The Impious Feast A Poem in Ten Books. By Robert Landor |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. | BOOK IX. |
| X. |
 | The Impious Feast |  |
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BOOK IX.
The Feast suspends its revelry—be still,
Ye flattering choirs! she enters in whose praise
Your hymns though strong to charm, must waste their skill—
Some prescient terror mingles with their power:
How many hearts throb now—yet throb unblest!
Better the sudden pause—the breathless gaze—
The dubious awe which wait her from the sill:
Chaldæan harlot, dangerous is thy guest!
Behold, her jewelled head provokes the shower
Darkening with curses o'er thee!—She shall rest
No more! hate dims the crown which she must wear—
Belshazzar's Queen and new-espoused—her days
Decline not, set not, but stop short—despair
Calls to the nuptial feast, and misery pays the dower!
Ye flattering choirs! she enters in whose praise
Your hymns though strong to charm, must waste their skill—
Some prescient terror mingles with their power:
How many hearts throb now—yet throb unblest!
Better the sudden pause—the breathless gaze—
The dubious awe which wait her from the sill:
Chaldæan harlot, dangerous is thy guest!
Behold, her jewelled head provokes the shower
278
No more! hate dims the crown which she must wear—
Belshazzar's Queen and new-espoused—her days
Decline not, set not, but stop short—despair
Calls to the nuptial feast, and misery pays the dower!
With eyes cast down she passes from the door;
Long lines of princely virgins walk before,
Chaldæa's boast unveiled with braided hair—
Beauty hath yet its triumphs for an hour—
These first—Earth's loftiest matrons follow. Fair
Are they who scatter roses on the floor,
Admired, a moment praised, but straight forgot—
For parsimonious nature seldom mingles
The richest of her gifts—surveys her store
Of happy forms, choice hues, proportions rare—
Combining all she has without a blot,
And showering grace o'er harmony—or singles
One face from many millions by her care
For undisputed sovereignty as here:
Ailona feels—what heart so pure feels not?—
Love's homage with flushed cheek cast down; a tear
Bedews its rosy bashfulness, revealing
Some thought of fire which neither hope can soothe,
Nor glory quench, nor flattery charm from fear—
'Gainst ill-suggesting pride to faith appealing,
And grieved remembrance still forced back by truth.
Long lines of princely virgins walk before,
Chaldæa's boast unveiled with braided hair—
Beauty hath yet its triumphs for an hour—
These first—Earth's loftiest matrons follow. Fair
Are they who scatter roses on the floor,
Admired, a moment praised, but straight forgot—
For parsimonious nature seldom mingles
The richest of her gifts—surveys her store
Of happy forms, choice hues, proportions rare—
Combining all she has without a blot,
And showering grace o'er harmony—or singles
One face from many millions by her care
For undisputed sovereignty as here:
Ailona feels—what heart so pure feels not?—
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Bedews its rosy bashfulness, revealing
Some thought of fire which neither hope can soothe,
Nor glory quench, nor flattery charm from fear—
'Gainst ill-suggesting pride to faith appealing,
And grieved remembrance still forced back by truth.
Once seen, all eyes rest on her; every knee
Bows down; Belshazzar meets her from his place
And leads her whence he came; on high they sit
Above their guests—a joyful Bridegroom he,
In life's ascension still, nor far from youth:
Gems sparkle midst the flowers which shade her face
Upraised at length—those well might worship it
Who feared the marble shapes their hands had wrought
Imputing strength to beauty. “Blessed are ye!
“Yourselves as Gods have power to bless!” they cry;
“The eternal natures mingle with our race;
“Bel sends on earth a daughter from the sky—
“Gods too are ye!”—But once, and that but late,
Sounds such as these had reached her ears—she thought
Plebeian frenzy bellowed at the gate
—So they whom Lot escaped, the mad and blind—
What all within would loath as blasphemy:
Nor knew that wiser hearts or lips dare lie
Thus far—and men give worship to mankind.
Bows down; Belshazzar meets her from his place
And leads her whence he came; on high they sit
Above their guests—a joyful Bridegroom he,
In life's ascension still, nor far from youth:
Gems sparkle midst the flowers which shade her face
Upraised at length—those well might worship it
Who feared the marble shapes their hands had wrought
Imputing strength to beauty. “Blessed are ye!
“Yourselves as Gods have power to bless!” they cry;
“The eternal natures mingle with our race;
“Bel sends on earth a daughter from the sky—
“Gods too are ye!”—But once, and that but late,
Sounds such as these had reached her ears—she thought
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—So they whom Lot escaped, the mad and blind—
What all within would loath as blasphemy:
Nor knew that wiser hearts or lips dare lie
Thus far—and men give worship to mankind.
Now first on idols rests the Virgin's eye;
Bel's image in the midst glows opposite:
Of gold itself, round both its legs are twined
Two golden asps that o'er the hips unite.
An altar smokes beneath its nostrils, piled
With aromatic barks and gums:—beside
That huge abomination stands a sight
Almost as odious to the twice beguiled,
Urr, Assur-baladan, Belsypphirine,
Rabphalga, Pul—but first in state and pride,
With dove-surmounted coronet, and rod
Outstretched, the red-robed Cathura: his sign
Controls their choirs; he pours the oil and wine;
Both priests and guests are governed by his nod—
Religion beckoning mirth to lust!—The Bride
But little knew till now that neither shades
Conceal in grove or thicket—nor fanes confine
Chaldæa's shame—that here it scorns to hide:
Midst palace halls the priest sets up his God,
And royal chambers have their lamp and shrine—
Joy, Grief, Life, Death—the imperious pest invades—
The couch, the tomb—wherever men abide.
Bel's image in the midst glows opposite:
Of gold itself, round both its legs are twined
Two golden asps that o'er the hips unite.
An altar smokes beneath its nostrils, piled
With aromatic barks and gums:—beside
That huge abomination stands a sight
Almost as odious to the twice beguiled,
Urr, Assur-baladan, Belsypphirine,
Rabphalga, Pul—but first in state and pride,
With dove-surmounted coronet, and rod
Outstretched, the red-robed Cathura: his sign
Controls their choirs; he pours the oil and wine;
Both priests and guests are governed by his nod—
Religion beckoning mirth to lust!—The Bride
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Conceal in grove or thicket—nor fanes confine
Chaldæa's shame—that here it scorns to hide:
Midst palace halls the priest sets up his God,
And royal chambers have their lamp and shrine—
Joy, Grief, Life, Death—the imperious pest invades—
The couch, the tomb—wherever men abide.
Alas! that she should learn so soon!—Afraid
To think that others hate, Beari's scowl
And Haza's envious gaze afflict the Maid.
With forehead lowered to hide her tears, she eats
Unconscious what or whence—she sips the bowl
Nor knows that kings present it. From their seats
The guests stand up; with incense in their hands
Both Cathura and his priests draw near: she sees
The censers smoking as of late to Bel,
The sacred millet strewn, the golden wands
Held out toward her, and princes on their knees—
Remorse interprets 'twixt the heart and ear—
“Hail, goddess, midst Chaldæa's deities!
“Hail, idol, added to the hosts of Hell!”
To think that others hate, Beari's scowl
And Haza's envious gaze afflict the Maid.
