Judah restored a poem. In six books. By Dr. Roberts ... In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
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| I. |
| II. | BOOK II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Judah restored |  |
39
BOOK II.
40
ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK.
Description of the walls of Babylon, which were now surrounded by Cyrus.—Character of Cyrus—His army described —He calls a council—his speech—Gadatas and Gobryas return from their nocturnal expedition—Gobryas gives an account of the present disorder'd state of Babylon, which determines Cyrus to attack it immediately—A Persian sacrifice —The army marches—They turn the waters of the river into their dyke—Gobryas and Gadatas conduct them up the channel, which is now dried, into the city—Confusion and slaughter of the inhabitants—Belshazzar's terror—his cowardice, and death.
41
While thus Belshazzar, and his impious peers,
Forgetful or regardless of the sign,
Which still seems fainter, as their fears are lull'd
By wine, that powerful opiate of the soul,
Protract their clamorous banquet, thro the streets
Of Babylon the sons of riot hold
Nocturnal orgies, and with savage zeal
Impatient wait the morn, that shall destroy
The remnant of the tribes. Ah cruel king!
Ah tyrant! never shall that morning rise
On thy devoted head. Thy citizens,
Rude waissaillers, think not what an host is near;
And not a sentinel leans on his pike,
Listening to catch the sound of hostile feet
Beneath the towering walls; those walls, within
Whose large inclosure the rude hind, or guides
His plough, or binds his sheaves, while shepherds guard
Their flocks, secure of ill: on the broad top
Six chariots rattle in extended front.
For there, since Cyrus on the neighbouring plain
Has mark'd his camp, the inclos'd Assyrian drives
His foaming steeds, and from the giddy height
Looks down with scorn on all the tents below.
Each side in length, in height, in solid bulk,
Reflects its opposite; a perfect square;
Scarce sixty thousand paces can mete out
The vast circumference. An hundred gates
Of polish'd brass lead to that central point,
Where thro the midst, bridg'd o'er with wondrous art,
Euphrates leads a navigable stream,
Branch'd from the current of his roaring flood.
Forgetful or regardless of the sign,
Which still seems fainter, as their fears are lull'd
By wine, that powerful opiate of the soul,
Protract their clamorous banquet, thro the streets
Of Babylon the sons of riot hold
Nocturnal orgies, and with savage zeal
Impatient wait the morn, that shall destroy
The remnant of the tribes. Ah cruel king!
Ah tyrant! never shall that morning rise
On thy devoted head. Thy citizens,
Rude waissaillers, think not what an host is near;
And not a sentinel leans on his pike,
42
Beneath the towering walls; those walls, within
Whose large inclosure the rude hind, or guides
His plough, or binds his sheaves, while shepherds guard
Their flocks, secure of ill: on the broad top
Six chariots rattle in extended front.
For there, since Cyrus on the neighbouring plain
Has mark'd his camp, the inclos'd Assyrian drives
His foaming steeds, and from the giddy height
Looks down with scorn on all the tents below.
Each side in length, in height, in solid bulk,
Reflects its opposite; a perfect square;
Scarce sixty thousand paces can mete out
The vast circumference. An hundred gates
Of polish'd brass lead to that central point,
Where thro the midst, bridg'd o'er with wondrous art,
43
Branch'd from the current of his roaring flood.
Yet, for the persevering hand of toil
Each obstacle surmounts, yet a deep trench
And wide, fit channel for a mighty bed
Of waters, had the host of Cyrus drawn
Round all this spacious magnitude. The moon
Full twice twelve times had fill'd her horns with light,
Since to Chaldæa's frontiers from the hills
Of Persia Cyrus came. There long inur'd
To toil, and manly exercise, he learnt
Even in his early youth, to bend the bow,
To hurl the pointed javelin, and to brace
His sinews in the wintry flood. His board
Was strew'd with herbs, or cresses from the brook,
The feast of temperance. Hence, bold in war,
He spread the terror of his arms o'er all
The nations round. On lesser Asia's plains
He fought, till from the Ægean to the banks
Of Perath, every warrior bow'd the knee
To Persia's mighty monarch. Thro the vales
Of Syria, thro Arabia's spicy groves,
His ensigns stream'd. But tho his valour great,
Yet greater was his mercy. Justice, truth,
And sacred chastity preserv'd his soul
From every foul offence, that blasts the name
Of desolating conquerors. With him
Came many a gallant chief, and many a tribe.
Say, Muse, their names and numbers: in thy book
The fair memorials of heroic fame
Stand registered; and thence the poet's hand
Transcribes whate'er of great or virtuous,
Heroes of old atchiev'd in better days,
Or patriots suffer'd for their country's love.
Each obstacle surmounts, yet a deep trench
And wide, fit channel for a mighty bed
Of waters, had the host of Cyrus drawn
Round all this spacious magnitude. The moon
Full twice twelve times had fill'd her horns with light,
Since to Chaldæa's frontiers from the hills
Of Persia Cyrus came. There long inur'd
To toil, and manly exercise, he learnt
Even in his early youth, to bend the bow,
To hurl the pointed javelin, and to brace
His sinews in the wintry flood. His board
Was strew'd with herbs, or cresses from the brook,
The feast of temperance. Hence, bold in war,
44
The nations round. On lesser Asia's plains
He fought, till from the Ægean to the banks
Of Perath, every warrior bow'd the knee
To Persia's mighty monarch. Thro the vales
Of Syria, thro Arabia's spicy groves,
His ensigns stream'd. But tho his valour great,
Yet greater was his mercy. Justice, truth,
And sacred chastity preserv'd his soul
From every foul offence, that blasts the name
Of desolating conquerors. With him
Came many a gallant chief, and many a tribe.
