The Fall Of Nineveh. Book The Thirteenth Poem by Edwin Atherstone

Great was the glory of Assyria's king,
As, toward the city of his majesty,
Triumphant o'er his enemies he went.
To sound of warlike instruments, two days,
In slow, proud march the army moved; two nights
Upon the plain they feasted, and reposed.

But, on the third morn, when the warrior--sun,
Victor o'er night and darkness riding forth,
His banner--clouds in the orient bade uplift,--
Then, splendid upon earth as he in heaven,
Sardanapalus, with his glittering train,
Triumphant entrance in great Nineveh,
The glad, expecting city, rose to make.

On sight more gorgeous never sun looked down.
A myriad gonfalons of bright hue streamed;
A myriad trumpets rang out victory!
Blazed the bright chariots; the gold--spangled steeds,
Beneath their flaming riders proudly trod;
Flashed helm, and shield of gold, and dazzling mail;
And, with unnumbered martial instruments
Accompanied, unto the mighty Bel,
And to Sardanapalus, king of kings,
Triumphal hymns the banded armies sang.

Her brazen gates wide flung the city then;
And on the plain, with acclamations loud
The conqueror hailing, countless multitudes,
Dense crowding poured: thousands her eastern towers,
And tens of thousands thronged her battlement.

Above the Nimrod--gate, to right and left,--
A glorious league or more of living light,--
Rank over rank, as in a theatre
For Titans, or for gods, throned splendidly,--
Assyria's fairest maids, and peerless dames--
A garden of all rich, and delicate hues--
Made sunshine seem more bright; and, to the breath
Of the sweet south, a sweeter fragrance breathed.

But, beauteous most amid the beautiful;
Amid a bright heaven, the one brightest star;
Assyria's goddess queen; in regal state
Magnificent,--to pomp, imparting grace,
To triumph, majesty,--her lord to meet,
From the great central eastern gate went forth.

High throned upon a car, with gold and gems
Refulgent, slowly rode she. Diamond--wreaths,
Amid her ebon locks luxuriant, gleamed,
Like heaven's lamps through the dark: her ample robe,
Sky--hued, like to a waving sapphire glowed:
And round one graceful shoulder wreathed, one arm
Of rose--tinged snow, a web--like drapery,
Bright as a ruby streak of morning, hung.
Beneath her swelling bosom, chastely warm,
A golden zone, with priceless gems thick--starred,
Shot gentle lightnings: the unresting flash
Of diamond, and the ruby's burning glow,
With the pure sapphire's gentle radiance strove:
The flamy topaz, with the emerald cool,
Like sunshine dappling the spring meadows, played:
Gold was the clasp, and ruby. Bracelets light,
Of emerald, and diamond, and gold,
On each fine tapered, pearly wrist she wore:
And, round her pillared neck majestical,
A slender chain of diamond; the weight
Sustaining of one priceless diamond,
That on her creamy bosom, like a spark
Of sun--fire on chaste pearl embedded, lay.

With graceful ease, and perfect dignity,
Yet womanly softness; like a shape of heaven,
In pure consummate beauty,--pale, serene;
With eye oft downcast, yet with swelling heart
Proudly exultant; on her gorgeous seat
Reclined, of Tyrian purple, golden--fringed;
By all eyes mutely worshipped, she rode on.

So, when, victorious o'er the giant brood,
Back to Olympus came the Thunderer;
Imperial Juno; on her golden car,
By clouds of fire upborne,--with smile of love,
And ether--brightening brow, her lord to meet,
Through heaven's wide opened portals proudly rode.

In shining cars, behind Assyria's queen,
Her sons, and daughters, bright as summer flowers,
To grace the triumph of the conqueror came.

He, in his blazing chariot, like a god,
Exulting rode. His helm and mail laid by;
The sunlike crown upon his head; in robes
Attired, that like one waving gem appeared,--
Amid the thunder of applauding hosts,
Onward he came. His coursers' arching necks,
With gems and gold were hung: and, far before,
Behind, and round his chariot; glittering bright,--
His choicest captains, and his royal guard,
On their proud--treading steeds rode gallantly.

The chariot of the queen at hand beheld,--
To right and left disparting, ample space
In midst the horsemen left. Low bowed each head,
As the bright Vision passed; and silence deep
Of admiration weighed upon all lips.
But, when the royal chariots, meeting, paused;
Then, first, with blushing cheek, stood up the queen,
And welcome high unto the conqueror gave.

``Now is Assyria's sun from long night risen;
And darkness will no more o'ershadow us:
But in his beams will all the earth rejoice;
And all hearts will with gladness overflow.''

So she: unknowing that, in blackest clouds,
Soon would that sun go down--to rise no more!

The monarch, as unconscious, gracefully
Descending, her in his own chariot placed;
And, whispering, answered: ``Should Assyria's sun
Again grow dark,--be thou to her a moon;
For, like that soft bride of the flaming god
Art thou, my queen; bright, beauteous, chaste,--and cold.''

Slightly her brow was darkened at that word;
And her heart swelled; but answer made she none.
Then, when the king and queen together sat,
The army shouted; and the multitudes
For gladness clapped the hand: and, through the gates
When they went in, the city roared for joy.

All day on plain, and in the city, rose
The sounds of triumph, and wild merriment:
All night within the palace of the king
Was mirth and banqueting. But there sat not
The sorrowing queen; for the proud conqueror now
Summoned again his concubines; till morn,
As in the days gone by, held revelry;
His good resolves remembered not; despised
The prophet's warnings; and at danger mocked.