With forehead lowered to hide her tears, she eats
Unconscious what or whence—she sips the bowl
Nor knows that kings present it. From their seats
The guests stand up; with incense in their hands
Both Cathura and his priests draw near: she sees
The censers smoking as of late to Bel,
The sacred millet strewn, the golden wands
Held out toward her, and princes on their knees—
Remorse interprets 'twixt the heart and ear—
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“Hail, idol, added to the hosts of Hell!”
There is a power scarce named more strong than fear—
Yet fear makes part of it—shame—reverence—awe—
The spirit of multitudes above our own—
Seated in watchful eyes its shapes appear,
Shapes diverse, feeble—each despised alone,
But joined, as here, omnipotent. Its law,
Mightiest no doubt in youth, lasts all life long;
Death has seemed less or easier—for the young
Have sometimes died in keeping it—God's wrath
Provoked—remorse with self-contempt—the pain
Of years forefelt—whatever conscience hath
Condemned in vain to hide, or reproduced in vain.
Yet fear makes part of it—shame—reverence—awe—
The spirit of multitudes above our own—
Seated in watchful eyes its shapes appear,
Shapes diverse, feeble—each despised alone,
But joined, as here, omnipotent. Its law,
Mightiest no doubt in youth, lasts all life long;
Death has seemed less or easier—for the young
Have sometimes died in keeping it—God's wrath
Provoked—remorse with self-contempt—the pain
Of years forefelt—whatever conscience hath
Condemned in vain to hide, or reproduced in vain.
A hundred priests kneel down before her feet;
Myrrh, cassia, spikenard, scatter they; with eyes
Abased they worship—“Bel subdues the strong!
“His servants knew thee, Virgin, in the street!
“Belshazzar is his image here—our cries
“When right availed not, mounted to his seat—
“He hath reclaimed his own, ye choirs begin the song!”
Myrrh, cassia, spikenard, scatter they; with eyes
Abased they worship—“Bel subdues the strong!
“His servants knew thee, Virgin, in the street!
“Belshazzar is his image here—our cries
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“He hath reclaimed his own, ye choirs begin the song!”
SEMICHORUS.
Thy voice hath reached beyond the mountains, Bel!The shadows hear thee—Earth and Ocean rest:
This is thy throne: O! tarry while we tell
Thy power when rebel kings defied and fell—
Thy glory—ever blessing—ever blest!
SEMICHORUS.
Art thou not proudest when thou passest onAnd captive darkness gasps before thy car?
Art thou not happiest when thy dazzling zone
Throwing round Earth—almighty and alone—
Above the stars thou laughest from afar?
CHORUS.
Chaldæa's God! with mighty joy rejoice,Father of Earth and Heaven—O Bel! arise!
Awake the slumberer—nations lift your voice!
The Virgin Spouse awaits with downcast eyes.
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SEMICHORUS.
Vast are thy temples, radiant Lord! and vastThe gates, the towers, the ramparts stretched around—
So high, that faintly breathes the trumpet's blast—
So long, the thundering steeds advancing fast
Seem without colour, motion, shape, or sound!
SEMICHORUS.
Look for those armies now—thou sawest their pride—Is this the mighty plain they covered o'er?
Thus do they lie, who triumphed and defied,
Like trodden fruits and chaplets that have died
Midst revelry the many-tinctured floor?
CHORUS.
O Bel! so spent—so abject is the greatBefore thy face—thy holiest walls before!
Teach us, O Bel! to humble him we hate—
Him who can save, O teach us to adore!
Loud voices fill their strain; the broad roofs ring
Smit by its svmphony—nor yet subside
The giddy thoughts it stirs—with hands spread wide
And eyes upturned, again the arch-mischief prays.
“First, to the Gods be glory!—to the King
“Fear, adoration, empire, length of days
“In righteous peace!—their blessings to the Bride—
“Wealth, youth, unfading beauty, fruitful love,
“And cloudless years upon the earth—above
“A happier throne—a crown of brighter rays
“Full in Bel's presence, next his couch assigned!
“Belshazzar is his image, she his pride;
“In Earth and Heaven the Serpent weds the Dove!
“For us it is enough of bliss to gaze—
“Before her kneel the patrons of mankind,
“She kneels before the Gods!”—“She honours thee!”
“All Babel's kings have worshipped thee!” replied,
So taught, his fellows when he ceased—“In chains
“Earth's rebel princes, brought from sea to sea,
“Have bowed their heads uncrowned before thy fanes!
“They saw the Gods they trusted at thy side!
“To Bel, the holiest, glory!”
Smit by its svmphony—nor yet subside
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And eyes upturned, again the arch-mischief prays.
“First, to the Gods be glory!—to the King
“Fear, adoration, empire, length of days
“In righteous peace!—their blessings to the Bride—
“Wealth, youth, unfading beauty, fruitful love,
“And cloudless years upon the earth—above
“A happier throne—a crown of brighter rays
“Full in Bel's presence, next his couch assigned!
“Belshazzar is his image, she his pride;
“In Earth and Heaven the Serpent weds the Dove!
“For us it is enough of bliss to gaze—
“Before her kneel the patrons of mankind,
“She kneels before the Gods!”—“She honours thee!”
“All Babel's kings have worshipped thee!” replied,
So taught, his fellows when he ceased—“In chains
“Earth's rebel princes, brought from sea to sea,
“Have bowed their heads uncrowned before thy fanes!
“They saw the Gods they trusted at thy side!
“To Bel, the holiest, glory!”
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On his feet,
As one who waits in haste, Belshazzar rose,
With hand outstretched impatient toward the seat
Where tarried still aghast the breathless Maid:
Her eyes were fixed on his—the last night's snows
Are scarce more coldly coloured than her cheek:
Voiceless she sat, bewildered and afraid,
With lips which spake not yet essayed to speak.
At length, 'twixt love and shame, Earth's Monarch thus:
“Why looks Ailona doubtfully?—the Sire
“Who gives his infant children light and bread—
“Supreme, almighty, gracious to the meek,
“Asks love of all—and is a God to us:
“At morn his winged steeds are yoked with fire—
“Their breath it was which hung above the west
“In crimson clouds through fields of azure spread—
“To-night we feast—and lo! he comes a guest!”
As one who waits in haste, Belshazzar rose,
With hand outstretched impatient toward the seat
Where tarried still aghast the breathless Maid:
Her eyes were fixed on his—the last night's snows
Are scarce more coldly coloured than her cheek:
Voiceless she sat, bewildered and afraid,
With lips which spake not yet essayed to speak.
At length, 'twixt love and shame, Earth's Monarch thus:
“Why looks Ailona doubtfully?—the Sire
“Who gives his infant children light and bread—
“Supreme, almighty, gracious to the meek,
“Asks love of all—and is a God to us:
“At morn his winged steeds are yoked with fire—
“Their breath it was which hung above the west
“In crimson clouds through fields of azure spread—
“To-night we feast—and lo! he comes a guest!”
Thus he; aloud the feasted concourse said:
“To Bel, the holiest, glory!” Again in vain
They called—she kneels indeed, yet not toward him,
That two-formed idol—but the king: his brow
Seems darker than it was, the lamps burn dim
Around—the roofs rock over her—through pain
Her throat has lost its utterance—“If I bow—”
Is all she says—the pillars seem to reel—
Nor can she add what curse. “O lost! quite lost!
