Rostam's Pavilion Given to the Fire

From B8.23, Rostam’s Lament for Sohrab. It illustrates B8.23.24–33:

B8.23.24
He bade them bring rich brocade for the dead,And veil the face from which all life had fled.
B8.23.25
All hopes and cities once before him spreadWere narrowed now to one small coffin’s bed.
B8.23.26
They bore him from the field with solemn tread,And toward his father’s pavilion led.
B8.23.27
The whole army cast dust upon each head,And mourned the cypress lying cold and dead.
B8.23.28
They set the royal pavilion aflame,And fed the fire with splendor in his name.
B8.23.29
Seven-colored brocades fed the pyre;The throne and leopard saddle joined the fire.
B8.23.30
A cry rose up, and Rostam’s tears would pour:“No horseman like you shall be seen in war.
B8.23.31
Woe for your strength, your wisdom, and your grace!Woe for your form, your stature, and your face!
B8.23.32
Torn from your mother, you lie dead apart;Your father bears the mark upon his heart.”
B8.23.33
He tore the earth with both his nails, and weptDown tears of blood, and rent the robes he kept.