So they in Nineveh. The vanquished Medes,
In flight, meantime, held on. Six days they fled;
And six days did the chariots, and the horse,
Of the Assyrians follow. Vainly strove
The Median captains, in that host dismayed,
The wonted fire to rouse: sunk were their hearts;
Their arms were weak: for, in the aid of Heaven,
Coldly they trusted now; and the priest's words,
As dreams, held light. Six days, incessantly,
The chariots, and the horse, with their fierce foes,
Pursuing, held sharp conflict; and six days,
The foot, sore wearied, murmured secretly.
Hunger came also on them; for their food
Was now consumed; and but small store of wine,
Their hearts to cheer, remained. Nor less the foe
Hungered and thirsted; for a barren plain
They traversed, wherein, widely scattered, dwelt
The husbandmen; nor, of provision, much,
Had they, for haste, brought with them. But, at eve
Of the sixth day, the Medes a pleasant land
Nigh to the mountains found; with flocks, and herds,
And fruits, and men abounding. Each to each,
Then secretly the out--worn infantry
Whispered together,--and, from rank to rank,
Soon through the mass it spread,--``here must we part;
For, if we take not food and wine, our strength
Will be worn out; and we shall surely die.''
So, like to sands divided by the winds,
At night they parted, and took each his way.

This when the Assyrians the next morn beheld,--
For, distant far, the straggling foot were seen,--
Glad were they; and their scattered enemies
Hoped soon to overwhelm. But still the horse,
And chariots of the Medes, undauntedly
Confronted them: and they themselves with toil
Were worn, and hunger: also were their steeds,
By reason of the scanty herbage, faint,
And the long drought; for, as they passed before,
Their enemies all food, for man, and beast,
Consumed, or spoiled; and every well, and stream,
Troubled, and fouled; that neither man thereof,
Nor cattle, had enough. When, therefore, they
These things had pondered, longer in pursuit
They held not; but rejoiced, and cried aloud;
``Assyria's foes are scattered like the dust
Of the dry desert at the tempest's breath!
Together will they never come again!
Now, therefore, to the king let us with speed;
And, that which we have done, make known to him.''

With glad hearts turning, homeward then they went:
And, wheresoe'er they passed, proclaimed aloud,
``The king hath triumphed o'er his enemies;
They are trod down like grass! Long live the king!
May the king live for ever!'' But, meantime,
The Median captains, when their foes they saw
Distant, and toward the city hasting back,--
Beneath the shade of a pine--grove made pause;
For now it was mid--day; and, being met,
Brief counsel took together. Many then,
Whose voices in debate, until that hour,
No man had heard, their thoughts with free words spake:
``Let us return unto our homes,'' they said;
``For never will the soldiers meet again.''

But them Belesis questioned solemnly;
``What? are ye wiser than the immortal gods,
That ye resist their will, and choose your own?''

Arbaces then; who, on that morning first,
Sat in his chariot,--for his strength returned
Swiftly unto him,--spake aloud and said:
``Not now debate of that which ye will do;
Since of the present hour alone ye judge,
And of the morrow know not. For himself,
And for his wearied steed, let every man
Provision find: on yon lone mountain's top,
Where all may see it, be our banner fixed:
Also let heralds through the country go,
And call upon the soldiers to return:
So, in few days, we better shall perceive
How toward us are the minds of men disposed;
And if our aim we must abandon quite;
Or if the hand of God, as heretofore,
Is still held forth, to strengthen and protect.
But, for the morrow be debate reserved.
In council meeting then, his boldest thoughts
Who will, may speak: and that which must be done,
Or that must be endured,--let every man
His fellow strengthen to endure, or dare.
Meantime, from harness be the steeds released,
That this delicious herbage they may crop;
And let each man with food his heart make glad,
And temperate draughts; for wasted is our blood,
And our strength shrunken.'' These calm words pleased all;
And, as he counselled them, so was it done.
They planted on the mountain's top their flag;
And numerous heralds near and far rode forth;
Urging the scattered legions to return.

Nor vainly toiled they; for, ere evening fell,
Came thousands back; and far on in the night,
By twos, and threes, by scores, and hundreds, they
Returned, and pitched their tents,--yet listlessly,
Like men who have no hope. But, strong at heart,
As rose the sun, Arbaces, on a lawn
Mossy and green, amid the pine--grove's shade;
The captains called to council. With slow pace,
And downcast looks, they came. The bravest feared:
Arabia's king himself, and Azareel,
Zealous and faithful, to despair 'gan yield;
So in their cause the soldiers lukewarm seemed;
Hopeless of good, trusting no more in God.
The boldest and most valiant of them all,
The best course saw not. But, their fears to vent,
Bolder becoming,--of their prompt return
Each to his home, no few, in fight less known,
Now freely 'gan to talk. Their chief, at length,
From his rude seat arising,--a fallen trunk,
Branchless, and thickly mossed,--before them all,
With slow step, walked; nor, than his beamy spear,
Other support unto his strengthening limbs
Now needed; though his heavy mail, as yet,
To endure, unable. O'er his linen vest,
Of Tyrian dye, gold--broidered; to the knee
Descending; and around his middle girt
By a broad belt, gem--clasped, and starred with gold,--
A lion's hide he wore. Dread of the plain
And forest, long had reigned the mighty beast:
But, by the young Arbaces singly met,
Him found at last his mightier. The huge spoil
O'er his left shoulder loosely now disposed;
His left hand lightly resting on the spear;
In view of all the captains stood the Mede;
And, with an eye of calm reproval, first,
The louder murmurers chiding,--patiently,
And with mild tone, to all his speech began.

