The fall of Nineveh A poem by Edwin Atherstone. Second edition: diligently corrected, and otherwise improved. In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
 | The fall of Nineveh |  |
All night, in silent, slow, and gloomy march,
The sorrowing Medes their weary way pursued.
On easy litter borne, their mighty chief,—
Weak as an infant now,—toward the dark heaven
His dim and pallid eye turned steadfastly,—
His parched lips quivering oft, as with the gods,
Of their mysterious ways, with troubled mind,
Awfully questioning: but not one moan
Of pain he uttered; murmured no complaint.
Dumah, his loved physician, by his side
Unwearied walked; and, ever and anon,
His fevered lips, with juice expressed of fruits,
Cooling and grateful, moistened. All the night,
The outworn foot, slow laboring—sad, and mute,—
The patient camels toiling 'neath their loads,—
The jaded steeds, low hanging their dull heads,—
The drooping rider, the bowed charioteer,—
Silent, and mournful,—like procession dark
Of dreary dream, o'er the dusk plain moved on.
The sorrowing Medes their weary way pursued.
On easy litter borne, their mighty chief,—
Weak as an infant now,—toward the dark heaven
His dim and pallid eye turned steadfastly,—
His parched lips quivering oft, as with the gods,
Of their mysterious ways, with troubled mind,
Awfully questioning: but not one moan
Of pain he uttered; murmured no complaint.
Dumah, his loved physician, by his side
Unwearied walked; and, ever and anon,
His fevered lips, with juice expressed of fruits,
Cooling and grateful, moistened. All the night,
The outworn foot, slow laboring—sad, and mute,—
The patient camels toiling 'neath their loads,—
The jaded steeds, low hanging their dull heads,—
The drooping rider, the bowed charioteer,—
Silent, and mournful,—like procession dark
Of dreary dream, o'er the dusk plain moved on.
But, when upon the dull and leaden sky,
The cheerful sun his liquid gold 'gan fling;
Then,—customed worship offering first,—with food,
And wine, and respite brief from toil, their limbs
They strengthened; and their drooping hearts revived:
Their journey then renewed: and, ere the day
One half was wasted; to their mountain holds,
With gladdened spirits, reached. The dells among,
And pleasant valleys, of the middle heights,
Then quickly pitched they tents. But some, the caves
Of living rock chose rather; whence—disturbed
In their ancestral den of ages past,—
Lion, or tiger, or hyena grim,
At their approach withdrew. Here, deemed secure,
With food, themselves, and wearied steeds, they cheered:
Each, as he listed then, for sweet repose,
His jaded limbs outstretched: and, while the sun,
From heaven's height, his loud summons o'er half earth,
To life, and labor sent; throughout the camp
Sleep reigned, and silence; as the solitude,
In its long trance of ages rested still.
The cheerful sun his liquid gold 'gan fling;
Then,—customed worship offering first,—with food,
And wine, and respite brief from toil, their limbs
They strengthened; and their drooping hearts revived:
Their journey then renewed: and, ere the day
One half was wasted; to their mountain holds,
With gladdened spirits, reached. The dells among,
205
Then quickly pitched they tents. But some, the caves
Of living rock chose rather; whence—disturbed
In their ancestral den of ages past,—
Lion, or tiger, or hyena grim,
At their approach withdrew. Here, deemed secure,
With food, themselves, and wearied steeds, they cheered:
Each, as he listed then, for sweet repose,
His jaded limbs outstretched: and, while the sun,
From heaven's height, his loud summons o'er half earth,
To life, and labor sent; throughout the camp
Sleep reigned, and silence; as the solitude,
In its long trance of ages rested still.
Within a cavern, spacious, dark, and cool,
The wounded leader his sick-chamber found.
Far in its depths, a gently flowing stream;
Cold, diamond-bright; with dreamy whisperings,
Morn, noon, and night, the echoing rock-vault filled.
Before its mouth, a cedar, broad, and high,
Stood sentry; and, with giant arms outspread,
The fierce sun kept aloof: nor, save at hour
Of dewy morn; while yet his face with smiles,
And youthful joy alone, shone radiantly,
His fiery foot admitted. All the day,
With the unresting breeze, a soft discourse,
Mysterious, the slow-waving branches held:
And many a deep sigh breathed; and many a sound
Harmonious, as of voices far away.
The song of leaves, and waters, to the chief,
Visions of youth, and joyous infancy,
In long day-dreamings, brought; that o'er his soul
A healing balm diffused; and the strong throbs
Of his vexed heart, to gentleness subdued.
The wounded leader his sick-chamber found.
Far in its depths, a gently flowing stream;
Cold, diamond-bright; with dreamy whisperings,
Morn, noon, and night, the echoing rock-vault filled.