“Flee swift toward shame—be sure to perish thou!
“Behold those whispering Queens—that treacherous Priest!
“'Tis wise to sit and eat, yet scorn to kneel!
“They point the finger who abhor thee most—
“Both laugh—both triumph o'er the blasted feast!”
Thus Mirria at her ear: but bolder now,
“Came she within for this?” the Pontiff cries;
“Are these Belshazzar's banquets?—Cursed is he
“Who tastes the wine yet scorns the sacrifice!
“Till every head stoop down, and every knee—
“Ye princes hence! let all who fear Bel rise!”
“To Bel, the holiest, glory!” Again in vain
They called—she kneels indeed, yet not toward him,
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Seems darker than it was, the lamps burn dim
Around—the roofs rock over her—through pain
Her throat has lost its utterance—“If I bow—”
Is all she says—the pillars seem to reel—
Nor can she add what curse. “O lost! quite lost!
“Flee swift toward shame—be sure to perish thou!
“Behold those whispering Queens—that treacherous Priest!
“'Tis wise to sit and eat, yet scorn to kneel!
“They point the finger who abhor thee most—
“Both laugh—both triumph o'er the blasted feast!”
Thus Mirria at her ear: but bolder now,
“Came she within for this?” the Pontiff cries;
“Are these Belshazzar's banquets?—Cursed is he
“Who tastes the wine yet scorns the sacrifice!
“Till every head stoop down, and every knee—
“Ye princes hence! let all who fear Bel rise!”
As some poor bird whose wild notes filled the air,
Hid midst her native brake on heath or lea—
Content to spend their warbled sweetness there,
Far from mankind, and happy with the free:
Till lured by cunning wiles she quits her tree,
Soon caught, and closely caged—a hapless thrall!
If chance the frenzied flutterings of despair
Should loose her bars, more wretched still is she.
Crowds lift their hands and chase her through the hall—
She cannot rest, she knows not where to flee;
Her bruised wing beats the roof, and skims the stair,
Through fire she hastes, 'gainst pillar, door, and wall,
Then sinks at last where most she dreads to be.
Hid midst her native brake on heath or lea—
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Far from mankind, and happy with the free:
Till lured by cunning wiles she quits her tree,
Soon caught, and closely caged—a hapless thrall!
If chance the frenzied flutterings of despair
Should loose her bars, more wretched still is she.
Crowds lift their hands and chase her through the hall—
She cannot rest, she knows not where to flee;
Her bruised wing beats the roof, and skims the stair,
Through fire she hastes, 'gainst pillar, door, and wall,
Then sinks at last where most she dreads to be.
Meek Child of captive Israel! bid them rave!
Be strong—nor fear to die!—despise their call!—
Alas too late!—the affrighted spirit fails—
Look once behind thee! God is strong to save—
In vain! henceforth thou hast no God—the chase
Is ended now—she falls, and Bel prevails!
Down at the altar sinks she, down she bows
Her head at length before the idol's face!
—O that the pavement where she kneels had rent
One moment ere she touched it!—that a grave
Had gaped and closed where stoop those jewelled brows!
Idolatress—apostate—of her race
First shame, and last!—farewell the heart's content
Henceforth—the spirit's thankfulness—the ease
Of guiltless thoughts, glad hopes, and patience blest
Peace comes to all that seek it on their knees,
And all that ask in faith are sure of grace—
She must not hope—she cannot find a place
In which to hide her fears or be at rest:
Peace never shall return again! Farewell
The silent house, dim court, and fragrant grove!
Jehovah's curse is burning in her breast—
Before her eyes behold the bulk of Bel!
There is who will judge righteously—his hour
Draws near at last to question, and reprove
Those haughty thoughts through which, though warned, she fell:
He sees her wanderings—he can witness best
If craft seduced her heart from truth—if power
Subdued—or flattery turned aside—or love
Conspired with fear to aid the snares of Hell!
Be strong—nor fear to die!—despise their call!—
Alas too late!—the affrighted spirit fails—
Look once behind thee! God is strong to save—
In vain! henceforth thou hast no God—the chase
Is ended now—she falls, and Bel prevails!
Down at the altar sinks she, down she bows
Her head at length before the idol's face!
—O that the pavement where she kneels had rent
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Had gaped and closed where stoop those jewelled brows!
Idolatress—apostate—of her race
First shame, and last!—farewell the heart's content
Henceforth—the spirit's thankfulness—the ease
Of guiltless thoughts, glad hopes, and patience blest
Peace comes to all that seek it on their knees,
And all that ask in faith are sure of grace—
She must not hope—she cannot find a place
In which to hide her fears or be at rest:
Peace never shall return again! Farewell
The silent house, dim court, and fragrant grove!
Jehovah's curse is burning in her breast—
Before her eyes behold the bulk of Bel!
There is who will judge righteously—his hour
Draws near at last to question, and reprove
Those haughty thoughts through which, though warned, she fell:
He sees her wanderings—he can witness best
If craft seduced her heart from truth—if power
290
Conspired with fear to aid the snares of Hell!
Enthroned again the King and Bride recline;
Obstructed mirth surmounts its hindrances
To flow more largely midst their guests:—his art
The baffled Priest recalls and warms with wine;
Then toward the ivory table where they sit
In proverbs lifts his voice and gravely says:
“Tears mock consent; to yield and yet repine
“Shows less of will than fear—the struggling heart
“Which heaves so high because it must submit,
“Is proud, rebellious, hard! Bel loves not those
“That eye ill-pleased his altars—pale with care—
“Constrained as thou—and eager to depart;
“A froward spirit our downcast looks disclose;
“The dubious giver mars the gifts conferred;
“Cold guests make sad the banquet; and the prayer
“Which flies unwillingly ascends unheard.
“Reluctant service suits an angry God—
“The God of Israel!—well might sorrow bring
“Its daily tears for sacrifices—well
“Love flee from him whose sceptre was a rod
“Outstretched to bruise his people!—Whom the king
“Vouchsafes to worship—and he worships Bel—
“Thou too, his Bride, shouldest honour.”
Obstructed mirth surmounts its hindrances
To flow more largely midst their guests:—his art
The baffled Priest recalls and warms with wine;
Then toward the ivory table where they sit
In proverbs lifts his voice and gravely says:
“Tears mock consent; to yield and yet repine
“Shows less of will than fear—the struggling heart
“Which heaves so high because it must submit,
“Is proud, rebellious, hard! Bel loves not those
“That eye ill-pleased his altars—pale with care—
“Constrained as thou—and eager to depart;
“A froward spirit our downcast looks disclose;
“The dubious giver mars the gifts conferred;
“Cold guests make sad the banquet; and the prayer
“Which flies unwillingly ascends unheard.
“Reluctant service suits an angry God—
“The God of Israel!—well might sorrow bring
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“Love flee from him whose sceptre was a rod
“Outstretched to bruise his people!—Whom the king
“Vouchsafes to worship—and he worships Bel—
“Thou too, his Bride, shouldest honour.”
Ere the pride
Of that oracular tongue had ceased to ring,
Contending, as it seemed, for Bel—replied
A voice beyond yet louder—“Hearest thou this
“Belshazzar thus forbearing?—Is she placed
“Where slaves thrice sold may stand aloof to hiss
“And mock her tears?—Behold the double-faced!
