He spoke; and all the blood left Rustum’s cheeks,
And his knees totter’d, and he smote his hand
Against his breast, his heavy mailed hand,
That the hard iron corslet deg. clank’d aloud; deg.663
And to his heart he press’d the other hand, 665
And in a hollow voice he spake, and said:—­

“Sohrab, that were a proof which could not lie! 
If thou show this, then art thou Rustum’s son.”

Then, with weak hasty fingers, Sohrab loosed
His belt, and near the shoulder bared his arm, 670
And show’d a sign in faint vermilion points
Prick’d; as a cunning deg. workman, in Pekin, deg.672
Pricks with vermilion some clear porcelain vase,
An emperor’s gift—­at early morn he paints,
And all day long, and, when night comes, the lamp 675
Lights up his studious forehead and thin hands—­
So delicately prick’d the sign appear’d
On Sohrab’s arm, the sign of Rustum’s seal. 
It was that griffin, deg. which of old rear’d Zal, deg.679
Rustum’s great father, whom they left to die, 680
A helpless babe, among the mountain-rocks;
Him that kind creature found, and rear’d, and loved—­
Then Rustum took it for his glorious sign. 
And Sohrab bared that image on his arm,
And himself scann’d it long with mournful eyes, 685
And then he touch’d it with his hand and said:—­

“How say’st thou?  Is that sign the proper sign
Of Rustum’s son, or of some other man’s?”

He spoke; but Rustum gazed, and gazed, and stood
Speechless; and then he utter’d one sharp cry:  690
O boy—­thy father!—­and his voice choked there. 
And then a dark cloud pass’d before his eyes,
And his head swam, and he sank down to earth. 
But Sohrab crawl’d to where he lay, and cast
His arms about his neck, and kiss’d his lips, 695
And with fond faltering fingers stroked his cheeks,
Trying to call him back to life; and life
Came back to Rustum, and he oped his eyes,
And they stood wide with horror; and he seized
In both his hands the dust which lay around, 700
And threw it on his head, and smirch’d his hair,—­
His hair, and face, and beard, and glittering arms;
And strong convulsive groanings shook his breast,
And his sobs choked him; and he clutch’d his sword,
To draw it, and for ever let life out. 705
But Sohrab saw his thought, and held his hands,
And with a soothing voice he spake, and said:—­