The fall of Nineveh A poem by Edwin Atherstone. Second edition: diligently corrected, and otherwise improved. In two volumes |
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 | The fall of Nineveh |  |
Meantime, in Nineveh, the voice of joy
And triumph throughout all her streets was heard.
For, when at early morn the watch looked forth;
Lo! from the plain the enemy had fled:
Nor, in the vast horizon's stretch, his tents,
To keenest eye were visible. Rose then
Tumult of gladness, acclamation loud.
Through the eastern gates poured forth upon the plain
Exulting myriads; and with song, and dance,
And sound of cheerful instruments, rejoiced.
And triumph throughout all her streets was heard.
For, when at early morn the watch looked forth;
Lo! from the plain the enemy had fled:
Nor, in the vast horizon's stretch, his tents,
To keenest eye were visible. Rose then
Tumult of gladness, acclamation loud.
Through the eastern gates poured forth upon the plain
Exulting myriads; and with song, and dance,
And sound of cheerful instruments, rejoiced.
But, not as they, the king; for, in his heart,
Some cunning fraud he feared. His captains, then,
He bade be summoned; and thus briefly spake.
Some cunning fraud he feared. His captains, then,
He bade be summoned; and thus briefly spake.
“What think ye now? and what should we resolve?
Hath, of a truth, the foe fled utterly?
Or, but to lure us from the city, gone;
That, them pursuing, our defenceless gates,
Unto their Bactrian friends, an easy prize,
Meantime, may fall? Or, with their arms to league,
Have they retired; ere long, with force conjoined,
Intent to come against us? Boldly now
Let each man speak: for, unto counsel wise,
Gladly the king will hearken.”
Hath, of a truth, the foe fled utterly?
Or, but to lure us from the city, gone;
That, them pursuing, our defenceless gates,
Unto their Bactrian friends, an easy prize,
Meantime, may fall? Or, with their arms to league,
Have they retired; ere long, with force conjoined,
Intent to come against us? Boldly now
Let each man speak: for, unto counsel wise,
Gladly the king will hearken.”
To his doubts
Then answered many: and, the long debate
Concluding, thus, at length, again he spake.
Then answered many: and, the long debate
Concluding, thus, at length, again he spake.
“Hence now: and unto all my will make known.
This day, and on the morrow, be the dead
To earth committed; lest a pestilence
Infect the winds: but, on the second morn,
Ere yet the sun be risen, let all the host
March toward the rocky mountains;—there, be sure,
The rebel hath found harbour.”
This day, and on the morrow, be the dead
To earth committed; lest a pestilence
Infect the winds: but, on the second morn,
Ere yet the sun be risen, let all the host
March toward the rocky mountains;—there, be sure,
The rebel hath found harbour.”
With these words,
The council he broke up: but, on the arm
Touched Salamenes; and, when now alone,
Thoughts darker spake. “Or with the Mede colleagued,
Or single in their treason—equally
On the base Bactrian shall fall punishment.
To lure them now, forthwith some wily men
Shall hasten; and, in thy name, to their chiefs
Such message bear, as, in their homeward course,
Will make them pause. Gold, honors, rank, and power;
All shall be promised; so unto the king
They will return; and, 'gainst his enemies,
Stand in the battle. To these words will they
Surely give ear: yet, doubting, from my mouth
The sacred pledge will ask. Their backward march
Suspending thus; we,—our great foe first quelled,—
Will upon them; and with no sparing hand;
Reward, earned justly, heap. So, to the world,
A warning through all ages shall they stand;
That not with heedless eye doth Heaven behold
The traitor's deeds; nor will unpunished pass.”
The council he broke up: but, on the arm
208
Thoughts darker spake. “Or with the Mede colleagued,
Or single in their treason—equally
On the base Bactrian shall fall punishment.
