The fall of Nineveh A poem by Edwin Atherstone. Second edition: diligently corrected, and otherwise improved. In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
| 7. |
| 8. |
| 9. |
| 10. |
| 11. |
| 12. |
| 13. |
| 14. |
| 15. |
| 16. |
| 17. |
| 18. |
| 19. |
| 20. |
| 21. |
| 22. |
| 23. |
| 24. |
| 25. |
| 26. |
| 27. |
| 28. |
| 29. |
| 30. |
 | The fall of Nineveh |  |
But, in the thronged, and roaring streets, meantime,
Direful had been the conflict. By the glare
Of numerous fires, had Death his grim work done:
But, chiefly, in the square of Jupiter,
Fit battle-field for thousands, raged the strife.
Fiercer than tigers fighting for their young,
Assyria's bravest captains, foot by foot,
Drew back, yet scorned to yield. With rage as hot,
The Medes pressed on them.
Direful had been the conflict. By the glare
Of numerous fires, had Death his grim work done:
But, chiefly, in the square of Jupiter,
Fit battle-field for thousands, raged the strife.
Fiercer than tigers fighting for their young,
Assyria's bravest captains, foot by foot,
Drew back, yet scorned to yield. With rage as hot,
The Medes pressed on them.
But their mightiest foe,
Arbaces, in mid battle sheathed his sword:
For pity moved him that, in hopeless cause,
One valiant man should fall. With lifted voice,
Clear as a clarion, urgently and oft,
Upon the hostile leaders did he call,—
Imploring them to yield. Not more in vain
Might the tossed seaman bid the waves be still.
They knew all lost: they knew the stern decree,
Death to the king denouncing; and with him,
Resolute stood to die,—but, dying, slay.
Arbaces, in mid battle sheathed his sword:
For pity moved him that, in hopeless cause,
One valiant man should fall. With lifted voice,
Clear as a clarion, urgently and oft,
Upon the hostile leaders did he call,—
Imploring them to yield. Not more in vain
Might the tossed seaman bid the waves be still.
They knew all lost: they knew the stern decree,
Death to the king denouncing; and with him,
Resolute stood to die,—but, dying, slay.
Nought knew they of the palace then in flames:
A broader, redder light, for brief time glowed;
But that they heeded not: the fatal hail,
In solitary bolts, shot here and there;
But that they saw not; where so many fell,
None marked the weapon.
A broader, redder light, for brief time glowed;
But that they heeded not: the fatal hail,
In solitary bolts, shot here and there;
But that they saw not; where so many fell,
None marked the weapon.
But, by swift degrees,
The air 'gan thicken: the red glow of fires
Was blotted out: a midnight darkness, soon,
Shut out their foes. Thicker, and thicker still,
It gathered round them; pressed upon their flesh,
Like a wrapped mantle. No man his own hand
Uplifted, now could see. Perforce all stood,
Astonished, motionless: nor sound was heard,
Save, soft and muffled,—as of chariot wheels
Amid deep snow,—the roar and crack of fires.
316
Was blotted out: a midnight darkness, soon,
Shut out their foes. Thicker, and thicker still,
It gathered round them; pressed upon their flesh,
Like a wrapped mantle. No man his own hand
Uplifted, now could see. Perforce all stood,
Astonished, motionless: nor sound was heard,
Save, soft and muffled,—as of chariot wheels
Amid deep snow,—the roar and crack of fires.
But, in that hush, erelong, like stroke of spear,
Or brazen dart, at lessening intervals,
Upon their armour rang the hailstone's blow.
At every stroke, a smothered cry was heard,
A struggle, and a fall. As fell each bolt,
Above them in the air a sound was heard,
As of an arrow-cloud; yet no man guessed
Whence came the invisible mischief.
Or brazen dart, at lessening intervals,
Upon their armour rang the hailstone's blow.
At every stroke, a smothered cry was heard,
A struggle, and a fall. As fell each bolt,
Above them in the air a sound was heard,
As of an arrow-cloud; yet no man guessed
Whence came the invisible mischief.
