The Fall Of Nineveh. Book The Twenty-Second Poem by Edwin Atherstone

But not all unprepared were found the Medes.
With restless foot, Belesis through the night,
Still to and fro had trodden,--toward the vault
Opaque, with anxious eye oft looking up,--
And still his thought had been; ``Bright ministers!
How have we sinned against you, that thus long
Ye hide the glory of your brows divine!''

But, toward the middle watch, in the deep hush
Of earth and heaven, to his quick ear there came,
Distant and faint, a sound like march of hosts;
Horse--tramp, and hollow roll of chariot--wheels,
Cautiously moving. Straightway, to the tent
Where slept Arbaces, swiftly then he walked;
Unbidden entered; touched him on the breast,
And said, ``Arise; a sound far off is heard
Of wheels, and trampling feet.'' At once upsprang
The ever--ready Mede; and from the tent
Went forth to listen. In a moment then,
Smiting his thigh, ``Away! Away!'' he said;
``For, of a surety, do they gather now
To fall upon us. Speed from tent to tent,
And rouse the captains; and let every man
That is awakened, instantly arise,
And wake his fellows; but in silence all.
Surely the gods this day into our hands
Will give our enemies; in their own trap
The subtle ones will fall!'' While yet he spake,
Came sound of horse approaching. Soon to earth
The riders leaped, and to Arbaces thus.
``The watchers on the outskirt of the camp
Hear, from the walls, a sound of numerous feet,
Horse--tramp, and roll of wheels. Perchance the foe
Gathers for onset.'' Others also came,
The self--same message bearing; and to all
Was given command, with caution to arouse,
And with hushed voice, the sleeping soldiery.

So, at the first gray dawn, in full array
Of battle stood the host; and silently
'Gan toward the city move. With rapid foot
Light climbed the heavens; so that, when little way
They had advanced, behold! the Assyrian force,
Like a dark deluge spread o'er all the plain,
Against them swiftly moving. The same beam,
To the Assyrians showed the coming on
Of their too watchful foe: yet, undismayed,
Sardanapalus,--who with proudest state,
In a right gorgeous chariot throned on high,
Rode in the front,--stood up; and with a tone
Cheering and strong, cried out; ``Assyrians, stay;
And, ere the battle join, let us uplift
Our voices in a loud triumphant hymn:
For this day surely shall our enemies
Perish before us.'' At sign given, stood still
The human deluge: and, with powerful voice
Himself began the song; the whole vast host
Sang with him joyfully; and every heart
Burned to begin the combat. At that sound,
Astonished were the Medes; and man to man
In whisper 'gan to speak; ``What may this mean?
Hath then the enemy gathered sudden strength,
That, like a giant glorying in his might,
Thus he comes forth rejoicing?'' With that thought,
Came fear in hearts of many. But, at once,
Arbaces in his lofty chariot stood,
And sent abroad his voice. Like to the sound
Of a great trumpet on a high tower blown,
Far round it spread: and, like a sunbeam shot
On a dark lake, even so it brightened up
The lowering brow, and warmed the pallid cheek.
With the proud enemy joining, as in scorn,
He that same ardent hymn of battle sang:
And, fired by sudden gladness, every voice
Of all his myriads caught the martial strain,
And fervently out--poured it. So, erelong,
Both hosts together pealed the warlike song;
Filling with sound, as with a mighty flood
Of water,--earth, and air, and heaven's rotund.

A long day's journey distant, 'mid the hills,
Stood shepherds, with their flocks: the wondrous sound
Awe--struck they heard; and, gazing upward, said,
``Surely the heavens are opened; and the voice
Of choiring gods comes down!'' When ceased the hymn,
The Assyrian monarch shook aloft his spear,
And cried vehémently, ``Away! away!
Leap on your foes, and tread them as the dust!
Unto the coward everlasting shame!
To the brave eternal glory.'' His strong voice,
And ardent look, like an electric fire,
Glanced through the hearts of the impatient host:
And fiercely they sprang on. The chariots first,
And horse, awoke the thunder. Them to oppose,
Came horse, and chariots; and, in middle field,
Met, as with earthquake crash. The men on foot,
On either side, meantime, at swiftest speed,
Like two fierce hurricanes encountering, flew;
And up at once the enormous tumult went,
Storming heaven's peaceful gates. As two vast rocks,
From counter hills, by earthquake throes dislodged,--
With every moment of their downward course,
Still gather fury, crashing, tearing up,--
Crag on crag shattering,--bounding, leaping on,--
Smoking, and scattering fire,--till in the vale,
Midway, with noise of loudest thunder--clang,
Hard front to front they meet; and in a cloud
Of sulphurous fume, flame, dust, and fragments lie,--
Even with such frenzy, and such ruin, now,
Host 'gainst host shocked. The ground was strewed with dead;
With blood was deluged. Still, insatiate,
As though, to die, were better life to gain,
Man against man, with headlong violence flew;
Chariot 'gainst chariot dashed, and horse 'gainst horse.