“How well his wishes travel with his word!
“Speak—bid me rise—and by his Gods the sword
“Shall spare not for their altars!” He it is
That calls—in whom thoughts—passions—hid for years
So smothered that they seemed extinct, if known
As having been—now kindled by the scoff
'Gainst God, and what was innocence betrayed,
Flame madly forth—Love shakes unkindness off—
On Astath's brow no festal wreath appears:
His eye expects its signal from the throne;
His eager hand is busy with its blade;
The injurious words still beat upon his ears—
His voice is in the halls—and his alone.
Of that oracular tongue had ceased to ring,
Contending, as it seemed, for Bel—replied
A voice beyond yet louder—“Hearest thou this
“Belshazzar thus forbearing?—Is she placed
“Where slaves thrice sold may stand aloof to hiss
“And mock her tears?—Behold the double-faced!
“How well his wishes travel with his word!
“Speak—bid me rise—and by his Gods the sword
“Shall spare not for their altars!” He it is
That calls—in whom thoughts—passions—hid for years
So smothered that they seemed extinct, if known
As having been—now kindled by the scoff
'Gainst God, and what was innocence betrayed,
Flame madly forth—Love shakes unkindness off—
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His eye expects its signal from the throne;
His eager hand is busy with its blade;
The injurious words still beat upon his ears—
His voice is in the halls—and his alone.
“She hath gone far already! she hath cleft
“The heart of age for loving her too much—
“Despised the law which threatens worse than death,
“And worshipped Bel, thou bidding—she hath left
“Companions—kindred—nature! These, and such,
“Have none to leave or love—they give their breath
“As gold held out may quicken zeal—incense
“The mighty, shame the feeble, rob the poor,
“Exacting bread from misery: ere they dine
“Some lamb must bleed: fumed strong with frankincense
“Their broidered garments sweep the marble floor:
“Mercy itself must tarry for their sign—
“The Gods are angry if their servants are:
“They love the altar for its myrrh and wine,
“And stand to welcome gifts beside the door,
“But spurn the wretch who cannot pay for prayer.”
“The heart of age for loving her too much—
“Despised the law which threatens worse than death,
“And worshipped Bel, thou bidding—she hath left
“Companions—kindred—nature! These, and such,
“Have none to leave or love—they give their breath
“As gold held out may quicken zeal—incense
“The mighty, shame the feeble, rob the poor,
“Exacting bread from misery: ere they dine
“Some lamb must bleed: fumed strong with frankincense
“Their broidered garments sweep the marble floor:
“Mercy itself must tarry for their sign—
“The Gods are angry if their servants are:
“They love the altar for its myrrh and wine,
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“But spurn the wretch who cannot pay for prayer.”
Ere yet the spring returns, and light divides
No equal hours with darkness—while the day
Spans with brief arch depressed the encumbered sky—
Ere builds the clamorous rook, or buds the spray—
When near and swift the drizzling tempest rides
'Twixt earth and that diminished lamp on high—
Hard lies its weight upon the paler sides
Of verdant pines oppressed, or larches gray;
So long inclined that he who sees them sway
Might almost doubt their rising—till subsides
The winter's breath awhile, or passes by—
Released at length nor straight nor still are they;
Back whence they bent, the unloaded branches fly
Perchance as far beyond where rest abides.
No equal hours with darkness—while the day
Spans with brief arch depressed the encumbered sky—
Ere builds the clamorous rook, or buds the spray—
When near and swift the drizzling tempest rides
'Twixt earth and that diminished lamp on high—
Hard lies its weight upon the paler sides
Of verdant pines oppressed, or larches gray;
So long inclined that he who sees them sway
Might almost doubt their rising—till subsides
The winter's breath awhile, or passes by—
Released at length nor straight nor still are they;
Back whence they bent, the unloaded branches fly
Perchance as far beyond where rest abides.
Awhile that serpent-tongue prevailed with lies
Subverting peace; but not unmarked its spite,
Nor ill-approved the scorn which warred with pride:
He speaks who ever was accounted wise:
With swifter current runs the downward tide;
Men base themselves detest the hypocrite:—
Belshazzar paused awhile and thus replied:
“The lips which trouble her had better spit,
“Rebellious Priest, their blasphemies at me:
“Our household dogs are near us where we sit,
“And lo! their eyes are on thee! Is it well
“To worship those I honour?—worship her!
“Toward whom I bid she kneels—what more do ye?
“Bel stands before my face—the Priests of Bel
“Adore, or not, his image as I will;
“They draw the breath of life when I am still—
“But turn to dust and perish, if I stir.”
Subverting peace; but not unmarked its spite,
Nor ill-approved the scorn which warred with pride:
He speaks who ever was accounted wise:
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Men base themselves detest the hypocrite:—
Belshazzar paused awhile and thus replied:
“The lips which trouble her had better spit,
“Rebellious Priest, their blasphemies at me:
“Our household dogs are near us where we sit,
“And lo! their eyes are on thee! Is it well
“To worship those I honour?—worship her!
“Toward whom I bid she kneels—what more do ye?
“Bel stands before my face—the Priests of Bel
“Adore, or not, his image as I will;
“They draw the breath of life when I am still—
“But turn to dust and perish, if I stir.”
Proudly he ended threatening pride: O wise!
Who grant man godhead—Earth's extravagant Child!
—And him the most untutored of his kind—
To arm contempt with thunder—drench with lies—
And make his breath more general than the wind!
Ye who have raised so high, must place him higher;
He will not share your temples—thus beguiled,
Supreme on Earth, at least, and unconfined,
A Tyrant o'er his rival deities—
He will spurn equal worship, and aspire
As some, long since, in Rome. The Pontiff smiled,
Then bowed his head, but answered not again—
Though mute unshamed. At length with accents mild
Spake Crœsus thus. “Compliance free from pain
“Brings to the shrine no sacrifice of will—
“Too lavish duty scarce becomes a Bride;
“Repentant anguish sues not peace in vain;
“The infant stoops its face upon our knees,
“With little hand held back reluctant still,
“And sobs unblamed. Love shuts his eyes as blind
“To spare the struggles of relenting pride,
“Content with that which yields. Such tears as these—
“So meek, so awful, so subjected—find
“Acceptance where the thoughts of kings reside,
“Entering unblamed to reconcile them—each
“More precious than the gems which wreathe with light
“Her glossy ringlets else unbound: the speech
“Of envious tongues should cease, if never else, tonight.”
Who grant man godhead—Earth's extravagant Child!
—And him the most untutored of his kind—
To arm contempt with thunder—drench with lies—
And make his breath more general than the wind!
Ye who have raised so high, must place him higher;
He will not share your temples—thus beguiled,
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A Tyrant o'er his rival deities—
He will spurn equal worship, and aspire
As some, long since, in Rome. The Pontiff smiled,
Then bowed his head, but answered not again—
Though mute unshamed. At length with accents mild
Spake Crœsus thus. “Compliance free from pain
“Brings to the shrine no sacrifice of will—
“Too lavish duty scarce becomes a Bride;
“Repentant anguish sues not peace in vain;
“The infant stoops its face upon our knees,
“With little hand held back reluctant still,
“And sobs unblamed. Love shuts his eyes as blind
“To spare the struggles of relenting pride,
“Content with that which yields. Such tears as these—
“So meek, so awful, so subjected—find
“Acceptance where the thoughts of kings reside,
“Entering unblamed to reconcile them—each
“More precious than the gems which wreathe with light
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“Of envious tongues should cease, if never else, tonight.”