To lure them now, forthwith some wily men
Shall hasten; and, in thy name, to their chiefs
Such message bear, as, in their homeward course,
Will make them pause. Gold, honors, rank, and power;
All shall be promised; so unto the king
They will return; and, 'gainst his enemies,
Stand in the battle. To these words will they
Surely give ear: yet, doubting, from my mouth
The sacred pledge will ask. Their backward march
Suspending thus; we,—our great foe first quelled,—
Will upon them; and with no sparing hand;
Reward, earned justly, heap. So, to the world,
A warning through all ages shall they stand;
That not with heedless eye doth Heaven behold
The traitor's deeds; nor will unpunished pass.”
Thus having said, he rose. The fraudful act
Holding in scorn, no word to him replied
The noble chief; but bowed the head, and went.
Holding in scorn, no word to him replied
The noble chief; but bowed the head, and went.
Nor self-approving wholly was the king.
Retiring to his chamber, all alone,
A sudden cloud upon him, long he sat,
Pondering on what he was; what might have been;
What now could never be. Accusingly,
Came sense of powers, for human good designed,
To evil thwarted; of a life misspent;
A nature noble, even to the rank
Of the unreasoning brute, by vice debased.
Last, that foul murderous deed on memory gleamed—
The prophet, by his hand, in madness slain!
Horribly clear, the ghastly vision shone;
The glaring eyes, the stony countenance!
His blood grew cold: upstarting, from his mind
The torturing scene he drove: and, to and fro,
Fearfully glancing round, trod hurriedly.
Retiring to his chamber, all alone,
A sudden cloud upon him, long he sat,
Pondering on what he was; what might have been;
What now could never be. Accusingly,
Came sense of powers, for human good designed,
To evil thwarted; of a life misspent;
A nature noble, even to the rank
Of the unreasoning brute, by vice debased.
Last, that foul murderous deed on memory gleamed—
The prophet, by his hand, in madness slain!
Horribly clear, the ghastly vision shone;
The glaring eyes, the stony countenance!
His blood grew cold: upstarting, from his mind
The torturing scene he drove: and, to and fro,
Fearfully glancing round, trod hurriedly.
But sound of sprightly music broke the spell:
He started, and looked forth. On emerald lawn,
'Neath the cool shade of tall, thick-foliaged trees,
Jocund as wood nymphs, his fair concubines,
In graceful dance were twining. Passed away,
Like smoke upon the wind, the gloomy mood.
“Nay—but one hour,” he said; “but one sweet hour.
Beautiful witches!—Might I not? Yet no!”
He started, and looked forth. On emerald lawn,
'Neath the cool shade of tall, thick-foliaged trees,
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In graceful dance were twining. Passed away,
Like smoke upon the wind, the gloomy mood.
“Nay—but one hour,” he said; “but one sweet hour.
Beautiful witches!—Might I not? Yet no!”
Upon his eyes, one moment, his broad palm
He pressed; with strong desires, and stern resolves,
Inwardly struggling; then, with firm step, turned;
The palace quitted; in his chariot sprang;
And to the field drove forth.
He pressed; with strong desires, and stern resolves,
Inwardly struggling; then, with firm step, turned;
The palace quitted; in his chariot sprang;
And to the field drove forth.
That day, their dead
The victors buried: and the next day's sun
Upon their toil looked long. But, ere he sank,
The work was finished,—all for march prepared:
And, when again he rose; in bright array,
Lo! the innumerous squadrons; strong in hope;
With ensigns spread; and with the cheerful sound
Of warlike music; proudly moving on.
The victors buried: and the next day's sun
Upon their toil looked long. But, ere he sank,
The work was finished,—all for march prepared:
And, when again he rose; in bright array,
Lo! the innumerous squadrons; strong in hope;
With ensigns spread; and with the cheerful sound
Of warlike music; proudly moving on.
Till noon their toil unceasing they pursued:
Beneath the shade of cedar-forest then;
And where the fig tree its vast labyrinth
Of pleasant shadow stretches,—leafy streets,
And bowers, self-planted,—a brief sojourn made.