But, erelong,
The fearful truth all knew. Like thunder-drops,
Singly descending, first, and wide apart,
But, speedily, in cataracts, out-poured,—
Came down at length, in torrent-flood, the hail.
Wild cries from thousands rose; yet, such the din,
No man his own uplifted voice could hear.
As though upon a myriad anvils clanged
A myriad ponderous hammers,—on the roofs,
The stony pavement, and the armour, rang
So loud the awful hail.
The fearful truth all knew. Like thunder-drops,
Singly descending, first, and wide apart,
But, speedily, in cataracts, out-poured,—
Came down at length, in torrent-flood, the hail.
Wild cries from thousands rose; yet, such the din,
No man his own uplifted voice could hear.
As though upon a myriad anvils clanged
A myriad ponderous hammers,—on the roofs,
The stony pavement, and the armour, rang
So loud the awful hail.
Beneath their shields
The soldiers cowered: yet even the strongest fell.
The Median archers, in light armour fenced,
And shieldless, all had perished 'neath the weight
Of that dread battery, but that, far behind,
Nigh to the breach, for closer fight unfit,—
Thus ordered,—they had stayed, and refuge found.
The soldiers cowered: yet even the strongest fell.
The Median archers, in light armour fenced,
And shieldless, all had perished 'neath the weight
Of that dread battery, but that, far behind,
Nigh to the breach, for closer fight unfit,—
Thus ordered,—they had stayed, and refuge found.
Of the Assyrians also, the unarmed,
Or lightly fended, at the first dread frown
Of that strange darkness, all had shelter sought
So life preserved; for even the helmed head
Was smitten to the death; the battered shield
Driven with the strong man flat upon the ground:
Rider, and mail-clad horse, reeled to and fro,
Then sank together. Whomso smote the hail,
Sorely it wounded, even if death he 'scaped.
Or lightly fended, at the first dread frown
Of that strange darkness, all had shelter sought
So life preserved; for even the helmed head
317
Driven with the strong man flat upon the ground:
Rider, and mail-clad horse, reeled to and fro,
Then sank together. Whomso smote the hail,
Sorely it wounded, even if death he 'scaped.
And, haply, all on whom its fury fell
At length had perished, but that, as it came,
Even so the Terror passed. First harbinger
Of change at hand,—midst of both armies fell
A thunderbolt, that, in a thousand streams
Of dazzling fire, amid the hailstones flashed;
Then left a thicker darkness. Who stood nigh,
Were blinded by the glare; and many slain:
But, through that Stygian night, to the eye remote,
Even the sky-kindling bolt of Jupiter,
Seemed but as torch's glimmer. With the shaft,
Came the deep peal on peal; but thick, and hoarse,
As by the black air muffled. Still again
The lightning smote; again the thunder spake;
Again, and yet again; each bolt more bright,
Each thunder-roll more loud and terrible.
Like a retreating lion, the dread hail
Its fury stayed, and surlily drew off.
The slumbering wind awakened; and the pall
Of solid blackness, slowly 'gan to move.
At length had perished, but that, as it came,
Even so the Terror passed. First harbinger
Of change at hand,—midst of both armies fell
A thunderbolt, that, in a thousand streams
Of dazzling fire, amid the hailstones flashed;
Then left a thicker darkness. Who stood nigh,
Were blinded by the glare; and many slain:
But, through that Stygian night, to the eye remote,
Even the sky-kindling bolt of Jupiter,
Seemed but as torch's glimmer. With the shaft,
Came the deep peal on peal; but thick, and hoarse,
As by the black air muffled. Still again
The lightning smote; again the thunder spake;
Again, and yet again; each bolt more bright,
Each thunder-roll more loud and terrible.
Like a retreating lion, the dread hail
Its fury stayed, and surlily drew off.
The slumbering wind awakened; and the pall
Of solid blackness, slowly 'gan to move.