Say, Muse, their names and numbers: in thy book
The fair memorials of heroic fame
Stand registered; and thence the poet's hand
Transcribes whate'er of great or virtuous,
45
Or patriots suffer'd for their country's love.
First the bleak barren rocks of Persia send
Their valiant sons of war, a thousand cars
Arm'd with sharp scythes, and twice ten thousand spears.
They from Carmania to the western bound
Of Susiana, from the Persic gulph
Stretch to Great Media's frontiers. From the banks
Of Pasatigris, and that unbridg'd stream
Araxes, they come flocking: o'er their backs
Rattles a quiver stow'd with barbed reeds.
These from a twanging yew, whose horned points
Are forc'd to contact by the elastic string,
They shoot with aim unerring; in the left
A platted target, in the right they bear
A javelin, short, but massy; from the belt
Two daggers hang; and every horse is arm'd
With hides, which scarce the sharpest blade can pierce.
Next from Gedrosia's sands, unhappy soil,
From Parsis and from Arbis, Ctesias leads
A band of gallant archers. Here, so fame
Reports, a nation of stout Amazons
Once held imperial sway, tho now no trace
Remain, save here and there an ancient name
Recording female prowess. With these march
The rough Carmanians. They with skins of fish
Protect their hairy limbs, and haunt thick woods,
Or the deep cavern of some arched rock,
Their wretched habitations. Ne'er did they
Hear the delightful sound of ponderous wain
Creeking with autumn's spoils, nor the tir'd ox
Unharness'd, lowing for his evening food.
With these are join'd the slingsmen bold and tall
Of Arachosia. Eastward to the Ind
Spreads Arachosia, and fair cities boasts
With bastions, and high towers adorn'd. A thong
Of pliant leather in their hands they bear,
And round their waist is tied a scrip, where lie
Huge balls of molten lead. Nor be forgot
The various tribes of Bactria, Comians,
And Zariaspans, and Chomatrians, once
A mighty kingdom: by Tigranes these
In rank and file are rang'd; and on their shields
Some quaint device is graven, emblem of war,
Or mark of royal ancestry. By these
Stand Margiana's warriors, from the banks
Of northern Oxus: in his hand a lance
Each poises, cut from some stout vine, whose trunk
Not two Titanians of gigantic form
Can clasp with arms extended, and which spread
Thick clusters o'er the sloping hills, in length
Two cubits. From Hyrcania's forests wild,
Tho interspers'd with many a verdant scene
Of corn, and luscious figs, impetuous rush
Ten thousand bowmen; down their shoulders hangs
A tiger's shaggy skin, spoils of the chace,
And naked their unsandal'd feet: the son
Of old Orontes leads the savage horde,
Fierce Ariamnes. With them Parthia sends
Her daring horsemen: they, of Scythian race,
Exil'd in ancient days, had settled near
Hyrcania's woods, a hardy clan, and o'er
High tottering precipice, or foaming flood,
Drove their unbridled coursers. Oft pursued
In battle did they turn, and from their bow
Speed arrows wing'd with death. In after times
The restless Roman, when he dar'd invade
The eastern world, felt this, and on his throne
The proud usurper trembled at the name
Of distant Parthia. By these Porus leads
His Indian squadrons. Down the rugged heights
Of Taurus, from the Caspian's southern bank,
Eight thousand Medians pour: barren the soil,
The mountains labour with their load of snow
Nine wintry months: there Salmanassar plac'd
Samaria's captive tribes, and bade them till
A rude unthrifty desart. They, what time
Wise Solomon was number'd with the dead,
Deserted his degenerate heir, and rais'd
The banner of rebellion. ‘To your tents ,
‘O Israel,’ cried
Nebat's son, when lo!
In Bethel, and in Dan, two golden calves,
Ægyptian idols, from their God seduc'd
The ten apostate tribes, who fix'd their seat
In Ephraim's mount; till proud Samaria's walls
Were built, where Judah saw the rival throne
Of alienated Israel. But who
Can count the forces, which Ecbatanè
Pour'd thro her lofty gates? They with gay crests
Of gaudy plumage waving to the wind
Crown their resplendent helmets, and their hair
Tinge with Sidonian colours. To their feet
Hangs a loose robe of purple, whose broad hem,
Scollop'd by female art, sweeps all the ground,
Save when engag'd in battle round their waist
They twist it, as a zone. Great was the host,
And mighty: chariots, girt with sharpen'd scythes,
Two thousand; twice three hundred thousand foot,
And cavalry proportion'd. In the midst
Stands their great leader, Cyrus. On his casque
A crimson crest, spangled with stars of gold,
Streams, like a meteor. O'er his breast is clasp'd
With polish'd studs a cuirass; and his legs
Are fenc'd with greaves of brass. A sevenfold shield
His left sustains, his right a javelin wields,
And at his side a falchion beams with gems,
Jasper, and emerald. Near him is his car,
At whose four poles eight fiery coursers neigh,
Champing their golden bits. He stands, and views
With secret exultation all his host:
Yet often does he cast a pitying eye
On Lydia's captive monarch, oft repress
Each rising thought of pride, and sigh to see
The fall of regal state, the sport of war.
Their valiant sons of war, a thousand cars
Arm'd with sharp scythes, and twice ten thousand spears.
They from Carmania to the western bound
Of Susiana, from the Persic gulph
Stretch to Great Media's frontiers. From the banks
Of Pasatigris, and that unbridg'd stream
Araxes, they come flocking: o'er their backs
Rattles a quiver stow'd with barbed reeds.
These from a twanging yew, whose horned points
Are forc'd to contact by the elastic string,
They shoot with aim unerring; in the left
A platted target, in the right they bear
A javelin, short, but massy; from the belt
46
With hides, which scarce the sharpest blade can pierce.