There, food and drink partaking, their tired limbs
Upon the cool and fragrant grass they stretched;
Nor, till the burning mid-day hours had passed;
And freshly 'gan to blow the northern breeze;
Their toilsome march renewed.
Beneath the shade of cedar-forest then;
And where the fig tree its vast labyrinth
Of pleasant shadow stretches,—leafy streets,
And bowers, self-planted,—a brief sojourn made.
There, food and drink partaking, their tired limbs
Upon the cool and fragrant grass they stretched;
Nor, till the burning mid-day hours had passed;
And freshly 'gan to blow the northern breeze;
Their toilsome march renewed.
Before them, soon,
Distinct stood lofty mountains; rock, and cave,
And stream precipitous dashing. Half way up,
The white tents of the foe, at length, they saw;
Like the cloud-loving eagle's cliff-built nest,
Secure appearing, inaccessible:
And, mingled with them, as they nearer drew,
Thick-crowded hosts, with waving gonfalons,
Their coming, as with welcome glad, to hail.
Distinct stood lofty mountains; rock, and cave,
And stream precipitous dashing. Half way up,
The white tents of the foe, at length, they saw;
Like the cloud-loving eagle's cliff-built nest,
Secure appearing, inaccessible:
And, mingled with them, as they nearer drew,
Thick-crowded hosts, with waving gonfalons,
Their coming, as with welcome glad, to hail.
With trumpet-challenge then, and loud acclaim,
Their greetings sent they; and, in blast as fierce
Of trumpets, and a great defiant shout,
Ere long, their answer heard. But, when the sun
Was sinking,—near the mountain-base arrived;
Their camp they pitched: with food and wine their strength
Recruited: their worn limbs from cumbrous mail
Released: then watch-fires kindled; sentries placed;
And, with confiding hearts, retired to sleep.
Their greetings sent they; and, in blast as fierce
Of trumpets, and a great defiant shout,
210
Was sinking,—near the mountain-base arrived;
Their camp they pitched: with food and wine their strength
Recruited: their worn limbs from cumbrous mail
Released: then watch-fires kindled; sentries placed;
And, with confiding hearts, retired to sleep.
This when the Medes beheld,—their armour, too,
Aside they put: their watch-fire piles upheaped;
But kindled not: their sentries, also, placed;
And, with like confidence, lay down to rest.
Aside they put: their watch-fire piles upheaped;
But kindled not: their sentries, also, placed;
And, with like confidence, lay down to rest.
All now was still; both armies soundly slept.
But Abdolonimus, with burning thoughts
Consumed, slept not, nor closed at all his eyes.
Before him, as he lay, distinct to view,
The myriad watch-fires of the foe appeared;
The countless tents, amid their ruddy blaze,
Like fiery pyramids glowing; and the flash,
At intervals, from burnished helm, or shield,
Of slow-paced sentry. Tossing, long he lay,
Restless and angry; but, at length, arose,
And to Belesis hastened: briefly spake;
Then straightway, treading swiftly, to the cave
Of their great leader. Sleepless him he found:
His thoughts made known:—permitted, thither called
To council the chief captains;—and, at once,
Before them standing, bluntly thus began.
But Abdolonimus, with burning thoughts
Consumed, slept not, nor closed at all his eyes.
Before him, as he lay, distinct to view,
The myriad watch-fires of the foe appeared;
The countless tents, amid their ruddy blaze,
Like fiery pyramids glowing; and the flash,
At intervals, from burnished helm, or shield,
Of slow-paced sentry. Tossing, long he lay,
Restless and angry; but, at length, arose,
And to Belesis hastened: briefly spake;
Then straightway, treading swiftly, to the cave
Of their great leader. Sleepless him he found:
His thoughts made known:—permitted, thither called
To council the chief captains;—and, at once,
Before them standing, bluntly thus began.
“I talk not to you of your rest disturbed;
For which of us, the audacious foe so nigh
Beholding, can his eyes in slumber close?