``Not in you now, my friends, do I behold
Your wonted greatness. Noblest heroism,
Not in commanding victory is shown,
But in the best endurance of reverse.
Conquest may be of chance; or Heaven's decree,
For its own end, to man inscrutable;
Since to the evil, as the good, sometimes
The victory is given,--not token, then,
Unerring, of desert: but, patiently,
With firm soul, to endure calamity;
With a calm wisdom, for our ills to seek
The remedy; or, cureless, with strong heart,
Unmurmuring, to bear; to Heaven's decree
Submiss in all,--this truest valour shows;
This man's best glory is; and all his own!
And why, my friends, thus sink ye in despair?
If God had victory decreed to you,
Without your toil and blood; arms to you, then,
Had useless been: upon your enemies
Ye might have looked; and scattered them like dust.
But, when some strong, proud tyrant's overthrow,
God doometh; to His chosen instruments
A task committeth He, that labor, skill,
Valour, and wisdom, and unbending soul,
Demandeth of them: lacking these, they fail:
Since, man the instrument, the means of man
Unto the end must work:--not unto God
Needful; but chosen. ``When the pestilence
Is sent to do His bidding,--not of man
Then seeketh He the aid: or when the floods
Are bid to overwhelm; or storms destroy;
Or earthquakes shake the nations,--not with man
Taketh He counsel then; nor aid of man
Needeth, His will to do. ``When, in one night,
The army of the proud Assyrian king,
Against Jerusalem hasting, He cut off,--
He asked not, then, the chariot, and the steed,
The sword, or mail of proof; the constant heart,
The wisdom, and the bravery, of man,--
He looked upon the sleeping myriads,
And they lay dead! Tempest, nor plague, nor fire,
Earthquake, nor lightning, nor the loosened floods,
Bade He go forth: deep silence, and the night,
Shadowed a slumbering host; deep silence still,
Unbroken, rested on a field of death!
Warrior, and war--horse, like to sculptured forms,
For aye lay stirless! All that drew the breath;
And all that from the nostrils breathed it forth;
Ceased in the midst thereof; and were stone--dead!

``So, when His might He putteth forth, doth God
Bid, and behold it done; nor element,
Nor mortal strength requireth, Him to aid.
But, when to man a task He doth assign;
Then, strength of man, in arm, in mind, in heart,
Expecteth He: nor doth in vain expect:
For, whom He calleth, him He knoweth fit.
The heart awhile may cool, the strength may sink;
But a new fire will burn, new might arise:
God biddeth not, by man to suffer shame:
Not, for man's folly, doth Omniscience err;
Not for man's weakness, fails Omnipotence.
If ye, then, to this mighty work, by Heaven
Indeed are chosen; soon shall this despair
To hope be changed; this sorrow to great joy;
This utter darkness to a glorious light:
But, if alas! we have deceived ourselves,--
Our own poor instruments alone--not God's,--
Then, truly, will our labors all be vain:
Our quiet homes; if quiet more to be;
Place fitter for us than the perilous field!

``But, if we cannot all we wish, obtain;
Let us, at least, all compass that we can.
If once we part, we never more shall meet!
To hope were folly! Without fear, will rage
The tyrant then; without remorse, destroy:
But, while together we remain; lives yet
The hope, that, else, would die; the flame is fed,
That, else, were wholly quenched; that, wisely fanned,
May yet its work designed, accomplish all.
Our force together kept--though weaker far
Than now; though nought attempting,--to a seed
May well be likened, planted in the earth;
Which, when the rains descend, and suns shine forth,
May to a goodly and a mighty tree
Spring up: but, like that seed, upon the rocks,
Or desert--sands, cast forth,--shall we, dispersed,
Hopeless for ever, perish utterly!
Though nothing doing, planning nothing; still
Awhile abide together: food enough,
Here have we; and the appetite to please:
Treasure in gold and silver lack we not:
Arms,--ay, and hearts, though frigid now, are ours:
Why then, like fearful children, to our homes
In such poor haste to run? What man shall say
That, even while we stand debating here,
The Bactrians may not be upon the way,
Eager to join us? or that, resolute still
Beholding us; they may not, in brief time,
To honor and right give heed? If for nought else,
For this yet hold together,--that an oath,
Of our oppressor, an all binding oath,
We may demand,--and haply may obtain,--
From our more galling fetters, a release,
To us, and to our children, promising.
From this delay, what harm can ye predict?
From perseverance, what success not win?
If now ye part,--hope nothing! all things fear!
But, if with firm soul to the last ye strive;
Then nothing fear; but all things hope, and gain!''

So spake Arbaces; and his stirring words
Not all in vain: o'er every face some light,
Like the dim flutter of a dying fire,
A brief while gleamed. Next, Abdolonimus spake;
Then Azareel; and Israel's king, the last;
Bidding them trust in God, in Israel's God.
But him, with lip of scorn, regarded some;
Saying aloud, ``We know not Israel's God,
Nor in him trust: but in our gods alone.''

Them Hadad answered not; but silent stood;
For, on him bent, he saw the Mede's calm eye,
To peace admonishing; and curbed his wrath.

Nor more to him spake they; but 'mid themselves
Held gloomy converse; hope of final good,
Idle esteeming; and all farther toil,
Useless, as burthensome. When this he saw;
And that, with look of uttermost disdain,
The priest gazed on them, and, for scorn, stood mute,
Strongly Arbaces said; ``Why standest thou,
Belesis, silent; when thy words of fire,
Never than now more needed?'' Then the priest
Slowly came forward; lifted his right hand,
Attention asking; and all tongues were still.
His eye was stern; his brow was like the night.
In silence yet a little while he stood,
And looked in every face: at length, with voice
Subdued, at first,--like to a storm far off,
But rapidly advancing,--thus he spake.

``What would ye, then? Would ye give law to God?
To you alone may He grant victory?
Nay--must ye even the place, the hour, prescribe?
And is it then so wondrous, and so new,
That one man should by four men vanquished be?
Or would it not far more be wonderful,
If, by one man, should four be overcome?

``Think ye that in yon heaven above are Powers
That rule the earth; that lift the nations up,
Or overthrow them? that the kings thereof,
And governors, appoint? or, over heaven,
Doth man now rule; and say unto the Gods,
`Thus shall it be; for so we will it done'?

