The fall of Nineveh :: :: University of Virginia Library

'Twas midnight now: the lately risen moon,
With pallid face, as if unwillingly,
Seemed walking heaven's great highway. On the plain
Gleamed faintly the moist herbage: shadows drear
And long, from lofty and umbrageous trees,
Slept on the earth: pale light, and dreamy shade

Covered the distant city; her huge towers,
Like a Titanic Watch, all standing mute;
And, in the centre, like the spectre-form
Of perished Saturn, or some elder god,
The dim vast mound. 'Neath tent, or on bare earth,
In sleep profound the insurgent armies lay;
Some, of the battle dreaming; some, of love;
Of home, and smiling wives and infants, some:
The chase, some urged; some, at the wine-board sat;
Drinking unmeasured draughts; yet thirsting still.

But, wakeful, at the entrance of his tent,
Sat their great leader, silent, lost in thought
On what the morn might bring. Few paces off,
Wrapped in his mantle, on the dewy grass
Stretched as in sleep, but, with wide opened eyes,
On the stars gazing, lay the soldier priest.
Deep was the hush. At length, Arbaces stirred;
To this side and to that, inclined the head,
Listening. A sound he heard, or seemed to hear,
As of a torrent-flood amid the hills;
Far off, unheard till then. Gently he rose;
Fitted behind his ears both hollowed palms;
Drew in long breath; and yet more eagerly,
Caught at the doubtful murmur. Suddenly,
Shading his brow, across the spacious plain,
Long, earnestly, he gazed: twice closed his eyes,
And opened them; then spake. “Belesis, up:
Look forth, I pray thee; for the gleam of arms
Far off, methinks I see.”

Upsprang the priest;
Looked out intentively awhile, then thus.
“So long with yon bright host have I communed,
That now mine eyes are dazzled, and see ill.
Where thou dost point, the Bactrians are encamped,
And those from Sogdiana to the south:
Least likely they of all, with zeal o'erhot,
Night-onset, for the tyrant, to commence;
And, if they come, be sure, as friends they come.”

Still was he speaking, when Arbaces thus,
Smiting upon his thigh: “By all the Gods!

It is the enemy coming! Sound the alarm!”
But instantly a distant voice replied,
“Hold! hold! blow not the trumpet; we are friends.”
Came then the tramp of steeds; loud breathings soon;
And, in few moments, halted near the tent
Three panting horses. Lightly to the earth
The riders leaped; and toward Arbaces walked.
With hand upon the hilt prepared stood he;
But, when they nigher drew, he, too, advanced;
Touched on the arm the foremost, and exclaimed:
“Abdeel? What brings thee here? And who be these?”
Closer upon them looking while he spake,
At once he knew them; “Japhet? Azareel?
Welcome, most welcome; for your faces show,
And your warm grasp, that not as foes ye come.
But answer quickly; what is yonder host,
At midnight marching? Are they friends, or foes?”

Then Azareel: “Foes are they, and yet friends:
Friends, that not foes; foes, that not friends they be.
They will not, against us, the tyrant aid;
Nor us against the tyrant; but their homes,
Their ease inglorious, preferable hold
To noblest ends, by toil and danger won.
We, with some hundreds of a better mind,
Whom at the outskirts of your camp we left,—
Of all the Eastern armies, come alone,
To aid your glorious struggle: but the rest,
A hundred thousand fighting men thrice told,
Now journey homeward.”

“Back shall they be turned,”
Exclaimed the priest; “nor see as yet their wives:
For, or against us, shall they come again:
But, either way, victors we still shall be;
For it is written; and must come to pass.”

Arbaces then: “Oh! had but nobler thoughts
Moved them with us to stand! then had escaped
Myriads, that now will fall: for contest hard,
And long must be, such disproportioned strength
Ere we can vanquish: nor their labor light,
Our fewer numbers, with strong spirit armed,

To utterly o'ercome. But, in the gods
Our trust is; who our foes can put to flight,
Though numerous as the atoms of the dust
That follows on their trampling! Enter now
My tent, I pray you; and abide till morn:
For, with the dawn must we be stirring all;
And midnight is gone by.”

Thus he; and drew
The curtain of the tent that they might pass.
But Azareel replied, “Our followers wait
Till we return; and we must hasten back.
Not less, for thy kind bidding, take our thanks.”

To them Arbaces, as their hands he grasped,
And bade adieu: “Our thanks, the rather, take;
For that, amid a mean and selfish host,
Ye stood the only noble: fare ye well.”

A like salute made they; and soon were gone.
The hollow trample of their coursers' feet
Died quickly off; and all again was still.

A little while Belesis and the chief
Stood yet in low discourse. To heaven, at length,
The priest upraised his arms, and pallid brow;
Praying in silence: then around him girt
His mantle; and, with face still toward the sky,
Stretched on the earth his limbs. A moment yet
Arbaces stood, and on the camp looked round;
With palms close pressed, then heavenward turned his eyes;
Drew softly back the curtain of the tent;
Bowed low his lofty head; and passed within.