What, then! so lightly of us deems he now,
That, insolently, at our very foot,
His tent he pitches, and lies down at ease?
And shall he thus, no better lesson taught,
Till morn dream undisturbed; and to our face
Shake then his banner; and, with gibe, and laugh,
Mock at, deride, defy us to the field?
And shall we here, then, like a feeble flock,
Pent up, and trembling at the wolf without,
Patient and helpless, their assault await?
Or, rather, shall we not, ourselves the wolves,
On them go down, and rend the bloody prey?
But this the moment is, that of our course
We must determine; either now to strike,
Or timidly wait the stroke: for, when again
Shall such occasion court us to attack?
In heavy slumber, after long fatigue,
The foe reposeth; and his strength is spent.
Our hosts, by rest and generous food sustained;
Active, and vigorous, might an easy prey
Make of them, worn, and sleeping: and the strife
By this one blow, perchance, for ever end.
Resolve then. Shall we now our slumbering host
In silence wake; in silence to the plain
Conduct; unlooked for, then, upon the foe
Burst, and destroy; or shall we, to our beds
Again retiring, patiently the mock,
And hissing of our enemy abide?
Speak now who will; but briefly; for the hour
To deeds, or sleep; not idle talk, invites.”
For which of us, the audacious foe so nigh
Beholding, can his eyes in slumber close?
What, then! so lightly of us deems he now,
That, insolently, at our very foot,
His tent he pitches, and lies down at ease?
And shall he thus, no better lesson taught,
Till morn dream undisturbed; and to our face
Shake then his banner; and, with gibe, and laugh,
Mock at, deride, defy us to the field?
And shall we here, then, like a feeble flock,
Pent up, and trembling at the wolf without,
Patient and helpless, their assault await?
211
On them go down, and rend the bloody prey?
But this the moment is, that of our course
We must determine; either now to strike,
Or timidly wait the stroke: for, when again
Shall such occasion court us to attack?
In heavy slumber, after long fatigue,
The foe reposeth; and his strength is spent.
Our hosts, by rest and generous food sustained;
Active, and vigorous, might an easy prey
Make of them, worn, and sleeping: and the strife
By this one blow, perchance, for ever end.
Resolve then. Shall we now our slumbering host
In silence wake; in silence to the plain
Conduct; unlooked for, then, upon the foe
Burst, and destroy; or shall we, to our beds
Again retiring, patiently the mock,
And hissing of our enemy abide?
Speak now who will; but briefly; for the hour
To deeds, or sleep; not idle talk, invites.”
So he; on all around, with fire-bright eye,
Impatient glances flinging. With swift step,
Then, for a moment, to the cavern's mouth
Advancing, toward the illumined camp he looked:
Smote on his thigh; and, with a face inflamed
Returning, his left hand upon his spear,
With hard grasp, leaned; and, to the deep-toned voice,
And accent grave, of the majestic priest,
Attentive listened: for Belesis now,
With thoughtful brow, and gesture dignified,
Forth stepping, thus to him the first began.
Impatient glances flinging. With swift step,
Then, for a moment, to the cavern's mouth
Advancing, toward the illumined camp he looked:
Smote on his thigh; and, with a face inflamed
Returning, his left hand upon his spear,
With hard grasp, leaned; and, to the deep-toned voice,
And accent grave, of the majestic priest,
Attentive listened: for Belesis now,
With thoughtful brow, and gesture dignified,
Forth stepping, thus to him the first began.
“Justly, O king! thou, with the foremost here,
Battle may'st counsel; for, than thine, no arm
More terrible and rapid in the field.
Nor the hot zeal that thee so well becomes,
With cold speech adverse would I seek to quench:
Rather myself from colder natures need
Allayment of the fire that in my breast
Reason severe and active scarce controls.
Yet do thou patiently attend me now;
And, what thou hear'st, revolve. In sleep profound,
Subdued, and helpless, by long travel worn,
Our foe thou deemest; and his pleasant rest
In the death-void would'st close. Small thanks from him
Albeit deserving—yet, to us, such end
A good important,—by all laws of war
Sanctioned,—must still be held—attainable.