Three hours, in fiery contest, thus they strove;
And greatly was Assyria's monarch then
Among the best distinguished. Like bright star
'Mid smaller lights, shone Salamenes too:
Still in the front of battle was he seen,
Cheering his soldiers' hearts, and leading on.

But Fate had marked him! Standing in his car,
With lance uplifted, aiming for the cast,--
An arrow, by a powerful arm impelled,
Rang on his cuirass; through the strong steel burst,
And in his side pierced deep. Down dropped his arm;
His flushed face paled; he sank into the car.
But, quickly, up he sat,--the hateful shaft
With both hands grasped; and, breath held, teeth close set,
Drew to uproot it. But, beneath the bone
The barb was locked. The mortal agony
Quelled soul, and strength; and, groaning, he fell back.

Again he rose; the arrow seized; broke short
The cumbering wood; and, once more standing up,
Cheered on the battle. But, with every word,
Keener the torture grew: his eye 'gan dim,
His breath to shorten, and his limbs to fail.
Again he sank; and, while unto the gods
For aid against the foe he mutely called,
A faintness, as of death, came over him;
And to the bottom of the roomy car,
A senseless mass, he fell. With careful hand,
Again into the seat was he upraised:
But life seemed fled. Two sorrowing captains then
Supporting him, the chariot was wheeled round,
And toward the city driven. But many saw
The much--loved prince,--so oft their strength and stay
In hardest trials; and their souls grew sad,
Hope 'gan to fail them. Also of the Medes,
Saw many the great leader's fall; but them
Joy filled thereat, and more their ardor burned.

Nought knew, as yet, Assyria's frantic king
Of that dire loss. Fierce as a raging fire,
Storm--driven athwart a reedy wilderness,
In thickest fight he mixed; nor found the arm
That might control him. Dark Rabsaris met,
But fell before him,--by his furious spear
Down--smitten, senseless; nor with life had 'scaped,
But that the Bactrian, Ahab, in his car
Came toward them hotly driving. Him at once
The monarch knew; and, greedy for revenge,
The smaller prize disdained. Of all the host
Insurgent, him most bitterly did he hate;
For that, though aid unto Assyria's lord,
Faith, and submission, he had deeply vowed,--
Yet, in the valley of Melchisedek,
With rebels had he leagued; and on his king
Brought thus that dread night--onset, and foul rout.
Burning with vengeance then, a lance he raised,
And, while the Bactrian, bending for the throw,
Came onward, fiercely cast it. Through the air,
In the same moment, sang both stormy spears.
Struck on the breast, the king a moment reeled,
And was himself again; but Ahab fell,
As by the lightning smitten; nor to sense
Awakened, till, far distant borne away,
His charioteer the battered helm took off,
And bathed his anguished head. Him deeming slain,
Greatly the king rejoiced; and, fired anew,
Plunged headlong in the midst. But nought availed
His fury and his might, to stem the tide
Against the Assyrians setting. Like a god,
Where'er he went, Arbaces ruled the fight:
Before him none could stand. His coming--on
Afar was seen; and, as the gathered clouds
Upon a mountain's summit, part, and fly,
At the uplifting of the tempest's voice,--
So, at his dreaded onset, all aghast,
Whole squadrons turned; and, each man as he might,
The appalling presence fled. From rank to rank,
The panic flew; and, over all the field,
With feebler arm, and foot retiring still,
The Assyrians waged the fight. Even round the king,
Were anxious faces seen; and many a look
Behind was cast, as if the massive walls
Alone could shelter. But, despising death,
Still foremost was the frenzied monarch seen,
Destruction dealing; and, with voice and look,
Inflaming to the combat. Through the gate,
Meantime, with Salamenes flew the car.
His swoon had passed; but withered was his strength,
His torture terrible. Too well he knew
That death had struck him: yet, his own life reft,
Far less bemoaned, than those o'erwhelming woes,
On his loved country falling. From a tower,
Looking intent, the queen beheld a car
From conflict speeding; and, therein, a chief,
Wounded, or slain: yet knew not, for a time,
That 'twas her brother. More and more, her frame
Shook with the heart--throbs, as upon her loomed
Distincter the dark terror. Crushingly
Fell the dire truth at last! With faltering voice,
She bade that messengers should hasten forth,
And to the royal palace bring the car;
With her own hands that she the prince might tend,
And with her presence cheer; then, hurriedly,
Descended,--climbed her chariot, and flew on.

