The fall of Nineveh A poem by Edwin Atherstone. Second edition: diligently corrected, and otherwise improved. In two volumes |
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| 2. | BOOK THE SECOND. |
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 | The fall of Nineveh |  |
14
BOOK THE SECOND.
Five times from east to west the god of light
O'er heaven's eternal pavement flaming trod;
The star-bespangled wheel of night five times
Around its smooth unsounding axle rolled;
And the sixth morn arose. The watchmen then,
From Nineveh's high watch-towers looking east,
The distant mountain-tops all bright beheld
With restless flashings, like a sun-lit sea;
And toward the western hills when they looked forth,
Their tops saw also, with yet keener shine,
As of a diamond crown bright quivering:
But, north and south, along the vaster plains,
All yet was void. The seventh grey dawn came on.
Th' expecting watchmen listened to a sound,
A low dull sound, as of the distant waves,
Heard on the summit of a sea-girt rock,
When no wind stirreth; but, when rose the sun,
Lo! the vast champaign, east, north, south, and west,
Thronged and ablaze with spear, shield, helmet, mail,
Fire-flashing chariots, steeds in gleaming brass;
And hosts that countless seemed as ocean waves.
O'er heaven's eternal pavement flaming trod;
The star-bespangled wheel of night five times
Around its smooth unsounding axle rolled;
And the sixth morn arose. The watchmen then,
From Nineveh's high watch-towers looking east,
The distant mountain-tops all bright beheld
With restless flashings, like a sun-lit sea;
And toward the western hills when they looked forth,
Their tops saw also, with yet keener shine,
As of a diamond crown bright quivering:
But, north and south, along the vaster plains,
All yet was void. The seventh grey dawn came on.
Th' expecting watchmen listened to a sound,
A low dull sound, as of the distant waves,
Heard on the summit of a sea-girt rock,
When no wind stirreth; but, when rose the sun,
Lo! the vast champaign, east, north, south, and west,
Thronged and ablaze with spear, shield, helmet, mail,
Fire-flashing chariots, steeds in gleaming brass;
And hosts that countless seemed as ocean waves.
Then, in a moment, every sound was hushed;
Thousands of waving gonfalons sank low;
And toward the rising god all knees were bent
Of that thick-legioned plain; all faces bowed
In silent adoration. When they rose,
They shouted; cymbals clashed, and trumpets rang;
And from the battlements, on every side,
Trumpets and voices numberless replied.
Thousands of waving gonfalons sank low;
And toward the rising god all knees were bent
Of that thick-legioned plain; all faces bowed
In silent adoration. When they rose,
They shouted; cymbals clashed, and trumpets rang;
And from the battlements, on every side,
Trumpets and voices numberless replied.
15
No sleepers now in Nineveh! Wide fly
Upon their groaning hinges the huge gates:
The plains are covered with the joyous crowds:
Manhood, and trembling age, and infancy,
All are abroad; and through the portals speed;
Or on the high walls throng.
Upon their groaning hinges the huge gates:
The plains are covered with the joyous crowds:
Manhood, and trembling age, and infancy,
All are abroad; and through the portals speed;
Or on the high walls throng.
From her lone couch;
After long hours of fevered restlessness;
When first the pale morn looked with dreamy eye
On the yet slumbering earth, the queen arose.
Near to the palace—like a massive cone
Of some cloud-piercing mountain, from its height
To earth's floor dropped,—a towering hill there stood:
Work of Semiramis, long ages back,
To honor Ninus, her loved lord and king,
Whose ashes slept beneath. The founder he
Of that great city, which from him took name:
For when, victorious over numerous lands,—
From Egypt and Propontis, stretching east
To Bactria, whose impassable hills awhile
Drove back the flood of conquest,—he returned,
Exulting in his might—“I will build up
A city,” he exclaimed, “the like of which
On earth hath never been; and ne'er shall be.”
Then, nigh the bank of Tigris, he traced out
Its boundaries; a three-days' journey round;
And oblong square its shape. A million men
At the great labor wrought. The walls in height
Twice fifty feet he made: in thickness such,
Three chariots on their summit, ranked abreast,
With amplest space between, might urge the race.
Above the walls, and twice their height, arose
A thousand and five hundred warlike towers:
Of massive brass, at every tower, a gate.