But, what if all this seeming recklessness
Be but a wily stratagem; our feet
Within the snare to lure; while, bent ourselves
On sage designs; to our insidious foe
A mock we may become? The smoothest stream
Is oft the deepest: 'neath the calmest brow,
Lurks oft the fiercest fury. When the foe,
Smiling, his sword-hilt offers to your hand;
Heed then the dagger's thrust. A cunning feint
May this not be,—to ruin tempting us?
Or, if indeed they sleep; not unprepared
For sudden strife, be sure; nor to surprise
Obnoxious. On their myriad watch-fires bright,
Cast round thine eye: not of an idle foe,
Or foolish, tokens this: and hark! the voice
Ascending of the watchful sentinel.
Not upon these, as on a drunken man
Heavily sleeping, may ye, unperceived,
With step though stealthy, fall. Behoves us then,
Ere on a path so perilous we tread;
Deeply to ponder. Brave art thou, O king;
And to thy foes a terror: brave are ye,
And strong in battle, valiant captains all:
Nor, with the strongest of our enemies,
Singly, the fight need fear: but, where is he,
That with Heaven's chosen champion can compare,
Godlike Arbaces? Think ye that ourselves,
Him lacking, twice all day in equal fight,
'Gainst foe unequal as this foe, had stood?
Of our own strength I speak,—the Powers Divine
Aloof beholding; nor to either side
Might giving from above: for, of a truth,
Even to an infant's arm, the victory
O'er all earth's legions might the gods decree,—
So willed,—nor of man's valour can have need.
But, not with hand direct, and visible,
Thus work they: nor, by disproportioned means,
Our task to accomplish, may we justly hope.
The head, then, and the arm, of all our host
Now lost to us; not, as in battle past,
May we stand confident: nor wise were we,
So feebled, risk of further ill to tempt,—
No 'vantage great inviting. But, secure
In this our fortress biding for awhile;
Our baffled foe perchance,—us obstinate
Beholding,—to the city may return;
The mark for laughter: or if, desperate,
Even in our stronghold he should dare the war;
A bitter lesson might he soon be taught;
His loss, and our advantage: which to hope,—
Patiently waiting here,—not wholly vain,
Or idle, can be held. Our chief, meantime,—
The gods consenting,—from this couch of pain,
And weakness, to full vigour soon restored,—
Again in arms resistless going forth,
Them may assault, retreating: or, perchance,
Yet lingering, in night-onset may destroy:
Undreaded, haply, when, by long resolve
The fight to shun, we, of accustomed care,
And watchful guard, shall make them negligent.”
Battle may'st counsel; for, than thine, no arm
More terrible and rapid in the field.
Nor the hot zeal that thee so well becomes,
With cold speech adverse would I seek to quench:
Rather myself from colder natures need
Allayment of the fire that in my breast
Reason severe and active scarce controls.
212
And, what thou hear'st, revolve. In sleep profound,
Subdued, and helpless, by long travel worn,
Our foe thou deemest; and his pleasant rest
In the death-void would'st close. Small thanks from him
Albeit deserving—yet, to us, such end
A good important,—by all laws of war
Sanctioned,—must still be held—attainable.
But, what if all this seeming recklessness
Be but a wily stratagem; our feet
Within the snare to lure; while, bent ourselves
On sage designs; to our insidious foe
A mock we may become? The smoothest stream
Is oft the deepest: 'neath the calmest brow,
Lurks oft the fiercest fury. When the foe,
Smiling, his sword-hilt offers to your hand;
Heed then the dagger's thrust. A cunning feint
May this not be,—to ruin tempting us?
Or, if indeed they sleep; not unprepared
For sudden strife, be sure; nor to surprise
Obnoxious. On their myriad watch-fires bright,
Cast round thine eye: not of an idle foe,
Or foolish, tokens this: and hark! the voice
Ascending of the watchful sentinel.