The ice-strewed ground now flamed and glittered bright
To the incessant lightnings. Then was seen
The wreck of that dire tempest: steeds, and men,
Stretched numerous on the earth; some, stiff in death;
Some, wounded, and yet struggling to arise;
Helms sorely battered; lighter shields burst through;
The strongest beaten in, as by the blow
Of ponderous stones.
To the incessant lightnings. Then was seen
The wreck of that dire tempest: steeds, and men,
Stretched numerous on the earth; some, stiff in death;
Some, wounded, and yet struggling to arise;
Helms sorely battered; lighter shields burst through;
The strongest beaten in, as by the blow
Of ponderous stones.
Awhile, o'er both hosts hung
A stupor, like to that of shipwrecked men
Just rescued from the waves, and doubtful yet
If dreaming, or awake. But still, as passed
The blackness off, more bright and red appeared
The glow of fires around, and from above,—
As from a furnace roof reflected down,—
More loud and fearful was their roaring heard.
A stupor, like to that of shipwrecked men
Just rescued from the waves, and doubtful yet
If dreaming, or awake. But still, as passed
The blackness off, more bright and red appeared
318
As from a furnace roof reflected down,—
More loud and fearful was their roaring heard.
As, at the early morn, the growing light,
And sounds without, from his deep slumber stir
The dreamer, till his senses all are roused,—
So, from their waking dream, the din and glare
Of conflagration, and the sights of woe,
And havoc, moved at length the astonished hosts.
Foe looked on foe, yet not an arm was stirred:
Wrath was extinguished; or the might of man,
The pomp, and noise, and fury of his war,
So poor appeared, when heaven's artillery
But just had ceased. The very hand of God
Seemed to have hung in anger over them!
To have hurled direct that supernatural hail,
And shot the fiery bolts! His threatening voice
Had spoken thunder; and his frown of wrath
Sent down thick darkness! So both hosts awhile,
Mute and unmoving stood.
And sounds without, from his deep slumber stir
The dreamer, till his senses all are roused,—
So, from their waking dream, the din and glare
Of conflagration, and the sights of woe,
And havoc, moved at length the astonished hosts.
Foe looked on foe, yet not an arm was stirred:
Wrath was extinguished; or the might of man,
The pomp, and noise, and fury of his war,
So poor appeared, when heaven's artillery
But just had ceased. The very hand of God
Seemed to have hung in anger over them!
To have hurled direct that supernatural hail,
And shot the fiery bolts! His threatening voice
Had spoken thunder; and his frown of wrath
Sent down thick darkness! So both hosts awhile,
Mute and unmoving stood.
At length, alone,
His shield, sword, spear, and battle-axe laid down;
His head unhelmed, his hands in friendly guise
Extended toward his foes,—Arbaces walked,
And stood before them. Silent, for a time,
And motionless, he stood: with calm tone then,—
Not as a victor, but as one who sues
For but strict justice, equal unto all,—
Thus spake. “Ah! wherefore should we longer strive
In wasteful battle! Glory is it none,
To tread out life: the form divine of man,
Of living, breathing, feeling, thinking man,
To change into a clod, a loathsome clod,
More vile than common clay! Could we create
From the dull earth, one living, sentient thing,
Though humblest far of all that breathe and move,—
That were indeed true glory. To destroy,
Is but the act of the unreasoning brute,
Urged by a blind, fierce instinct: to preserve,
Is attribute of deity. And, see,—
If still ye think of war and glory joined,—
How pitiful the boasted might of man;
His sword, spear, helmet, shield, and armour bright;
His war-horse, and his chariot! There they lie,
The strong, and weak, alike! Who smote them down?
What more than mortal warrior, in the pomp
And splendor of the battle; with an arm
Strong as of banded giants; clothed in mail
Brilliant as sunshine, hard as adamant;
His eye of lightning, thunder his dread voice,—
Who strewed the ground with dead? Alack! alack!
The hailstone, that scarce hurts the butterfly,
A little larger moulded, crushes man;
Strong, valiant, boastful, glory-loving man!