The city with a like magnificence
He fashioned: palaces, and temples huge;
Fountains, and baths; and o'er broad Tigris threw
A ponderous bridge. Thus in his pride did he:
And never since upon the earth hath been
A city like to his. But then he died;
Dust unto dust was given: and, over him,
This mound, for an eternal monument,
Semiramis upthrew. Above the walls,
Above the towers, high soaring it arose:
A beacon to the traveller far away;
Who there, at morn, the sun's first glory hailed;
And blest his latest beam at evening, there.
On its broad levelled top,—a circle white,
Midst of the circle, gay and many-hued,
Of flowers and shrubs, which, like a gorgeous crown,
Twined the hill's brow,—simple and chaste, yet rich,
A marble fabric stood. For mere delight
In every part constructed—flat the roof;
That thence, with vision unimpeded all,
O'er the vast stretch of city, wide-spread plains,
And far-off mountains, the glad eye might sweep.
Against assault of the sun's fiery darts,
Of massive strength the walls. Come whence it might,
Doors numerous were, heaven's freshening breeze to admit,
Or close against too rough. At sultry hour,
Sardanapalus in this sweet retreat
Still loved to wanton with the cooling breeze,
That oft was stirring there, while Nineveh
Drew fever-breath below. A smooth, firm road,
From base to summit, like a serpent's coil,
Around the steep hill ran. In chariot borne,
Or easier litter, that way passed the king:
But, for less indolent, sweet mossy paths,
By thickest foliage roofed—in gentle sweep
Still winding up—of labor, pleasure made.
With seats for rest, and couches tempting sleep,
Bowers frequent, too, there were, by tree and shrub,
And all sweet climbing flowers, so folded up,
That sunlight there to twilight green was changed,
As of the glow-worm's nest; or, as in air
Were emeralds melted. Man and nature thus,
Of that huge monument of death, had made
A garden of delight.
After long hours of fevered restlessness;
When first the pale morn looked with dreamy eye
On the yet slumbering earth, the queen arose.
Near to the palace—like a massive cone
Of some cloud-piercing mountain, from its height
To earth's floor dropped,—a towering hill there stood:
Work of Semiramis, long ages back,
To honor Ninus, her loved lord and king,
Whose ashes slept beneath. The founder he
Of that great city, which from him took name:
For when, victorious over numerous lands,—
From Egypt and Propontis, stretching east
To Bactria, whose impassable hills awhile
Drove back the flood of conquest,—he returned,
Exulting in his might—“I will build up
A city,” he exclaimed, “the like of which
On earth hath never been; and ne'er shall be.”
Then, nigh the bank of Tigris, he traced out
Its boundaries; a three-days' journey round;
And oblong square its shape. A million men
At the great labor wrought. The walls in height
Twice fifty feet he made: in thickness such,
Three chariots on their summit, ranked abreast,
With amplest space between, might urge the race.
Above the walls, and twice their height, arose
A thousand and five hundred warlike towers:
Of massive brass, at every tower, a gate.
The city with a like magnificence
He fashioned: palaces, and temples huge;
Fountains, and baths; and o'er broad Tigris threw
A ponderous bridge. Thus in his pride did he:
And never since upon the earth hath been
A city like to his. But then he died;
16
This mound, for an eternal monument,
Semiramis upthrew. Above the walls,
Above the towers, high soaring it arose:
A beacon to the traveller far away;
Who there, at morn, the sun's first glory hailed;
And blest his latest beam at evening, there.
On its broad levelled top,—a circle white,
Midst of the circle, gay and many-hued,
Of flowers and shrubs, which, like a gorgeous crown,
Twined the hill's brow,—simple and chaste, yet rich,
A marble fabric stood. For mere delight
In every part constructed—flat the roof;
That thence, with vision unimpeded all,
O'er the vast stretch of city, wide-spread plains,
And far-off mountains, the glad eye might sweep.
Against assault of the sun's fiery darts,
Of massive strength the walls. Come whence it might,
Doors numerous were, heaven's freshening breeze to admit,
Or close against too rough. At sultry hour,
Sardanapalus in this sweet retreat
Still loved to wanton with the cooling breeze,
That oft was stirring there, while Nineveh
Drew fever-breath below. A smooth, firm road,
From base to summit, like a serpent's coil,
Around the steep hill ran. In chariot borne,
Or easier litter, that way passed the king:
But, for less indolent, sweet mossy paths,
By thickest foliage roofed—in gentle sweep
Still winding up—of labor, pleasure made.
