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 |  |
While thus, as in her mortal agony,
Raged the distracted city,—in the hall
Of the imperial palace was the sound
Of revelry; the jocund dancer's foot;
The clear gay laugh; the voice of hopeful heart,
Expectant of the morrow. The loud choir
Of mirth-inspiring music, ceasing not,
Shut out the trumpet's larum, and the din
Of battle's gathering tempest.
Raged the distracted city,—in the hall
Of the imperial palace was the sound
Of revelry; the jocund dancer's foot;
The clear gay laugh; the voice of hopeful heart,
Expectant of the morrow. The loud choir
Of mirth-inspiring music, ceasing not,
Shut out the trumpet's larum, and the din
Of battle's gathering tempest.
With a face
Heated by wine, and madman's merriment,
A ruby goblet in his burning hand,—
The king, upon his silken couch reclined,
Some graceful feat was lauding, when, uncalled,
With corpse-like aspect, at the door appeared
A trembling slave. The monarch on him cast
An eye of wrath: yet fled not the scared man;
But, with clasped hands, and look of agony,
Some tale of terror mutely seemed to tell,—
Fearful to speak, or enter. At the sign,
Eagerly on he came; and, at the feet
Of the astonished king down falling, said;
“Dread lord of lords! forgive the words I speak.
The enemy hath entered at the breach,
And rageth in the city.”
Heated by wine, and madman's merriment,
A ruby goblet in his burning hand,—
The king, upon his silken couch reclined,
Some graceful feat was lauding, when, uncalled,
With corpse-like aspect, at the door appeared
A trembling slave. The monarch on him cast
An eye of wrath: yet fled not the scared man;
But, with clasped hands, and look of agony,
Some tale of terror mutely seemed to tell,—
Fearful to speak, or enter. At the sign,
Eagerly on he came; and, at the feet
Of the astonished king down falling, said;
“Dread lord of lords! forgive the words I speak.
The enemy hath entered at the breach,
And rageth in the city.”
Deadly pale,
The king arose, but spake not. To the door
He pointed; and the shivering slave was gone.
The king arose, but spake not. To the door
He pointed; and the shivering slave was gone.
297
A few brief moments, on the cheerful groups
Linked in the dance, a strange, dark look he cast;
Then, with slow step, went forth. The demon-thought
Again had waked within him. Like a brand
Of burning iron on the quivering flesh,
So on his brain it wrought. The golden key
Within the wards he turned; that no one thence
Might issue, no intruder pass within;
Then, by the marble stairs, with firm, swift foot,
Resolved and strong, descended.
Linked in the dance, a strange, dark look he cast;
Then, with slow step, went forth. The demon-thought
Again had waked within him. Like a brand
Of burning iron on the quivering flesh,
So on his brain it wrought. The golden key
Within the wards he turned; that no one thence
Might issue, no intruder pass within;
Then, by the marble stairs, with firm, swift foot,
Resolved and strong, descended.
Like a mist
Before the breeze, passed off the fumes of wine;
For, now, distinctly on his ear arose
The blare of trumpets, and the din of hosts
In mortal combat. Buckling on a sword,
To the open court he hastened; looked around,
And listened. Borne along the changeful blast,
The sounds of battle, now, seemed far away;
Now, at the palace gates loud thundering.
Before the breeze, passed off the fumes of wine;
For, now, distinctly on his ear arose
The blare of trumpets, and the din of hosts
In mortal combat. Buckling on a sword,
To the open court he hastened; looked around,
And listened. Borne along the changeful blast,
The sounds of battle, now, seemed far away;
Now, at the palace gates loud thundering.
Silent, and motionless, awhile he stood,
Noting the sudden storm, the angry sky,
With never ceasing lightnings all ablaze,—
And wished heaven's thousand flood-gates would break loose,
And 'neath the deluge whelm his enemies:
“Yea, though with them fell I, and all my host;
And every stone of Nineveh should roll
Like pebble in the torrent!”
Noting the sudden storm, the angry sky,
With never ceasing lightnings all ablaze,—
And wished heaven's thousand flood-gates would break loose,
And 'neath the deluge whelm his enemies:
“Yea, though with them fell I, and all my host;
And every stone of Nineveh should roll
Like pebble in the torrent!”
