round the loins, Where to the rising hip the body joins; Hunter and wrestler; and so great his speed, He could overtake, and hold the swiftest steed. His noble aspect, and majestic grace, Betrayed the offspring of a glorious race. How, with a mother's ever anxious love, Still to retain him near her heart she strove! For when the father's fond inquiry came, Cautious, she still concealed his birth and name, And feign'd a daughter born, the evil fraught With misery to avert--but vain the thought; Not many years had passed, with downy flight, Ere he, Tahmíneh's wonder and delight, With glistening eye, and youthful ardour warm, Filled her foreboding bosom with alarm. "O now relieve my heart!" he said, "declare, From whom I sprang and breathe the vital air. Since, from my childhood I have ever been, Amidst my play-mates of superior mien; Should friend or foe demand my father's name, Let not my silence testify my shame! If still concealed, you falter, still delay, A mother's blood shall wash the crime away." "This wrath forego," the mother answering cried, "And joyful hear to whom thou art allied. A glorious line precedes thy destined birth, The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth. The deeds of Sám remotest realms admire, And Zál, and Rustem thy illustrious sire!" In private, then, she Rustem's letter placed Before his view, and brought with eager haste Three sparkling rubies, wedges three of gold, From Persia sent--"Behold," she said, "behold Thy father's gifts, will these thy doubts remove The costly pledges of paternal love! Behold this bracelet charm, of sovereign power To baffle fate in danger's awful hour; But thou must still the perilous secret keep, Nor ask the harvest of renown to reap; For when, by this peculiar signet known, Thy glorious father shall demand his son, Doomed from her only joy in life to part, O think what pangs will rend thy mother's heart!-- Seek not the fame which only teems with woe; Afrásiyáb is Rustem's deadliest foe! And if by him discovered, him I dread, Revenge will fail upon thy guiltless head."