With seats for rest, and couches tempting sleep,
Bowers frequent, too, there were, by tree and shrub,
And all sweet climbing flowers, so folded up,
That sunlight there to twilight green was changed,
As of the glow-worm's nest; or, as in air
Were emeralds melted. Man and nature thus,
Of that huge monument of death, had made
A garden of delight.
17
To this the Queen,
From her lone chamber coming, turned her eye,
And to her damsels thus: “Now maidens, haste,
While yet dawn peeps, that we may climb the mount,
And to the sun our morning worship pay.
And let your harps and soft-voiced dulcimers
Be ready; that sweet music with discourse,
Grateful, we may commingle; and the hours
Not idly, nor without delight, may pass.
Nor let the sprightly timbrel be forgot;
That, haply, if the tale or song be hushed,
The music of the graceful-gliding foot,
With no unwise variety, may charm.
But haste ye, for the stars begin to pale
At the on-coming of his burning eye,
And the gay birds are up to sing him in.”
From her lone chamber coming, turned her eye,
And to her damsels thus: “Now maidens, haste,
While yet dawn peeps, that we may climb the mount,
And to the sun our morning worship pay.
And let your harps and soft-voiced dulcimers
Be ready; that sweet music with discourse,
Grateful, we may commingle; and the hours
Not idly, nor without delight, may pass.
Nor let the sprightly timbrel be forgot;
That, haply, if the tale or song be hushed,
The music of the graceful-gliding foot,
With no unwise variety, may charm.
But haste ye, for the stars begin to pale
At the on-coming of his burning eye,
And the gay birds are up to sing him in.”
Thus speaking, a cerulean mantle, first,
Wide flowing, airy as the gossamer,
Round her fine shoulders, with majestic grace,
The royal dame disposed; and on her breast,
With clasp of pearl and ruby, lightly bound:
O'er her dark tresses next, all unadorned,
Save in their own luxuriant loveliness;
And o'er her pale and melancholy face,
Augustly beautiful! a rich veil threw;
Then, with her damsels, graceful as love's queen,
Majestic as the imperial spouse of Jove,
Forth from the palace walked; and the steep mount
With slow step 'gan to climb.
Wide flowing, airy as the gossamer,
Round her fine shoulders, with majestic grace,
The royal dame disposed; and on her breast,
With clasp of pearl and ruby, lightly bound:
O'er her dark tresses next, all unadorned,
Save in their own luxuriant loveliness;
And o'er her pale and melancholy face,
Augustly beautiful! a rich veil threw;
Then, with her damsels, graceful as love's queen,
Majestic as the imperial spouse of Jove,
Forth from the palace walked; and the steep mount
With slow step 'gan to climb.
Above the hills
Flashed the first sun-spark, as its height they gained.
Lowly, in reverence, to the God they bowed,
And breathed apart their orisons devout.
The golden orb in the blue crystalline,
As they arose, with majesty supreme
Upsoaring they beheld; and all the plain,
Like to a heaving sea of steel and brass,
Fired by his burning eye. An instant more,
And from the hosts innumerable rose
Shouts, trumpet-clangors, and the cymbal's clash;
And, from the city, quickly, the reply;
Shout upon shout, clashings, and trumpets' clang.
Flashed the first sun-spark, as its height they gained.
Lowly, in reverence, to the God they bowed,
And breathed apart their orisons devout.
The golden orb in the blue crystalline,
As they arose, with majesty supreme
Upsoaring they beheld; and all the plain,
Like to a heaving sea of steel and brass,
Fired by his burning eye. An instant more,
And from the hosts innumerable rose
Shouts, trumpet-clangors, and the cymbal's clash;
18
Shout upon shout, clashings, and trumpets' clang.
That sudden uproar, at his late debauch,
Startled the drowsy king; uprising glad,
“Bid Salamenes hither,” he cried out;
“His sun is risen, though ours not yet gone down.
Ha! my bright goddesses! dim-eyed, and dull?
To bed, to bed; and sweet dreams unto all.
