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

As when two clouds enormous, black, fire--charged,
By adverse winds driven on, in conflict meet,--
Outleap the lightnings, and the thunders roar:
Cloud calls to cloud; mountain to mountain calls;
Heaven unto earth; and earth to heaven again,--
With uproar such, doubly redoubling, rose
The clamors of the fierce encountering hosts.

As on his single arm the fate might hang
Of that great contest; to his deadly work,
As to a joyful feast, each captain went.

Like to a lordly lion, through the fight
Assyria's monarch raged; nor equal met.
Yet he Arbaces fronted not; that arm
Too well remembering; and beholding now,
Where, through the scattering multitude he swept.
Too well he saw; but shunned to meet the storm;
Till of its fury should a part be spent:
Himself, meantime, amid his enemies
Raged irresistibly; and with his voice,
And deeds heroic, in his soldiers' breasts
Unwonted ardor waked. Yet, fiercer far
Within his enemies' hearts the martial flame
Blazed inconsumably; by nobler thoughts,
And in a cause far nobler, to the height
Of mortal daring raised; that life, or death,
Indifferent seemed; so might renown be won.
Thus, fewer far; yet, in that lofty soul,
Mightier--in strife unequal they their foes
Boldly confronted. Till the flaming god
From the broad summit of heaven's azure hill,
With step majestic slowly 'gan descend,
Well balanced stood the fight. But, in the midst,
Deep in the Assyrian host, Arbaces now,
With chariots and with horse, victorious fought;
Nor knew that, far away, to either hand;
By numbers overborne, yet struggling still,
Backward his friends were driven. For Jerimoth,--
'Gainst Salmanassar, and the Arabian horse,
Prevailing,--like a fire, by rising winds
To threefold rage awaked,--upon them drove,
With havoc ruinous: and Jehoshaphat--
That seeing--on the reeling enemy,
With shock so crushing all his chariots urged;
That in confusion soon they turned and fled.

But Abdolonimus, who, far advanced,
Upon Assyria's mailëd infantry
Dread inroad made--the tidings heard, and thus,
Upstanding, to his charioteers cried out:
``Haste! turn your steeds: upon Jehoshaphat
Drive; and cry out aloud; that Jerimoth
May hear us, and fall back.'' His voice was heard;
And on from man to man the summons flew.
Turned swiftly then the cars: the scourges hissed;
And, underneath the rapid brazen wheels,
The firm earth trembled. On the other verge
Of battle, meantime, Zadok with his horse,
And, with his chariots, Michael,--backward drove
Dark Ithamar, and agëd Bezaleel,
Who, with their Parthian horsemen, and the cars
Of Phrygia, and Cilicia, long had stood,
O'ermatched, yet resolute. But Arbaces still
Victorious onward urged: till, on the mount
Arriving now, where, with Assyria's king,
Brief conference he had held,--o'er all the plain
His eye he cast; and, in dismay, sheer rout
On either hand beheld. To Azareel,
Who close beside him all the day had fought;
And Japhet, in one roomy chariot both,--
Their prize in the first battle,--with loud voice,
Still in his car upstanding, then he cried:
``Haste! haste, my friends, and to Belesis fly;
And to Abiram, with his Susian horse:
Bid them to Bezaleel speed instantly,
And Ithamar; whom in dire stress I see;
Outnumbered far. No moment must be lost!''

So he: and they flew on. Round looking then,
Thus, to the captains nigh, Arbaces cried;
``Toil on, brave men! Your bright reward will come.
But, deeper in their battle press not now;
Lest, from our friends too far removed,--for both,
Help mutual should be lost. A little while
Perforce I leave you; to the Arabian horse
Succour to take; by fiery Jerimoth,
And fierce Jehoshaphat, unequal pressed.
Ere long expect me back. Meantime, no foot
Of ground so hardly won, unto the foe
Resign; lest he should triumph and wax bold.''
So he; then, with the chariots, and the horse
Of Hadad, king of Israel, onward drove.

With thrice a hundred iron cars; and steeds
Ten thousand; mail--clad infantry, with spear,
Sword, mace, or battle--axe armed, twelve thousand strong;
Bowmen, and skilful slingers, that huge stones,
Both with the right hand and the left, could hurl,--
Of these twelve thousand also,--with such strength,
The Medes to aid, upon that morn had come
The king of Israel, Hadad: for his heart
Had smitten him, as homeward he was bound,
That in their struggle he his friends had left.
A prophet also had uplift his voice
Conjuringly, and cried, ``O king! return;
Go back against the city: for the Lord,
The God of Israel, with a mighty hand
Will smite her: in her pride will cast her down,
And make her desolate! toward the city, back!
Lest, when the Mede shall triumph, on thy head
The fury of the nations be let loose.''

Thus had the prophet cried: the people then
Had prayed, ``O Hadad hearken to his words!''
So he had pitched his tents; and said, ``Behold,
Here will we 'bide awhile, and tidings wait;
Lest, if the king have triumphed, in his hands
We be delivered; and his vengeance feel.''

But, the next morn, came missives from the Medes,
And said, ``O Hadad, king of Israel! come;
Come back against the city; for all day,
Even from the rising till the setting sun,
Stood we in combat, and their hosts drove back:
Even to the gates we drove them: and their slain
Are as the autumnal leaves. Come therefore back,--
Come instantly, lest, when the spoil is won;
Thy portion shall be shame and mockery.''

Then Hadad bade the trumpets sound aloud,--
The tents to strike; and toward the city turn.
So, on the morning of that second fight,
A welcome aid, he came; and, in the midst,
Even with the chariots of Arbaces, stood.

Him, 'gainst Jehoshaphat and Jerimoth
Hasting, Arbaces called: then Israel's king,
His horsemen, and his iron chariots, took;
And joyfully went on: but, with the foot,
His brother, and chief captain, Midian, left.

Not by his foes unknown, Arbaces went:
Him, their chief terror, from the contest seen
Rapidly speeding,--with new courage they,
And strength, turned back to combat. Man on man
Calling aloud, eagerly back they turned.