Next from Gedrosia's sands, unhappy soil,
From Parsis and from Arbis, Ctesias leads
A band of gallant archers. Here, so fame
Reports, a nation of stout Amazons
Once held imperial sway, tho now no trace
Remain, save here and there an ancient name
Recording female prowess. With these march
The rough Carmanians. They with skins of fish
Protect their hairy limbs, and haunt thick woods,
Or the deep cavern of some arched rock,
Their wretched habitations. Ne'er did they
Hear the delightful sound of ponderous wain
Creeking with autumn's spoils, nor the tir'd ox
Unharness'd, lowing for his evening food.
47
Of Arachosia. Eastward to the Ind
Spreads Arachosia, and fair cities boasts
With bastions, and high towers adorn'd. A thong
Of pliant leather in their hands they bear,
And round their waist is tied a scrip, where lie
Huge balls of molten lead. Nor be forgot
The various tribes of Bactria, Comians,
And Zariaspans, and Chomatrians, once
A mighty kingdom: by Tigranes these
In rank and file are rang'd; and on their shields
Some quaint device is graven, emblem of war,
Or mark of royal ancestry. By these
Stand Margiana's warriors, from the banks
Of northern Oxus: in his hand a lance
Each poises, cut from some stout vine, whose trunk
48
Can clasp with arms extended, and which spread
Thick clusters o'er the sloping hills, in length
Two cubits. From Hyrcania's forests wild,
Tho interspers'd with many a verdant scene
Of corn, and luscious figs, impetuous rush
Ten thousand bowmen; down their shoulders hangs
A tiger's shaggy skin, spoils of the chace,
And naked their unsandal'd feet: the son
Of old Orontes leads the savage horde,
Fierce Ariamnes. With them Parthia sends
Her daring horsemen: they, of Scythian race,
Exil'd in ancient days, had settled near
Hyrcania's woods, a hardy clan, and o'er
High tottering precipice, or foaming flood,
Drove their unbridled coursers. Oft pursued
49
Speed arrows wing'd with death. In after times
The restless Roman, when he dar'd invade
The eastern world, felt this, and on his throne
The proud usurper trembled at the name
Of distant Parthia. By these Porus leads
His Indian squadrons. Down the rugged heights
Of Taurus, from the Caspian's southern bank,
Eight thousand Medians pour: barren the soil,
The mountains labour with their load of snow
Nine wintry months: there Salmanassar plac'd
Samaria's captive tribes, and bade them till
A rude unthrifty desart. They, what time
Wise Solomon was number'd with the dead,
Deserted his degenerate heir, and rais'd
The banner of rebellion. ‘To your tents ,
50
In Bethel, and in Dan, two golden calves,
Ægyptian idols, from their God seduc'd
The ten apostate tribes, who fix'd their seat
In Ephraim's mount; till proud Samaria's walls
Were built, where Judah saw the rival throne
Of alienated Israel. But who
Can count the forces, which Ecbatanè
Pour'd thro her lofty gates? They with gay crests
Of gaudy plumage waving to the wind
Crown their resplendent helmets, and their hair
Tinge with Sidonian colours. To their feet
Hangs a loose robe of purple, whose broad hem,
Scollop'd by female art, sweeps all the ground,
Save when engag'd in battle round their waist
They twist it, as a zone. Great was the host,
51
Two thousand; twice three hundred thousand foot,
And cavalry proportion'd. In the midst
Stands their great leader, Cyrus. On his casque
A crimson crest, spangled with stars of gold,
Streams, like a meteor. O'er his breast is clasp'd
With polish'd studs a cuirass; and his legs
Are fenc'd with greaves of brass. A sevenfold shield
His left sustains, his right a javelin wields,
And at his side a falchion beams with gems,
Jasper, and emerald. Near him is his car,
At whose four poles eight fiery coursers neigh,
Champing their golden bits. He stands, and views
With secret exultation all his host:
Yet often does he cast a pitying eye
On Lydia's captive monarch, oft repress
52
The fall of regal state, the sport of war.
Now shines the moon on the pavilion'd plain,
Where brazen helmets, and high-burnish'd shields,
Seem to the distant traveller, like some stream,
Whose waters gently swoln by western breeze,
Wave to the sparkling rays. Tho not an eye
Is clos'd thro all their troops, such silence reigns
As in the dreary mansions of the dead
Strikes a more awful horrour, than the shouts
Of dissonance, and confusion. Cyrus calls
To council all his peers. Tigranes first,
Porus, and Ctesias, and the giant strength
Of Ariamnes; and what heroes else
Of fealty, and prowess unreprov'd,
Were summon'd by their chief. He from his seat
In graceful attitude uprose, and thus
With words of manly confidence began.
Where brazen helmets, and high-burnish'd shields,
Seem to the distant traveller, like some stream,
Whose waters gently swoln by western breeze,
Wave to the sparkling rays. Tho not an eye
Is clos'd thro all their troops, such silence reigns
As in the dreary mansions of the dead
Strikes a more awful horrour, than the shouts
Of dissonance, and confusion. Cyrus calls
To council all his peers. Tigranes first,
Porus, and Ctesias, and the giant strength
Of Ariamnes; and what heroes else
Of fealty, and prowess unreprov'd,
Were summon'd by their chief. He from his seat
53
With words of manly confidence began.
