Sohráb now buckles on his war attire, His heart all softness, and his brain all fire; Around his lips such smiles benignant played, He seemed to greet a friend, as thus he said:-- "Here let us sit together on the plain, Here, social sit, and from the fight refrain; Ask we from heaven forgiveness of the past, And bind our souls in friendship that may last; Ours be the feast--let us be warm and free, For powerful instinct draws me still to thee; Fain would my heart in bland affection join, Then let thy generous ardour equal mine; And kindly say, with whom I now contend-- What name distinguished boasts my warrior-friend! Thy name unfit for champion brave to hide, Thy name so long, long sought, and still denied; Say, art thou Rustem, whom I burn to know? Ingenuous say, and cease to be my foe!" Sternly the mighty Champion cried, "Away-- Hence with thy wiles--now practised to delay; The promised struggle, resolute, I claim, Then cease to move me to an act of shame." Sohráb rejoined--"Old man! thou wilt not hear The words of prudence uttered in thine ear; Then, Heaven! look on." Preparing for the shock, Each binds his charger to a neighbouring rock; And girds his loins, and rubs his wrists, and tries Their suppleness and force, with angry eyes; And now they meet--now rise, and now descend, And strong and fierce their sinewy arms extend; Wrestling with all their strength they grasp and strain, And blood and sweat flow copious on the plain; Like raging elephants they furious close; Commutual wounds are given, and wrenching blows. Sohráb now clasps his hands, and forward springs Impatiently, and round the Champion clings; Seizes his girdle belt, with power to tear The very earth asunder; in despair Rustem, defeated, feels his nerves give way, And thundering falls. Sohráb bestrides his prey: Grim as the lion, prowling through the wood, Upon a wild ass springs, and pants for blood. His lifted sword had lopt the gory head, But Rustem, quick, with crafty ardour said:-- "One moment, hold! what, are our laws unknown? A Chief may fight till he is twice o'erthrown; The second fall, his recreant blood is spilt, These are our laws, avoid the menaced guilt." Proud of his strength, and easily deceived, The wondering youth the artful tale believed; Released his prey, and, wild as wind or wave, Neglecting all the prudence of the brave, Turned from the place, nor once the strife renewed, But bounded o'er the plain and other cares pursued, As if all memory of the war had died, All thoughts of him with whom his strength was tried.