Direful o'er all the plain the havoc now!
Where, with his Babylonian infantry,
Almelon fought; and, with their Persian horse,
And chariots, Geber, and Barzanes huge,--
Assyria's monarch there like fire was seen,
His foes consuming: like the sun, his car
Rapidly rolling, flung about the light:
His voice was heard; his spear aloft was seen:
Clanged now his bow; and now his javelin hissed:
His sword now flamed; and now his ponderous axe
Harsh measure to the battle--chorus struck.
Before the tempest of his chariot wheels,
Were men and steeds o'erthrown: and, by the hoofs
Of his impetuous horses trodden down,
Fell hundreds; groaned, and died. But him, at length,
Long sought in vain, Rabsaris now beheld;
And toward him madly drove. With eyes distent,
And bared teeth grinding, his tempestuous lance
He hurled; and on the breast so forcefully
The monarch struck, that backward on the seat,
Reeling, he dropped; yet harmless: the strong mail
Entrance refused; and from its polished face,
Deep though indented, cast the fury off.
Yet, breathless and amazed, the king knew not
That his own lance, in the same moment hurled,
Upon the helmet with a blow so strong
Had struck his enemy, that from out the car
Had he fallen headlong. Him to rescue then,
Flew Azariah; full upon the king,
With all his archers, arrows in thick clouds
Pouring incessantly; and on the horse,
And chariots, who to succour him drew nigh.

But, of Nehushta heedful; and the word
That he to her had pledged; with prudent care,
Dara the steeds drew off; and shunned the strife.

Nor aught the king gainsaid; till, wonted strength
Recovering soon, into the thickest fight,
Hotly again he plunged. But, from the ground,
Dizzy and sick, the while, Rabsaris rose;
By Azariah aided; and, his car
Feebly ascending, from the tumult 'scaped.

But far away, meantime, Arbaces flew:
Till, where the Arabian king, in doubtful fight
Against Jehoshaphat stood, arriving now;
On the scared foe he drove: right on drove he;
Upon Jehoshaphat, full in the midst,
His mighty steeds impelling. At that sight,
The Assyrians shrank, and turned: but him, their chief,
In his own strength confiding, scorned to shun:
With spear uplifted, toward the Mede he went:
Hurled, and fell backward: for, upon his crest,
The brazen javelin of Arbaces struck:
Snapped the embroidered thong, that 'neath his chin
The helm secured; and, in a rapid flight,
Round and round whirling, drove it o'er the ground.
With arms upflung, and wildly gleaming eye;
Speechless, and stunned, back fell Jehoshaphat;
Back in his car; then senseless to the earth:
For, 'gainst his chariot fiercely drove the Mede;
Tore off the crackling wheel,--flat to the ground,
Dashed car and rider; and the steeds o'erthrew.

Then rose terrific clamors; cries of fear,
And peals of triumph mingling. Onward went
The dreaded Mede, resistless. From his face,
Appalled, his enemies shrank; and from the sweep
Of his earth--shaking chariots and his horse.

In rapid flight the foe beholding soon;
To Israel's king, and Abdolonimus,
The strife Arbaces left; and, with his cars,
Against the horse of furious Jerimoth
Flew on like tempest. Them, in fierce pursuit
Of Salmanassar, and the Arabian horse,
O'ertaking,--all unlooked for, on their rear,
Full in the midst he drove. Astonished, they
Headlong before him fled; to right and left,
Like waters from before the driving prow,
Hastily parting wide. But Jerimoth,
Foremost of all in hot pursuit, that flight
Knew not as yet. Him soon Arbaces saw;
And from his mighty bow an eager shaft
Sent hissing. Through the mail behind it went;
And his left shoulder pierced. Surprised, and stung,
Round turned the Assyrian; and his terrible foe
Pressing upon him saw; yet shunned not now;
But, with sharp pain and rage to madness fired,--
As on the hunter the struck tiger turns,
So on Arbaces he. The galling shaft
Still in his shoulder fixed,--his foaming steed
Backward he turned: and, in his strong right hand
A brazen javelin shaking, vowed revenge.
But from the dreadful bow again out flew
A hissing pest: and, through his courser's mail
Bursting, sank deep. Death--struck, and groaning loud,
A little space yet toiled the noble steed;
Reeling and faint: nor Jerimoth his dart,
Perplexed, could aim; for, like the hurricane's blast,
Came on the fiery coursers of the Mede;
And horse and rider dashed at once to earth.

As a huge stone, by a strong arm impelled,
With heavy jar alighting, o'er and o'er
Swiftly doth roll; then stops, and moves no more,--
So, to the earth, by that tremendous shock
Hurled headlong, Jerimoth, in blood and dust,
Rolled senseless; and lay still. On flew the steeds:
Nor Abner, for a time, their rage could curb:
But his strong arm the Mede at length put forth;
And in their frenzy stayed them. Looking back,
The Assyrian horse and chariots in full flight
He soon discerned; and Salmanassar close,
And all the Median cars, in fierce pursuit.
To Abner then the slackened reins he gave;
``Away!'' he cried; ``they need us not again.
On! to the Parthian horse, and Phrygian cars;
By Michael and fierce Zadok sorely pressed;
If to their aid Belesis, and the horse
Of Susa with Abiram, have not come.''

Thus he; and Abner the hot steeds let go.
Behind the battle, with the speed of wind,
Then flew they: and Arbaces, as they went,--
Like to the lordly eagle from his height,--
O'er all the field his keen, far--seeing eye
Glanced rapidly. But Jerimoth, long time,--
Though all around him roared the din of fight,--
As in a deep sleep lay: nor, when to sense
Slowly returning, did he well, at first,
The fight remember: a faint sound of wheels;
A distant tramp of steeds, was in his ear:
And in his brain disjointed images,
Like clouds first forming in a vacant sky,
Gathered, and grew to shape: a deadly strife
He saw,--chariots, and horsemen, flight, pursuit,
Victors, and vanquished. ``'Tis a dream,'' he thought;
``Soon shall I wake.'' But on his face the air
Blew freshening: sense revived, though dimly yet,
Brought back the past: and then aloud he said;
``It is no dream! I feel the arrow--head
Deep in my shoulder.'' Speaking thus, his eyes
He opened; and the darkness passed away.
Within Meshullam's arms he found himself;
And in his chariot borne. His feeble head
From the steel pillow raising, wildly now
Around he looked; and saw that far behind
They had left the battle. With a faint voice then,
``Turn back, turn back,'' he said: but, from his mouth,
Even while he spake, out gushed a purple stream:
Down sliding, helpless, in the car he sank:
And, as the swoon came o'er him, inly said,
``Never again to battle shalt thou go!
The hand of death hath touched thee! Rise, oh God!
Confound the rebel; and the city save!''