‘Princes and warriors, whom the love of fame,
‘Or sense of injuries yet unreveng'd
‘Far from your native homes hath hither brought
‘Combin'd in strictest league; tho two long years
‘Round these proud ramparts we have toil'd in vain;
‘Tho safe within those walls impregnable
‘The Assyrian with insulting jests derides
‘Our preparations; never will we quit
‘This enterprise, till humbled Babylon
‘Receive her conquerors thro her hundred gates,
‘And those high bastions bow. Shall we return
‘Inglorious? shall our name become the scoff
‘Of all the neutral nations? when we drove
‘The royal hunter, and his light-arm'd bands
‘From Media, where the semblance of a chace,
‘And oaths of peaceful amity, conceal'd
‘His hostile purpose, turn'd he from his flight
‘Till Babylonia's frontiers sav'd from death
‘Her routed prince? Remember ye the day,
‘When by a herald's voice I summon'd him
‘To prove his prowess, and in single fight
‘Decide the fate of millions? skulk'd he not,
‘Like a base coward, in those fenced walls,
‘And slew my faithful messenger? Revenge,
‘And honour, dearer to a soldier's soul
‘Than life, than liberty, forbids delay.
‘Nor grieve, my friends, for twice the ripen'd corn
‘Has nodded o'er the furrows, since we rais'd
‘Our banner on this spacious plain; the hour
‘Now hastens, when the meed of victory
‘Shall crown our patient labours. That broad dyke,
‘Which round the city with incessant toil
‘Our pioneers have sunk, is now compleat,
‘Capacious of the stream, which wont to waft
‘Thro many an arch, the tributary spoil
‘Of bleeding provinces. The obsequious flood
‘Will change his wonted course, and in the midst
‘Of Babylon will leave his channel dry.
‘There will we pour our troops, which pant for war,
‘And, tho obedient to their leader's voice,
‘Scarce brook this tedious rest. Fear not success;
‘To combat is to conquer. Mithras smiles
‘Favouring our bold emprise. Scarce dawn'd the day
‘When to the right six towering eagles soar'd,
‘And spread their broad wings o'er the Persian tents.
‘I hail'd the mystic omen. Ere the sun
‘Had sunk behind the Red sea's western coast,
‘I sent two gallant spies, to whom is known
‘Each winding path, each bush, each babling stream,
‘Gobryas, and Gadatas, if haply ought
‘May favour, or retard, our destin'd march.
‘Faithful I know them, and in arms approv'd;
‘Much do I wonder at their long delay.’
‘Or sense of injuries yet unreveng'd
‘Far from your native homes hath hither brought
‘Combin'd in strictest league; tho two long years
‘Round these proud ramparts we have toil'd in vain;
‘Tho safe within those walls impregnable
‘The Assyrian with insulting jests derides
‘Our preparations; never will we quit
‘This enterprise, till humbled Babylon
‘Receive her conquerors thro her hundred gates,
‘And those high bastions bow. Shall we return
‘Inglorious? shall our name become the scoff
‘Of all the neutral nations? when we drove
‘The royal hunter, and his light-arm'd bands
54
‘And oaths of peaceful amity, conceal'd
‘His hostile purpose, turn'd he from his flight
‘Till Babylonia's frontiers sav'd from death
‘Her routed prince? Remember ye the day,
‘When by a herald's voice I summon'd him
‘To prove his prowess, and in single fight
‘Decide the fate of millions? skulk'd he not,
‘Like a base coward, in those fenced walls,
‘And slew my faithful messenger? Revenge,
‘And honour, dearer to a soldier's soul
‘Than life, than liberty, forbids delay.
‘Nor grieve, my friends, for twice the ripen'd corn
‘Has nodded o'er the furrows, since we rais'd
‘Our banner on this spacious plain; the hour
‘Now hastens, when the meed of victory
55
‘Which round the city with incessant toil
‘Our pioneers have sunk, is now compleat,
‘Capacious of the stream, which wont to waft
‘Thro many an arch, the tributary spoil
‘Of bleeding provinces. The obsequious flood
‘Will change his wonted course, and in the midst
‘Of Babylon will leave his channel dry.
‘There will we pour our troops, which pant for war,
‘And, tho obedient to their leader's voice,
‘Scarce brook this tedious rest. Fear not success;
‘To combat is to conquer. Mithras smiles
‘Favouring our bold emprise. Scarce dawn'd the day
‘When to the right six towering eagles soar'd,
‘And spread their broad wings o'er the Persian tents.
56
‘Had sunk behind the Red sea's western coast,
‘I sent two gallant spies, to whom is known
‘Each winding path, each bush, each babling stream,
‘Gobryas, and Gadatas, if haply ought
‘May favour, or retard, our destin'd march.
‘Faithful I know them, and in arms approv'd;
‘Much do I wonder at their long delay.’
Scarce had he said, when at the camp arrive
The expected chiefs. ‘Welcome, my gallant friends,
‘Thrice welcome to our tent,’ the monarch cries;
‘Bold was your enterprise; and if I read
‘Your looks aright, ye bring no trivial news
‘Founded on idle rumour, or surmise;
‘But such well-built report, as shall direct
‘Our future operations; whether still
‘To wait some luckier hour; or, ere we sleep,
‘Let loose the rage of vengeance, and of war.’
The expected chiefs. ‘Welcome, my gallant friends,
‘Thrice welcome to our tent,’ the monarch cries;
‘Bold was your enterprise; and if I read
‘Your looks aright, ye bring no trivial news
‘Founded on idle rumour, or surmise;
‘But such well-built report, as shall direct
‘Our future operations; whether still
57
‘Let loose the rage of vengeance, and of war.’
