His giant figure planted on the sand,
Sole, like some single tower, which a chief
Has builded on the waste in former years
Against the robbers; and he saw that head,
Streak’d with its first grey hairs: hope fill’d his soul;
And he ran forwards, and embrac’d his knees,
And clasp’d his hand within his own and said:—
‘Oh, by thy father’s head! by thine own soul!
Art thou not Rustum? speak! art thou not he?’
“But Rustum eyed askance the kneeling youth,