``Is, then, Sardanapalus more than God,
That ye more fear him? Hath Heaven's king decreed,
`Thus it shall be,' and shall Assyria's king
Answer unto Him, `Nay, but as I will,
So shall it be'? If greater he than God,
Why have ye risen against him? Wherefore now
Hasten ye not to fall before his feet,
And humbly say; `Against thy majesty,
O king! we have transgressed! and death deserve.'
But, if God yet be mightier than he,
Why should ye fear him? Written is it not,
Even by the hand of the Eternal One,
That ye shall cast the tyrant from his throne;
And that abominable city burn;
And strew her ashes to the winds of heaven?
Shall the decrees of God be set at nought?
Or fear ye that His arm is withered up,
And His strength perished, that He cannot help?
Or, haply, doubt ye if your priest aright
The words of Heaven hath read? Within your hearts
Say ye perchance, `the man is lunatic
Or dreameth; wherefore should we trust in him?'
If such your thoughts, mark how I answer you.
As yon sun brightly shineth, when 'tis noon,
And not a cloud appeareth in the sky;
Even so distinctly to my inmost soul
Shone forth the great decree, which said, `behold!
This mighty kingdom of Assyria
Shall pass away; her pride shall be cast down;
Her king shall perish; and great Nineveh,
The city of her pomp, be known no more!'

``Who is there here that trusteth not in God?
Let him his chariots and his horse call forth,
His captains and his thousands,--and depart!
But, in the day of our sure victory,
Let him not ask a portion in our spoil,
Nor honor with our valiant. Lo! the day
Is nigh at hand, when the cold heart shall burn;
And the weak arm wax strong; when they who fled,
Shall conquer,--they who triumphed, be cast down:
For, the eternal hills shall pass away;
The waters of the great deep be dried up;
But never shall the word of God be vain;
Never shall His decree be set at nought!
Proclaim ye, then, throughout the camp, and say,
`Let him that feareth, to his home depart!
But, whoso trusteth in the word of God,
Let him his arms prepare; and let his heart
Be joyful; for the day is nigh at hand!'

``Yea do I prophesy,--even the fifth day hence,
Shall ye hear tidings of a coming help:
For, all the night in watching have I passed,
And prayer; and thus it hath been shown to me.
Until the fifth day tarry then, I pray;
But till the fifth day tarry. After that,
If no aid come; then have I seen a lie!
Then hath Heaven mocked me in mine agony:
Then have I been a dreamer, and a fool:
Then am I mad! Trust in me, then, no more;
But each man scoff at me; and go his way!''

So he with ardor: and his countenance
Shone brightly; like the prophet's, when his eye
Beholdeth visions. All that heard him, then;
Stirred by his words, and by his vehemence,
With one voice cried aloud, ``Even as he saith,
So let it be!'' The council now dissolved;
The captains straightway 'mid the soldiers went;
Encouraged them; and bade them trust in God.

Of their whole army, came back every man:
Joyful again they were, and strong of heart,
And in the prophet's word again had trust.

But, when the fourth day came, they offered up
A solemn sacrifice. With fervency
Belesis prayed; the multitude sang hymns,
And were exceeding joyful. Afterwards,
Nigh on the hour of sunset,--to the camp,
An agëd Israelitish minstrel came;
And with a clear voice sang unto his harp,
That thousands of the soldiers thronged to hear.
Then, when Belesis heard how strong his voice;
And that his hand was cunning; thus he said:
``Take thou refreshment now, and rest; for eve
Is come, and to their tents the soldiers haste:
But, when thou hast thy strength with rest, and food,
And wine recruited; to our leader's tent
Come thou,--for there to--night the captains feast,--
And sing, and play, before them. Let thy song
Again resound the praise of Israel's God:
How from Egyptian bondage, with strong hand,
He brought you forth: for surely is your God
Ours also; and there is no God but one.''

The Hebrew bowed, and went: and, when with food,
And wine refreshed, unto the tent made speed.

With a glad heart, Arbaces welcomed him:
The captains, also, gave him welcome glad;
For many had been sore discomforted,--
The fifth day now so near at hand, nor sign
Of help approaching,--that they doubted much,
And their brows darkened. To the harper, then,
A goblet charged with wine, Arbaces sent:
And, when the Hebrew had the bright juice quaffed,
And felt his heart rejoiced; with master--hand
He swept the strings, and lifted up his voice.

``From Egypt's bondage loosed,
Toward the Red Sea Israel fled:
But the haughty king, from the ten plagues 'scaped,
And hardened still at heart,
And unbelieving still,
Pharaoh the impious one,
Mocking Jehovah's might, drove after them.
With horse, and with chariots, fiercely drove he;
And cried aloud,
While his eyes flashed fire,
And the white foam hung at his lip,
`Pursue! pursue!
Pursue, and spoil, and slay with the sword!
Their God will not help them now.'

``Then Israel saw, and feared,
And trembled, and cried out,
`Were there no graves in Egypt left,
That we come to perish here?'
But Moses said, `fear not;
Fear not; for this great host,
That now ye see
In the pride of their strength,
Ye never shall see more.
To God this fight belongs;
Not to the might of man:
He will His hand put forth,
His dread Almighty hand;
The God of hosts,
The Great I Am,
Jehovah will do battle now;
And ye shall stand and see.'

``'Twas night. By the Red Sea's brink they stood,
Stood thronging, and afraid:
Dark was the sky
To Egypt's host:
But the pillar of fire
That with Israel went,
A cloud by day, and a fire by night,
Burned red o'er the surging deep.
Like waves of flame the waters rolled,
Red billows broke at their feet:
Then they thought that the hour
Of their doom was come;
For the sword was behind,
The sea was before,
And farther they might not flee.
They heard the tramp of the vengeful foe,
Driving in darkness on;
And trembled, and feared,
And smote on their breasts,
And wailed aloud,
And rent their hair;
For they knew not if God would help.

