Quick she replied: "O'er Persia's fertile fields The savage Turk in vain his falchion wields; When King Káús this bold invasion hears, And mighty Rustem clad in arms appears! Destruction wide will glut the slippery plain, And not one man of all thy host remain. Alas! that bravery, high as thine, should meet Amidst such promise, with a sure defeat, But not a gleam of hope remains for thee, Thy wondrous valour cannot keep thee free. Avert the fate which o'er thy head impends, Return, return, and save thy martial friends!" Thus to be scorned, defrauded of his prey, With victory in his grasp--to lose the day! Shame and revenge alternate filled his mind; The suburb-town to pillage he consigned, And devastation--not a dwelling spared; The very owl was from her covert scared; Then thus: "Though luckless in my aim to-day, To-morrow shall behold a sterner fray; This fort, in ashes, scattered o'er the plain." He ceased--and turned towards his troops again; There, at a distance from the hostile power, He brooding waits the slaughter-breathing hour. Meanwhile the sire of Gúrd-afríd, who now Governed the fort, and feared the warrior's vow; Mournful and pale, with gathering woes opprest, His distant Monarch trembling thus addrest. But first invoked the heavenly power to shed Its choicest blessings o'er his royal head. "Against our realm with numerous foot and horse, A stripling warrior holds his ruthless course. His lion-breast unequalled strength betrays, And o'er his mien the sun's effulgence plays: Sohráb his name; like Sám Suwár he shows, Or Rustem terrible amidst his foes. The bold Hujír lies vanquished on the plain, And drags a captive's ignominious chain; Myriads of troops besiege our tottering wall, And vain the effort to suspend its fall. Haste, arm for fight, this Tartar-power withstand, Let sweeping Vengeance lift her flickering brand; Rustem alone may stem the roaring wave, And, prompt as bold, his groaning country save. Meanwhile in flight we place our only trust, Ere the proud ramparts crumble in the dust." Swift flies the messenger through secret ways, And to the King the dreadful tale conveys, Then passed, unseen, in night's concealing shade, The mournful heroes and the warrior maid.