PERISH the name of ROSTAM from the earth,

Perish the memory of that hateful day

Whose morn ill-omen’d frown’d upon his birth,

And on his soul dark serpent furies prey!

 

If he permit one moment of repose

To lull the purpose of that soul to rest,

’Till VENGEANCE midst a storm of keenest woes

Shall sheath this dagger in BAYSANGOR’s breast.

 

Sad AZARBIJIAN* mourns beneath thy sway,

Sighs swell each blast—her torrents flow with tears,

Dread FAMINE through each valley wings his way,

And HORROR in his dragon form appears.

 

Cruel Usurper! soon shalt thou deplore

Thy short-lived triumph o’er my mangled frame:

Tho’ thy barbarians welter’d in my gore,

His power that gave, restrained life’s fleeting flame.

 

The AZURE GENI* raised my drooping head,

Then first he felt soft pity guide his hand.

‘I come not now to claim thy life,” he said,

But lead thee to REVENGE by Heaven’s command.

 

‘Go, then, and riot in his base-born blood,

That leaves no vile successor of his line:

Yon hungry vultures claim their fated food,

My shafts unerring and my bow are thine!

 

Sure ’twas no phantom spoke—my eager ear

Devour’d each sound, my heart obeys the call:

I pant with ardour in the blest career,

O sacred AUTOSH!* speed the tyrant’s fall.

 

Then grant, Oh! grant me, for the pangs I’ve known,

To joy with IBBA* o’er his gloomy soul!

Mock with delight each agonizing groan,

’Till KAPH’s* black caverns echo with his howl!

 

Recounting all the wrongs his country bore;

My ghastly wounds fresh opening on his view;

Let DEMROSH NER’s* dread voice in thunders roar,

‘The curse of ROSTAM shall thy soul pursue!’