Before its mouth, a cedar, broad, and high,
Stood sentry; and, with giant arms outspread,
The fierce sun kept aloof: nor, save at hour
Of dewy morn; while yet his face with smiles,
And youthful joy alone, shone radiantly,
His fiery foot admitted. All the day,
With the unresting breeze, a soft discourse,
Mysterious, the slow-waving branches held:
And many a deep sigh breathed; and many a sound
Harmonious, as of voices far away.
The song of leaves, and waters, to the chief,
Visions of youth, and joyous infancy,
In long day-dreamings, brought; that o'er his soul
A healing balm diffused; and the strong throbs
Of his vexed heart, to gentleness subdued.
Grievous, and many, were his wounds: the arm,
Strong, erewhile, as the bar of tempered steel;
Now, like that steel beneath the furnace blast,
Soft, strengthless, had become. Beside his couch,
Dumah, with friendly care that slumbered not,
Still day, and night, his watch unwearied kept:
Nor of the event could judge; nor dared predict.
Strong, erewhile, as the bar of tempered steel;
Now, like that steel beneath the furnace blast,
Soft, strengthless, had become. Beside his couch,
Dumah, with friendly care that slumbered not,
Still day, and night, his watch unwearied kept:
Nor of the event could judge; nor dared predict.
206
On the next morning, early, rose the priest.
His wounded friend first tended,—and with words
Of hope, and promise from on high, consoled,—
Unto the mountain's loftiest pinnacle,
Apart unto his gods to pray, he went.
Worship performed, he rose; and, looking forth,
'Neath the bright sun, the far-off city saw:
The plain, with tents, as with white sand-grains, strown;
And what seemed glint of chariots, or of arms.
While thus he looked, his heart within him burned;
And, toward the walls his arms uplifting high;
With voice prophetic, her approaching fate;
Suspended, not revoked,—he still foretold;
In the great promise given, confided still.
His wounded friend first tended,—and with words
Of hope, and promise from on high, consoled,—
Unto the mountain's loftiest pinnacle,
Apart unto his gods to pray, he went.
Worship performed, he rose; and, looking forth,
'Neath the bright sun, the far-off city saw:
The plain, with tents, as with white sand-grains, strown;
And what seemed glint of chariots, or of arms.
While thus he looked, his heart within him burned;
And, toward the walls his arms uplifting high;
With voice prophetic, her approaching fate;
Suspended, not revoked,—he still foretold;
In the great promise given, confided still.
But, soon to council summoned,—in the tent
Of Abdolonimus the captains met.
Nor in their looks was terror now; nor hope
Of final triumph seemed extinguished quite.
Arabia's monarch then, and Azareel,
Almelon, and Menahem, Bezaleel,
Barzanes, Ithamar, and other chiefs,
Their thoughts spake freely: and Belesis last,—
To all replying; and the sum of good
Together bringing; while the thought unwise,
Slightly be censured—thus the long debate,
Briefly concluded.
Of Abdolonimus the captains met.
Nor in their looks was terror now; nor hope
Of final triumph seemed extinguished quite.
Arabia's monarch then, and Azareel,
Almelon, and Menahem, Bezaleel,
Barzanes, Ithamar, and other chiefs,
Their thoughts spake freely: and Belesis last,—
To all replying; and the sum of good
Together bringing; while the thought unwise,
Slightly be censured—thus the long debate,
Briefly concluded.
“On best course, at length,
Wisely have ye resolved: in this our hold
Impregnable,—from all assault, secure;
Ourselves to assault, yet free,—awhile to wait;
Such good attending as the favoring gods
May yet design us;—from the lands around,
Ample supplies, for even long strife, to bring,—
And, once more, to the recreant Bactrians
Send the great voice,—of this our second fight,
From morn till evening dubious, blazoning:
The fire within them that so long hath slept,
Thus, haply, to rekindle. Meantime, here
Awhile abiding, we, with food and rest,
Ourselves, and steeds, for battle shall make strong;
While, from his wounds recovering, our great chief,
Now lost to us, will soon again in arms,
Himself a host, arise; and lead us on.”
Wisely have ye resolved: in this our hold
Impregnable,—from all assault, secure;
Ourselves to assault, yet free,—awhile to wait;
Such good attending as the favoring gods
May yet design us;—from the lands around,
Ample supplies, for even long strife, to bring,—
And, once more, to the recreant Bactrians
Send the great voice,—of this our second fight,
From morn till evening dubious, blazoning:
The fire within them that so long hath slept,
Thus, haply, to rekindle. Meantime, here
Awhile abiding, we, with food and rest,
Ourselves, and steeds, for battle shall make strong;
207
Now lost to us, will soon again in arms,
Himself a host, arise; and lead us on.”
These words approved, the council was dissolved.
| The fall of Nineveh | |