And Rustum to the Persian front advanced,
And Sohrab arm’d in Haman’s tent, and came. 
And as afield the reapers cut a swath
Down through the middle of a rich man’s corn,
And on each side are squares of standing corn, 295
And in the midst a stubble, short and bare—­
So on each side were squares of men, with spears
Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand. 
And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast
His eyes toward the Tartar tents, and saw 300
Sohrab come forth, and eyed him as he came.

As some rich woman, on a winter’s morn,
Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge
Who with numb blacken’d fingers makes her fire—­
At cock-crow, on a starlit winter’s morn, 305
When the frost flowers deg. the whiten’d window-panes—­
And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts
Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum eyed
The unknown adventurous youth, who from afar
Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth 310
All the most valiant chiefs; long he perused deg. deg.311
His spirited air, and wonder’d who he was. 
For very young he seem’d, tenderly rear’d;
Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,
Which in a queen’s secluded garden throws 315
Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,
By midnight, to a bubbling fountain’s sound—­
So slender Sohrab seem’d, deg. so softly rear’d. deg.318
And a deep pity enter’d Rustum’s soul
As he beheld him coming; and he stood, 320
And beckon’d to him with his hand, and said:—­

“O thou young man, the air of Heaven is soft,
And warm, and pleasant; but the grave is cold! 
Heaven’s air is better than the cold dead grave. 
Behold me!  I am vast, deg. and clad in iron, deg.325
And tried deg.; and I have stood on many a field
Of blood, and I have fought with many a foe—­
Never was that field lost, or that foe saved. deg. deg.327
O Sohrab, wherefore wilt thou rush on death? 
Be govern’d deg.! quit the Tartar host, and come deg.330
To Iran, and be as my son to me,
And fight beneath my banner till I die! 
There are no youths in Iran brave as thou.”

So he spake, mildly; Sohrab heard his voice,
The mighty voice of Rustum, and he saw 335
His giant figure planted on the sand,
Sole, like some single tower, which a chief
Hath builded on the waste in former years
Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
Streak’d with its first grey hairs;—­hope filled his soul, 340
And he ran forward and embraced his knees,
And clasp’d his hand within his own, and said:—­

“O, by thy father’s head deg.! by thine own soul!                        deg.343
Art thou not Rustum deg.? speak! art thou not he?”                       deg.344

But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth, 345
And turn’d away, and spake to his own soul:—­