The youth replied: "In vain thy sighs and tears, The secret breathes and mocks thy idle fears. No human power can fate's decrees control, Or check the kindled ardour of my soul. Then why from me the bursting truth conceal? My father's foes even now my vengeance feel; Even now in wrath my native legions rise, And sounds of desolation strike the skies; Káús himself, hurled from his ivory throne, Shall yield to Rustem the imperial crown, And thou, my mother, still in triumph seen, Of lovely Persia hailed the honoured queen! Then shall Túrán unite beneath my hand, And drive this proud oppressor from the land! Father and Son, in virtuous league combined, No savage despot shall enslave mankind; When Sun and Moon o'er heaven refulgent blaze, Shall little stars obtrude their feeble rays?"[15] He paused, and then: "O mother, I must now My father seek, and see his lofty brow; Be mine a horse, such as a prince demands, Fit for the dusty field, a warrior's hands; Strong as an elephant his form should be, And chested like the stag, in motion free, And swift as bird, or fish; it would disgrace A warrior bold on foot to show his face." The mother, seeing how his heart was bent, His day-star rising in the firmament, Commands the stables to be searched to find Among the steeds one suited to his mind; Pressing their backs he tries their strength and nerve, Bent double to the ground their bellies curve; Not one, from neighbouring plain and mountain brought, Equals the wish with which his soul is fraught; Fruitless on every side he anxious turns, Fruitless, his brain with wild impatience burns, But when at length they bring the destined steed, From Rakush bred, of lightning's winged speed, Fleet, as the arrow from the bow-string flies, Fleet, as the eagle darting through the skies, Rejoiced he springs, and, with a nimble bound, Vaults in his seat, and wheels the courser round; "With such a horse--thus mounted, what remains? Káús, the Persian King, no longer reigns!" High flushed he speaks--with youthful pride elate, Eager to crush the Monarch's glittering state; He grasps his javelin with a hero's might, And pants with ardour for the field of fight. Soon o'er the realm his fame expanding spread, And gathering thousands hasten'd to his aid. His Grand-sire, pleased, beheld the warrior-train Successive throng and darken all the plain; And bounteously his treasures he supplied, Camels, and steeds, and gold.--In martial pride, Sohráb was seen--a Grecian helmet graced His brow--and costliest mail his limbs embraced. Afrásiyáb now hears with ardent joy, The bold ambition of the warrior-boy, Of him who, perfumed with the milky breath Of infancy, was threatening war and death, And bursting sudden from his mother's side, Had launched his bark upon the perilous tide.