Him, corpse--like as he lay, Meshullam raised;
Took from his head the helm, and on his breast
The corslet slackened. By a streamlet soon
Arriving, 'neath a thick wide--spreading oak;
Meshullam, and his charioteer, the steeds
Secured: then, on the sweet grass, tenderly,
The senseless warrior laid; and his pale face
With the cool water sprinkled. Sighing deep;
From head to foot quivering convulsively,--
To life at length he came; and, his dim eyes
Unclosing, saw above the fresh green light;
And ether's soft blue, through the restless boughs,
Fitfully gleaming: but the gentle voice
Of wind--stirred leaves, or the swift streamlet's plash,
Heard not; for, like a distant sea, storm--tossed,
The conflict roared; and to all softer sound
The ear made deaf. Upon his elbow, now,
Slowly uprising, toward the field he looked:
And, groaning, bowed his head; for, in his back,
He felt the rankling shaft; and, to the fight,
Knew that return was hopeless. To his friend
Then thus at length, with feeble tone, he spake:
``Haste thee, Meshullam: draw the arrow out;
That, if to die, I may the sooner pass;
Or, if to live, the sooner may go forth
To lead again in battle. Fear thou not;
But draw thy dagger, and the barb cut out:
For, to the city will I not return;
But on this spot, or 'neath thy hand expire;
Or live, the fortune of the day to see;
Evil or good. Thou canst not pain inflict,
More than my soul is stubborn to endure.
Strength comes again unto me; and my breast
Feels lightened of its load. Even yet, perchance,
In yonder strife, not useless, may I mix;
Maimed tho' I am, and powerless. Pause not then;
But firmly do thy work; and, if I shrink,
Heed not, but onward; for this dreary gloom,
I long to change to light of heaven--or death!''

So he: then, his pale forehead with both palms
Compressing, bowed his head unto the ground;
And, without word or motion, the sharp pang
Fearlessly waited. With less steadfast heart,
Meshullam, from the broken arrow--shaft,
First loosed the mail, and laid it on the ground:
With pincers, then, the steel head firmly griped;
And, slowly drawing, with his dagger's point,
The clinging flesh set free; till, with a gush
Of black, and crimson blood, forth came the barb;
And, gently sinking; even as a child
In sudden sleep dissolving; close to earth,
In a soft swoon, the bleeding warrior lay.
Meshullam, next, with careful hand, the juice
Of healing herbs infused into the wound:
Then, with a bandage bound; and made secure.

From out the brook, meantime, the charioteer
Brought water; washed from mouth, and beard, and breast,
The blackening gore; and, with refreshing drops,
The pale face sprinkled. From the swoon, at length,
Recovering, on Meshullam anxiously
The sufferer looked,--and, with faint voice, thus spake:

``My friend, I thank thee; for myself yet less
Than for my country; which, with strength restored,
Soon I again may serve. But haste thee now;
And cry unto my warriors, that not yet
Hath Jerimoth unto the pit gone down:
But that, even now, upon the field his eye
Watchful he keepeth; and to heaven his voice
For victory to our holy cause doth lift.
Haste; mount thy chariot then: but leave with me
Zemirah, if thou wilt; lest, all alone
And helpless,--should my wound burst forth anew,
Even yet may death o'ertake me.'' To his words
Brief answer made Meshullam: but the hand,
Extended to him, wrung; bade short farewell;
Sprang to his chariot; and the snorting steeds
With voice and thong along the plain impelled.

Zemirah, meantime, from the glistening oak,
Branches and pliant shoots down rending, framed
A couch not uninviting. There, outstretched,
With raised head, half recumbent; toward the field,--
By dust, and steam, as from a cauldron vast,
Mantled, and dimly visible,--all day,
With earnest eye, the wounded warrior gazed.

Nor with the sunset, homeward did he go;
But, in the chariot of Henahad borne;
Near to the wall, sure tidings of the fight
Anxiously waited: then, rejoicing, went:
And, till the morning, in disordered dreams
Of rout, and victory, lay. But not in dreams
Fought now the struggling nations; nor with arms
Forged in a brain perturbed; but, foot to foot,
And shield to shield; with sword, dart, axe, and spear,
Sent the loud clang to heaven. By Zadok still,
And Michael, with their chariots and their horse,
Sore pressed,--dark Ithamar, and Bezaleel;
Though to their aid, with all his Susian horse,
Abiram; and, with cars of Babylon,
Belesis, had made speed,--in dreadful strife
Stood yet: nor either host its foe could drive;
Nor either would be drivën; but man 'gainst man;
Horse against horse; and car 'gainst brazen car,
Shocking,--with havoc direful they the ground
Dyed crimson: and, in heaps on heaps, the slain,
Like a thick harvest, piled. Above the dead
The living stumbled; and rose not again;
Steed upon floundering steed o'er--rolling, fell;
And car in car lay locked. But, his great voice,
Like to advancing thunder, sending forth--
Came on Arbaces. Him, now drawing nigh,
On their left flank the Assyrians first beheld;
And, backward hasting, betwixt either host,
A sudden opening left. For, not as yet
Pressed on the Medes; they, also, the bright car
Advancing, saw; and him that rode therein,
Knew; and, their voices lifting, cried aloud,
``Arbaces comes! the mortal battle--god!
Death rides within his chariot! 'Neath his wheels
Earth trembles; graves fly open!'' As a wedge
Of iron, in the huge and gnarlëd oak
Far entering; the strong trunk with loud crash rends,--
The ponderous chariot of Arbaces so,
Deep in the Assyrian host, with hurricane speed
Careering, pierced; and far to either hand
A ghastly opening tore. Man, steed, and car;
Before his crushing chariot, and the might
Of his tempestuous horses, were as reeds
Beneath the mammoth. Swiftly fled they all:
The shield behind was cast; the spear, the sword,
The dart, the axe, from out the nerveless hand,
Dropped to the earth: like corn before the wind,
Hither and thither; as the Mede moved on;
Reeled, rolled, and fell, the gasping multitude.