He ended, and thus Gobryas. ‘Think not, prince,
‘Tho now six hours have pass'd, since first we left
‘These tents, (for then the sun was hastening down,
‘And now 'tis midnight's tide,) ah! think not us
‘Regardless of our trust: nor deem, tho born
‘Assyrians, that we e'er can waste a wish
‘For what Belshazzar governs. Wrongs like ours
‘Might kindle all the sparks of fierce revenge
‘Even in the tamest soul. With hasty step,
‘We paced the plain, and from the walls soon heard
‘The voice of riot, as ten thousand throats
‘Were howling all at once their barbarous sounds
‘Discordant. Here awhile we stood and paus'd,
‘For louder, and still louder was the noise,
‘As nearer we advanc'd. Before the walls
‘No sentinel was seen, no light appear'd
‘Suspended in the lofty towers. At length
‘To that frequented sepulchre we came,
‘Where the tall cypress with his ancient boughs
‘O'erhangs the tomb of Ninus. There we found
‘Two wretched exiles leaning o'er the stone.
‘Wet were their robes, and from their hair they drain'd
‘The dripping stream. First they prepar'd for flight,
‘But stop'd at once; and, falling at our knees,
“Whoe'er ye be, they cried, ye cannot add
“One misery to our store: our woes are full.
“Are ye from yonder tents? conduct us there
“And we will fight against our tyrant's head
“Till we be drench'd in blood.” “I know you now,
‘Replied my brave companion, “for your speech
“Declares that ye are strangers, and, I guess,
“Sons of Judæa's captive tribes. But say,
“How did ye pass these walls? at this late hour
“Why bend ye o'er that consecrated stone?
“Tis not from reverence; for ye serve a God
“Who lives beyond those hills; whose name, till late,
“Was never heard on Babylonia's coast.
“What mean those shouts? if ye will answer true,
“By the great spirit, which dwells within that tomb,
“Life, liberty is yours.” Confirm'd by this,
‘And fearless they reply. “We are indeed
“The wretched children of captivity.
“We flee Belshazzar's fury: feasts, and wine,
“Have steep'd his senses in forgetfulness;
“And open stand the brazen portals, where
“The high-arch'd bridge controuls the foaming flood.
“Headlong from thence we plung'd, and down the stream
“Swam with the unwearied vigour of despair,
“Beyond those towering walls. The city soon
“Even to the meanest host would yield her stores.”
‘They spake, when Gadatas with haste replied,
“This is no time for words, come, follow me,
“Nor fear your tyrant's wrath.” Even now before
‘Yon tent they stand, while round the soldiers throng,
‘A curious multitude, eager to mark
‘Their dress, their accent, and with hungry ears
‘Devour their tale. Now is the time, my chief;
‘Now is the wish'd-for hour of vengeance come.
‘O may I live to plunge my trusty sword
‘Deep in that monster's heart, who slew my child,
‘And drove my grey heirs to a foreign camp,
‘For shelter, for revenge!’ Now Cyrus rose,
And with him rose his faithful counsellors.
To each he gives his charge as each excells
In dignity, in valour, or in fame.
‘Tho now six hours have pass'd, since first we left
‘These tents, (for then the sun was hastening down,
‘And now 'tis midnight's tide,) ah! think not us
‘Regardless of our trust: nor deem, tho born
‘Assyrians, that we e'er can waste a wish
‘For what Belshazzar governs. Wrongs like ours
‘Might kindle all the sparks of fierce revenge
‘Even in the tamest soul. With hasty step,
‘We paced the plain, and from the walls soon heard
‘The voice of riot, as ten thousand throats
‘Were howling all at once their barbarous sounds
‘Discordant. Here awhile we stood and paus'd,
‘For louder, and still louder was the noise,
58
‘No sentinel was seen, no light appear'd
‘Suspended in the lofty towers. At length
‘To that frequented sepulchre we came,
‘Where the tall cypress with his ancient boughs
‘O'erhangs the tomb of Ninus. There we found
‘Two wretched exiles leaning o'er the stone.
‘Wet were their robes, and from their hair they drain'd
‘The dripping stream. First they prepar'd for flight,
‘But stop'd at once; and, falling at our knees,
“Whoe'er ye be, they cried, ye cannot add
“One misery to our store: our woes are full.
“Are ye from yonder tents? conduct us there
“And we will fight against our tyrant's head
“Till we be drench'd in blood.” “I know you now,
‘Replied my brave companion, “for your speech
59
“Sons of Judæa's captive tribes. But say,
“How did ye pass these walls? at this late hour
“Why bend ye o'er that consecrated stone?
“Tis not from reverence; for ye serve a God
“Who lives beyond those hills; whose name, till late,
“Was never heard on Babylonia's coast.
“What mean those shouts? if ye will answer true,
“By the great spirit, which dwells within that tomb,
“Life, liberty is yours.” Confirm'd by this,
‘And fearless they reply. “We are indeed
“The wretched children of captivity.
“We flee Belshazzar's fury: feasts, and wine,
“Have steep'd his senses in forgetfulness;
“And open stand the brazen portals, where
“The high-arch'd bridge controuls the foaming flood.
60
“Swam with the unwearied vigour of despair,
“Beyond those towering walls. The city soon
“Even to the meanest host would yield her stores.”
‘They spake, when Gadatas with haste replied,
“This is no time for words, come, follow me,
“Nor fear your tyrant's wrath.” Even now before
‘Yon tent they stand, while round the soldiers throng,
‘A curious multitude, eager to mark
‘Their dress, their accent, and with hungry ears
‘Devour their tale. Now is the time, my chief;
‘Now is the wish'd-for hour of vengeance come.
‘O may I live to plunge my trusty sword
‘Deep in that monster's heart, who slew my child,
‘And drove my grey heirs to a foreign camp,
‘For shelter, for revenge!’ Now Cyrus rose,
61
To each he gives his charge as each excells
In dignity, in valour, or in fame.