``But Moses heard
The voice of the Lord,
And stretched his rod o'er the sea:
The heaving waters knew the sign,
And as a lake lay still:
Sank then 'neath the rod; but, to either hand,
Rose cliff--like, and left between,
A path for a multitude, horsemen, and foot,
And chariots in wide array;
A broad, dry path from shore to shore,
Through the bed of the secret deep.
And lo! already, to guide them on,
Far down in the awful chasm,
The fiery pillar shone!
Then Israel knew
The hand of the Lord;
And bowed the head, and spake no word,
But down the steep road went,
Down--down--
Down till the heaped--up waters, red
In the fiery pillar's gleam,
Like rocks of burning ruby towered,
High and more high, as they journeyed down.

``But, fierce as flame,
Came on the foe:
He stood on the awful brink:
Amazed he beheld the sea--depths bared,
And the waters piled on high;
And he saw, by the gleam of the fiery cloud,
Far below,
Far in the ocean--chasm below,
As in the depth of a mountain--dell,
The silent host of Israel,
Treading the bed of the deep.
Yet with rage and with hate was he blind,
And knew not the hand of God;
But called aloud, and lashed his steeds
Furiously down the steep brink of the sea;
Furiously down drave he;
And his horse, and his chariots, after him went,
Down--down--
To the depths of the dusk abyss,
The king and his reckless host,
Drove in their madness down.

``The watery rocks yet stood,
Like walls to prop the sky.
The sky above, and the waters above,
To right, and to left, and behind, and before,
To them were the universe now.
They looked around; and their hearts 'gan fail,
And their threats into silence sank.
No sound was heard, save the pant of the steeds,
The tramp of the hoofs, and the grinding wheels,
Heavily through the sea--bed's sands,
Heavily laboring on.

``But, at the morning watch,
The Lord looked out from the cloud;
With face of wrath, and lightning eye,
From the innermost depths of the cloud,
On the host of Egypt looked.
Astonied they saw; and their blood grew cold,
And the joints of their loins were loosed.
Then they howled, and shrieked,
And cried aloud,
As they gazed on the terrible brow,
Let us turn, let us turn,
From the wrath of the Lord;
Turn--turn, and from Israel flee!
God for them fighteth,
God is their strength,
Haste, haste, and from Israel flee!'

``Then they turned and fled,
Chariots and horse,
Backward turned they, and fled.
The sound of the scourge unceasing was heard,
The shout and the cry,
The groan of the steed,
And the stamp of the driver's foot;
For the Lord had crazed
Their chariot--wheels,
That heavily they drave;
Heavily, heavily,
Heavily drave they on.

``But, on the farther shore,
Stood Israel, and looked back.
The surgeless deep
Was red as fire,
Beneath the eye of wrath:
They saw the thronged Egyptian host,
The brazen car, and the gleaming mail,
Deep down in the yawning chasm
Of waters laboring on:
They heard, like the howl
Of the distant storm,
Their wailing, and their cries:
They stood and looked,
And spake not a word:
For they felt that the arm
Of God was put forth,
And their hour of deliverance come.

``Then again the voice
To Moses came,
The still small voice of the Lord.
He stood by the shore,
Stretched forth his hand,
And lifted his rod o'er the sea.
The mountain cliffs
Of water felt
The will of God, and sank.
Down, with precipitous overthrow,
Deep thundering they sank!
On Pharaoh, and his host,
His chariots and his horse,
They sank, and covered them!
One death--shriek, as the watery cliffs leaned o'er,
Arose,--then all was gone!
A waste of rolling, roaring foam
Blotted them out!
The clouds were washed with the hissing spray;
The eternal hills with the deep boilings shook.

``Thus did the Lord save Israel on that day
From the oppressor's hands,
Who long and harshly had oppressëd them.
Then Moses and his people, praising God,
Lifted the voice, and sang exultingly;
`We will sing unto the Lord,
For he hath triumphed gloriously;
The horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea!
Pharaoh's chariots, and his horse,
Hath He cast into the sea:
His chosen captains hath He drownëd!
The depths have covered them!
They sank into the bottom as a stone!
They sank as lead in the mighty waters!
Sing ye then unto the Lord,
For He hath triumphed gloriously;
The horse and his rider hath He thrown into the sea.'''

So sang the Hehrew; and, with loud acclaim,
The chiefs applauded; for, like one inspired,
Seemed he, and with prophetic rapture filled.
But, when he was gone forth, triumphantly
Belesis cried, ``And who is Pharaoh then?

``Even he that sitteth on Assyria's throne!
And, as from Egypt's bondage, Israel,
So, from Assyria's bonds, shall we be loosed.
The God of Israel is Chaldea's God;
In Him, then, let us trust. Behold the day,
The hour, of your deliverance is at hand!''

Yet speaking, from the tent he looked; then cried,
``The day is come; for midnight is passed by,
And in their glorious spheres the stars proclaim
That the new day is born!'' Scarce had he ceased,
When on the silence stole a tremulous sound,
Distant, and doubtful. Every man drew breath,
And listened; but full well they knew it soon
The tramp of horse, full speed. Man looked on man,
And wondered.--Rapidly the beating hoofs
Drew nigh, and nigher. Close without, at length,
Sharply they stopped. Came then the clink of steel,
As hurriedly the riders leaped to earth;
And, breathless with their speed, into the tent
Four mail--clad horsemen burst. Death--pale were they;
Though from their brows, by reason of long toil,
The sweat--drops poured. All from their seats sprang up;
Yet for awhile spake none: with anxious eyes,
Upon the panting messengers they looked,
Evil foreboding. First, Arbaces thus;
``Why speak ye not! If tidings dark ye bring,
Tell them at once aloud, that all may hear;
And that the ill may be the sooner healed;
Or known, at least, and manfully endured.''

To him with faltering voice, and quivering lip,
Thus Ithamar: ``Tidings most dark we bring.
Fate, and the gods, frown on us! All is lost!
Subtly deceived by promises of power,
Riches, and honor, from Assyria's king,--
The Bactrian leaders, with like treacherous hope
Of spoil and honor, did the general host
So dazzle, that, as one man, they cried out
To aid the tyrant. Us had they denied,
For we nor gold, nor honors, had to give:
To him alas! a willing ear they lent;
And now are madly hasting on their way.