Like gush of waters when the mound is burst;
With whelming violence on the Assyrian host
Poured their fierce enemies now. Havoc was there:
And thirsty Slaughter drank, and had his fill.

Three parts o'er heaven's invisible battlement,
The never--sleeping Sentry of the sky
His round had trodden; from his fiery shield,
Glory, to mortal sight unbearable,
Through Vast of ether flashing: total rout
O'er half the Assyrian force, on either wing,
Had fallën; and destruction infinite
Gathering to whelm them, threatened. But, the fate
Of warfare unto God alone belongs:
Let not the mighty boast him of his strength;
Nor of his skill, the cunning: for the race
Not always to the swift; nor to the strong
The battle. Proudly 'mid his enemies--
As the great lion 'mid the scattering flock--
Rageth the victor now; who yet, ere night,
Shall as the lamb be feeble. Panic--struck,
Yelling, and nerveless, now the myriads fly;
Who, ere long, shall heaven's concave make resound
With peals of victory. Meantime, in the midst,--
'Gainst Geber, with the chariots and the horse
Of Persia; 'gainst the Babylonian foot
Beneath Almelon; 'gainst the infantry
Of Media, and Arabia; and the horse
Of Israel's king,--Sardanapalus now,
With chariots numerous, and earth--shaking steeds,
Hotly was driving: nor, where fiercer raged,
And with a deadlier course, the dreadful Mede;
Knew, or aught feared. But, suddenly, the din
Of havoc--far away upon his left;
Where Michael fled, and Zadok, with the horse
And chariots--loudly pealing, and more loud,
Smote on his ear; and with thick throbbings shook
His heart; and made his countenance like stone.
Standing erect, he called to stay advance:
The word flew on: horsemen, and charioteers,
Quickly drew rein; and, soon, all eyes, all ears,
On that dread human hurricane were fixed;
Astonished, awe--struck. In the monarch's car,
At his left hand; for his deserts high graced;
Though powerless yet the sword to lift, or spear,
That day Nebaioth sat. Brief time elapsed,
Upstood he--bowed--and, half admonishing,
Half--fearing, spake: ``Let not the king of kings
Be thus astounded, nor the rebel fear!
With arms victorious over half the field
Pursues he not his enemies? Arise!
King of Assyria; and thy strength put forth!
Thunder upon them with thy chariots now;
And let thy horsemen trample them as mire!
God to his chosen ruler will decree
The victory,--so his own heart fail him not--
And pour destruction on his enemies.
Cry then aloud, O king! and with thy might
Go on them as the storm--blast: lest, amazed
Beholding thee; thy warriors, dauntless else,
Catch terror from thee; and their strength depart.''

To him, with brow displeased, the monarch thus:
``What hast thou said? O'er boldly now, young chief,
Unto the king thou speakest. Not from him,--
To fight albeit unused,--hath any man
Terror infectious taken; nor shall take.
Yet, warriors brave as thou--though 'gainst their king
To rail, perchance less valiant,--from yon Plague;
Whose demon--shout even now o'er all the din
Sounds in mine ear,--tremendous homicide!
Have deemed flight not unwise.'' To such harsh words
No answer made Nebaioth; but, with face
Deep blushing, silent stood. Him, thus rebuked,
The king beheld; and, his high worth approved,
Remembering, on his shoulder his left hand
Placed gently; and, with softened tones, addressed:
``Thou art forgivën; for thy words, ill weighed,
By love o'er--zealous, and a daring heart,
Were prompted. Still, as heretofore, be thou
Bold for thy country; and thy counsel still
Unto the king be free. But, doubtful thus,
Not longer may we tarry.'' His strong voice
Uplifting then, he cried, ``Abihu, thou,
And Sisera, with twice a hundred horse
Ride fleetly; and to Salamenes say;
`Haste with thy chariots: Michael, on the left,
And Zadoc, by Arbaces overmatched,
Fly panic--stricken. Take along with thee
The horse of Adriel; every horseman take:
But mix not in the fight till on their rear,
Unlooked for, thou may burst, and trample them.
Meantime, to meet them, face to face, the king
With all his chariots and his horse will go.
O'er--numbered thus, they must before us fall.'''

As, in mid ocean, the storm--hurried tide;
Some island's cliffy shore encountering,--
Foaming, and roaring, with huge sweep wheels round,--
So, at the monarch's bidding, that vast force;
Leftward wheeled suddenly; and all their might,
Chariots and horse, to crush the Mede rolled on.