But first he bids the Magian priests prepare
A sacrifice: they with the living fire,
Once kindled by the lightening's breath, and since
Thro many an age preserv'd with holy awe,
Approach the pile. There on the flames is stretch'd
A perfect victim; while the chiefs with myrrh,
And aromatic spice, and precious oil
Feed the devouring element. But far,
Far off the soldiers stand: for he, who throws
The least pollution on the sacred hearth,
Be it thro chance, or inattention, dies.
As oft the west-wind o'er the Atlantic main
From Carolina's, or Virginia's coast,
Thy world, Columbus, travelling, on a field
Of ripen'd corn, now spent, and languid, breathes;
Each loaded ear salutes the rising dawn:
So when the Magian mutters mystic words,
The troops at once bend forward to the ground,
And hail the host of heaven, the clustering stars
Fix'd or erratic, and the horned moon:
All, but the mighty Mithras: he retir'd,
That cover'd by the silence of the night
His faithful votaries might direct their march,
And in the morning, crown'd with conquest, meet
His rising beams. And now the army moves
In separate squadrons; to the right wing these,
These wheeling to the left, as disciplin'd
By frequent practice. The long rank extends,
The close file deepens. Cyrus leads the van,
While stout Deïoces before him rears
The imperial ensign, on whose burnish'd top
The golden eagle spreads his painted wings;
That eagle, which as earliest fame reports,
Oft marshal'd to the field the warlike kings
Of ancient Persia. Hush'd is every sound,
Still is the night, and not a whisper breathes
Thro all the legions of their populous host.
A sacrifice: they with the living fire,
Once kindled by the lightening's breath, and since
Thro many an age preserv'd with holy awe,
Approach the pile. There on the flames is stretch'd
A perfect victim; while the chiefs with myrrh,
And aromatic spice, and precious oil
Feed the devouring element. But far,
Far off the soldiers stand: for he, who throws
The least pollution on the sacred hearth,
Be it thro chance, or inattention, dies.
As oft the west-wind o'er the Atlantic main
From Carolina's, or Virginia's coast,
62
Of ripen'd corn, now spent, and languid, breathes;
Each loaded ear salutes the rising dawn:
So when the Magian mutters mystic words,
The troops at once bend forward to the ground,
And hail the host of heaven, the clustering stars
Fix'd or erratic, and the horned moon:
All, but the mighty Mithras: he retir'd,
That cover'd by the silence of the night
His faithful votaries might direct their march,
And in the morning, crown'd with conquest, meet
His rising beams. And now the army moves
In separate squadrons; to the right wing these,
These wheeling to the left, as disciplin'd
By frequent practice. The long rank extends,
The close file deepens. Cyrus leads the van,
63
The imperial ensign, on whose burnish'd top
The golden eagle spreads his painted wings;
That eagle, which as earliest fame reports,
Oft marshal'd to the field the warlike kings
Of ancient Persia. Hush'd is every sound,
Still is the night, and not a whisper breathes
Thro all the legions of their populous host.
And now they cross the skirt of that broad shade
Which Babylon's high walls, that intercept
The moon's bright beams, cast o'er the plain beneath,
And march unheard, unseen. First their wide dyke
Receives the averted stream; The Persians walk
Thro the dried channel. Gobryas leads the van,
And Gadatas. To them, for well they knew
The pass, great Cyrus had consign'd this post
Of danger, and of fame. The bank they mount
With eager haste; the brazen steps ascend;
Wide open stand the portals; and at once
The unguarded streets of Babylon are fill'd
With hostile multitudes. In vain to arms
Rush the rude rioters, and call on Bel
To save his faithful votaries. He nor hears,
Nor checks the victor's rage. In heaps they lie
Prostrate, some dead, some dying: hideous shrieks
Rend the keen air. Meanwhile the Assyrians rous'd,
But rous'd too late, unite in bands, as fear,
Or chance directs; and thro the crouded streets
On friend, on foe, with undirected aim,
Hurl staves, or pointed darts, or feather'd shafts,
Undisciplined. Some from the lofty towers
Tear conic pinacles, or roll huge stones
Rent from the walls, which down with hideous crash
Fall ponderous. Some to Bel's illumin'd fane
Thronging precipitate in vain implore
The senseless idol: these Tigranes finds
All prostrate; and attended by a troop
Of faithful Zariaspans, hews at once
The god, and all his votaries to the ground.
Some seek the bridge, if chance a friendly boat
Shall waft them down the stream; but oh! what grief,
What horrour chills their souls, when they behold
That flood, where oft they wont to brace their limbs,
Convey'd they know not whither, and a way
Thro the dried channel worn by many a foot.
Aghast they stand, men, women, old and young,
Promiscuous; when Hyrcania's chief appears,
Fierce Ariamnes: from the twanging yew
Five hundred arrows fly: deep groans of pain,
And hideous ejulations to the scene
Add horror tenfold: on the bank they roll
Writhing in agonies, or happier close
Their eyes for ever in eternal sleep.
These seek their homes, if chance the much-lov'd walls
May screen them from the conquerors; those unbar
The brazen gates, and strive to leave behind
Babel's deserted towers; in vain; the dyke
Opposes, and the sword of Porus drives
Back to their walls the trembling fugitives.
Which Babylon's high walls, that intercept
The moon's bright beams, cast o'er the plain beneath,
And march unheard, unseen. First their wide dyke
Receives the averted stream; The Persians walk
Thro the dried channel. Gobryas leads the van,
And Gadatas. To them, for well they knew
The pass, great Cyrus had consign'd this post
64
With eager haste; the brazen steps ascend;
Wide open stand the portals; and at once
The unguarded streets of Babylon are fill'd
With hostile multitudes. In vain to arms
Rush the rude rioters, and call on Bel
To save his faithful votaries. He nor hears,
Nor checks the victor's rage. In heaps they lie
Prostrate, some dead, some dying: hideous shrieks
Rend the keen air. Meanwhile the Assyrians rous'd,
But rous'd too late, unite in bands, as fear,
Or chance directs; and thro the crouded streets
On friend, on foe, with undirected aim,
Hurl staves, or pointed darts, or feather'd shafts,
Undisciplined. Some from the lofty towers
Tear conic pinacles, or roll huge stones
65
Fall ponderous. Some to Bel's illumin'd fane
Thronging precipitate in vain implore
The senseless idol: these Tigranes finds
All prostrate; and attended by a troop
Of faithful Zariaspans, hews at once
The god, and all his votaries to the ground.