Yet, brief your rest to-day. Ye would not sleep
When your great Jupiter is going forth
To see his prostrate world. For, know ye, now;
This day is he as god o'er half the earth;
And ye shall shine around him, as the stars
About their full-orbed queen. Ere noon, then, rise;
Plunge in the bath; and, fresh as morning flowers,
Up to the mount: with him to stand, and see
The nations render homage to his might.”
Startled the drowsy king; uprising glad,
“Bid Salamenes hither,” he cried out;
“His sun is risen, though ours not yet gone down.
Ha! my bright goddesses! dim-eyed, and dull?
To bed, to bed; and sweet dreams unto all.
Yet, brief your rest to-day. Ye would not sleep
When your great Jupiter is going forth
To see his prostrate world. For, know ye, now;
This day is he as god o'er half the earth;
And ye shall shine around him, as the stars
About their full-orbed queen. Ere noon, then, rise;
Plunge in the bath; and, fresh as morning flowers,
Up to the mount: with him to stand, and see
The nations render homage to his might.”
Thus to his concubines; but different thus,
To Salamenes, entering as they went.
“What! armed already?—Art thou early up,
Or not a-bed, like us? Nay, answer not;
Thy cool, clear eye speaks for thee: but thy brow
Somewhat, methinks, too stern and solemn frowns.
Thy sister 'tis that turns from me thy heart:
But more her pride, and o'er-nice prudery,
That would in peasant's fetters bind a king,
Should meet thy blame, than seeming change in me.
By heaven! even yet I love her; and more could,
But, to my wooing, she is deaf as earth,
And colder than a sepulchre.”
To Salamenes, entering as they went.
“What! armed already?—Art thou early up,
Or not a-bed, like us? Nay, answer not;
Thy cool, clear eye speaks for thee: but thy brow
Somewhat, methinks, too stern and solemn frowns.
Thy sister 'tis that turns from me thy heart:
But more her pride, and o'er-nice prudery,
That would in peasant's fetters bind a king,
Should meet thy blame, than seeming change in me.
By heaven! even yet I love her; and more could,
But, to my wooing, she is deaf as earth,
And colder than a sepulchre.”
Low bowed
The noble Salamenes, and replied.
“No word of censure e'er hath passed my lips.
The queen, my sister, her own counsel keeps;
And griefs, whate'er they be.”
The noble Salamenes, and replied.
“No word of censure e'er hath passed my lips.
The queen, my sister, her own counsel keeps;
And griefs, whate'er they be.”
“Enough, enough!”
Hastily said the king. “But mark me now.
Send out swift horse; and, to the general host—
Those newly come, and those who homeward go—
Thus make proclaim. ‘Four days shall ye unite;
And in full pomp and majesty of war,
As if for battle,—gonfalons outspread,
And music pealing, round the city march.
Yet, this day, rest till noon; with food and wine
Then cheer yourselves;—sound trumpets, and set forth.
But, when upon the mount ye shall behold
The waving of Assyria's royal flag;
Then, know ye that the king o'erlooks the plain:
Let then the trumpets strain their brazen cheeks;
And every warlike instrument speak out;
And let all voices cry unto the heavens,
Long live Sardanapalus, king of kings!
May the king live for ever!’—So all eyes
Shall see the greatness of Assyria's might,
And tremble at her anger. The chief rule
O'er all the armies to thy hands I yield.”
Hastily said the king. “But mark me now.
Send out swift horse; and, to the general host—
Those newly come, and those who homeward go—
Thus make proclaim. ‘Four days shall ye unite;
And in full pomp and majesty of war,
19
And music pealing, round the city march.
Yet, this day, rest till noon; with food and wine
Then cheer yourselves;—sound trumpets, and set forth.
But, when upon the mount ye shall behold
The waving of Assyria's royal flag;
Then, know ye that the king o'erlooks the plain:
Let then the trumpets strain their brazen cheeks;
And every warlike instrument speak out;
And let all voices cry unto the heavens,
Long live Sardanapalus, king of kings!
May the king live for ever!’—So all eyes
Shall see the greatness of Assyria's might,
And tremble at her anger. The chief rule
O'er all the armies to thy hands I yield.”
At once toward North and South, toward East and West;
Unto the myriads who had newly come,
The myriads waiting signal to depart,
Swift couriers sent the prince—the imperious will,
Which none might question, loudly to proclaim.
Unto the myriads who had newly come,
The myriads waiting signal to depart,
Swift couriers sent the prince—the imperious will,
Which none might question, loudly to proclaim.