Not upon these, as on a drunken man
Heavily sleeping, may ye, unperceived,
With step though stealthy, fall. Behoves us then,
Ere on a path so perilous we tread;
Deeply to ponder. Brave art thou, O king;
And to thy foes a terror: brave are ye,
And strong in battle, valiant captains all:
Nor, with the strongest of our enemies,
Singly, the fight need fear: but, where is he,
That with Heaven's chosen champion can compare,
Godlike Arbaces? Think ye that ourselves,
Him lacking, twice all day in equal fight,
'Gainst foe unequal as this foe, had stood?
Of our own strength I speak,—the Powers Divine
Aloof beholding; nor to either side
213
Even to an infant's arm, the victory
O'er all earth's legions might the gods decree,—
So willed,—nor of man's valour can have need.
But, not with hand direct, and visible,
Thus work they: nor, by disproportioned means,
Our task to accomplish, may we justly hope.
The head, then, and the arm, of all our host
Now lost to us; not, as in battle past,
May we stand confident: nor wise were we,
So feebled, risk of further ill to tempt,—
No 'vantage great inviting. But, secure
In this our fortress biding for awhile;
Our baffled foe perchance,—us obstinate
Beholding,—to the city may return;
The mark for laughter: or if, desperate,
Even in our stronghold he should dare the war;
A bitter lesson might he soon be taught;
His loss, and our advantage: which to hope,—
Patiently waiting here,—not wholly vain,
Or idle, can be held. Our chief, meantime,—
The gods consenting,—from this couch of pain,
And weakness, to full vigour soon restored,—
Again in arms resistless going forth,
Them may assault, retreating: or, perchance,
Yet lingering, in night-onset may destroy:
Undreaded, haply, when, by long resolve
The fight to shun, we, of accustomed care,
And watchful guard, shall make them negligent.”
Still spake Belesis, when, from off the couch
His languid head uplifting, with faint tone,
To him Arbaces; “Take not thought of me:
For twenty thousand arms more strong than this,
God may command among you. If the fire
Doth in your bosoms glow,—give it free vent;
Nor my quenched ardor heed. To rash assault
I counsel not: but, all else favoring you,
Let not the host,—by captains such as these
Led, and sustained,—of this one weakened arm
Take note; but, calling on the gods, go forth.”
His languid head uplifting, with faint tone,
To him Arbaces; “Take not thought of me:
For twenty thousand arms more strong than this,
God may command among you. If the fire
Doth in your bosoms glow,—give it free vent;
Nor my quenched ardor heed. To rash assault
I counsel not: but, all else favoring you,
Let not the host,—by captains such as these
Led, and sustained,—of this one weakened arm
Take note; but, calling on the gods, go forth.”
214
So saying, to the couch again he sank:
But on the priest his bright eye keenly fixed;
His words awaiting.
But on the priest his bright eye keenly fixed;
His words awaiting.
Toward the Mede, one step
Belesis moved; and, gently bending, thus:
“Prince! wise and noble, as in combat brave!
My thoughts unuttered yet,—unto the close
Reserved,—nor ardent less than thine,—now hear.
Not wholly from the onset to refrain,
My counsel is; but from assault ill weighed;
Rash, and presumptuous: for if, verily,
All other circumstance the attempt invite;
If, of a truth, this seeming sleep is sleep;
Real, and reckless all of consequence;
Then, surely, not such 'vantage for attack
Should we neglect, even though our mightiest arm
To lead us on, we lack. But, real sleep,
Or feigning, who may tell? for, where is he
Who, holding life as nought, yon blazing camp
Will dare to explore. With black dart threatening him,
Death would behind him stalk. Once seen, he dies!
Yet, through those watchful sentinels, unseen,
Spirit alone could pass.”
Belesis moved; and, gently bending, thus:
“Prince! wise and noble, as in combat brave!
My thoughts unuttered yet,—unto the close
Reserved,—nor ardent less than thine,—now hear.