At length, upon a gently rising ground
Pausing, the monarch, nor far off, beheld
Battle's white--heated furnace. As at noon;
Amid some island of the western main;
By earthquake shattered oft, and torn by winds,--
The dusky Indian, on a hill's soft slope,
Beneath the shade, reposing; while the breeze
Faint--panting, the bowed leaves scarce moves at all,--
From his soft dreamings--at a sound far off,
Well known, and dreaded,--starts; and, looking forth;
Amid the dark impervious wood beholds
The whirlwind passing,--as beneath the tread
Of some cloud--statured fiend invisible,
The forest trampling like the stubble--field,--
Tree after tree he sees, with swing, and crash,
Bowing, and breaking; and a broad road left,
As of a torrent's bed,--aghast he stands,
And marvels at the terror of its might:--
Even so, amid the thickest of the field,
Forcing resistless his destructive path;
Assyria's king, mute with astonishment,
The terrible Mede beheld. As o'er the face
Of marble statue, in the moon's pale beam,
The far--off noiseless lightnings; darkly red
Through the dusk, horizontal atmosphere;
With fitful gleamings shoot,--alternate white,
And fiery hued, the stony brow appears,--
So, on the face of the perturbëd king,
Paleness unearthly, and an angry glow,
Brief conflict held. Disdain, awe, rage, fear, shame,
By turns convulsed him. Burst at length his voice,
Stormy, and broken, as a bursting flame
Long smothered: fiercely toward his dreaded foe
Pointing; and all around him glancing quick;
``Behold!'' he cried, ``behold the homicide!
The rebel! the destroyer! Shall yon sun
On his unpunished head again go down?
Men of Assyria! think on the reward!
Honor, and riches, rank, renown, and power,
Are calling you to win them. Strike to earth
The caitiff! pour his blood upon the ground!
A thousand golden talents to the man
That slays him! Twice a thousand unto him
That living captures! On! upon him! on!
Death, with renown; or wealth and glory, win!''

Then with a sudden tremor the air shook,
Rocked by the myriads shouting: man on man
Called out aloud: horsemen above the necks
Of their strong horses bowed; deep in their flanks
Driving the gore--clogged spurs: and chariot wheels,
Like tangled lightnings, flashed along the ground.

Tremendous now the thickening conflict grew;
Host against host, like wave 'gainst mountain wave,
Rolling, and breaking. Not a cloud in heaven
Stirred from its place: the winds were locked: no leaf
Moved, nor thin blade, nor pendant gossamer.
As if the issue of that mortal strife
Breathless awaiting, Nature seemed to pause.

With noise, and havoc, and confusion such,
The raging myriads in the conflict strove.
Shouts, cries, groans, yells, and execrations, rose:
Shields, helmets, mail, swords, spears, and axes rang:
Steeds snorted; trampled; chariots clashed, and broke:
Air quivered; and earth trembled underneath.

Like to Leviathan; amid the war
Of storm and waters, o'er the roaring deep
Triumphant riding: 'gainst the mountain wave,
Now, as in pastime, shooting: on its back,
Now, dallying with the foam: and, now, down, down,
With arrowy swiftness, to the dark profound
Suddenly cleaving; and, in might elate,
Far through the unfathomable solitude,
Rocking the slumberous depths,--with mastery such,
The battle--tempest ruling; 'mid his foes,
Irresistibly onward bore the heroic Mede.
Before his lifted spear, the bravest shook:
The strongest, at the terror of his voice,
Waxed feeble: hosts, before his coming on,
Like one man fled: himself a host appeared.
Still, as he moved, in widening circle shrank
The throngs astounded: for his countenance,
With fierce rage, like hot iron seemed to glow:
And, in his form, strength not of man appeared,
His enemies to confound. Astonished, gazed
Medes, and Assyrians both; and many an arm,
Pausing, forgot its purpose. But the king,
Amid his guard magnificent came on;
And, like a tempest sending forth his voice,
Urged to the battle. Standing in his car,
Shaft after shaft against the Mede he sent:
Still on his warriors crying ceaselessly;
Still bidding them remember the reward.

Him, now advancing, when Arbaces saw,--
Caution forgetting, and with fury blind,--
From Abner's hand the reins and scourge he snatched;
And through the press, and through the Assyrian guard,
Forcing his way--right on toward him alone,
The thundering horses drove. Far in he pierced;
Single amid his enemies: for still,--
Like waters closing round the vessel's stern,--
Poured in behind the foe; by their own press
Forced in; and from the Mede all pass shut out.
Aghast with wonder; certain of quick death;
Sat Abner speechless; underneath his shield
Close cowering. That rash act beholding, cried
The king triumphant; and with lifted spear
Toward him 'gan hasten. Still drove on the Mede;
Furious and fearless. But to Abner now
The reins he gave; and, lifting up his lance,
'Gainst the king aimed it; when, with hideous crash,
Upon a mound of slain o'erturned, down fell
Car, rider, horse, precipitate to the ground;
And, with a yell of triumph, from their steeds
And chariots leaping, toward the fallen chief,
Like wolves upon the sinking traveller,
Headlong a multitude ran. With fall as light
As the young tiger's, from a playful leap,
Dropped on his feet Arbaces. Abner, too,
Though hand and knee upon the earth he sank,
Swiftly upstarted; nor from his firm grasp
The reins let go. Struggling, and panting hard,
As quickly rose the horses. With a strength
More than gigantic, heaving at the car;
Arbaces in an instant on its wheels
Upflung it; and his charioteer bade mount.
To the seat at once leaped Abner; and the Mede
To follow hastened; but, from off the ground,
While he his battle--axe, his spears and shield,
To gather stooped,--on flew the terrified steeds;
And rapidly amid the Assyrian ranks
Mingled, and disappeared. Then Abner felt
His death--hour come; nor for the fatal stroke
Long waited: for, amid the chariots soon
Fast locked; from sword, dart, axe, and lance, at once,
Death instantaneous fell. Now, all alone;
Hemmed in by enemies; from aid cut off;
Like a majestic lion, whom the hounds,
Fearful, yet fierce, enclose, Arbaces stood.
Swiftly as darkness in the midnight sky
On the spent lightning follows,--in his breast
So rapidly, to fury without bound,
Dead calm succeeded. In an instant's space,
Looking around, his perilous state he saw;
And all his rashness knew. Thick--crowding thoughts,
In few brief moments, flood--like swept his soul:
Heaven at his pride incensed,--his glory quenched,--
The nations with a heavier chain bowed down,--
The groaning victims, and the vengeful king,--
The curse upon his grave,--the scoffer's hoot
On his loved parent, to the dungeon dragged,--
The violent hand on his Hamutah laid,--
Her pale wild face; her shrieks; the demon laugh
Of the exulting tyrant;--thoughts like these,
Dense thronging, passed; tortures unspeakable
Infixing. Motionless; with flashing eye
Bent on his enemies, still an instant he,
As if irresolute, stood--yet resolute most.
To die might be his lot; but, unavenged,
Or feebly; the derision of his foe;
Never his doom. Upon his arm the shield;
In his left hand the dreaded battle--axe;
A spear was in his right; upon his thigh
The sword: even yet, perchance, through all that host,
A path might he not force? Might not the day
Even yet be theirs? Was not the promise given?
Would Heaven revoke it? Or could other Power,
Fate, or what else, than God the stronger prove?
Thus he; nor more delayed: but, 'gainst the king,
In his high car conspicuous, his huge lance
Hurling,--turned instantly; and through the press,
With his tremendous axe, a gory path
'Gan hew before him. From the threatening stroke
Of that fierce lance, but narrowly 'scaped the king.
He, all alone amid his enemies,
The Mede beholding,--ere a sword could fall,
Or spear be aimed, exultingly had cried,
``Into our hands hath God delivered him!
Bind him; but slay not! God into our hands,
Alive hath given the rebel! Strike him not!
Shed not his blood! Run in, and bind him safe!
Two thousand golden talents to the man
That, living, takes him! death to him that slays!''