The king, meantime, outworn and stupified,
On his luxurious bed, unwillingly,
Lay down, and heavily slept. Disturbed, at length,
By some foul dream, upon his feet he sprang;
For wine called out; and bade the music speak
To stir his lazy sense. With haggard face,
Flushed eye, dull, aching head, and limbs unstrung,
Then to the bath he went. The crystal stream
Received a heated drunkard; and gave back
A man refreshed and cool.
On his luxurious bed, unwillingly,
Lay down, and heavily slept. Disturbed, at length,
By some foul dream, upon his feet he sprang;
For wine called out; and bade the music speak
To stir his lazy sense. With haggard face,
Flushed eye, dull, aching head, and limbs unstrung,
Then to the bath he went. The crystal stream
Received a heated drunkard; and gave back
A man refreshed and cool.
In gorgeous robes
Quickly attired, into his car he sprang;
And the steep hill 'gan mount. But not with him
His concubines: by sleep and bath refreshed,
As spring flowers bright, through the sweet winding path,
Fragrant and cool, went they; on seat, or couch,
Of the green twilight bowers reposing oft;
Silent, or lightly talking, at their will.
Quickly attired, into his car he sprang;
And the steep hill 'gan mount. But not with him
His concubines: by sleep and bath refreshed,
As spring flowers bright, through the sweet winding path,
Fragrant and cool, went they; on seat, or couch,
Of the green twilight bowers reposing oft;
Silent, or lightly talking, at their will.
From his meridian height, day's lustrous god
Downward 'gan take his way, ere on the top
The panting horses stood. With heart elate,
O'er all the plain the monarch cast his eye,
Exulting in his glory, and his strength;
And thus aloud exclaimed. “Sight for a god!
What nation on the earth is like to this!
What city with this city may compare!
What king is equal to Assyria's king!
Even as the lion o'er the desert rules,
So, o'er the prostrate world, Assyria;
So, o'er Assyria, I!”
20
The panting horses stood. With heart elate,
O'er all the plain the monarch cast his eye,
Exulting in his glory, and his strength;
And thus aloud exclaimed. “Sight for a god!
What nation on the earth is like to this!
What city with this city may compare!
What king is equal to Assyria's king!
Even as the lion o'er the desert rules,
So, o'er the prostrate world, Assyria;
So, o'er Assyria, I!”
As thus he spake,
Lo! with her damsels, the majestic queen,
His eye to shun, retiring. But he saw;
Upstarted; lightly from his chariot leaped;
And, toward her hasting, spake. “Why fly me thus?
Turn with me now; and look upon these hosts,
Who here do homage to Assyria's king;
To thee through him; for, art thou not my queen?
Proud as thou art, and scornful, yet, by heaven,
My heart cleaves to thee. Clear that clouded front;
Dismiss thy damsels; and a little while
In the serene of the cool marble hall
Let us with sweet discourse the moments pass;
For, on our bridal morn, not warmer love
I felt for thee than now.”
Lo! with her damsels, the majestic queen,
His eye to shun, retiring. But he saw;
Upstarted; lightly from his chariot leaped;
And, toward her hasting, spake. “Why fly me thus?
Turn with me now; and look upon these hosts,
Who here do homage to Assyria's king;
To thee through him; for, art thou not my queen?
Proud as thou art, and scornful, yet, by heaven,
My heart cleaves to thee. Clear that clouded front;
Dismiss thy damsels; and a little while
In the serene of the cool marble hall
Let us with sweet discourse the moments pass;
For, on our bridal morn, not warmer love
I felt for thee than now.”
But she his words
With face averted heard, then turned, and spake.
“Happy for thee were I the sole estranged!
King of Assyria, thou art mighty now;
Look well that treason underneath thy throne,
Work not to cast thee down. On yonder plain,
Two million tributary swords are thine:
Let not thy reckless deeds against thee rouse
What, for thy power and glory, else, had stood
Immoveable. Beneath thy satraps' rod
The people writhe; in poverty they groan,
Taxed for thy pomp: yet, to their cries thine ear
Is open never: but, in time, beware!