``But, for their missives, who the tidings glad
Were bearing to the king--them we o'ertook;
Seized, questioned, and have safely hither brought;
So that not soon shall the arch--despot learn
His guile's prosperity. Yet, what avail!
Where shall we look? what hope is left us now!''

To him Belesis, standing forth, replied;
``What hope, sayst thou? the best; the hope in Heaven!
For armies, in God's sight, are as the dust
Which a breath scattereth. But tell us, now;
Where is this host? Nor be thou troubled thus;
Else, with thy fears,--mere shadow of a cloud,--
Mayst thou the rest infect.'' With look displeased,
Thus Ithamar: ``A three days' journey hence,
Encamped we left them yesternight. If fears
Shadowy have stirred us, much will be our joy;
Though our own shame importing. Be it so!
Meantime, with evil--threatening eye doth Fate
Lower on us. In wild tumult; as with wine
Drunken, or mad; the Bactrians come along;
Hot for the tyrant whom--so lately left,
When most he needed--now they burn to serve:
Even through this valley must their course be held;
And on the second eve may they be here.''

When this they heard, upon the captains fell
Dismay and trouble. Darkened grew their brows;
Man unto man spake angrily; and turned
Upon the priest fierce faces; murmuring loud;
Saying among themselves, ``We are deceived;
He dreameth, and discourseth not with Heaven:
Let us no longer listen to his words,
But every man to his own home depart.''

Arbaces, meantime, unto no man spake;
Nor did his countenance fall. Upon his spear
Leaning, with eyes cast down, and thoughtful brow,
He of the future pondered. Nor the priest
With any man yet spake: the angry eye
Turned on him he beheld; the muttered sneer
Saw on the lip; yet, gathering up his robe,
In a proud silence stood. But now the storm,
At distance threatening long, came swiftly on:
The glance grew bolder, and more loud the scoff:
Till,--powerless longer to control his rage,--
Kethor, the Cappadocian chief; gray--haired,
Yet strong, of giant limb, and hot in fight;
Before Belesis hurrying, sternly thus.

``Why art thou silent, priest, when all else speak?
And wherefore dost thou not interpret now?
Is this the succour, then, thou did'st foretell?
This the deliverance out of Pharaoh's hands?
And is it thus Assyria's might shall fall,
And pass away, and be no more beheld?
Didst thou not say, `if, on the fifth day hence,
Help come not to you, then am I a fool;
Then have I seen a lie; then trust me not;
But each man scoff at me, and go his way?'
Dreamer! what hast thou done! Thou hast betrayed
To ruin all this host! But, canst thou not
Stretch forth the hand, and save us? Where are now
The gods whom thou didst trust? with whom so oft
Thou didst converse; and who the promise gave
That the great city should be burned with fire;
And her oppression cease? Call on them now:
Can they not hear thee? or will they not help?
Are they the gods indeed? or are they not
Gods rather of thy dreams? Hast thou beheld?'' . . .

Still spake he, when, with arm toward heaven upraised,
And aspect terrible, the priest advanced.
``Blasphemer! peace! and tremble lest the God
Whom thou deridest, strike thee with His fire,
Even in the height of thy bold wickedness!
On me thy frenzy, as thou wilt, pour forth:
Rail till the fit hath gone; and scoff thy fill:
Thyself, ere long, shalt thine own judgment pass;
Crazed now, and blind with passion, though thou art.''

He ceased, and, frowning, sat. But, not the less,
Amid the captains raged the discontent:
And Kethor, undeterred, thus answered him.

``Blasphemer am I none: nor do I mock
The God indeed, false prophet! but the Thing
That thou hast dreamed of; that, with hollow lies,
Hath mocked us; and, for pure gold, offered brass.
That do I mock; and thee, its minister.
But tell us, then: whence shall the succour come
That thou didst see approaching? By what hand
Shall Israel, now, from Pharaoh be set free?
Where is the fiery pillar, where the rod,
To make the waters part, and give us way?''

So he, the priest insulting; and, with him,
Joined not a few--all taunting bitterly.
But, calmly waiting till the smoke should pass,
To their poor spite Belesis answered not.

With sounds discordant,--many tongues at once
Opposing counsels urging,--rang the tent.
Some, on the morrow wholly to dissolve
Their forces, and each man, as best he might,
For his own good provide,--their best course held:
Some, yet in arms to stay, advised; the while,
They of the king might such conditions gain
As life, at least, and freedom from constraint
Of bonds or dungeon, might ensure: but these,
Others derided, and for folly taxed.
Some, to retreat, gave counsel: yet in arms
Remain, till with more surety they should know
The Bactrian's purpose; or till greater force,
O'erwhelming, they should see against them bent:
But neither this pleased all; nor without scoff
Of some was heard; for each man his own thought
Deemed wisest; and, in smallest difference, found
Momentous opposite. The Arabian king,
Silence obtaining, urged a bolder course:
Toward Babylon,--but ten days' journey off,--
He willed them on the morrow to depart:
So, haply, unawares approaching, they,
By stratagem, or force, the gates might win:
Securely there the king defy; by walls
Impregnable as his, and gates of brass,
Defended; till, meanwhile, by other strength
Made able him to cope with,--they the war
Might re--awaken; and with hopes, perchance,
Even brighter than at first: or empire might
With him divide,--for who could all foresee?
Of Babylon, another Nineveh
Creating--'gainst the Assyrian tyranny,
A bulwark for the nations,--who might tell?
At worst, the power to separate,--then, as now,
Would equally be theirs: but good result
He augured: and the loosely guarded gates,--
Not threatened, haply, therefore, not secure;
To seize had hope; nor idle, as he thought.

But, when he ceased, Belesis toward him looked,
And shook the head,--so vain he deemed the attempt.