Such, through the simplest means, the power of God!
His shield, sword, spear, and battle-axe laid down;
His head unhelmed, his hands in friendly guise
Extended toward his foes,—Arbaces walked,
And stood before them. Silent, for a time,
And motionless, he stood: with calm tone then,—
Not as a victor, but as one who sues
For but strict justice, equal unto all,—
Thus spake. “Ah! wherefore should we longer strive
In wasteful battle! Glory is it none,
To tread out life: the form divine of man,
Of living, breathing, feeling, thinking man,
To change into a clod, a loathsome clod,
More vile than common clay! Could we create
From the dull earth, one living, sentient thing,
Though humblest far of all that breathe and move,—
That were indeed true glory. To destroy,
Is but the act of the unreasoning brute,
Urged by a blind, fierce instinct: to preserve,
Is attribute of deity. And, see,—
319
How pitiful the boasted might of man;
His sword, spear, helmet, shield, and armour bright;
His war-horse, and his chariot! There they lie,
The strong, and weak, alike! Who smote them down?
What more than mortal warrior, in the pomp
And splendor of the battle; with an arm
Strong as of banded giants; clothed in mail
Brilliant as sunshine, hard as adamant;
His eye of lightning, thunder his dread voice,—
Who strewed the ground with dead? Alack! alack!
The hailstone, that scarce hurts the butterfly,
A little larger moulded, crushes man;
Strong, valiant, boastful, glory-loving man!
Such, through the simplest means, the power of God!
“Herein may we not read the will of heaven
That our poor war should end? Oh! be it so!
Hard strife hath made us victors; and the terms
Of peace ye know. Plain justice must be done:
No more we ask, though powerful all to take.
Then answer me; and let this night be peace,
Firm peace betwixt us; now, and evermore.”
That our poor war should end? Oh! be it so!
Hard strife hath made us victors; and the terms
Of peace ye know. Plain justice must be done:
No more we ask, though powerful all to take.
Then answer me; and let this night be peace,
Firm peace betwixt us; now, and evermore.”
He paused; and turned his eye from chief to chief,
Expectant of reply. Awhile none spake.
At length, before the rest stepped Jerimoth;
And, with drooped head, and reverential look,
Like one before some higher nature bowed,
Sadly thus spake. “Arbaces, thy great soul
More than thy valour conquers. For myself,
Death, rather than dishonor, would I meet:
And, with but ten resolvëd men, would stand
In arms to oppose, if still thy stern award
To the last link of our long chain of kings
Be ruthless as at first. But I have looked
From face to face among my boldest friends,
And all are vanquished. Let me then depart,
That mine eyes see not that which must be done;
Lest madness seize me, and I do a deed
To shame myself, and all!”
Expectant of reply. Awhile none spake.
At length, before the rest stepped Jerimoth;
And, with drooped head, and reverential look,
Like one before some higher nature bowed,
Sadly thus spake. “Arbaces, thy great soul
More than thy valour conquers. For myself,
Death, rather than dishonor, would I meet:
And, with but ten resolvëd men, would stand
In arms to oppose, if still thy stern award
To the last link of our long chain of kings
Be ruthless as at first. But I have looked
From face to face among my boldest friends,
And all are vanquished. Let me then depart,
That mine eyes see not that which must be done;
Lest madness seize me, and I do a deed
To shame myself, and all!”
While thus he spake,
Voices in lamentation loud were heard,
From distance coming: and Nebaioth soon,
Sennacherib, and many valiant chiefs,
By wailing thousands followed, toward them walked.
320
From distance coming: and Nebaioth soon,
Sennacherib, and many valiant chiefs,
By wailing thousands followed, toward them walked.
With head upon the breast, face horror-struck,
Advancing from the rest, the leaders came,
And 'twixt the hosts stood silent. For a time,
None questioned them: so did a secret awe
Of some enormous evil freeze their blood.