Upon the brows of men do gather clouds:
They talk in whisper; and their threatening hands
Touch on the sword-hilt. Like a God art thou
In glory above all; but not thine own
The strength that makes thee glorious. What uplifts,
Can also overthrow thee. Boundless power
Thou hast misusëd: thy unbridled lusts,
The hearts of men with hatred and revenge
Have filled against thee: maid, nor matron, now;
Loved wife, nor widow, even in her grief,
So that the fatal gift of beauty tempt,
Is from thy spoilers free. The maid betrothed,
Even from the altar thou hast snatched away;
The blushing bride before her marriage night:
Nay, even the virgin sister of thy queen,
Hath not thine eye incestuous dared to woo?
And yet to me, O shame! thou talkest of love?
Farewell Assyria's king, but passion's slave!
When in the fire's embraces dwells the ice,
In thine may I. Till then, farewell.”
With face averted heard, then turned, and spake.
“Happy for thee were I the sole estranged!
King of Assyria, thou art mighty now;
Look well that treason underneath thy throne,
Work not to cast thee down. On yonder plain,
Two million tributary swords are thine:
Let not thy reckless deeds against thee rouse
What, for thy power and glory, else, had stood
Immoveable. Beneath thy satraps' rod
The people writhe; in poverty they groan,
Taxed for thy pomp: yet, to their cries thine ear
Is open never: but, in time, beware!
Upon the brows of men do gather clouds:
21
Touch on the sword-hilt. Like a God art thou
In glory above all; but not thine own
The strength that makes thee glorious. What uplifts,
Can also overthrow thee. Boundless power
Thou hast misusëd: thy unbridled lusts,
The hearts of men with hatred and revenge
Have filled against thee: maid, nor matron, now;
Loved wife, nor widow, even in her grief,
So that the fatal gift of beauty tempt,
Is from thy spoilers free. The maid betrothed,
Even from the altar thou hast snatched away;
The blushing bride before her marriage night:
Nay, even the virgin sister of thy queen,
Hath not thine eye incestuous dared to woo?
And yet to me, O shame! thou talkest of love?
Farewell Assyria's king, but passion's slave!
When in the fire's embraces dwells the ice,
In thine may I. Till then, farewell.”
So she;
Nor word awaited more; but turned, and went.
With a calm aspect down the hill she walked;
But her breast heaved; and when her youngest boy
From out the palace to embrace her ran,
He wiped a crystal tear-drop from her eye.
Nor word awaited more; but turned, and went.
With a calm aspect down the hill she walked;
But her breast heaved; and when her youngest boy
From out the palace to embrace her ran,
He wiped a crystal tear-drop from her eye.
Her graceful step majestic the king watched;
And, with remorse a moment touched, thus spake.
“She says but truth; debased I am, and fallen!
How came I thus? Alas! unchecked; misled;
All means at hand; no power of self-control;
Bad leading still to worse; and worse on that;
Till now—but 'tis too late! whatever thing
I am, that must I be! the rotten log
Grows not again a green and healthful tree.
Away, away, intruding thoughts; away:
Life is a dream; be mine a jovial one!
And, with remorse a moment touched, thus spake.
“She says but truth; debased I am, and fallen!
How came I thus? Alas! unchecked; misled;
All means at hand; no power of self-control;
Bad leading still to worse; and worse on that;
Till now—but 'tis too late! whatever thing
I am, that must I be! the rotten log
Grows not again a green and healthful tree.
Away, away, intruding thoughts; away:
Life is a dream; be mine a jovial one!
Ha! beauteous goddesses! Within, within!
This fierce blaze quickly would your lillies change
To tint autumnal. Wine, wine, bring us wine;
A crystal cup to every goddess bring:
And, when the king shall drink, let every lip
Drink also of the nectar, sweetening it.”
This fierce blaze quickly would your lillies change
To tint autumnal. Wine, wine, bring us wine;
A crystal cup to every goddess bring:
22
Drink also of the nectar, sweetening it.”
Soon sparkled on the tables the bright cups:
The monarch from a golden goblet drained
A full and luscious draught: and, when he drank,
The concubines drank also, every one,
And merry laughter rose. Then sprang he up,
With jest and jocund spirit, to the dance,
And gave his soul to mirth. Breathless, at length,
And sinking on a couch, “Hold, hold,” he cried;
“Let us repose awhile: and you, fair girls,
Who with the harp and cithern, timed the dance,
Charm now the air with music rarer far,—
Your own sweet voices, twining melodies
In wild entanglement, and loosing them
In order of divinest harmony.”