Not wholly from the onset to refrain,
My counsel is; but from assault ill weighed;
Rash, and presumptuous: for if, verily,
All other circumstance the attempt invite;
If, of a truth, this seeming sleep is sleep;
Real, and reckless all of consequence;
Then, surely, not such 'vantage for attack
Should we neglect, even though our mightiest arm
To lead us on, we lack. But, real sleep,
Or feigning, who may tell? for, where is he
Who, holding life as nought, yon blazing camp
Will dare to explore. With black dart threatening him,
Death would behind him stalk. Once seen, he dies!
Yet, through those watchful sentinels, unseen,
Spirit alone could pass.”
“The man ye seek,
Is here,” said Azareel, before the priest
Promptly advancing; “I their camp, alone,
Fearless will walk: and of this doubt, ere long,
Resolve you: nor, 'gainst cause like this, my life
An instant balance.”
Is here,” said Azareel, before the priest
Promptly advancing; “I their camp, alone,
Fearless will walk: and of this doubt, ere long,
Resolve you: nor, 'gainst cause like this, my life
An instant balance.”
Even while he spake,
With gleaming eye, Rabsaris started forth,
And grasped him by the arm: “Nay, nay,” he cried;
“Alone thou shalt not; I the peril share.
One falling—haply may the other 'scape,
And bring back tidings.”
With gleaming eye, Rabsaris started forth,
And grasped him by the arm: “Nay, nay,” he cried;
“Alone thou shalt not; I the peril share.
One falling—haply may the other 'scape,
And bring back tidings.”
With a quick applause
The captains answered. But the wounded prince,
To both his hands outstretching, in few words,
Warm praise bestowed: to ceaseless vigilance
Exhorted, and firm soul: their enterprise
To Heaven commended; and bade speed them on.
The captains answered. But the wounded prince,
To both his hands outstretching, in few words,
Warm praise bestowed: to ceaseless vigilance
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To Heaven commended; and bade speed them on.
With haste, in armour dark, each warrior then
His body cased: with leathern helm unplumed,—
Not gleaming to betray, yet strong to guard,—
His head defended: next, the sword girt on:
The shield, dull-hued; two spears, with lustre dulled,—
For action ready, in his right hand, one,
One in his left reserved,—each, lastly, took;
Then, after farewell brief, with spirit high,
The perilous path 'gan tread.
His body cased: with leathern helm unplumed,—
Not gleaming to betray, yet strong to guard,—
His head defended: next, the sword girt on:
The shield, dull-hued; two spears, with lustre dulled,—
For action ready, in his right hand, one,
One in his left reserved,—each, lastly, took;
Then, after farewell brief, with spirit high,
The perilous path 'gan tread.
Throughout the camp,
The leaders; meantime, with a noiseless zeal,
Went swiftly; and the captains, in degree
Nearest themselves, awakened: these the next:
So on throughout the whole: and this the word
Each to the other gave: “For onset arm;
But silent as the dead: then, armed, abide;
And wait the whispered sign. And, when ye march,
Let no shield ring; no loosely hanging sword
Clash on the greaves; nor let a tongue be stirred.”
The leaders; meantime, with a noiseless zeal,
Went swiftly; and the captains, in degree
Nearest themselves, awakened: these the next:
So on throughout the whole: and this the word
Each to the other gave: “For onset arm;
But silent as the dead: then, armed, abide;
And wait the whispered sign. And, when ye march,
Let no shield ring; no loosely hanging sword
Clash on the greaves; nor let a tongue be stirred.”
Such word, from man to man, through all the camp
Spread quickly: and, ere long, at every side
The sword was girt; the helm was on the head;
The armour donned: spear, dart, bow, battle-axe,
For their grim work all waiting eagerly.
Spread quickly: and, ere long, at every side
The sword was girt; the helm was on the head;
The armour donned: spear, dart, bow, battle-axe,
For their grim work all waiting eagerly.
| The fall of Nineveh | |