Some seek the bridge, if chance a friendly boat
Shall waft them down the stream; but oh! what grief,
What horrour chills their souls, when they behold
That flood, where oft they wont to brace their limbs,
Convey'd they know not whither, and a way
Thro the dried channel worn by many a foot.
Aghast they stand, men, women, old and young,
Promiscuous; when Hyrcania's chief appears,
Fierce Ariamnes: from the twanging yew
66
And hideous ejulations to the scene
Add horror tenfold: on the bank they roll
Writhing in agonies, or happier close
Their eyes for ever in eternal sleep.
These seek their homes, if chance the much-lov'd walls
May screen them from the conquerors; those unbar
The brazen gates, and strive to leave behind
Babel's deserted towers; in vain; the dyke
Opposes, and the sword of Porus drives
Back to their walls the trembling fugitives.
Yet some awhile maintain unequal fight
Unarm'd, and thro the river strive to force
A passage to the plain: plung'd in the waves
They perish; or, if chance escap'd, fresh troops
Of Persians watch the adverse banks, and slay
Whate'er the waters spar'd. Within the walls
Of Babylon was rais'd a lofty mound
Where flowers, and aromatic shrubs adorn'd
The pensile garden. For Nebassar's queen,
Fatigu'd with Babylonia's level plains,
Sigh'd for her Median home, where nature's hand
Had scoop'd the vale, and cloath'd the mountain's side
With many a verdant wood; nor long she pin'd
Till that uxorious monarch call'd on art
To rival nature's sweet variety.
Forthwith two hundred thousand slaves uprear'd
This hill, egregious work; rich fruits o'erhang
The sloping walks, and odorous shrubs entwine
Their undulating branches. Thither flocks
A multitude unseen, and mid the groves
And secret arbours all night long conceal'd,
Silent, and sad, escape the victor's sword.
Unarm'd, and thro the river strive to force
A passage to the plain: plung'd in the waves
They perish; or, if chance escap'd, fresh troops
Of Persians watch the adverse banks, and slay
67
Of Babylon was rais'd a lofty mound
Where flowers, and aromatic shrubs adorn'd
The pensile garden. For Nebassar's queen,
Fatigu'd with Babylonia's level plains,
Sigh'd for her Median home, where nature's hand
Had scoop'd the vale, and cloath'd the mountain's side
With many a verdant wood; nor long she pin'd
Till that uxorious monarch call'd on art
To rival nature's sweet variety.
Forthwith two hundred thousand slaves uprear'd
This hill, egregious work; rich fruits o'erhang
The sloping walks, and odorous shrubs entwine
Their undulating branches. Thither flocks
A multitude unseen, and mid the groves
And secret arbours all night long conceal'd,
Silent, and sad, escape the victor's sword.
68
Now the glad sound of loud triumphal notes
Mix'd with the yells of terrour, and dismay,
Are wafted thro the concave arch of night
To that imperial mansion, where the king
Lies revelling with his minions. Nitocris
First heard, and started. In that spacious room,
On whose rich sides was painted many a chase,
With all the warlike acts of Ninus old,
And great Semiramis, she sat, and wove
Her variegated web. Her slaves around
With sprightly converse cheer'd the midnight hour;
When sudden, chill'd with horrour, in their arms
She sinks, a breathless corse. And now the noise
Invades Belshazzar's ear. A messenger ,
And still another messenger arrives,
To tell him, all is lost. On the adverse wall
Instant his eye is fix'd: the characters,
Which yet remain, grow blacker, and increase
In magnitude tenfold: ‘Where, where,’ exclaims
The affrighted prince, ‘O where is Daniel? where
‘Is that interpreter of heaven's decrees,
‘Whose curse prophetic on mine ear still sounds
‘More horrible, than these alarming peals,
‘Which, as I speak, nearer and nearer roll,
‘The harbingers of slaughter. Haste, arise;
‘Tell him I spare the tribes; tell him I bow
‘To his Jehovah.’ Thus Belshazzar spake,
When sudden with impetuous uproar
Thro the wide portals rush'd an armed band,
Persians, and Medes. Gobryas, and Gadatas,
Breathing fierce vengeance, and inveterate hate,
Conduct the bloody troop. Where, monarch, where
Is now thy cruel wrath, thy pride, thy power?
Sunk on his knees behold Belshazzar bows
Before his rebel exiles! ‘Spare, O spare
‘My life,’ the coward tyrant trembling cries;
‘Let Cyrus wear my crown. To barren sands,
‘To regions, never trod by human foot,
‘Banish me, where I ne'er again may know
‘Sweet social intercourse, but think, O think,
‘How fearful 'tis to die.’ Thus while he spake
With sword uplifted o'er their bending king
The victors stood. And now perhaps his prayers,
And eyes, which upward rolling, long'd for life
Tho miserable, had stop'd the fatal blow,
Had not his murther'd son forbad the rage
Of Gobryas to subside. On his arch'd neck
The ponderous falchion falls, and at one stroke
Smites from its spouting trunk the sever'd head
Of Babylonia's monarch. Ever thus
Perish fell cruelty, and lawless power!