Advancing from the rest, the leaders came,
And 'twixt the hosts stood silent. For a time,
None questioned them: so did a secret awe
Of some enormous evil freeze their blood.
At length Arbaces thus: “Nebaioth, speak:
We ask for peace: thy message, if aright
Thy looks I read, more eloquently far
Than subtlest tongue of orator, will move
Your hearts to give it. The great cause of strife
Hath been removed: Assyria's king hath fallen:
Bravely, at last, in battle hath he fallen:
Haply so best; for him; perchance for all!
Answer Nebaioth; have I read aright!”
We ask for peace: thy message, if aright
Thy looks I read, more eloquently far
Than subtlest tongue of orator, will move
Your hearts to give it. The great cause of strife
Hath been removed: Assyria's king hath fallen:
Bravely, at last, in battle hath he fallen:
Haply so best; for him; perchance for all!
Answer Nebaioth; have I read aright!”
Dropping his spear and shield upon the ground,
Nebaioth covered with both hands his face,
Bowed down his head, and wept. “Alas! alas!”
Burst forth at length; “the king indeed hath fallen!
Yet not in battle: fearfully hath fallen!
Boldly, but madly fallen! With him, too,—
Horror on horror!—have his beauteous dames,
His harmless minstrels, perished! His own hand
The palace fired! The music of the dance
Mixed with the death-shriek! All is lost! all! all!
Assyria is no more!” By grief convulsed,
Again he bowed; with both hands hid his face;
And wept out bitterly. As some loved friend
He mourned for, even Arbaces drooped the head,
And heaved the heart-wrung sigh.
Nebaioth covered with both hands his face,
Bowed down his head, and wept. “Alas! alas!”
Burst forth at length; “the king indeed hath fallen!
Yet not in battle: fearfully hath fallen!
Boldly, but madly fallen! With him, too,—
Horror on horror!—have his beauteous dames,
His harmless minstrels, perished! His own hand
The palace fired! The music of the dance
Mixed with the death-shriek! All is lost! all! all!
Assyria is no more!” By grief convulsed,
Again he bowed; with both hands hid his face;
And wept out bitterly. As some loved friend
He mourned for, even Arbaces drooped the head,
And heaved the heart-wrung sigh.
But Jerimoth,
The first recovering, silence broke at length.
Standing before the Mede, from his own head
The helm he took, the sword from off his loins,
And placed them on the earth: then, at the feet
Of his great adversary kneeling, said,
And loud that all might hear; “Arbaces, thou
Thy last and fellest foe hast overcome.
Thine arm in fight was terrible; thy soul
In peace is mightier far: 'gainst that I warred,
To this I bow. Assyria's king hath fallen;
But still Assyria lives; and gloriously
Yet long shall live; for, surely, on thy head
The gods will place her crown; to thy just hands,
Her sceptre will they give. Then, as the last
In arms to oppose, the first be I to bend,
And hail thee king.
The first recovering, silence broke at length.
Standing before the Mede, from his own head
The helm he took, the sword from off his loins,
And placed them on the earth: then, at the feet
Of his great adversary kneeling, said,
And loud that all might hear; “Arbaces, thou
321
Thine arm in fight was terrible; thy soul
In peace is mightier far: 'gainst that I warred,
To this I bow. Assyria's king hath fallen;
But still Assyria lives; and gloriously
Yet long shall live; for, surely, on thy head
The gods will place her crown; to thy just hands,
Her sceptre will they give. Then, as the last
In arms to oppose, the first be I to bend,
And hail thee king.
“Brethren in arms,” he cried,
Uprising to his feet, and with strong voice
The Assyrian chiefs addressing, “War is o'er!
The gods, all-wise, all-powerful, have decreed
The fall of this great city: to our foes,—
But foes no longer,—have resistless might
Given to subdue us: nay, with their own hands,
Have sped our downfall: deluge, earthquake, fire,
Have sent against us: and our king, the last,
With madness smitten, that his own life, he,
With his own hand hath taken! Vanquished thus,
What common foe would not exult, and scoff,
And grind us to the earth; and, of our men,
Make slaves; and, of our women, concubines;
And, of our city, lairs for beasts of prey!