Thus, at length,
Outspake he; and, with swift and furious step,
To and fro hurried. But, as came again
The uproar of the battle, swelling now
As though within the court itself had raged
The mortal struggle,—suddenly he paused;
Laid hand upon his sword, and ready stood,
Assault expecting. But, again borne off,
The tumult died away; and then once more,
Shaping in words his bitter thoughts, he spake.
“What may this mean? The flood not yet hath fallen;
Or they who brought report have lied to me.
Traitors, then have we? Said they not, ‘Once more
Must rise, and set, the sun, ere foot of foe
Can touch the ground?’—But yet, what matters it
If now, or two days hence, the evil come.
The fall of the great city is decreed;
By gods, or Fate, or demons, is decreed;
And nought can stay it; nought in earth, or heaven,
One day retard it. Wherefore covet, then,
A few hours more of lingering wretchedness!
I am, in truth, awearied of this life;
And rather would at once leap down the gulf,
Than longer stand and tremble on its brink.
Outspake he; and, with swift and furious step,
To and fro hurried. But, as came again
The uproar of the battle, swelling now
As though within the court itself had raged
The mortal struggle,—suddenly he paused;
Laid hand upon his sword, and ready stood,
Assault expecting. But, again borne off,
The tumult died away; and then once more,
Shaping in words his bitter thoughts, he spake.
“What may this mean? The flood not yet hath fallen;
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Traitors, then have we? Said they not, ‘Once more
Must rise, and set, the sun, ere foot of foe
Can touch the ground?’—But yet, what matters it
If now, or two days hence, the evil come.
The fall of the great city is decreed;
By gods, or Fate, or demons, is decreed;
And nought can stay it; nought in earth, or heaven,
One day retard it. Wherefore covet, then,
A few hours more of lingering wretchedness!
I am, in truth, awearied of this life;
And rather would at once leap down the gulf,
Than longer stand and tremble on its brink.
“Ah! could I but drag down with me yon host
Of rebels curs'd! I hear you, foul-mouthed, base!
Dogs! adders! vermin! crawling, noxious things!
Worms that gnaw bravely the dead lion's heart!
I hear, and loathe you! Ay, ye vaunt aloud,
In pride of victory o'er the king of kings,
As though your strength, and not the Fates' decree,
Had overthrown him. Nay, erelong, no doubt,
Ye trust to see the monarch of the world,
For a few years of miserable life,
A suppliant at your feet! Ye fondly hope
To riot in his gorgeous palaces;
To deck your vile clay in his royal robes,
And in the sunshine of his priceless gems.
Haply, within your hearts ye also say,
‘Shall we not revel with his beauteous dames?
Shall we not drink the nectar of their lips?
Shall we not take them for our concubines,
And of the king make mirth and mockery?’
Slaves thrice accursed! ay, even this ye hope!
But he shall balk you still.—Infatuate fool!
Didst thou not promise them, that, with the morn,
They should go forth in freedom; gems, and gold,
The dowry of a queen, each bearing off?
Didst thou not tell them, ‘In the rebel camp,
The greatest will be proud to sue to you,
And pray you be their wives?’ I marked you then,
False wretches! I beheld your sparkling eyes,
Your sudden brightening! From your falling lord
Glad were ye all to fly; and in the arms
Of damnëd rebels try your blandishments!
But I will stay your sport: ye still are mine;
Still shall be while I live: and, when I die,
Ye also to the air shall render up
Your fair, false beauty! Double vengeance thus,
On you, alike, and on the hated foe,
At once I wreak! Ay, wanton traitresses!
Together will we perish! The same torch
That lights my funeral pile, shall kindle yours!
Of rebels curs'd! I hear you, foul-mouthed, base!
Dogs! adders! vermin! crawling, noxious things!
Worms that gnaw bravely the dead lion's heart!