Thus while he cried,--swift as an arrow's flight,
Right toward him speeding, the dread lance he saw;
Hastily stooped; and lived. A moment more,
And fate had reached him! Even now, his crest
Grazing, the stormy weapon, with loud crash,--
As when from some huge oak, a stubborn limb
Is by the hurricane rent,--right through a car
Behind him tore; and with a mortal stroke
The stooping driver pierced. Uprising, looked
The king, and shuddered: then, again cried out,
``Two thousand golden talents to the man
That, living, takes him! death to him that slays!
Run in, and bind him safe.'' But he, the while,
Through the dense forest of his enemies,
With his dread axe a fearful pathway hewed;
And, ever and anon, his voice uplift;
Upon his captains calling, and the priest,
Whom, with dark Ithamar,--the steeds and cars
Impelling on,--not far away he saw.
Nor heard they not. Crying incessantly
Upon the gods, Belesis, fierce as fire,
And Ithamar, on the soldiers calling out,
Urged to the rescue. But, with numerous horse,
And chariots, on them breaking suddenly,
Came Salamenes; with o'erwhelming force,
Back for a space repelled them; and all hope
Of succour to their noble chief cut off.

He, at that sight, with but a doubled rage
His fatal work pursued. Before the sweep
Of his terrific axe, nor man, nor steed,
In mail whatever cased, a moment stood:
Down fell they, horse and rider. As, through reeds,
The armed rhinoceros, heavily trampling, goes,
Nor their opposal feels,--resistless so,
On through the sinking crowd, his dreadful path
The Mede still held; and, for that multitude,
Singly the equal seemed. Yet still the king,
A sweet revenge designing, cried aloud,
``Two thousand golden talents to the man
That, living, takes him! death to him that slays!''

But when, the first great shock o'ercoming now,
Again on pressing, he the cars and horse,
With the fierce priest beheld; and how the Mede,
Triumphant through his slaughtered troops held on;
Then,--lest the hated rebel should at last
His wrath 'scape wholly,--the delicious hope
Of long enduring vengeance he resigned;
And, dead or living, without more delay,
To capture him, resolved. No longer then
Himself from fight refrained; but, in his hand
A spear uplifting, toward him promptly drove;
Still, as he went, calling vehemently,
``Dead, or alive, now take him!'' That harsh cry
Arbaces heard,--turned quickly,--from the ground
A lance caught up,--against the shouting king
Hurled it,--his loudly ringing breastplate smote,--
And drove him, staggering, back into the car:
Yet harmed him not,--for the soft--pointed beam
Upon the hard mail flattened, and glanced off.
Not so the tempered weapon of the king,
In the same moment 'gainst Arbaces cast;
For, on his shield alighting, with dread clang,
Right through its golden boss, and inner plate
Of steel, it burst; above the collar's rim,
His neck lanced, and a trickling crimson loosed.

That seeing, with loud cries his enemies
Rejoiced; and, to assault him, bolder grew:
For, whom the Invulnerable they had named,--
Even as themselves, susceptible of wound
They saw; and his last hour approaching hoped.

But he, undaunted, from the faithless shield,--
Then faithless first,--on both sides snapped the lance;
And, with redoubled fury, on his foes
Drove irresistibly. Tremendous now
The havoc and the uproar. As when hounds,
Cheered by the hunters, round the lion bay
With ceaseless yelling; now, upon him spring;
And, now, loud howling fly; such clamorous din
Around Arbaces rose. But, from his car
Down leaping soon, right toward the dreadful Mede
Went the wrath--burning king: and Zimri too;
Who, though disgraced, and banished from the field,
Yet, greedy of revenge; in armour strange
Disguised; unknown among the throng to pass
Had hope. At once advancing, on the Mede
Came they: behind him, Zimri; but the king,
Even to his face. That seeing, from assault
Refrained the rest. Short then had been the strife
For the proud monarch, though with trebled strength,
No instant help at hand; for, far as leaps
The flying stag, yet fresh, when in his path
Down the steep slope a sudden chasm he spies;
Even at one bound, so far upon the king
Sprang on Arbaces,--his tremendous axe
High gleaming,--and upon his lifted shield
A crushing blow let fall. Then shield, and helm,
And cuirass to the waist, had parted wide,
Before that blow resistless,--other might
Not timely interposing. But, at hand,
Stood Joash; of gigantic stature; strong,
Fierce, bold, and proud. In single fight, oft he
The strength renowned of the great Mede to prove,
His wish had boasted. Through the throng,--with voice
Audacious lifted to provoke the strife,--
Now came he suddenly: and, by the king
Standing,--his brazen shield, with giant arm,
High raised; and the descending battle--axe,
Ere half way fallen, encountered. But the blow,
Though midway thus obstruct--the fearful might
Of that great arm attested. Through the shield
Of Joash breaking,--the strong buckler next
Of the astounded king, askaunt it smote;
And 'gainst his helmet dashed it, ringing loud,
That, stunned and staggering, on his knee he sank;
For a brief instant all around forgot;
Climbed feebly then his chariot; and sat mute.