But our great victor, godlike in his might,
And his high soul, doth, even at the last,
Ask peace, when, with a word, he might let loose
Utter destruction! Strongest to o'ercome,
The strongest he to save; and this great realm
In glory yet uphold. Cry, then, so loud,
That the great voice may reach the heaven-throned gods,
‘Long live Arbaces! king of kings, long live!’”
Uprising to his feet, and with strong voice
The Assyrian chiefs addressing, “War is o'er!
The gods, all-wise, all-powerful, have decreed
The fall of this great city: to our foes,—
But foes no longer,—have resistless might
Given to subdue us: nay, with their own hands,
Have sped our downfall: deluge, earthquake, fire,
Have sent against us: and our king, the last,
With madness smitten, that his own life, he,
With his own hand hath taken! Vanquished thus,
What common foe would not exult, and scoff,
And grind us to the earth; and, of our men,
Make slaves; and, of our women, concubines;
And, of our city, lairs for beasts of prey!
But our great victor, godlike in his might,
And his high soul, doth, even at the last,
Ask peace, when, with a word, he might let loose
Utter destruction! Strongest to o'ercome,
The strongest he to save; and this great realm
In glory yet uphold. Cry, then, so loud,
That the great voice may reach the heaven-throned gods,
‘Long live Arbaces! king of kings, long live!’”
His ardent tone and look, in every heart
Like fervor waked: as with one voice, cried out
The Assyrian chiefs, “Long live Arbaces, king!
King of Assyria; king of kings, long live!”
Like fervor waked: as with one voice, cried out
The Assyrian chiefs, “Long live Arbaces, king!
King of Assyria; king of kings, long live!”
The soldiers from their leaders caught the word,
And onward sent it. Peal on peal it rose:
From street to street, from wall to wall, it ran
Throughout the fated city.
And onward sent it. Peal on peal it rose:
322
Throughout the fated city.
Yet the Medes,
Nigh to Arbaces, joined not in the cry;
For he his hand uplift, admonishing.
But, when the Assyrian leaders now were still;
And when, in token of allegiance, all
Had bared the head, and bent upon the knee,
Thus briefly spake he to them.
Nigh to Arbaces, joined not in the cry;
For he his hand uplift, admonishing.
But, when the Assyrian leaders now were still;
And when, in token of allegiance, all
Had bared the head, and bent upon the knee,
Thus briefly spake he to them.
“Rise, my friends,—
That posture to the gods.—Arise, arise.
Yet not the less I thank you; thank you most
That blood shall cease to flow.
That posture to the gods.—Arise, arise.
Yet not the less I thank you; thank you most
That blood shall cease to flow.
“But now no time,
Even with consent of all who have the voice,
For dealing crown and sceptre. To a day
More calm, and greater leisure, be it left.
Action demands us now; and every hand
Must labor at the work; for fiercely rage
Fires numerous through the city; and best aid
May be too late to quench them. Let the chiefs
Of every country gather instantly
Their soldiers round them; and, in ordered bands,
Toil unrelaxing. Neither day, nor night,
Must there be pause. Meantime, that all may know,
Let heralds of each nation go with speed
Throughout the city; and make full proclaim,
That war is ended; and that every man,
In every man, must henceforth hail a friend.”
Even with consent of all who have the voice,
For dealing crown and sceptre. To a day
More calm, and greater leisure, be it left.
Action demands us now; and every hand
Must labor at the work; for fiercely rage
Fires numerous through the city; and best aid
May be too late to quench them. Let the chiefs
Of every country gather instantly
Their soldiers round them; and, in ordered bands,
Toil unrelaxing. Neither day, nor night,
Must there be pause. Meantime, that all may know,
Let heralds of each nation go with speed
Throughout the city; and make full proclaim,
That war is ended; and that every man,
In every man, must henceforth hail a friend.”
| The fall of Nineveh | |