I hear, and loathe you! Ay, ye vaunt aloud,
In pride of victory o'er the king of kings,
As though your strength, and not the Fates' decree,
Had overthrown him. Nay, erelong, no doubt,
Ye trust to see the monarch of the world,
For a few years of miserable life,
A suppliant at your feet! Ye fondly hope
To riot in his gorgeous palaces;
To deck your vile clay in his royal robes,
And in the sunshine of his priceless gems.
Haply, within your hearts ye also say,
‘Shall we not revel with his beauteous dames?
Shall we not drink the nectar of their lips?
Shall we not take them for our concubines,
And of the king make mirth and mockery?’
Slaves thrice accursed! ay, even this ye hope!
But he shall balk you still.—Infatuate fool!
Didst thou not promise them, that, with the morn,
They should go forth in freedom; gems, and gold,
The dowry of a queen, each bearing off?
Didst thou not tell them, ‘In the rebel camp,
The greatest will be proud to sue to you,
And pray you be their wives?’ I marked you then,
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Your sudden brightening! From your falling lord
Glad were ye all to fly; and in the arms
Of damnëd rebels try your blandishments!
But I will stay your sport: ye still are mine;
Still shall be while I live: and, when I die,
Ye also to the air shall render up
Your fair, false beauty! Double vengeance thus,
On you, alike, and on the hated foe,
At once I wreak! Ay, wanton traitresses!
Together will we perish! The same torch
That lights my funeral pile, shall kindle yours!
“Rage on, accursëd rebels! At these gates
Your proud foot shall be stayed. Here come ye not,
Or come as victims. Meantime, till the flames
Envelop all, the revel will I hold.
Ha, ha; throughout all nations, and all times,
This feast shall be renowned!”
Your proud foot shall be stayed. Here come ye not,
Or come as victims. Meantime, till the flames
Envelop all, the revel will I hold.
Ha, ha; throughout all nations, and all times,
This feast shall be renowned!”
Unconsciously,
Thus to his thoughts, and passions turbulent,
Clear voice he gave; with gesture vehement,
And rapid foot, still walking to and fro.
Thus to his thoughts, and passions turbulent,
Clear voice he gave; with gesture vehement,
And rapid foot, still walking to and fro.
Alone, and unobserved, he deemed himself:
But, drawing near, one man upon him now
Bent his stern eye; one ear his every word
Well marked, as, with a fiendish cruelty,
Again his dark soul spake. “Ay, every one!
The youngest and the fairest, all shall die!
A steam of sacrifice shall reach heaven's gates,
Such as the nostrils of blood-loving gods
Ne'er yet have scented! such as well may fit
The hour, when sinks the empire of the world,
And dies earth's greatest king! Though perish then
My mortal body,—yet, throughout all times,
And every land, my great renown shall live!
But they, too, perish with me: all, all die!”
But, drawing near, one man upon him now
Bent his stern eye; one ear his every word
Well marked, as, with a fiendish cruelty,
Again his dark soul spake. “Ay, every one!
The youngest and the fairest, all shall die!
A steam of sacrifice shall reach heaven's gates,
Such as the nostrils of blood-loving gods
Ne'er yet have scented! such as well may fit
The hour, when sinks the empire of the world,
And dies earth's greatest king! Though perish then
My mortal body,—yet, throughout all times,
And every land, my great renown shall live!
But they, too, perish with me: all, all die!”
He started; for, behind him, his mad words
Strangely were echoed. A deep voice returned,
“Yea, king; all, all shall die!”
Strangely were echoed. A deep voice returned,
“Yea, king; all, all shall die!”
Surprised, and wroth,
Backward he looked; and, like a statue fixed,
Beheld the hated Barak. A drawn sword
Supported his gaunt hand: his face was pale,
And passionless as stone. A dark, grim smile
Illumed the despot's face. “Ha! wizard—here?
What think'st thou? Is the fated hour now come?
Shall the proud Mede this night his iron rule
Fix o'er the eternal city? or, even yet,
Will the gods strike, and wither him?”
300
Beheld the hated Barak. A drawn sword
Supported his gaunt hand: his face was pale,
And passionless as stone. A dark, grim smile
Illumed the despot's face. “Ha! wizard—here?
What think'st thou? Is the fated hour now come?