Answer was needed not; for, with one voice,
The counsel was refused; and, with the din
Of striving tongues tumultuous,--like some cave
By ocean's marge, where breakers burst and roar,--
The tent resounded; and confusion seemed
Sole master: for Arbaces silent stood,
And silent sat the priest; nor other voice,
Like theirs the rest to rule, among them was.

Meantime, throughout the awakened troops had spread
Tidings portentous of a foe at hand:
Nor rumour failed, as evermore, the dark
To deepen, and the great to magnify:
The Bactrians in their front,--the king behind,
Advancing on them,--chariots, horse, and foot,
Innumerable,--scourges, bonds, and death,
On every man denounced,--such the dire tale,
Among them, swift as flames in stubble field,
Spreading, and gathering, still. Like blast on blast
Of storm awakening, came the tumult on;
And, o'er the inner tempest of the tent
Prevailing, with new fear and trouble filled
The jarring captains. All around the tent
Rose clamorous voices--``Let us see our chiefs!
We are betrayed! Our enemies are nigh!
We are delivered up into their hands!
Arbaces, and Belesis, now come forth,
And speak unto us, and the truth declare!''

That hearing, from the tent Arbaces sped;
And glaring bright the camp beheld; with fires
All round illumined; and the living sea
Of men in tumult working. At the door
Then stood he; and with clear voice spake aloud.

``Ye now that hear me, hasten to the rest;
And bid their minds be still. In little time,
Be ye assured, I will again come forth,
And speak unto you. All will yet be well:
Fear not; debate not; but in Heaven put trust.''

As, in a frighted child, the placid tone
Of a loved father's voice, new confidence
Inspires, and soothes the throbbing heart to calm;
So, upon those who heard him, fell the voice
Of the majestic chief: from man to man
Flew on his words; and all in him had trust.

He, to the tent returning, nigh the door
Stood with raised hand, in sign that he would speak:
Then instantly the chiefs their discord ceased,
And to his words gave heed. With tone severe,
Yet calm; and eye that gave rebuke;
Yet not in anger, but in friendly zeal;
After brief silence, firmly thus he spake.

``In every difficulty, a calm mind
Lightens endurance, and gives action strength;
Doubles the power to suffer, or to do.
The strongest swimmer may sink instantly,
If his heart fail him when he goeth forth
To the deep waters. On a narrow bridge,
He that would cross a fearful precipice,
Must fix his eye, and with a firm foot tread,
Or on the rocks beneath his bones may bleach.
Is ours the firm heart now? the unwavering eye?
The steady foot? What! are we cowardly,
Effeminate, or drunken,--that we fume,
And fret, and quarrel, and look here and there;
And know not what to think; nor what to do;
Nor what to leave undone? Rulers are we,
Who cannot our own fears and follies rule?
Guides are we, who ourselves know not the way?
Lords, who to petty passions are the slaves?
If our strong foe we cannot overcome,
Let us, at least, our own weak follies quell.
If to our hopes success be possible;
By wisdom, perseverance, courage, zeal,
And a calm patience, must the prize be won.
But, were the treasure even in our grasp;
Yet folly, jarring counsels, hearts unfirm,
And passions uncontrolled, would let it drop.
If part we must, as friends yet let us part,
Who, having done our best,--to Heaven's high will,
Unmurmuring, bow submissive. If a blow
We yet may strike, let us be cool, that thus
We better may take aim. If we must die,
Let us go quietly, that we may think
In our last moments of the mighty Gods.
Ponder on this, my friends: and, ere you judge
Of counsel, act, or motive,--in your hearts
Quench anger; whose black fumes, o'er brightest mind,
Bring darkness, as thick clouds about the sun,
Even at his noon, bring darkness. Nor do thou,
Belesis, over--proudly hold aloof,
When hostile tongues assail thee. Wisest far
Of all, we do confess thee; and in thee,
And in thy prophecy, will still place trust.
Speak thou unto the captains then; and calm
Their passions; and to better thoughts awake.
I, meantime, to the multitude will haste;
For sorely troubled are they; by dark fears
Encompassed, and amazement.'' With these words,
He ended, and went forth. A little while
Was silence in the tent; for every man,
By that great majesty of voice, and look,
Admonished was, yet calmed. Slowly, at length,
Arose Belesis; gathered up his robe,
And signed that he would speak. No angry tongue
Now murmured 'gainst him: to his words all ears
Were opened; every eye was on him fixed.
Undaunted, unabashed, undoubting still,
The same calm brow was his, the eye of light,
To Heaven appealing; the same solemn voice,
Sonorous, and commanding, as when all
Had listened to his words, as to a god's.
A moment he looked silently around;
Then, with calm tone at first; like the slow heave
Of an awakening sea,--but swelling soon
To power, and ardor, like the long, full roll
Of waves, when all its might the storm puts forth,--
Thus to the listening captains he began.

``Truly, and wisely, and with friendly zeal,
That of you thanks demands,--though on yourselves
Reproof inflicting,--hath Arbaces now
Spoken unto you: and to me no less:
For, why the angry word should I with scorn
Resent, and from your counsels hold aloof;
Seeing that hot wrath burneth out the brain,
And, of the wisest, maketh but a fool.
But, I, ye say, have truly been the fool,
And foolishly to you have prophesied.
Ye say, I did foretell that, on this day,
Shoud ye hear tidings of deliverance nigh,--
Yet, for deliverers, now come enemies;
And surely shall ye perish. Yea, even so
Have ye reviled me: but I answer you,--
Not falsely, and not foolishly have I
Thus prophesied; but even as Heaven itself
Hath shown the future to me. I affirm
That this day your deliverance is at hand!
That ye have tidings of the promised help!
That, though the Bactrians do against you come,
Through them will surely come your victory!

``I told you aid approached; but said not whence:
I said that ye should triumph; but told not
The manner, nor the time, nor place thereof:
I knew an arm Almighty was put forth;
But knew not how salvation would be wrought.
For, the prophetic vision showeth not
Distinctly always, as the well--penned book
Which a man readeth in the light of noon;
But, oft--times, like to shapes in the dusk eve;
Or like a stately palace, or a tower,
In torch--light part distinct, and part in gloom.
Looking upon it, truly can ye say,
`A palace, or a tower before me stands;'
But yet ye see not all the form thereof;
Nor of its secret chambers know ye aught.