The monarch from a golden goblet drained
A full and luscious draught: and, when he drank,
The concubines drank also, every one,
And merry laughter rose. Then sprang he up,
With jest and jocund spirit, to the dance,
And gave his soul to mirth. Breathless, at length,
And sinking on a couch, “Hold, hold,” he cried;
“Let us repose awhile: and you, fair girls,
Who with the harp and cithern, timed the dance,
Charm now the air with music rarer far,—
Your own sweet voices, twining melodies
In wild entanglement, and loosing them
In order of divinest harmony.”
All sat; and there was silence. Came at length,
Soft as the first breath of the waking breeze
At summer's dawn, rich as the perfume brought
At dewy eve from groves of Araby,—
A strain of three young voices. Love the theme,
Now, as on wings, it mounted joyously;
Now fluttered, as in fear; in soft reproach,
Now moaned and sighed; and now in anger stormed.
But soon, subdued and soothed,—like faintest sound
Of distant echo, melted, and died off:
And silence came again. A long drawn sigh
The beauteous bosoms heaved. The king himself
A deep breath drew; and glanced from face to face,
Noting the tear-filled eyes: but, in brief time,
For wine called out: yet, ere it touched his lips,
Laid down the cup, and started to his feet.
“Fair dames,” he cried, “we are not here for this!
The dance, the song, the feast, we have each day;
But this day, girls, Assyria's king is god
O'er half the earth: this mount shall be his throne;
And your bright eyes the jewels in his crown.
Up to the roof.” At once was heard the sound
Of delicate garments crushing tenderly
In the gay beauty-crowd. Light springing feet,
With quick soft patter, as of summer shower,
Streamed up the marble stairs: with trample quick
O'erspread the roof: then flashing eyes looked out!
Glad exclamations rose. In his left hand
A golden cup, full charged, last came the king;
And, with the right still pointing as he spake,
“Look forth,” he cried, “and see Assyria's might!
Lo! from Bithynia, Lydia, Phrygia;
From Cappadocia, and Iberia,
Armenia, ancient Syria, Babylon,
From Media, Persia, and Arabia,
Chorasmia, Hyrcania, Ariá,
Past the Salt Desert, past Gedrosia's waste,
On to the banks of Indus; northward thence,
From Bactriana to the Scythian wilds;
Full twice a hundred myriads of brave men;
War-steeds four hundred thousand: look, my girls!
All are to honor great Assyria's king;
In him, to honor you: for, mark me now:
When to the health of my fair dames I drink;
And unto sky and earth the signal show;
Then, from the millions upon yonder plain,
From every voice in mighty Nineveh,
The long loud cry shall rise unto the heavens,
And own the king of kings; the earthly god.”
Soft as the first breath of the waking breeze
At summer's dawn, rich as the perfume brought
At dewy eve from groves of Araby,—
A strain of three young voices. Love the theme,
Now, as on wings, it mounted joyously;
Now fluttered, as in fear; in soft reproach,
Now moaned and sighed; and now in anger stormed.
But soon, subdued and soothed,—like faintest sound
Of distant echo, melted, and died off:
And silence came again. A long drawn sigh
The beauteous bosoms heaved. The king himself
A deep breath drew; and glanced from face to face,
Noting the tear-filled eyes: but, in brief time,
For wine called out: yet, ere it touched his lips,
Laid down the cup, and started to his feet.
“Fair dames,” he cried, “we are not here for this!
The dance, the song, the feast, we have each day;
But this day, girls, Assyria's king is god
O'er half the earth: this mount shall be his throne;
And your bright eyes the jewels in his crown.
Up to the roof.” At once was heard the sound
Of delicate garments crushing tenderly
In the gay beauty-crowd. Light springing feet,
23
Streamed up the marble stairs: with trample quick
O'erspread the roof: then flashing eyes looked out!
Glad exclamations rose. In his left hand
A golden cup, full charged, last came the king;
And, with the right still pointing as he spake,
“Look forth,” he cried, “and see Assyria's might!
Lo! from Bithynia, Lydia, Phrygia;
From Cappadocia, and Iberia,
Armenia, ancient Syria, Babylon,
From Media, Persia, and Arabia,
Chorasmia, Hyrcania, Ariá,
Past the Salt Desert, past Gedrosia's waste,
On to the banks of Indus; northward thence,
From Bactriana to the Scythian wilds;
Full twice a hundred myriads of brave men;
War-steeds four hundred thousand: look, my girls!