Shall the proud Mede this night his iron rule
Fix o'er the eternal city? or, even yet,
Will the gods strike, and wither him?”
“Yea, king!”
With calm, stern tone the prophet answered him:
“The hour is come; my hour; and thine the next!
The Mede already in the sacred walls
Hath poured his myriads. Hearken to the din!
Hear'st not the bray of arms, the victor's cries,
Each moment nearer. Surely will this night
Behold the glory of Assyria fallen!
Thy reign, O king! is passed. Another head
Thy crown must wear. There is no hope in man,
Or gods to save us! 'Tis the gods' decree.
With calm, stern tone the prophet answered him:
“The hour is come; my hour; and thine the next!
The Mede already in the sacred walls
Hath poured his myriads. Hearken to the din!
Hear'st not the bray of arms, the victor's cries,
Each moment nearer. Surely will this night
Behold the glory of Assyria fallen!
Thy reign, O king! is passed. Another head
Thy crown must wear. There is no hope in man,
Or gods to save us! 'Tis the gods' decree.
“Like a strong river swollen by wintry rains,
Roaring and foaming through rock-narrowed banks,—
So, through the streets rolls now the torrent foe!
I saw them come: I knew the fated end:
I sped to warn thee; and myself to die.
As yet, they enter at the breach alone;
Erelong, at every gate will they pour in.
Hast thou resolved, O king! on life, or death?
And how to live, or how to meet thine end?”
Roaring and foaming through rock-narrowed banks,—
So, through the streets rolls now the torrent foe!
I saw them come: I knew the fated end:
I sped to warn thee; and myself to die.
As yet, they enter at the breach alone;
Erelong, at every gate will they pour in.
Hast thou resolved, O king! on life, or death?
And how to live, or how to meet thine end?”
Not as a subject to a dreaded lord,
But as the greater spirit to the less,
With lofty look, and tone severe he spake.
But as the greater spirit to the less,
With lofty look, and tone severe he spake.
The imperious temper of the king was chafed.
Long had he loathed, yet secretly had feared,
That strange dark man: but treble hatred now
Fired him to frenzy. He, the paltry priest,
Had dared to beard him: with a master's tone
Audacious, schooled the monarch of the world,
Even as a boy! But still was he the king!
Though falling, still the king; and, to the last,
Would live the lord of all; the life of man
Still at his pleasure hold,—to take, or leave,
As fancy moved him: and, though now he stood
As on the very outskirt of the world,
Scenting the realms of darkness and of death,
Yet one last act of kingly dominance
Should cheer his parting soul.
Long had he loathed, yet secretly had feared,
That strange dark man: but treble hatred now
Fired him to frenzy. He, the paltry priest,
Had dared to beard him: with a master's tone
Audacious, schooled the monarch of the world,
Even as a boy! But still was he the king!
301
Would live the lord of all; the life of man
Still at his pleasure hold,—to take, or leave,
As fancy moved him: and, though now he stood
As on the very outskirt of the world,
Scenting the realms of darkness and of death,
Yet one last act of kingly dominance
Should cheer his parting soul.
But, cunningly,
Smoothing his brow, and with a quiet tone
His fury masking, thus he made reply.
“Priest, said'st thou not, thy fate with mine is linked,
Thy end, ere mine, an hour?”
Smoothing his brow, and with a quiet tone
His fury masking, thus he made reply.
“Priest, said'st thou not, thy fate with mine is linked,
Thy end, ere mine, an hour?”
“I said it, king;”
Calmly the guile-suspecting seer replied;
“'Tis written in the scroll of things to come;
'Tis the decree of Fate.”
Calmly the guile-suspecting seer replied;
“'Tis written in the scroll of things to come;
'Tis the decree of Fate.”
“Thou liest,—'tis mine,
I bid thee die!” shrieked the king, springing on.
I bid thee die!” shrieked the king, springing on.
A madman's strength was in his vengeful arm;
A tiger's fierceness in his sudden leap:
But, in the instant, from his hard-clenched hand,
Loud clanging flew the sword: for, lightning-swift,
With giant strength, the priest his own huge blade
Dashed 'gainst the falling steel,—and, far away,
Rapidly whirling as it cleft the air,
Jangling and whizzing, sent it.
