Divine poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

That Ancient Kingdome, that old Assur swayd,
Shew'd two great Cities: Ah! but both decayd,
Both mighty Great, but of unequall growth;
Both great in People, and in Building, both;
But ah! What hold is there of earthly good?
Now Grasse growes there, where these brave Cities stood.

The name of one, great Babylon was hight,
Through which the rich Euphrates takes her flight
From high Armenia to the ruddy Seas,
And stores the Land with rich Commodities.

The other Ninus, Nineveh the Great,
So huge a Fabricke, and well-chosen Seat
Don Phœbus fiery Steeds (with Maines becurl'd,
That circundates in twice twelve houres the world)
Ne're saw the like: By great King Ninus hand,
'Twas rais'd and builded, in th'Assyrians Land.
On one hand, Lycus washt her fruitfull sides,
On t'other, Tygris with her hasty Iides.
Begirt she was with walles of wondrous might,
Creeping twice fifty foot in measur'd height.
Vpon their bredth (if ought we may rely
On the report of Sage Antiquity,)
Three Chariots fairely might themselves display,
And ranke together in a Battell ray:
The Circuit that her mighty Bulke imbraces
Containes the mere of sixty thousand paces:
Within her well-fenc'd walls you might discover
Five hundred stately Towers, thrice told over;
Whereof the highest draweth up the eye,
As well the low'st, an hundred Cubits hie,

All rich in those things, which to state belong,
For beauty brave, and for munition strong:
Duly, and daily this great Worke was tended
With ten thousand Workmen; begun and ended
In eight yeares space: How beautifull! how faire
Thy Buildings! And how foule thy Vices are!

Thou Land of Assur, double then thy pride,
And let thy Wells of Ioy be never dry'd,
Thou hast a Palace, that's renown'd so much,
The like was never, is, nor will be such.

Thou Land of Assur, treble then thy Woe,
And let thy Teares (doe as thy Cups) o'reflow;
For this thy Palace of so great renowne,
Shall be destroy'd, and sackt, and batter'd downe.

But cheere up, Niniveh, thine inbred might
Hath meanes enough to quell thy Foemans spite:
Thy Bulwarkes are like Mountaines, and thy Wall
Disdaines to stoope to thundring Ordnance call:
Thy watchfull Towers mounted round about,
Keepe thee in safety, and thy Foe-men, out:
I, But thy Bulwarkes aid cannot withstand
The direfull stroake of the Almighties hand;
Thy Wafer-walls at dread Jehovahs blast
Shall quake, and quiver, and shall downe be cast.
Thy watchfull Towers shall asleepe be found,
And nod their drowsie heads downe to the ground:
Thy Bulwarks are not Uengeance-proofe; thy Wall,
When Iustice brandisheth her Sword, must fall:
Thy lofty Towers shall be dumbe, and yeeld
To high Revenge; Revenge must win the field;
Vengeance cryes loud from heaven, she cannot stay
Her Fury, but (impatient of delay)
Hath brimm'd her Vialls full of deadly Bane:
Thy Palace shall be burnt, thy People slaine;

Thy Heart is hard as Flint, and swolne with pride,
Thy murth'rous Hands with guitlesse blood are dy'd;
Thy silly Babes doe starve for want of Food:
Whose tender Mothers thou hast drencht in Blood:
Women with childe, lye in the streets about,
Whose Braines thy savage hands have dashed out:
Distressed Widowes weepe, (but weepe in vaine)
For their deare Husbands, whom thy hands have slaine:
By one mans Force, another man's devour'd,
Thy Wives are ravisht, and thy Maids deflowr'd;
Where Iustice should, there Tort & Bribes are plac't:
Thy' Altars defil'd, and holy things defac't:
Thy Lips have tasted of proud Babels Cup,
What thou hast left, thy Children have drunke up:
Thy bloody sinnes, thine Abels guiltlesse blood,
Cryes up to heaven for Vengeance, cryes aloud;
Thy sinnes are seire, and ready for the fire,
Heere rouze, (my Muse) and for a space, respire.