They three, in that long-distant summer-time The castle, and the dewy woods, and hunt And hound, and morn on those delightful hills In Ader-baijan. And he saw that Youth, Of age and looks to be his own dear son, Piteous and lovely, lying on the sand, Like some rich hyacinth which by the scythe Of an unskilful gardener has been cut, Mowing the garden grass-plots near its bed, And lies, a fragrant tower of purple bloom, On the mown, dying grass so Sohrab lay, Ixjvely in death, upon the common sand. And Rustum g.ized on him in grief, and said:
'O Sohrab, thou indeed art such a son Whom Rustum, wert thou his, might well have loved : Yet here thou errest, Sohrab, or else men Have told thce false thou art not Rustum' s son. For Rustum had no son; one child he had But one a girl; who with her mother now Plies some light female task, nor dreams of us
But Sohrab answered him in wrath; for now The anguish of the deep-fixed spear grew fierce, And he desired to draw forth the steel, And iet the blood flow free, and so to die Hut first lie would convince his stubborn foe; And, rising sternly on one arm, he said:
'Man, who art thou who dost deny my words? Truth sits upon the lips of dying men, And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine. I tell thcc, pricked upon this arm I bear
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