He said, and next the king more meek. “With gifts
“Unfading as themselves they deck their child,
“Who are, and must be, changeless. Babel lifts
“Her face serene in beauty undefiled—
“August, sedate, unalterable—crowned
“With awe and mystery: her wings extend
“Where day both dawns and sets—o'er east and west—
“A shelter to Earth's tribes. Beneath are found
“Their altars, cradles, tombs—they toil, they rest,
“Encompassed by that shade begin and end.
“Kings have surrendered what they deemed their best;
“The wealth we see to-night was theirs of old—
“Chaldæa's tribute gathered from all lands:
“For all have learnt her laws, her fear confest,
“Free or enforced—through love constrained or dread—
“Nor hath escaped her one. These cups of gold
“Were wrought beyond Damascus—Syrian hands
“Fashioned the ivory sceptre that I hold—
“Tyre gave the throne I press and crown upon my head.”
“Unfading as themselves they deck their child,
“Who are, and must be, changeless. Babel lifts
“Her face serene in beauty undefiled—
“August, sedate, unalterable—crowned
“With awe and mystery: her wings extend
“Where day both dawns and sets—o'er east and west—
“A shelter to Earth's tribes. Beneath are found
“Their altars, cradles, tombs—they toil, they rest,
“Encompassed by that shade begin and end.
“Kings have surrendered what they deemed their best;
“The wealth we see to-night was theirs of old—
“Chaldæa's tribute gathered from all lands:
“For all have learnt her laws, her fear confest,
“Free or enforced—through love constrained or dread—
“Nor hath escaped her one. These cups of gold
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“Fashioned the ivory sceptre that I hold—
“Tyre gave the throne I press and crown upon my head.”
“And yet there is that hath escaped—yet one”—
With voice submiss the humbler Pontiff said—
“Two nations were exempt, for both defied;
“But Cyrus leaves his gold midst tents o'erthrown:
“The other hath appal'd his conqueror! Pride
“Stiffening its neck for mastery, mocks at chains;
“Loose-bound and unsubdued, with threat for threat,
“And curse for chastisement. Its spoil remains
“A hoarded treasure profitless: we hide
“—Lest he perchance should claim it from the skies
“Who could not keep when his—in chambers yet
“The vessels of that God whom Bel defied
“And chased with fire from Israel—our scared eyes,
“Searching for what they need elsewhere, abide
“Content with meaner service!”“ We appeared
“Till better taught”—the laughing king replies—
“Though robbed of these, not naked—Bel adored
“With cost enough: but lo! his priests are wise!
“That God without a name conceals his hoard
“As envious of our fathers. They consumed
“His house with fire—it was not then they feared—
“Or if they did, shall I fear too? Arise!
“Let every cup be filled and lamp illumed—
“One half is Bel's—one mine.” In willing ears
He called, and more there needed not: again
Their priestly choirs prevailed o'er Astath's cries—
He raised his hands unheeded midst the strain—
The apostate Queen spake only with her tears.
With voice submiss the humbler Pontiff said—
“Two nations were exempt, for both defied;
“But Cyrus leaves his gold midst tents o'erthrown:
“The other hath appal'd his conqueror! Pride
“Stiffening its neck for mastery, mocks at chains;
“Loose-bound and unsubdued, with threat for threat,
“And curse for chastisement. Its spoil remains
“A hoarded treasure profitless: we hide
“—Lest he perchance should claim it from the skies
“Who could not keep when his—in chambers yet
“The vessels of that God whom Bel defied
“And chased with fire from Israel—our scared eyes,
“Searching for what they need elsewhere, abide
“Content with meaner service!”“ We appeared
“Till better taught”—the laughing king replies—
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“With cost enough: but lo! his priests are wise!
“That God without a name conceals his hoard
“As envious of our fathers. They consumed
“His house with fire—it was not then they feared—
“Or if they did, shall I fear too? Arise!
“Let every cup be filled and lamp illumed—
“One half is Bel's—one mine.” In willing ears
He called, and more there needed not: again
Their priestly choirs prevailed o'er Astath's cries—
He raised his hands unheeded midst the strain—
The apostate Queen spake only with her tears.
STROPHE.
Peace to the troubled heart—alas! its sighsAre sinful here—the cold and mournful guest
Disclaims her welcome: in the bridal vest
Arrayed, and seated equal as a Bride,
She loaths the banquet—scorns the sacrifice!
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ANTISTROPHE.
Thy wheels were fire, in blood thy robes were dyed,Belshazzar! Furious midst the battle! thou
That did tread down the hearts of kings like clay!
As grass beneath thy feet the mightiest bow!
Go forth with thousand thousands at thy side—
Go, as thy fathers went, to spoil and slay!
EPODE.
For thee we string the harp and strew the hall—Safe midst thy courts thy joyful children wait!
Toward thee, whose smile is health, they lift their eyes!
While alien kingdoms hear again the call—
Above their towers Bel's curse yet nearer flies—
Sounding through earth to make them desolate.
STROPHE.
For thee he chains the ever-hastening hours—And Time himself, who gathers as they fall,
Amongst so many millions age by age,
—Like those uncounted leaves which autumn showers—
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Of might, of wisdom, glory, love, or rage;
Corrupted remnants scarce enough to show
That in man's generations such had been—
ANTISTROPHE.
Time, standing on the verge 'twixt earth and sky,Near those dark waters where the mightiest go
At last for ever—listens to their cry,
“Behold! we are—we perish!”—he shall bless
—Despite the weight which crushes all below
And turns to dust whatever is beside—
The starry roofs of these thy palaces.
EPODE.
Haste when the morning rises, and at noonWith swifter steeds thy restless chariot guide;
To compass Babylon consume the day;
High on her walls from dawn till twilight ride—
Half shall remain unfinished when the moon
Lights many a dusky grove and temple gray—
Go, count her hundred gates—her towers behold—
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Look round thee from that giddy height, and tell
If these can perish, strength like theirs grow old—
War ever shake our trust, or years decay,
Or malice burst the bars which close the courts of Bel!
The song was still unended, ere they came
Whose hands were filled with sacrilege—a host
Extending from the thrones beyond the door;
Yet heavy burdened all with holiest things:
Where Cathura points, they kneel along the floor,
He lifts his voice on high, and this his boast:
“The vessels of that jealous God, whose name
“Was heard in Palestine! Ailona brings
“Her bridal dower—as Queen unlocks a store
“Reserved of old for this—the spoils he lost
“Before whose ancient habitation fell,
“Tribes countless as the waves which beat their shore—
“Till humbled by the fierce rebuke of Bel,
“He left it desolate and fled!” They bore
Above their heads a thousand cups of gold,
Censers embossed of silver: vases swell
Figured with fruits inlaid of pearls and gems—
No human shapes appear, nor beings that live,
Nor stars, nor idol symbols—flowers enfold
Their massy sides, fair leaves, and twisted stems—
Olive or palm, with branches from the vine.