All are to honor great Assyria's king;
In him, to honor you: for, mark me now:
When to the health of my fair dames I drink;
And unto sky and earth the signal show;
Then, from the millions upon yonder plain,
From every voice in mighty Nineveh,
The long loud cry shall rise unto the heavens,
And own the king of kings; the earthly god.”
That said, he raised the goblet to his lips,
And to the bottom drained it: hurriedly
Flung down the cup; strode on; from out its rest,
Caught up Assyria's royal gonfalon,
Purple, and starred with gold: outshaking then
The folds voluminous, lifted it on high;
Stood firmly; and—for two strong men a task—
The whole vast web, like loose sail in the storm,
Quivering and lashing,—whirled it round and round.
And to the bottom drained it: hurriedly
Flung down the cup; strode on; from out its rest,
Caught up Assyria's royal gonfalon,
Purple, and starred with gold: outshaking then
The folds voluminous, lifted it on high;
Stood firmly; and—for two strong men a task—
The whole vast web, like loose sail in the storm,
Quivering and lashing,—whirled it round and round.
At once the great march stopped. Swords, helmets, shields,
Were lifted up; sun-flashing spear-points waved;
Banners were shaken; trumpet-mouths upturned;
Myriads on myriads of bright-harnessed steeds
Shook their proud heads; sprang on, or upright reared;
And, in a moment, like volcano's burst,
Came up the thunderous shout. Up—up to heaven
The multitudinous tempest tore its way,
Shivering the air: from all the swarming plain,
And from the city, rose at once the cry,
“Long live Sardanapalus, king of kings!
May the king live for ever!” Thrice the flag
The monarch waved; and thrice the shouts arose,
Enormous, and cloud-echoed.
Were lifted up; sun-flashing spear-points waved;
Banners were shaken; trumpet-mouths upturned;
Myriads on myriads of bright-harnessed steeds
Shook their proud heads; sprang on, or upright reared;
24
Came up the thunderous shout. Up—up to heaven
The multitudinous tempest tore its way,
Shivering the air: from all the swarming plain,
And from the city, rose at once the cry,
“Long live Sardanapalus, king of kings!
May the king live for ever!” Thrice the flag
The monarch waved; and thrice the shouts arose,
Enormous, and cloud-echoed.
At his height,
A speck scarce visible, the eagle heard,
And felt his strong wing falter: terror-struck,
Fluttering, and wildly screaming, down he sank;
Down through the quivering air: another shout:
His talons droop; his sunny eye grows dark;
His strengthless pennons fail: plumb down he falls,
Even like a stone. Amid the far-off hills,
With eye of fire, and shaggy mane upreared,
The sleeping lion in his den sprang up;
Listened awhile; then laid his monstrous mouth
Close to the floor, and breathed hot roarings out,
In fierce reply.
A speck scarce visible, the eagle heard,
And felt his strong wing falter: terror-struck,
Fluttering, and wildly screaming, down he sank;
Down through the quivering air: another shout:
His talons droop; his sunny eye grows dark;
His strengthless pennons fail: plumb down he falls,
Even like a stone. Amid the far-off hills,
With eye of fire, and shaggy mane upreared,
The sleeping lion in his den sprang up;
Listened awhile; then laid his monstrous mouth
Close to the floor, and breathed hot roarings out,
In fierce reply.
To martial music soon,
Again moved on the armies; round the walls
Their four days' march pursuing. But the king,
In the cool marble hall, with his fair dames
Sat feasting pleasantly. From crystal cups
The sparkling wine they quaff'd; from many a voice
Of richest tone heard music exquisite;
From many an instrument, by cunning hand
Touched to excelling sweetness. All the day,
Drunken with pride and wine, there feasted he,
And thought not of the things that were at hand.
Again moved on the armies; round the walls
Their four days' march pursuing. But the king,
In the cool marble hall, with his fair dames
Sat feasting pleasantly. From crystal cups
The sparkling wine they quaff'd; from many a voice
Of richest tone heard music exquisite;
From many an instrument, by cunning hand
Touched to excelling sweetness. All the day,
Drunken with pride and wine, there feasted he,
And thought not of the things that were at hand.
| The fall of Nineveh | |