How Suhráb overthrew Rustam

The bright sun shone, the raven night flew low,Great Rustam donned his tiger-skin cuirassAnd mounted on his fiery dragon-steed.Two leagues divided host from host, and allStood ready-armed. The hero with a casqueOf iron on his head came on the field.Suhráb on his side revelling with comradesHad thus addressed Húmán: "That lion-man,Who striveth with me, is as tall as I amAnd hath a dauntless heart. He favoureth meIn shoulder, breast, and arm, and thou wouldst sayThat some skilled workman laid us out by line.His very feet and stirrups move my loveAnd make me blush, for I perceive in himThe marks whereof my mother spake. MoreoverMy heart presageth that he must be Rustam,For few resemble him. I may not challengeMy sire or lightly meet him in the combat."

Húmán said: "Rustam oft hath countered me:This charger is like his, except in action."

At sunrise, when they woke, Suhráb arrayedHimself in mail and mirthful though resolvedSet forward shouting, ox-head mace in hand.He greeted Rustam smiling, thou hadst saidThat they had passed the night in company:—"How went the night? How is't with thee to-day?Why so intent on strife? Fling down thine arrowsAnd scimitar, and drop the hand of wrong.Let us dismount and, sitting, clear our facesWith wine, and, leaguing in God's sight, repentOur former strife. Until some other comethTo battle feast with me because I love thee,And weep for shamefastness. In sooth thou comestFrom heroes and wilt tell me of thy stock,For as my foe thou shouldst not hide thy name.Art thou the famous Rustam of Zábul,The son of valiant Zál the son of Sám?"

Then Rustam: "Young aspirant! heretoforeWe talked not thus but spake last night of wrestling.I am not to be gulled, attempt it not.Though thou art young I am no child myself,But girt to wrestle, and the end shall beAccording to the will of Providence.I have known ups and downs, and am not oneTo practise guile upon."

Suhráb replied:—"Old man! if thou rejectest my proposals. . .!I wished that thou shouldst die upon thy bed,And that thy kin should tomb thy soulless corpse,But I will end thee if it be God's will."

They lighted, tied their chargers to a rock,And cautiously advanced in mail and casqueWith troubled hearts. They wrestled like two lionsUntil their bodies ran with sweat and blood.From sunrise till the shadows grew they stroveUntil Suhráb, that maddened Elephant,Reached out, up-leaping with a lion's spring,Caught Rustam's girdle, tugged amain as though,Thou wouldst have said, to rend the earth, and shoutingWith rage and vengeance hurled him to the ground,Raised him aloft and, having dashed him down,Sat on his breast with visage, hand, and mouthBesmirched with dust, as when a lion fellethAn onager, then drew a bright steel daggerTo cut off Rustam's head, who seeing thisExclaimed: "Explain I must! O warriorThat takest Lions captive and art skilledWith lasso, mace, and scimitar! the customsAnd laws of arms with us are not as yours.In wrestling none may take a foeman's headThe first time that his back is on the ground,But having thrown him twice and won the nameOf Lion then he may behead the foe:Such is our custom."

Thus he sought to 'scapeThe Dragon's clutches and get off with life.The brave youth hearkened to the old man's words.In part through confidence, in part through fate,In part no doubt through magnanimity,Suhráb let Rustam go, turned toward the plain,Pursued an antelope that crossed his path,And utterly forgot his recent foe.When he was far away Húmán came upAs swift as dust and asked about the fight.He told Húmán what had been said and done,Who cried: "Alas! young man! art thou indeedSo weary of thy life? Woe for thy breast,Mien, stature, stirrups, and heroic feet!The mighty Lion whom thou hadst ensnaredThou hast let go and all is still to do.Mark how he will entreat thee on the dayOf battle owing to thy senseless act.A king once spake a proverb to the point:—'Despise not any foe however weak.'"

He took the very life out of Suhráb,Who standing sorrowing and amazed replied:—"Let us dismiss such fancies from our hearts,For he will come to fight with me to-morrow,And thou shalt see a yoke upon his neck."

He went to camp in dudgeon at his deed.When Rustam had escaped his foeman's clutchHe was again as 'twere a mount of steel.He went toward a rivulet as oneWho having fainted is himself again.He drank and bathed, then prayed to God for strengthAnd victory, not knowing what the sunAnd moon decreed, or how the turning skyWould rob him of the Crown upon his head.

The tale is told that Rustam had at firstSuch strength bestowed by Him who giveth allThat if he walked upon a rock his feetWould sink therein. Such puissance as thatProved an abiding trouble, and he prayedTo God in bitterness of soul to minishHis strength that he might walk like other men.According to his prayer his mountain-strengthHad shrunk, but face to face with such a task,And pierced by apprehension of Suhráb,He cried to God and said: "Almighty Lord!Protect Thy slave in his extremity.O holy Fosterer! I ask againMy former strength."

God granted him his prayer,The strength which once had waned now waxed in him.He went back to the field perturbed and paleWhile, like a maddened elephant, Suhráb,With lasso on his arm and bow in hand,Came in his pride and roaring like a lion,His plunging charger flinging up the soil.When Rustam saw the bearing of his foeHe was astound and gazing earnestlyWeighed in his mind the chances of the fight.Suhráb, puffed up with youthful arrogance,On seeing Rustam in his strength and Grace,Cried: "Thou that didst escape the Lion's claws!Why com'st thou boldly to confront me? Speak!Hast thou no interests of thine own to seek?"