Those sevenfold lamps stood there which stood of old
Before the Oracle—on each side five—
And that more ancient still by lips divine
Described in Oreb when God deigned to give
Substantial types of spiritual mysteries—
Unseen things traced by seen. Their tables shine
Flooded with light—the wondering guests arise,
And starting from his throne, thus first their host.
Whose hands were filled with sacrilege—a host
Extending from the thrones beyond the door;
Yet heavy burdened all with holiest things:
Where Cathura points, they kneel along the floor,
He lifts his voice on high, and this his boast:
“The vessels of that jealous God, whose name
“Was heard in Palestine! Ailona brings
“Her bridal dower—as Queen unlocks a store
“Reserved of old for this—the spoils he lost
“Before whose ancient habitation fell,
“Tribes countless as the waves which beat their shore—
“Till humbled by the fierce rebuke of Bel,
“He left it desolate and fled!” They bore
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Censers embossed of silver: vases swell
Figured with fruits inlaid of pearls and gems—
No human shapes appear, nor beings that live,
Nor stars, nor idol symbols—flowers enfold
Their massy sides, fair leaves, and twisted stems—
Olive or palm, with branches from the vine.
Those sevenfold lamps stood there which stood of old
Before the Oracle—on each side five—
And that more ancient still by lips divine
Described in Oreb when God deigned to give
Substantial types of spiritual mysteries—
Unseen things traced by seen. Their tables shine
Flooded with light—the wondering guests arise,
And starting from his throne, thus first their host.
“The wealth we hid—if less in bulk—in cost
“Surpasses what we kept for use! Bring wine,
“Fill every bowl and chalice to the brink—
“Bel views the gifts we bear with gracious eyes:
“Chaldæa's Gods shall see their children drink
“From spoils which he hath lost who hates us most!”
Belshazzar thus—his joyful priest replies:
“The God of Israel turns his face aside
“With shame, or wrath, or fear—if such he be
“Indeed, as some have named him, and abide
“Supreme, almighty, parent of the skies,
“Remote from feebler Gods in cloudless bliss—
“Then wherefore did he cast them out, or see
“His temple burnt with fire? Would Bel depart
“Neglectful of his worshippers? Doth he
“Entreated mock our prayers? A gift like this
“Becomes a Queen—meet offering from the heart
“Filled with repentant love—Bel asks it of the Bride.”
“Surpasses what we kept for use! Bring wine,
“Fill every bowl and chalice to the brink—
“Bel views the gifts we bear with gracious eyes:
“Chaldæa's Gods shall see their children drink
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Belshazzar thus—his joyful priest replies:
“The God of Israel turns his face aside
“With shame, or wrath, or fear—if such he be
“Indeed, as some have named him, and abide
“Supreme, almighty, parent of the skies,
“Remote from feebler Gods in cloudless bliss—
“Then wherefore did he cast them out, or see
“His temple burnt with fire? Would Bel depart
“Neglectful of his worshippers? Doth he
“Entreated mock our prayers? A gift like this
“Becomes a Queen—meet offering from the heart
“Filled with repentant love—Bel asks it of the Bride.”
Thus ending, from the bowl he held, a part
Shed largely on the altar-fires—then drank
To challenge fear unsparing in his draught—
He first, next all Bel's ministers—the guests—
The queens—and last the king. If any shrank,
They choked their dread in noisier mirth—they laught
To shake the ill scruple from uneasy breasts,
And called on heedless Bel. The virgin yet
Sits where she sat—she singly sits—with eyes
Cast down, as fearful of the sight below—
Herself a mark for jealousy and craft,
Watched by all eyes beside. The lips are wet
From those fair vessels desecrated now,
Which urge the trembler's patience with their cries.
Shed largely on the altar-fires—then drank
To challenge fear unsparing in his draught—
He first, next all Bel's ministers—the guests—
The queens—and last the king. If any shrank,
They choked their dread in noisier mirth—they laught
To shake the ill scruple from uneasy breasts,
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Sits where she sat—she singly sits—with eyes
Cast down, as fearful of the sight below—
Herself a mark for jealousy and craft,
Watched by all eyes beside. The lips are wet
From those fair vessels desecrated now,
Which urge the trembler's patience with their cries.
“In wrath or grief, wine teaches to forget!
“That pleasure may abound toward us her slaves
“Whose mirth were else imperfect—for his sake
“Who hath exalted Babylon, and saves
“Godlike his people from their enemies—
“The Queen will drink! Ailona! Bride! awake—
“Bless we the righteous Gods!” Belshazzar waves
His hand in haste as one prepared to speak,
Holds out the cup, and thus accosts the maid.
“That pleasure may abound toward us her slaves
“Whose mirth were else imperfect—for his sake
“Who hath exalted Babylon, and saves
“Godlike his people from their enemies—
“The Queen will drink! Ailona! Bride! awake—
“Bless we the righteous Gods!” Belshazzar waves
His hand in haste as one prepared to speak,
Holds out the cup, and thus accosts the maid.
“Ailona, from thy brows declined so low,
“Those flowers drop leaf by leaf—their scantier shade
“Betrays—not blushes such as love might seek
“From love, or grace from thankfulness—but woe
“Tears, and rebellious thoughts beneath! They fade,
“Yet fresher roses near the fountains grow
“Whence wreaths more cool are twisted; but the breath
“Which leaves the heart of monarchs disobeyed,
“Returns no more—once uttered it must go
“Too swift to stop or pause till met by death—
“Virgin—arise—and drink.”
“Those flowers drop leaf by leaf—their scantier shade
“Betrays—not blushes such as love might seek
“From love, or grace from thankfulness—but woe
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“Yet fresher roses near the fountains grow
“Whence wreaths more cool are twisted; but the breath
“Which leaves the heart of monarchs disobeyed,
“Returns no more—once uttered it must go
“Too swift to stop or pause till met by death—
“Virgin—arise—and drink.”
The cup she took
And held it long, yet drank not of its wine,
Nor raised it nearer to her lips. If pale
Those lips compressed, and if the vessel shook
Too heavy for a hand so weak—the sign
Was not of fear, as late: their cries prevail,
Henceforth no more—nor ever will her breast
Be moved by human terrors—or her cheek
Again be flushed by hope, or tinged by shame—
One mightier passion hath absorbed the rest;
Love perfected and misery are the same
In mastering fear! That face, erewhile so meek,
Is fixed as sculptured alabaster—pride
Answers their clamours with an eye of flame:
“I will not drink from this”—the virgin cried—
“Thy God was worshipped when I knelt—if more
“His priests require—they see that I am weak—
“They hear the threat—and yet they are defied!”
And held it long, yet drank not of its wine,
Nor raised it nearer to her lips. If pale
Those lips compressed, and if the vessel shook
Too heavy for a hand so weak—the sign
Was not of fear, as late: their cries prevail,
Henceforth no more—nor ever will her breast
Be moved by human terrors—or her cheek
Again be flushed by hope, or tinged by shame—
One mightier passion hath absorbed the rest;
Love perfected and misery are the same
In mastering fear! That face, erewhile so meek,
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Answers their clamours with an eye of flame:
“I will not drink from this”—the virgin cried—
“Thy God was worshipped when I knelt—if more
“His priests require—they see that I am weak—
“They hear the threat—and yet they are defied!”