A tiger's fierceness in his sudden leap:
But, in the instant, from his hard-clenched hand,
Loud clanging flew the sword: for, lightning-swift,
With giant strength, the priest his own huge blade
Dashed 'gainst the falling steel,—and, far away,
Rapidly whirling as it cleft the air,
Jangling and whizzing, sent it.
The harsh clang
Benumbed the murderous arm, that, for a time,
Strengthless it dropped. A strange astonishment
So held the king, that not a word he spake,
Nor moved a limb; but, with wild, wondering eye,
Followed the glittering weapon on its flight:
Then, as he saw it fall, laughed loud, and long,
A wild hysteric laugh. His very brain
Seemed as it felt the jar; so purposeless,
So lost his look; as though, with madman's rage,
Were idiot's weakness mingled.
Benumbed the murderous arm, that, for a time,
Strengthless it dropped. A strange astonishment
So held the king, that not a word he spake,
Nor moved a limb; but, with wild, wondering eye,
Followed the glittering weapon on its flight:
Then, as he saw it fall, laughed loud, and long,
A wild hysteric laugh. His very brain
Seemed as it felt the jar; so purposeless,
So lost his look; as though, with madman's rage,
Were idiot's weakness mingled.
A stern look,
Calm, but contemptuous, on him threw the priest.
“Fool to the last!” he said; “A life all vain;
Hateful to all; now hateful to thyself;
For the dread world unknown, thou soon must quit;
Yet, ere thy dying breath be quite gone out,
Would'st snatch at mine! Why? gilded gewgaw! why?—
Because thy tinsel pomp ne'er bowed my soul
To worship at thy feet. A very god
Thou'st deemed thyself; and millions, better far,
Hast spit upon, and trampled in the dust,
Till they, too, hailed thee as a deity.
A god?—Nay, Monster!—man, goat, tiger, mixed!
Yet, being what thou art, the Powers supreme
Have placed thee on the highest throne of earth,
Their will to execute,—not thine, poor slave!
302
“Fool to the last!” he said; “A life all vain;
Hateful to all; now hateful to thyself;
For the dread world unknown, thou soon must quit;
Yet, ere thy dying breath be quite gone out,
Would'st snatch at mine! Why? gilded gewgaw! why?—
Because thy tinsel pomp ne'er bowed my soul
To worship at thy feet. A very god
Thou'st deemed thyself; and millions, better far,
Hast spit upon, and trampled in the dust,
Till they, too, hailed thee as a deity.
A god?—Nay, Monster!—man, goat, tiger, mixed!
Yet, being what thou art, the Powers supreme
Have placed thee on the highest throne of earth,
Their will to execute,—not thine, poor slave!
“Ere the foundation of the earth was laid,
Of all the doom was fixed. This monstrous realm
In its due time arose; a mighty man,
By Fate ordained to found it: at due time,
Was fixed its fall: and thou, weak, sensual thing,
The sorry instrument! Thy follies, crimes,
Thy tyranny, thy avarice, thy lust,
Made thee the agent fit to rouse the hearts
And hands of nations 'gainst her iron rule;
And drag her to destruction. For this end
Wert thou created; to this end hast wrought.
Thy work is finished: thou, the unconscious tool,
Done with, art cast aside, to bleed, drown, burn,
Or rot; then mix with other human clay,—
A beggar's, or a slave's, no matter which,
Since equal all to thine. Yet thou'rt a god!
Hast felt thyself a god: been hymned as god;
Worshipped by prostrate hosts. I worshipped not!
Think'st thou for reverence of thy paltry state,
I served, obeyed thee? No, I mocked at that;
I smiled at thee; or, when I smiled not, loathed.
'Twas as the tool, though base one, of the gods,
Or Fate, more strong than gods, that I beheld,
And served thee. Why, in that terrific night,
When round thee was thy host all perishing;
When thou thyself, fear-stricken, to the ground
Shrank cowering, and the Irresistible
Was hasting to the death-stroke,—wherefore then
Came I to save thee? Thinkest thou for love,
Or reverence? No! thy work not yet was done;
Thy hour not come; and I was sent to save.