``Even so with truth did I declare to you,
That in Heaven's scroll I had beheld the doom
Of that imperious Nineveh; that den
Of wickedness; that scourge of all the East.
I have beheld its fires mount up to heaven;
I have beheld the mighty walls cast down:
I have beheld, where stood the Eastern Queen,
The desert's solitude; and, for the sound
Of mirth and banqueting, have heard the scream
Of the lone vulture, and the lion's roar:
Where stood the cloud--wreathed temples, and the towers,
And palaces, that with eternity
Did claim companionship, I have beheld
The traveller from far lands, by long search worn,
Lean on his staff, and marvel where had been
The city of old Ninus; and oft shake
The doubtful head, and rail at history's lie.
These have I seen: and, for the fallën throne,
Have seen a new throne rise: and, for the kings
That did oppress the nations, have beheld
Another king, who on that throne shall sit;
And long in wisdom and in justice reign:
But I have told you not the day, nor hour,
When this shall happen,--nor the course thereof.
Ye are as travellers, o'er a desert bound,
That know not of the path; nor where doth lie
The city of their search. I point not out
The very foot--track; I name not the wells
Where ye shall drink; the sands that ye shall shun;
Nor the green spots in which ye shall repose:
But I say to you, `go upon your way;
The place before you lies; walk boldly on:
A Power unseen, Omnipotent, will lead!
Shrink not from danger, nor with labor faint;
And ye shall surely find the thing ye seek;
For so, by Him that never can deceive,
Or err, it hath been shown to me!' . . . . What, then!
Do ye, at the first difficulty, turn,
To mock at me, and cry, `thou lying guide!
Foolish or false, where hast thou led us now?
Where is the city thou did'st promise us?
Where are the vineyards, where the flocks and herds;
The corn--fields, the green pastures, and the brooks?' . . .

``Said I unto you, without weariness,
That ye should travel? without toil, should reap?
That ye should front the lion in his den;
Yet from his talons come untouched away?

``But, is the conflict ended? Are ye fallen,--
Cast down into the dust, no more to rise?
No! ye have been defeated; shall defeat:
Have fled; but shall pursue: your scale to earth
Hath sunk; yet soon shall strike the beam in heaven.

``But, without wisdom, without firmness, toil,
Valour, and brotherly love, hope ye these things?
He that to battle goeth, putteth on
The breast--plate, and the helmet, and the shield:
But ye upon your souls put no defence
'Gainst discord's poisoned shafts; ye arm them not
With the keen weapons that give victory.
Put on, I pray you now, the tempered mail
Of firm endurance; and the saving shield
Of wisdom: gird upon you the keen sword
Of valour: fill your quivers with the shafts
Of prudent foresight, that do wound from far:
Let zeal and brotherly love bind all your hearts;
That, as one arm, ten thousand arms may move:
Let not the hill of difficulty stop;
Nor deepest flood of danger turn you back:
But, with strong heart, unshrinking, persevere;
And in the word of God place all your trust;--
Then, shall ye journey on triumphantly;
And your strong foes shall fall before your feet!''

Scarce had he ceased, ere, from without, was heard
Thunder of acclamation. Many then
Among the captains, cried out joyfully,
``An omen! a true omen! As he saith,
We surely shall go on triumphantly;
And our strong foes shall sink before our might.''

But, when Arbaces entered, and made sign
That he would speak unto them; they were still.
And, when all stood attentive, thus he spake.

``The tumult in the camp is quieted;
The soldiers go to rest: then let us, too,
Our troubled spirits calm, and seek repose;
That in the morning may our minds be clear
To reason; and our limbs for action strong.
If in his heart hath any of us felt
Against his fellow enmity, Oh, now,
Let it be all forgotten, and erased!
If any time he hath felt friendliness,
Let it be now remembered, and made strong!
For me, I do not know, in all this host,
The man with whom I could not join the hand
Of kindness; and with whom, in such great cause,
I could not with a cheerful spirit die!
But life is yet my hope, and victory;
For expectation stirreth in me strong,
As though some God had whispered to my soul,
`Be joyful! your deliverance is at hand!'
A gladness riseth in my heart; my limbs
Feel sudden strength: a brightness hath appeared
To gleam from the dark cloud that threatened storm:
The spears, methinks, that now against us come,
Shall with us go against our enemies:
The laughter of the oppressor shall be turned
To grief; his hope shall bring to him despair.
For I, my friends, cannot the Bactrian chiefs
So folly--ruled believe, that they will work,
With ours, their own destruction; knowing once,--
As well we can instruct them,--the sure end.
We will with reasons sway; with hopes incite;
With fears alarm; with promises persuade;
Or, failing, with destruction will o'erwhelm.

``At early morning let us sacrifice,
And pray unto the gods: the tents then strike,
And toward the Bactrians up the valley speed.
By noon, we may the long and narrow pass,
Named of Melchisedek, reach,--that tyrant king
Who there, with all his host, in one hour fell.
Through this the Bactrian must the next day march;
And there will we confront him: and, be sure,
There with Melchisedek shall he leave his bones;
Or, with us leagued, against the city go.
For, therein come,--before them, and behind,
All pass will be shut out; and o'er their heads
Death instant threaten. If they, strong in guilt,
To reason and to justice will not list;
Even let them die in their iniquity!

``Thus, briefly, my first thoughts have I disclosed:
If any man to censure them see cause,
Let him now speak: if none, then, with the night
And stillness, let us on them ponder well,
And with the morn resolve.'' These words to all
Were pleasing. High in hope they parted then,
Each man unto his tent: and, in brief time,
Above the lately agitated camp,
The brooding wings of night and silence hung.