How Suhráb was slain by Rustam

They tied their steeds while fate malignantlyRevolved o'erhead, and when dark fate is wrothFlint rocks become like wax. The two beganTo wrestle, holding by their leathern belts.As for Suhráb thou wouldst have said: "High heavenHath hampered him," while Rustam reaching clutchedThat warrior-leopard by the head and neck,Bent down the body of the gallant youth,Whose time was come and all whose strength was gone,And like a lion dashed him to the ground;Then, knowing that Suhráb would not stay under,Drew lightly from his waist his trenchant swordAnd gashed the bosom of his gallant son.

Whenever thou dost thirst for blood and stainTherewith thy glittering dagger, destinyWill be athirst for thy blood, and ordainEach hair of thine to be a sword for thee.

Suhráb cried: "Ah!" and writhed. Naught recked he thenOf good or ill. "I am alone to blame,"He said to Rustam. "Fate gave thee my key.This hump-backed sky reared me to slay me soon.Men of my years will mock me since my neckHath thus come down to dust. My mother told meHow I should recognise my father. ISought him in love and die of my desire.Alas! my toils are vain, I have not seen him.Now wert thou fish, or wrapped like night in gloom,Or quit of earth wast soaring like a star,My father would avenge me when he seethMy pillow bricks. Some chief will say to Rustam:—'Suhráb was slain and flung aside in scornWhile seeking thee.'"

Then Rustam grew distraught,The world turned black, his body failed; o'ercomeHe sank upon the ground and swooned away;Till coming to himself he cried in anguish:—"Where is the proof that thou art Rustam's son?May his name perish from among the great,For I am Rustam! Be my name forgotten,And may the son of Sám sit mourning me!"

He raved, his blood seethed, and with groans he pluckedHis hair up by the roots, while at the sightSuhráb sank swooning till at length he cried:—"If thou indeed art Rustam thou hast slain meIn wanton malice, for I made advances,But naught that I could do would stir thy love.Undo my breastplate, view my body bare,Behold thy jewel, see how sires treat sons!The drums beat at my gate, my mother cameWith blood-stained cheeks and stricken to the soulBecause I went. She bound this on mine armAnd said: 'Preserve this keepsake of thy father'sAnd mark its virtue.' It is mighty now,Now when the strife is over and the sonIs nothing to his sire."

When Rustam loosedThe mail and saw the gem he rent his clothes,And cried: "Oh! my brave son, approved by allAnd slain by me!"

With dust upon his headAnd streaming face he rent his locks untilHis blood ran down.

"Nay, this is worse and worse,"Suhráb said. "Wherefore weep? What will it profitTo slay thyself? What was to be hath been."

When day declined and Rustam came not backThere went forth twenty trusty warriorsTo learn the issue. Both the steeds were standingBemoiled with dust, but Rustam was not there.The nobles, thinking that he had been slain,Went to Káús in consternation saying:—"The throne of majesty is void of Rustam!"

A cry went up throughout the host and allWas in confusion. Then Káús bade soundThe drums and trumpets, Tús came, and the SháhSaid to the troops: "Dispatch a messengerThat he may find out what Suhráb hath done,And if there must be mourning through Írán.None will confront him with brave Rustam dead.We must attack in force and speedily."

While clamour raged Suhráb said thus to Rustam:—"The Turkmans' case is altered since my dayIs done. Use all thine influence that the SháhMay not attack them. They approached ÍránThrough trust in me, and I encouraged them.How could I tell, O famous paladin!That I should perish by my father's hand?Let them depart unscathed, and treat them kindly.I had a warrior in yonder holdCaught by my lasso. Him I often askedTo point thee out: mine eyes looked ever for thee.He told me all but this. His place is void.His words o'er-cast my day, and I despaired.See who he is and let him not be harmed.I marked in thee the tokens that my motherDescribed but trusted not mine eyes. The starsDecreed that I should perish by thy hand.I came like lightning and like wind I go.In heaven I may look on thee with joy."

Then Rustam choked, his heart was full of fire,His eyes of tears. He mounted quick as dustAnd came with lamentations to the hostIn grievous consternation at his deed.The Íránians catching sight of him fell prostrateAnd gave God praise that Rustam had returned,But when they saw the dust upon his dead,His clothes and bosom rent, they questioned him:"What meaneth this? For whom art thou thus troubled?"

He told the fearful deed, and all beganTo mourn aloud with him. His anguish grew.He told the nobles: "I have lost to-dayAll strength and courage. Fight not with Túrán:I have done harm enough."

Zawára cameWith breast and raiment rent and body wounded,Whom Rustam told about his slaughtered son,And added: "I repent me of my deed,And have unmeasured retribution. IHave slain my son now when my head is grey.He is cut off both root and stem, his loinsAre pierced, and heaven will weep for him for ever."

He sent and told Húmán: "The scimitarOf war is sheathed and thou commandest now.Watch o'er thy host. This is no day for fightOr further words with thee because through maliceThou didst not speak but sear my life and eyes."

Then to Zawára said the paladin:—"Escort Húmán, brave hero! to the river,Eschewing every act of violence."

Zawára went forthwith and gave the message,And he—the warrior that taught SuhrábThe art of war—thus answered: "'Twas Hajír,That evil-purposed stirrer up of strife,Who hid the matter of your general,And when Suhráb sought token of his sireSpake not but left his mind in ignorance.The black behaviour of Hajír hath broughtThis ill on us. His head should be struck off."

Zawára came back to inform the heroAbout Húmán, the host, of what Hajír,The evil and malevolent, had done,And how Suhráb had perished by his means.The hero was distracted at the words,The world grew dark before his eyes, he quittedThe battlefield and coming to HajírLaid hold upon his throat and threw him down,Then drawing forth a dagger of bright steelWas minded to behead him, but the noblesTook part with him and saved him from death's door.Then Rustam hurried to his wounded sonWith Tús, Gúdarz, and Gustaham, while allThe troops, concerned for Rustam, said to him:—"God will provide a remedy for this,And make thy sorrow easy."

Rustam seizedA dagger to behead himself, but weepingTheir own hearts' blood the chieftains hung on him.Gúdarz said: "Will it help thee to send upThe world in smoke? Though thou shalt do thyselfA hundred harms, how will it soothe thy darling?If there remaineth time for him on earthHe will remain; do thou remain with him;But, if the youth is passing from the world,Think! Who abideth in the world for ever?We are the quarry, and death hunteth usNo matter whether we wear casque or crown,But all are borne out when their end hath come,And afterward we wot not how they do.Our tears are needed on our own account.Who is there, chieftain! free from dread of Death?However long or short the way may beWe scatter when he joineth company."