Of all the doom was fixed. This monstrous realm
In its due time arose; a mighty man,
By Fate ordained to found it: at due time,
Was fixed its fall: and thou, weak, sensual thing,
The sorry instrument! Thy follies, crimes,
Thy tyranny, thy avarice, thy lust,
Made thee the agent fit to rouse the hearts
And hands of nations 'gainst her iron rule;
And drag her to destruction. For this end
Wert thou created; to this end hast wrought.
Thy work is finished: thou, the unconscious tool,
Done with, art cast aside, to bleed, drown, burn,
Or rot; then mix with other human clay,—
A beggar's, or a slave's, no matter which,
Since equal all to thine. Yet thou'rt a god!
Hast felt thyself a god: been hymned as god;
Worshipped by prostrate hosts. I worshipped not!
Think'st thou for reverence of thy paltry state,
I served, obeyed thee? No, I mocked at that;
I smiled at thee; or, when I smiled not, loathed.
'Twas as the tool, though base one, of the gods,
Or Fate, more strong than gods, that I beheld,
And served thee. Why, in that terrific night,
303
When thou thyself, fear-stricken, to the ground
Shrank cowering, and the Irresistible
Was hasting to the death-stroke,—wherefore then
Came I to save thee? Thinkest thou for love,
Or reverence? No! thy work not yet was done;
Thy hour not come; and I was sent to save.
“And what thy gratitude? my recompense?
Twice hast thou striven to slay me! Generous king!
Yet, if by thy hand, or my own, I die,
What matters it, so fate be but fulfilled!
Think not, in baffling thy most kingly thirst
For murder,—that I valued life, or hoped,
Or dreamed, of years to come: I crave them not;
Well knowing that the all-disposing Fates
This night, this hour, demand the life they gave.
Twice hast thou striven to slay me! Generous king!
Yet, if by thy hand, or my own, I die,
What matters it, so fate be but fulfilled!
Think not, in baffling thy most kingly thirst
For murder,—that I valued life, or hoped,
Or dreamed, of years to come: I crave them not;
Well knowing that the all-disposing Fates
This night, this hour, demand the life they gave.
“Hark! murderer! to yon more than thunder-peal
Of human tempest! Wide are flung the gates;
The living ocean pours its billows in!
Fallen is great Nineveh! Eternal night
Is gathering round her: and thy greater far
Is now Assyria's lord. Hark! more and more
The uproar heightens; nearer draws the storm.
Sardanapalus, now no more a king,
Wilt thou to some base soldier yield thy breath?
Or wilt thou solely thine own victor be,
And fall as I shall fall? The hour is come:
Thy life is asked. Poor puppet! once a king!
See how a man can die!”
Of human tempest! Wide are flung the gates;
The living ocean pours its billows in!
Fallen is great Nineveh! Eternal night
Is gathering round her: and thy greater far
Is now Assyria's lord. Hark! more and more
The uproar heightens; nearer draws the storm.
Sardanapalus, now no more a king,
Wilt thou to some base soldier yield thy breath?
Or wilt thou solely thine own victor be,
And fall as I shall fall? The hour is come:
Thy life is asked. Poor puppet! once a king!
See how a man can die!”
He turned away;
Looked up to heaven; then, with clasped hands, and voice
Solemn and deep, thus spake:
Looked up to heaven; then, with clasped hands, and voice
Solemn and deep, thus spake:
“O'erruling gods!
Or Fates, whate'er ye be, to man unknown,
I bow to you: I yield to your decree!—
Earth, sky, air, water; birds, and beasts, and man;
Green trees, and mountain-tops; lone wilderness;
Sun, moon; and ye, great mysteries of heaven,
The bright and countless stars,—farewell! farewell!
To me ye are no more! The universe,
To me, is blotted out; and all is nought!”
Or Fates, whate'er ye be, to man unknown,
I bow to you: I yield to your decree!—
Earth, sky, air, water; birds, and beasts, and man;
Green trees, and mountain-tops; lone wilderness;
Sun, moon; and ye, great mysteries of heaven,
304
To me ye are no more! The universe,
To me, is blotted out; and all is nought!”