Mix'd with the yells of terrour, and dismay,
Are wafted thro the concave arch of night
To that imperial mansion, where the king
Lies revelling with his minions. Nitocris
First heard, and started. In that spacious room,
On whose rich sides was painted many a chase,
With all the warlike acts of Ninus old,
And great Semiramis, she sat, and wove
Her variegated web. Her slaves around
With sprightly converse cheer'd the midnight hour;
When sudden, chill'd with horrour, in their arms
She sinks, a breathless corse. And now the noise
Invades Belshazzar's ear. A messenger ,
And still another messenger arrives,
To tell him, all is lost. On the adverse wall
69
Which yet remain, grow blacker, and increase
In magnitude tenfold: ‘Where, where,’ exclaims
The affrighted prince, ‘O where is Daniel? where
‘Is that interpreter of heaven's decrees,
‘Whose curse prophetic on mine ear still sounds
‘More horrible, than these alarming peals,
‘Which, as I speak, nearer and nearer roll,
‘The harbingers of slaughter. Haste, arise;
‘Tell him I spare the tribes; tell him I bow
‘To his Jehovah.’ Thus Belshazzar spake,
When sudden with impetuous uproar
Thro the wide portals rush'd an armed band,
Persians, and Medes. Gobryas, and Gadatas,
Breathing fierce vengeance, and inveterate hate,
Conduct the bloody troop. Where, monarch, where
70
Sunk on his knees behold Belshazzar bows
Before his rebel exiles! ‘Spare, O spare
‘My life,’ the coward tyrant trembling cries;
‘Let Cyrus wear my crown. To barren sands,
‘To regions, never trod by human foot,
‘Banish me, where I ne'er again may know
‘Sweet social intercourse, but think, O think,
‘How fearful 'tis to die.’ Thus while he spake
With sword uplifted o'er their bending king
The victors stood. And now perhaps his prayers,
And eyes, which upward rolling, long'd for life
Tho miserable, had stop'd the fatal blow,
Had not his murther'd son forbad the rage
Of Gobryas to subside. On his arch'd neck
The ponderous falchion falls, and at one stroke
71
Of Babylonia's monarch. Ever thus
Perish fell cruelty, and lawless power!
Meanwhile the Persian Cyrus by his guards,
A valiant band, encompass'd, thro the streets
Had march'd, and check'd his soldiers' frantic rage.
Pent in their camp two tedious years, restrain'd
From war, their souls delight, and now let loose
At once on whom they hate, scarce can they quench
Their thirst of blood. And as a herd of wolves
Or in Lucanian, or Appulian woods,
Inflam'd by ravenous hunger prowl for prey;
If chance they hear the sound of distant sheep
Within some watled fence, o'er the weak wall
Bound at one spring, and sate their greedy maw
With all the slaughter'd flock; so the fierce bands
Of Cyrus, long witheld, pour all their ire
Insatiate on their unresisting foes.
Yet do they not, tho' steep'd in blood, neglect
Their sovran's awful voice, who bids them sheath
The sword, and tells them that the valiant fight
For victory, not for slaughter. He, when now
Weltering in gore he saw Nebassar's heir,
And all the imperial ensigns on the ground,
Look'd down, and paus'd awhile; then gently wiped
A tear of soft compassion from his eye,
And turning to the nobles, ‘tho your king
‘Hath paid the debt of war, fear not,’ he cries,
‘The sword of death is sheath'd.’ Nor more he spake,
Nor left the peers occasion to reply,
But drawn by strong instinctive sympathy
Turn'd to the scene again, where whilom lay
The monarch's mangled corse. A stream of blood
Mark'd where he fell; but now his lifeless trunk
The insulting soldiers drag thro every street,
And on a pole high-rais'd his dripping head
Bear to the distant walls. There from the top,
O'er the broad trench, with many a taunt they cast
What once was great Belshazzar. On the plain,
His realm, where oft he march'd in princely state,
The royal carcase lies; while ravenous birds
Flock round, and screaming claim their promis'd prey.
A valiant band, encompass'd, thro the streets
Had march'd, and check'd his soldiers' frantic rage.
Pent in their camp two tedious years, restrain'd
From war, their souls delight, and now let loose
At once on whom they hate, scarce can they quench
Their thirst of blood. And as a herd of wolves
Or in Lucanian, or Appulian woods,
Inflam'd by ravenous hunger prowl for prey;
If chance they hear the sound of distant sheep
Within some watled fence, o'er the weak wall
Bound at one spring, and sate their greedy maw
With all the slaughter'd flock; so the fierce bands
72
Insatiate on their unresisting foes.
Yet do they not, tho' steep'd in blood, neglect
Their sovran's awful voice, who bids them sheath
The sword, and tells them that the valiant fight
For victory, not for slaughter. He, when now
Weltering in gore he saw Nebassar's heir,
And all the imperial ensigns on the ground,
Look'd down, and paus'd awhile; then gently wiped
A tear of soft compassion from his eye,
And turning to the nobles, ‘tho your king
‘Hath paid the debt of war, fear not,’ he cries,
‘The sword of death is sheath'd.’ Nor more he spake,
Nor left the peers occasion to reply,
But drawn by strong instinctive sympathy
Turn'd to the scene again, where whilom lay
73
Mark'd where he fell; but now his lifeless trunk
The insulting soldiers drag thro every street,
And on a pole high-rais'd his dripping head
Bear to the distant walls. There from the top,
O'er the broad trench, with many a taunt they cast
What once was great Belshazzar. On the plain,
His realm, where oft he march'd in princely state,
The royal carcase lies; while ravenous birds
Flock round, and screaming claim their promis'd prey.
END OF THE SECOND BOOK.
| Judah restored | |