She cast the jewelled wine-cup on the floor,
Then spake: “These hands have touched thee—lips profane
“Have drunk from thee—no longer holy thou—
“Away—lie there!” So, calmly as before
Sat down. The palace halls are hushed again;
Amazement works like dread: Belshazzar's brow
Hath lost its heedless sovereignty, confused
'Twixt wrath and love—for never was love's chain
So strong, nor scorn so beautiful as now.
Then spake: “These hands have touched thee—lips profane
“Have drunk from thee—no longer holy thou—
“Away—lie there!” So, calmly as before
Sat down. The palace halls are hushed again;
Amazement works like dread: Belshazzar's brow
Hath lost its heedless sovereignty, confused
'Twixt wrath and love—for never was love's chain
So strong, nor scorn so beautiful as now.
Even they whose pitiless hate had set the snare
Start shuddering from their own success—false Priests
And envious Queens look back on arts misused,
Afraid to find Death's hasty advent there
So soon—of old no stranger at their feasts,
But ever slow to leave. Again is heard
His voice who spake when mischief vexed despair—
Exulting thus: “In ignorance, Lord! she erred—
“If fear have turned aside—let this atone!
“Accept her tears repentant! Thou canst heal
“All griefs—all hearts thou searchest—and alone
“Dost know what strength they have, what pangs they feel—
“Have mercy on the weak! In this well done!
“Hold fast by this—unhappy virgin—shrink
“No more from God! Their blocks are gilded stone—
“Both deaf and blind, Bel heeds not if we kneel—
“I have not bowed to-night—nor will I drink.”
Start shuddering from their own success—false Priests
And envious Queens look back on arts misused,
Afraid to find Death's hasty advent there
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But ever slow to leave. Again is heard
His voice who spake when mischief vexed despair—
Exulting thus: “In ignorance, Lord! she erred—
“If fear have turned aside—let this atone!
“Accept her tears repentant! Thou canst heal
“All griefs—all hearts thou searchest—and alone
“Dost know what strength they have, what pangs they feel—
“Have mercy on the weak! In this well done!
“Hold fast by this—unhappy virgin—shrink
“No more from God! Their blocks are gilded stone—
“Both deaf and blind, Bel heeds not if we kneel—
“I have not bowed to-night—nor will I drink.”
He said—provoking death—well pleased to die
If so through him the sense of pain might sink
Less heavily on female weakness, taught
Endurance by example. At his call
Their silence ends: “Ye hear the blasphemy!
“He hath derided Bel! his heart”—they said—
“Hath cursed our Gods!” Then priestly hands had wrought
Ere bidden, nor feared within the palace hall
To pluck it out—but far above their cry,
From many throats confused at once, was dread
Heard louder yet—“Look to the East!”—and all
Look up—Great God! what image of affright
Consumes both eyes and hearts! “Bel bowed and shook!
“Belshazzar mark!” They gaze upon the wall,
And lo! beside its lamps, a hand outspread—
The fingers of a hand 'twixt light and light.
Self-governed slowly moving o'er the space—
No shadowy palm—but plainer while they look—
Large, living, palpable, it seems to write!
Nor want they time for silence, when the eye
Hath clogged the tongue with fear. Upon his base
Again Bel's image trembles—from their sight
That vision melts; but plain as in a book
The written characters it leaves, and high
As o'er some temple porch or city gate—
That all men's eyes in passing note the place,
By whom, and wherefore built.
If so through him the sense of pain might sink
Less heavily on female weakness, taught
Endurance by example. At his call
Their silence ends: “Ye hear the blasphemy!
“He hath derided Bel! his heart”—they said—
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Ere bidden, nor feared within the palace hall
To pluck it out—but far above their cry,
From many throats confused at once, was dread
Heard louder yet—“Look to the East!”—and all
Look up—Great God! what image of affright
Consumes both eyes and hearts! “Bel bowed and shook!
“Belshazzar mark!” They gaze upon the wall,
And lo! beside its lamps, a hand outspread—
The fingers of a hand 'twixt light and light.
Self-governed slowly moving o'er the space—
No shadowy palm—but plainer while they look—
Large, living, palpable, it seems to write!
Nor want they time for silence, when the eye
Hath clogged the tongue with fear. Upon his base
Again Bel's image trembles—from their sight
That vision melts; but plain as in a book
The written characters it leaves, and high
309
That all men's eyes in passing note the place,
By whom, and wherefore built.
Yet none can trace
Their sense, and read interpreting. Though sin
Hath prescience from its fears, nor needs to wait
A formal curse, thus surely taught within
By dread—it cannot teach. Zeal, envy, hate,
The sense of wrong—are lost—the thoughts of scorn,
And pride. Now valour first knows fear: aghast
With loosened joints Belshazzar shames his state,
And knees which smite each other. Chained forlorn
By terror on his restless throne, his eyes
Confess humanity or less, at last—
Hard fixed before those words in vain. The guests
Might each have heard his nearest fellow's sighs,
So difficult came their breath—so loud it past—
There nothing human stirred but human breasts.
Their sense, and read interpreting. Though sin
Hath prescience from its fears, nor needs to wait
A formal curse, thus surely taught within
By dread—it cannot teach. Zeal, envy, hate,
The sense of wrong—are lost—the thoughts of scorn,
And pride. Now valour first knows fear: aghast
With loosened joints Belshazzar shames his state,
And knees which smite each other. Chained forlorn
By terror on his restless throne, his eyes
Confess humanity or less, at last—
Hard fixed before those words in vain. The guests
Might each have heard his nearest fellow's sighs,
So difficult came their breath—so loud it past—
There nothing human stirred but human breasts.
Unnatural dread! This God invokes the wise—
Chaldæa's waking idol—them that dream!
Magicians, Soothsayers, Wizards, Sorcerers, Seers,
Bribed high with golden chains and scarlet vests:
Men must instruct divinity! the steam
Sublimed by superstition mixed with lies
Through which they wander darkling in their fears,
Must be his godhead's atmosphere! They come—
A tribe soon found. With loins ungirt appears
In haste, the pale Astrologer, perplext—
From darkness and the silence of his home
Abruptly summoned to a harder text,
And scheme more intricate. The Wizard next,
Blear-eyed—bewildered in a light so broad;
With needless instruments, both rule and globe—
His sphere of polished brass and ebon rod:
Diviners, Dreamers, Necromancers—some
Weak, crippled, old; the thriftless slaves of art,
Proud to be poor, practitioners in fraud,
Yet dupes of vanity. With figured robe
Sidonian workmanship—Damascan scarf—
And belt more precious still from Noph—a part,
As kings for state and luxury—draw near;
Their beards perfumed and cherished till they reach
In curls beyond the breast. The confident laugh
Asserts skill's certainty, or covers fear—
Their price is high, and prosperous yet seems each.
Chaldæa's waking idol—them that dream!