Back stepped the giant, staggered, and amazed,
That strength beholding. But, when from the shield--
By that terrific blow wrenched from his arm--
He saw the Mede, with bowed head, tearing out
The brass--clinched axe--then, tip--toe stretching high,
His mace immense he lifted; and, with teeth
Hard set, and every nerve by fury strung;
Upon his head a blow terrific aimed;
Such as, descending rightly, second stroke,--
Though on the bulwarked front of elephant,
Or mailed rhinoceros,--little would have craved;
Or on the head of fabled god of old;
For Ilium, or for Greece, in battle ranged.
But, sideways turning, him of his intent
Arbaces balked; and, with dire argument,
Soon had convinced; but that, with hasty step
Approaching,--ere from his unfinished task
The Mede had risen; upon his helm behind,
Zimri a sword--blow dealt, that, knee to earth,
Down drove him; while, from all who saw, went up
Shrieks of wild triumph,--for the death--stroke, now,
Surely had smitten him. As, on the wreck,
In mid--sea foundering, pour the boiling waves,--
So, on the sinking warrior,--yelling loud,
A flood of enemies poured. But Joash, first,
And Zimri,--as, upon their fallen prey,
Two lions roaring,--headlong on the Mede
Their bulk precipitated; and, with grasp
Of iron, on him fastened. Like two snakes,
The terror of the forest; who the ribs
Of the strong bull within their hideous folds,
As dried reeds, make to crackle,--on the Mede,
With gripe so fierce; upon his right arm, one;
One, on his neck; the vengeful enemies fixed.
O'er them a multitude, with headlong rush,
Poured torrent--like. But, as from out the trough
Of the deep--rolling sea,--by whelming waves
Awhile borne down,--its broad capacious breast
The strong bark lifts; and o'er the howling surge,
With sails full swelled, and pennant streaming proud,
Again triumphant rides,--even so, at once,
Mid that o'erwhelming flood of enemies,
Irresistibly rising, and their gathered strength
Laughing to scorn,--again triumphantly
Stood up the invincible Mede; and from their grasp;
Like insects flung from the waking lion's mane;
His foes shook off; and backward to the earth,
As by some engine cast, o'er rolling, hurled.
Face to the ground, with armour clanging loud,
Down fell gigantic Joash,--like a weed
Cast from a swimmer's arm,--and, from his neck,
Zimri,--a spear's length flung. As, in the wastes
Of parched Arabia, when the thunder--stone,
From heaven's artillery cast,--on some round hill
Of burning sand doth light,--in sudden clouds,
Around it, far and wide, the shivered dust
Flies hissing,--from the presence of the Mede,
Even so all round him back his enemies flew.
He, with a force tremendous, on them drove;
The fallen trampling; casting down who stood:
Fear in their hearts infusing; and their strength,
Even to an infant's weakness, withering up.

As flies the lightning; on the mountain, now;
Now, on the vale, descending,--the far lake,
Like flame, now brightening; and the forest, now,
With bolt on bolt, east, west, or north, or south,
Momently firing,--the pale swain aghast
Beholds, and fears lest on himself it fall,--
So rapidly; now here, now there; the Mede
Upon his enemies unexpected fell;
And, of himself, for all the equal seemed.

But, not to him that day was victory
By Heaven intended: nor his matchless strength,
And heart undaunted, 'gainst that throng of foes,
Much longer might avail. Toward Zimri now,
With axe uplifted, as he fiercely flew;
Joash his mace enormous,--whirling round;
Surlily humming on its vengeful way,--
With might two--handed flung; and, while on high
The iron thunderbolt hung,--from his jarred hand,
Loud ringing, dashed it. Driven beyond him far,--
A prize unto his vaunting enemies,--
His axe Arbaces saw: but, undismayed,
Though by an army compassed; drew his sword;
Smote on the shoulder Zimri; a wide rent
In his steel armour leaving, and his flesh:
On Joash then,--ere yet his blade was drawn,
Flew,--his thick harness cleft, and his right side
With grievous wound shared deep; that, like a tree
Hewn to the heart, he bowed, and fell down dead.
Forcing his way, nigh to the monarch's car
Soon reached he; and, the final blow to strike,
Ardently hoped: for, him in fight to shun,
Longer disdaining,--from his chariot now
Leaped the fierce king. Then, had not Heaven forbid,
That moment had his thread of life been shorn;
For, ere his foot descending touched the earth,
At a bound sprang on the Mede; and, for death--blow,
His strength collecting, drove the hissing steel.

As when a thunder--bolt, prodigious, strikes
Some lofty tower; then, earth--ward glancing, sinks;
And is beheld no more:--in silent awe,
Breathless, and fixed, the multitude look on:
And if, from fate preserved, firm on its base
The mighty wall shall stand; or on the earth,
A ponderous ruin, crumble,--a brief space,
In anxious doubt await,--even so, that stroke
Terrific seeing; in mute horror stood
The Assyrians; and a direst issue feared.
Like lightning fell the sword--from off the shield,
Like lightning glanced,--flat on the brazen wheel
Clashed,--in a cloud of sparkling shivers flew;
And, like spent lightning, sank; and disappeared.

The awe--struck Mede--Heaven's own immediate hand
Believing manifest--against the king,
Protected thus, his arm no more would lift:
But, casting from his hand the useless hilt,
With stern eye looked him in the face, and thus:
``Not yet, it seems, thine hour of doom is come:
Nor to this hand, perchance, thy fate is given.
As little unto thine my destiny;
Nor this my day to fall.'' So he; then turned;
And through the astonished foes, with fearless look,
His backward path 'gan take. Nor they, awhile,
His course opposed; but toward the monarch looked,
Command awaiting. He; surprised, and awed,
As at his feet the earth had opened wide,
And harmed him not; an instant speechless stood:
But, through his host, untouched, when he the Mede
Returning saw; then, lifting up his voice,
``Upon him! Cast him to the earth!'' he cried;
``Slay not; but take him; and in fetters bind!
Two thousand golden talents to the man
That, living, takes him! Death to him that slays!

