The Champion, silent, joined his bands at rest, And spurned at length despondence from his breast; Removed from all, he cheered Zúára's heart, And nerved his soul to bear a trying part:-- "Ere early morning gilds the ethereal plain, In martial order range my warrior-train; And when I meet in all his glorious pride, This valiant Turk whom late my rage defied, Should fortune's smiles my arduous task requite, Bring them to share the triumph of my might; But should success the stripling's arm attend, And dire defeat and death my glories end, To their loved homes my brave associates guide; Let bowery Zábul all their sorrows hide-- Comfort my venerable father's heart; In gentlest words my heavy fate impart. The dreadful tidings to my mother bear, And soothe her anguish with the tenderest care; Say, that the will of righteous Heaven decreed, That thus in arms her mighty son should bleed. Enough of fame my various toils acquired, When warring demons, bathed in blood, expired. Were life prolonged a thousand lingering years, Death comes at last and ends our mortal fears; Kirshásp, and Sám, and Narímán, the best And bravest heroes, who have ever blest This fleeting world, were not endued with power, To stay the march of fate one single hour; The world for them possessed no fixed abode, The path to death's cold regions must be trod; Then, why lament the doom ordained for all? Thus Jemshíd fell, and thus must Rustem fall." When the bright dawn proclaimed the rising day, The warriors armed, impatient of delay; But first Sohráb, his proud confederate nigh, Thus wistful spoke, as swelled the boding sigh-- "Now, mark my great antagonist in arms! His noble form my filial bosom warms; My mother's tokens shine conspicuous here, And all the proofs my heart demands, appear; Sure this is Rustem, whom my eyes engage! Shall I, O grief! provoke my Father's rage? Offended Nature then would curse my name, And shuddering nations echo with my shame." He ceased, then Húmán: "Vain, fantastic thought, Oft have I been where Persia's Champion fought; And thou hast heard, what wonders he performed, When, in his prime, Mázinderán was stormed; That horse resembles Rustem's, it is true, But not so strong, nor beautiful to view."