He ceased: one long, rapt, melancholy look
On heaven, and earth, cast round: deliberately
Upon the ground his sword hilt fixed; the point
Against his heart, with hand unwavering, placed;
One moment paused; one word inaudible breathed;
Then forward fell, transpierced!
On heaven, and earth, cast round: deliberately
Upon the ground his sword hilt fixed; the point
Against his heart, with hand unwavering, placed;
One moment paused; one word inaudible breathed;
Then forward fell, transpierced!
No sound was heard.
He spake not; groaned not; struggled not,—but died:
As though his iron will, in death, as life,
Held mastery yet.
He spake not; groaned not; struggled not,—but died:
As though his iron will, in death, as life,
Held mastery yet.
More loud and steady now
Arose the din of battle; for the wind,
Like a strong man by sudden palsy struck,
At once had fallën; and its utmost strength
Was but as infant's sob. The rain had ceased;
Thunder was hushed; and o'er the firmament
Strange darkness 'gan to steal.
Arose the din of battle; for the wind,
Like a strong man by sudden palsy struck,
At once had fallën; and its utmost strength
Was but as infant's sob. The rain had ceased;
Thunder was hushed; and o'er the firmament
Strange darkness 'gan to steal.
The unwonted signs,—
Omens and prodigies, to calmer men,—
Passed all unnoted. Even the heightening roar
Of conflict drawing nigh, the king marked not,—
In such astonishment upon the corpse,
Close at his feet, he gazed. His blood, that boiled,
Now cold within him ran: his maddened brain,
As by the touch of a magician's wand,
To sober changed. Deep rapt, and silent, long
He stood, and looked: then thus, at length, broke forth.
“O, man inscrutable! what art thou now?
What was this essence, Life, that gave thee thought,
Loftier than that of conqueror, or of king?
Strength of the lion; resolution fixed
As law of Fate: and, having vanished, leaves
A carcase merely, on which dogs may prey;
Slaves trample; vultures, flies, or worms, may feast?
Omens and prodigies, to calmer men,—
Passed all unnoted. Even the heightening roar
Of conflict drawing nigh, the king marked not,—
In such astonishment upon the corpse,
Close at his feet, he gazed. His blood, that boiled,
Now cold within him ran: his maddened brain,
As by the touch of a magician's wand,
To sober changed. Deep rapt, and silent, long
He stood, and looked: then thus, at length, broke forth.
“O, man inscrutable! what art thou now?
What was this essence, Life, that gave thee thought,
Loftier than that of conqueror, or of king?
Strength of the lion; resolution fixed
As law of Fate: and, having vanished, leaves
A carcase merely, on which dogs may prey;
Slaves trample; vultures, flies, or worms, may feast?
“Is this clod thee? thee, Barak, the dark priest?
Or art thou on the winds careering now?
Or, viewless, plunging through the earth, or sea?
Or, far above, in the deep heart of heaven,
Amid the stars, or in the burning sun,
Mingling with gods and heroes of long past?
Or in dark Hades, wandering mournfully?
Hadst thou, in my place, held Assyria's throne,
Still proudly had it stood, immoveable:
Thine iron arm, indomitable soul,
Had crushed rebellion, even at its birth.
But what avails? 'Tis done; the ruin wrought;
Assyria is no more: and I, like thee,
Must plunge into the dark, for heaven, or hell!
Or art thou on the winds careering now?
Or, viewless, plunging through the earth, or sea?
305
Amid the stars, or in the burning sun,
Mingling with gods and heroes of long past?
Or in dark Hades, wandering mournfully?
Hadst thou, in my place, held Assyria's throne,
Still proudly had it stood, immoveable:
Thine iron arm, indomitable soul,
Had crushed rebellion, even at its birth.
But what avails? 'Tis done; the ruin wrought;
Assyria is no more: and I, like thee,
Must plunge into the dark, for heaven, or hell!
“But who is this, with look of fiery haste?
Surely the foe hath not already—Ha!