Yet no! living, or dead, now take him! See--
His chariots and his horse are pressing on,
Hot for the rescue. But they shall not save!
His gods forsake him; and his doom is come!''

Thus having spoken, his own spear he hurled:
And all who heard, with outcries rent the air;
'Gainst the doomed victim speeding. Twofold hot
Grew then his rage. As, from war's iron throat,
The sulphurous thunder roars; so, from him came,
Peal after peal, a human thunder--storm,
And lightning from his eye. Nor fearful arms
Lacked he, though strange. On whatsoever thing,
Weighty, and hard, his hand could seize,--of that
A deadly weapon made he. Helmet,--shield,--
The iron wheel,--the broken axle--tree,--
Each--all--he hurled among them. Now, a pole,
Torn from a shattered chariot, snatching up;
Like to an arm gigantic round he swung:
A stone enormous, now, uplifting high;
Amid the thickest of his enemies,
With force as of a rock descending, drove.

But all availed not long. In deepening streams,
From gashes numerous, 'gan the blood to pour:
His mighty arm waxed feeble; his breath failed!

As, o'er the sun, in his meridian blaze,
From out the regions of the humid south,
Still gathering depth, a vaporous ocean comes,
His glory dimming: through the crowding rack,
As with it struggling, the majestic orb,
Blood--red, and angry, labors on awhile:
Now, darkens,--now, shoots out a fiery gleam,--
And, now, with thicker blackness is o'erwhelmed:
Till, fading,--slowly vanishing,--at last,
As if for aye extinguished, he goes out,--
So, 'mid the ocean of his enemies;
By toil opprest; faint, breathless, streaming blood,
The heroic warrior struggled: so his eye
Its splendor lost; so passed his strength away.

Then had he perished; though, to aid him now,
Of Medes no few had come,--for the fierce king
Himself was hasting 'gainst him; and a throng,
With spear, dart, mace, and falchion;--but, at length,
With ardent thousands holding life as nought,
The fiery priest, and Abdolonimus,
Chariot 'gainst chariot clashing; horse 'gainst horse;
Through the dense body of Assyria's might
Broke irresistibly: and, ere too late,
To their heroic chief, deliverance brought.

Bleeding, and pale; with staggering step; the Mede
Into the chariot of Menahem rose;
Spake not; but one wild glance cast round;--then sat:
Bowed more and more his head;--swooned, and fell back.

Him, as he could, supporting,--from his throat
The helmet's glittering band Menahem slacked:
Above him then,--from every eye to screen,--
A crimson mantle threw: his own broad shield
Held over him; and bade the charioteer
In haste to quit the field. But, not unseen
Passed forth the wounded Mede: nor in the car,
As if expiring, sank he unbeheld.
Exulting then his enemies cried out,
``Rejoice! rejoice! the Terrible hath fallen!
The proud and mighty rebel is laid low!
Men of Assyria, shout; and clap your hands!
For now the day is come! Upon them, then!
Slack not the sword; let not a traitor live!''

So they; but answering clamors sent the Medes;
And still bore hotly on. Yet, hopeless now
The struggle; and in utter ruin soon
Had they been whelmed: for, over all the field,--
Smit with the tidings of their leader fallen,--
In tumult they 'gan fly,--had not, at length,
Brave Azareel, by stratagem, the fate
Impending, turned aside. With fading light,
Trusting to pass unknown--he, with some few,
On swift steeds flying, to the Assyrian rear
Went round; and, lifting up his voice, cried out,
``Back to your city, men of Nineveh!
Back to the city! A perfidious foe
Speeds to the walls! The Bactrians are at hand!
Haste, ere they seize the gates; and shut us out!
Back to the city; back! or perish all!''

Thus he incessantly: and, with him, cried
His followers also; riding rapidly
Close to the hindmost rank. The Assyrians heard,
And spread the warning; till, from rear to van,
O'er all the field, the ominous word had flown.

Confusion rose among them now; and dread
Of some dire evil nigh. Nor in pursuit
Dared the king longer bide. The trumpets then
He bade blow out: and, with a mind perplexed,
Back toward the walls, with all his host made speed.

Nor them the Medes pursued: but, instantly,
Toward where their camels, oxen, tents, and wains,
For sudden march prepared, awaited them,
Swiftly retreated; and, with food and rest,
Their faint limbs hoped to cheer. But, to his tent,
Belesis summoned hastily the chiefs;
And promptly was obeyed. O'erclouded brows
Were there; and troubled hearts. The Arabian king,--
So, with Arbaces, willed the voice of all,--
Sole leader was appointed. Brief debate
Held they; resolving quickly to strike tent;
And toward the mountains, while yet night was young,
Noiseless retreat begin. So they. Meantime,
The Assyrians, to the city hasting back,--
The chariots first, and horsemen,--of the foe
Enquired; but found not; nor could tidings hear.
The cunning guile suspecting; yet in doubt,--
For now thick darkness covered all the plain,--
The king upon the field one half his strength,
Nigh to the walls, with Salamenes, left;
And, with the other, to the city passed.

Ten thousand torches on the battlement,
And lofty towers, their quivering splendors flung.
With banners waving; hymns of victory;
The clash of cymbals; and the trumpets' blare;
And vauntings of the countless multitude,--
Through the wide opened portals they went in.

On toward his palace; in his blazing car
Proudly reclining; 'mid the loud acclaim
Of joyful myriads, rode the exulting king.

Him, mid a choir of white--robed virgins pure;
Soft hymns of triumph chaunting as they walked,--
Stately as goddess, the majestic queen;
Radiant as morning clad in orient pearls;
With lifted hands, and smiles of welcome, met.

Through all the camp, the numerous watch--fires, soon,
To the dark clouds a lurid splendor fling.
Around, or in their tents, the soldiers feast;
And quaff the bowl awhile: to slumber then,
Sore needed, haste. No sound at length is heard,
Save the soft roaring of the thousand fires.