25 quotes
And youth and bloom, and this delightful world.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
Who art thou then, that canst so touch my soul?
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
He has the wild stag’s foot, the lion’s heart.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
He slept light, an old man's sleep.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
They follow’d me, my hope, my fame, my star.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
When the dew glistens on the pearlèd ears,
A shiver runs through the deep corn for joy.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
Girl! nimble with thy feet, not with thy hands!
Curl'd minion, dancer, coiner of sweet words!
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
For a cloud
Grew suddenly in Heaven, and darked the sun.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
All night long I lie
Tossing and wakeful, and I come.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
Truth sits upon the lips of dying men,
And falsehood, while I lived, was far from mine.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
Then Sohrab with his sword smote Rustum’s helm,
Nor clove its steel quite through; but all the crest
He shore away, and that proud horsehair plume
Never till now defil’d, sunk to the dust.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts
Hail’d; but the Tartars knew not who he was.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
and left
His bed, and the warm rugs whereon he lay,
And o’er his chilly limbs his woollen coat
He pass’d.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
An unlopp’d trunk it was, and huge,
Still rough; like those which men in treeless plains
... fish from the flooded rivers.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
Rustum...hurl’d
His spear: down from the shoulder, down it came,
As on some partridge in the corn a hawk
That long has tower’d in the airy clouds
Drops like a plummet.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
And the first grey of morning fill’d the east,
And the fog rose out of the Oxus stream.
But all the Tartar camp along the stream
Was hush’d, and still the men were plunged in sleep.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
long files of horse, they stream’d:
As when, some grey November morn, the files,
In marching order spread.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
as the vast tide
Of the bright rocking Ocean sets to shore
At the full moon.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
No horse's cry was that, most like the roar
Of some pain'd desert-lion, who all day
Hath trail'd the hunter's javelin in his side,
And comes at night to die upon the sand.
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)
for it is not yet clear dawn.
Speak! is there news, or any night alarm?
Sohrab and Rustum (1853)