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Bribed high with golden chains and scarlet vests:
Men must instruct divinity! the steam
Sublimed by superstition mixed with lies
Through which they wander darkling in their fears,
Must be his godhead's atmosphere! They come—
A tribe soon found. With loins ungirt appears
In haste, the pale Astrologer, perplext—
From darkness and the silence of his home
Abruptly summoned to a harder text,
And scheme more intricate. The Wizard next,
Blear-eyed—bewildered in a light so broad;
With needless instruments, both rule and globe—
His sphere of polished brass and ebon rod:
Diviners, Dreamers, Necromancers—some
Weak, crippled, old; the thriftless slaves of art,
Proud to be poor, practitioners in fraud,
Yet dupes of vanity. With figured robe
Sidonian workmanship—Damascan scarf—
And belt more precious still from Noph—a part,
311
Their beards perfumed and cherished till they reach
In curls beyond the breast. The confident laugh
Asserts skill's certainty, or covers fear—
Their price is high, and prosperous yet seems each.
But none can read: the globe of lustrous brass
Reflects no other words than those—the staff
Though charmed, lies motionless—nor sign nor speech
Instructs the medicated eye or ear.
All Hell ashamed keeps silence! While they pass
Perplexed, unanswered, homeward—one by one—
God's threatened servant mocks their altered cheer:
“Speak if Bel's thoughts be gracious to us? These
“Who should teach truth, are busy in the care
“Of feasts and midnight sacrifices: none
“So skilled to regulate the dance or song,
“Confronting kings, and threatening whom they please.
“Laborious ministers of lust they are,
“Trained to drink deep, and dangerous with the tongue—
“But babes in mysteries like these. Ye dream—
“Midst darkness ye see clearest—ye converse
“With Spirits and Fiends—ye safely. walk the air,
“And watch the stars shine brightly all day long—
“For ears so quick—the breeze, the wood, the stream
“Hath each appropriate language: with your verse
“Ye can make wide or fast the jaws of Hell:—
“What words are these? Give wine to drink again—
“Ye Priests—ye Guests—ye Worshippers of Bel,
“Why stand his Prophets wondering thus? Disperse
“Belshazzar's doubts, ye Seers, behold the words are plain!”
Reflects no other words than those—the staff
Though charmed, lies motionless—nor sign nor speech
Instructs the medicated eye or ear.
All Hell ashamed keeps silence! While they pass
Perplexed, unanswered, homeward—one by one—
God's threatened servant mocks their altered cheer:
“Speak if Bel's thoughts be gracious to us? These
“Who should teach truth, are busy in the care
“Of feasts and midnight sacrifices: none
“So skilled to regulate the dance or song,
“Confronting kings, and threatening whom they please.
“Laborious ministers of lust they are,
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“But babes in mysteries like these. Ye dream—
“Midst darkness ye see clearest—ye converse
“With Spirits and Fiends—ye safely. walk the air,
“And watch the stars shine brightly all day long—
“For ears so quick—the breeze, the wood, the stream
“Hath each appropriate language: with your verse
“Ye can make wide or fast the jaws of Hell:—
“What words are these? Give wine to drink again—
“Ye Priests—ye Guests—ye Worshippers of Bel,
“Why stand his Prophets wondering thus? Disperse
“Belshazzar's doubts, ye Seers, behold the words are plain!”
There is that looks yet trembles not; the Bride
Her stedfast eyes hath lifted to the curse—
But hope was lost before it came: within,
Back toward their fount the floods of life subside:
What hath she done which makes repentance vain,
And thunders o'er her soul that prayer is sin!
A little stronger yet returns the tide—
The heart a little faster beats—not one
Of all that ghastly multitude, but pants
With quickened pulse when latest and alone
Appears Bel's wrinkled Prophetess! No guide
To lead her from those dreary caves she wants,
Nor knew the subtlest where to find. Direct
She passes in, and stands before the throne
With forehead unabased toward King or God:
Careful her eye as dubious to expect
Signs good or bad—but confident of skill:
What are their gifts to her? The herald's rod
Points where her sight should fasten, but his voice,
And every sound throughout their halls, is still:
Ten thousand faces wait upon her eyes—
She cannot err—the office was her choice—
Yet why so long thus silent? At the sight
Her lowering visage changes to surprise:
Some mightier power obscures her prescience ill,
Nor can she read that curse!
Her stedfast eyes hath lifted to the curse—
But hope was lost before it came: within,
Back toward their fount the floods of life subside:
What hath she done which makes repentance vain,
And thunders o'er her soul that prayer is sin!
313
The heart a little faster beats—not one
Of all that ghastly multitude, but pants
With quickened pulse when latest and alone
Appears Bel's wrinkled Prophetess! No guide
To lead her from those dreary caves she wants,
Nor knew the subtlest where to find. Direct
She passes in, and stands before the throne
With forehead unabased toward King or God:
Careful her eye as dubious to expect
Signs good or bad—but confident of skill:
What are their gifts to her? The herald's rod
Points where her sight should fasten, but his voice,
And every sound throughout their halls, is still:
Ten thousand faces wait upon her eyes—
She cannot err—the office was her choice—
Yet why so long thus silent? At the sight
Her lowering visage changes to surprise:
Some mightier power obscures her prescience ill,
Nor can she read that curse!
314
Fierce yells despite
Let loose at last from smothering dread—their shame
Breaks forth to bait her baffled sorceries:
“Accursed those lying lips first mute to-night:
“Thus ever when need comes, behold the wise!
“Ten thousand gazers saw the fingers write;
“Of all Bel's herd none tells us whence they came.”
Fear generates anger when its chill goes off—
Belshazzar ends his dread in mockeries.
The furious Prophetess looks round—his scoff
Had met defiance—base threat, threat as base—
But ere her tongue had framed it, at his side
She saw the virgin crowned—then hate crossed hate,
The greater quenched the less—a mightier flame
Blazed in her heart, and reddened on her face—
Triumphant mischief seared the scalds of pride:
“Hail to Bel's new-made Worshipper! O wait!
“Before thy matrons strew the couch of bliss,
“Again I shall return, Belshazzar's Bride!”
Let loose at last from smothering dread—their shame
Breaks forth to bait her baffled sorceries:
“Accursed those lying lips first mute to-night:
“Thus ever when need comes, behold the wise!
“Ten thousand gazers saw the fingers write;
“Of all Bel's herd none tells us whence they came.”
Fear generates anger when its chill goes off—
Belshazzar ends his dread in mockeries.
The furious Prophetess looks round—his scoff
Had met defiance—base threat, threat as base—
But ere her tongue had framed it, at his side
She saw the virgin crowned—then hate crossed hate,
The greater quenched the less—a mightier flame
Blazed in her heart, and reddened on her face—
Triumphant mischief seared the scalds of pride:
“Hail to Bel's new-made Worshipper! O wait!
“Before thy matrons strew the couch of bliss,
“Again I shall return, Belshazzar's Bride!”
Thus she—nor stays to utter more—the place
Is lightened with the name of Nitocris:
Thrice sound her trumpets loudly at the gate:
She comes in haste whose calmer presence gave
So oft, of old, a breathing-time like this:
Chaldæa's terrors rouse her whence she sat—
She speaks of Daniel with the king—there is
One Prophet wise to teach—one God of might to save.
315
Thrice sound her trumpets loudly at the gate:
She comes in haste whose calmer presence gave
So oft, of old, a breathing-time like this:
Chaldæa's terrors rouse her whence she sat—
She speaks of Daniel with the king—there is
One Prophet wise to teach—one God of might to save.
| The Impious Feast | |