The Sháh marched homeward with the host, while
Rustam

Stayed for Zawára's news about the foe,
Then marched at dawn toward Zábulistán,
Where Zál and all the folk went out to meet him
In anguish and distress. They reached the bier.
The nobles scattered dust upon their heads.
They docked the tails of their high-crested steeds,
And rent the brazen tymbals and the drums.
When Zál the son of Sám perceived the bier
He lighted from his steed with golden trappings,
While matchless Rustam went in front afoot
With heart and raiment rent. The warriors
Put off their belts, stooped to the dust before it,
And served as bearers, bending low their heads,
Alas! for him so noble and so brave!
While Rustam in his father's presence lifted
His son's head from the golden broidery,
And cried in anguish: “See how Sám the horsemau
Is sleeping sadly on this narrow bier!”
Zál showered tears of blood and plained to God,
While Rustam cried: “Chief! thou hast gone, and I
Am left in shame and wretchedness.”

Then Zál:—

“A strange event! His was a massive mace.
He was of note among the mightiest,
And none will bear his like.”

He spoke through tears;

His theme was all Suhráb. When Rustam reached

His hall he wailed and had the corse set down
In front of him. Rúdába, seeing it
And Rustam's tears, exclaimed: “Alack! thou hero!
Uplift thy head one moment from the bier.”
She wailed and heaving deep-drawn sighs ex-claimed:—
“O paladin, son of the Lion's Whelp!
None will be born so strong and brave as thou.
Henceforth thou wilt not whisper to thy mother
Tales of thy happy moments, for in sooth
Thou hast departed to the prison-house,
Departed to the mansion of the wretched.
Oh tell not what befell thee from thy father,
And why it was that thus he pierced thy heart!”
Her cries reached Saturn; all that heard her wept.
Dust-smirched and woebegone she sought her bower
While Rustam at the sight wept tears of blood.
Thou wouldst have asked: “Hath Doomsday come, for
joy
Hath fled all hearts?”

Again he brought the bier,

Whereon Suhráb the Lion lay, before
The gallant chiefs, and in his father's presence
Drew back the shroud. He showed the chiefs the corse,
And thou hadst said that heaven reeked with sorrow.
All that were present looked on helplessly,
All cheeks were livid, all robes rent, all hearts
Fulfilled with pain, all heads besmirched with dust.
The royal palace was one mighty bier,
And of that valiant Lion in his coffin

V. 516

Thou wouldst have said: “Tis' Sám with his huge
limbs,
And tired with warfare he hath gone to sleep.”
The sire replaced the gold brocade and closed
The narrow bier. He said: “Though I shall make
His tomb of gold and fill it round with musk
'Twill perish with me, but I can no more.”
While all went blind with grief he made a charnel
Shaped like a horse's hoof. The bier was formed
Of undried aloe-wood with golden clasps.
The tale of how the paladin had slain
His son went everywhere and all the world
Was full of grief, while Rustam sorrowed long,
But in the end perforce resigned himself.
The world hath many an act like this in mind,
On every soul it setteth many a brand,
For who possesseth sense and wit combined
The treachery of fortune to withstand?
The Íránians hearing burned with grief. Húmán,
For his part, went back to Túrán and told
A frásiyáb, who was all wonderment
And speculation touching that event.