Nebaioth? wherefore here? I have forbid
Intrusion on me. Get thee hence.”
Surely the foe hath not already—Ha!
Nebaioth? wherefore here? I have forbid
Intrusion on me. Get thee hence.”
“Dread lord!
Oh hear me, hear me!” dropping on his knees,
Cried out the noble youth: “the enemy
Have entered at the breach; flung wide the gates,
And this way hurry on! For thee they cry:
Like famished wolves they thirst to drink thy blood!
Oh! ere it be too late, fling off those robes!
Quickly a dark and mean disguise put on:
And, 'mid this wild confusion, even yet,
From some far distant gate thou may escape.
Resistance soon must end. Our soldiers now
Strive feebly. Thousands fling their arms away;
And either run, or yield. Oh! fly, then, fly!”
Oh hear me, hear me!” dropping on his knees,
Cried out the noble youth: “the enemy
Have entered at the breach; flung wide the gates,
And this way hurry on! For thee they cry:
Like famished wolves they thirst to drink thy blood!
Oh! ere it be too late, fling off those robes!
Quickly a dark and mean disguise put on:
And, 'mid this wild confusion, even yet,
From some far distant gate thou may escape.
Resistance soon must end. Our soldiers now
Strive feebly. Thousands fling their arms away;
And either run, or yield. Oh! fly, then, fly!”
“Enough,” the monarch cried; “now get thee hence.
The king, be sure, will 'scape. A stratagem
Of rare device is laid; and cannot fail.
When ye shall see this palace of the earth
Mounting in flames to heaven,—then may ye know
The king hath baffled all his enemies:
Strive then no more in useless fight, but yield;
Or, if ye may, 'scape also. Now, away.—
Yet, ere thou leave the palace, give command
That every serving-woman, man, and slave,
And every soldier, through some southern door,
Make speed to quit it. Hastily seek then
The warders of each gate; them bid remain:
And, when the foe shall strike upon the door,
Entrance demanding,—let them, first, three times
Sound on the trumpet, as for life they blew;
Three times make pause, as if on parley bent;
Then fling back bolt and bar; the gates throw wide,
And bid them in. Fear not: the king shall 'scape.
Brave youth! farewell!” That said, he turned, and went.
The king, be sure, will 'scape. A stratagem
Of rare device is laid; and cannot fail.
When ye shall see this palace of the earth
Mounting in flames to heaven,—then may ye know
The king hath baffled all his enemies:
Strive then no more in useless fight, but yield;
Or, if ye may, 'scape also. Now, away.—
Yet, ere thou leave the palace, give command
That every serving-woman, man, and slave,
And every soldier, through some southern door,
Make speed to quit it. Hastily seek then
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And, when the foe shall strike upon the door,
Entrance demanding,—let them, first, three times
Sound on the trumpet, as for life they blew;
Three times make pause, as if on parley bent;
Then fling back bolt and bar; the gates throw wide,
And bid them in. Fear not: the king shall 'scape.
Brave youth! farewell!” That said, he turned, and went.
Nebaioth, from his knees, much marvelling, rose,
Much fearing, for, so strange the monarch's look;
His voice so strange, that, though he saw and heard,
Scarce could he know them his. Yet now no time
For wonder, or delay: the king's behest
Must be obeyed.
Much fearing, for, so strange the monarch's look;
His voice so strange, that, though he saw and heard,
Scarce could he know them his. Yet now no time
For wonder, or delay: the king's behest
Must be obeyed.
That done, he issued forth;
And where, with maddest fury, Jerimoth,
And all the choicest of Assyria's host,
Resisted still, plunged headlong in the fight.
And where, with maddest fury, Jerimoth,
And all the choicest of Assyria's host,
Resisted still, plunged headlong in the fight.
Dire the confusion! By the lurid gleam
Of flames that, through the thickening atmosphere,
Scarce served to show the enemy,—front to front,
And hand to hand, the desperate battle raged.
Of flames that, through the thickening atmosphere,
Scarce served to show the enemy,—front to front,
And hand to hand, the desperate battle raged.
| The fall of Nineveh | |