But little knew she with what mortal aim
Death had her brother smitten; nor more thought,
How soon the fever--fire in her own veins,
To ashes would consume her. The first glance
At the wan hero, through her very soul
Sent shuddering. On his brow the grave--gloom hung:
Death looked from out his eyes! Yet, not the less,
With cheerful mien, and voice, she spake to him
The words of comfort. Sending first, again
The leech to summon, with her own fair hands,
His armour she 'gan loosen. But, alas!
The cuirass stirred not,--by the deep--driven shaft
Nailed to the side! Though, like a withered leaf
'Neath wintry blast, in every limb she shook;
Yet still, with mother's care she tended him;
With low, sweet voice still whispered hopefully.

The leech arrived; but help had none to give;
``The arrow drawn, he dies!'' ``Then draw at once,''
With a firm spirit, but a feeble voice,
The sufferer gasped,--``and let me be at rest!
Life now is worthless. Mighty Nineveh!
Thou too art dying! Few can be thy days,
And miserable. Ofttimes have I heard
That, in the hour of death, do visions come
Of things to be! 'Tis so: for I have seen
A leaguered city, wrapped in smoke, and flame.
Its palaces, and temples, cracked, and sank,--
The fire devoured it utterly!--And lo!
Where stood proud Nineveh, the queen of earth,
Lay blackened ashes only!'' As he paused,
His eyes glared wildly; one hard breath he drew;
Half started up, as though to catch a sound
Of sudden uproar on the battle--field,--
On his loved sister, then, a piteous look
Fixed for a moment,--struggled as to speak,--
Gasped, shuddered, groaned,--and backward sank, a corpse!

With reeling brain, and bursting heart, knelt down
The wretched queen, and o'er her brother wept.

The king, meantime, unconscious of his loss,
Like to a hunted tiger, hotly raged.
Dire was his agony; for now the hour
Of noon was nigh, and still his host gave way.

Oft on the gods, with frantic voice, he called;
Oft toward the palace cast a hurried look;
Mortally dreading, lest the hateful smoke
Of sacrifice should mount. His death--charged arm
Seemed as with strength of ten strong men to strike:
His voice was like the roar of the wild bull,
Frighting the desert: 'gainst him no man stood.

But, coming onward, in the blazing car
Which erst himself had ruled,--he saw, at length,
His mightiest foe at hand; and burned to meet
Him, whom, like pestilence, all others shunned:
For, on his dream he thought; and inly said,
``Surely the gods fulfil their promise now,
And give him to my sword!'' Him drawing nigh,
Arbaces saw; and, his gigantic spear
Uplifting, toward him drove. Before him fled
The scared Assyrians; leaving ample space;
Yet for their monarch trembling, as for him
Who, singly, and unarmed, the lion dares.

But nothing then Sardanapalus feared:
Body and soul concentring in the blow,
His lance he hurled; and triumphed as the clang
Of smitten armour answered. Tartan too,
Hastily casting on the hooks the reins,
His brazen javelin flung. The heavier spear
Of the dread Mede, in the same point of time,
Boomed through the air. The exulting king stopped short;
For, his thigh grazing, through strong oak, and brass,
Crashed the dread weapon; and, behind the car,
Showed its steel point, and half the quivering beam.

Mail, though of triple steel, had never stood
That fearful stroke: but, as Arbaces cast,
The swaying of his chariot balked the aim;
And his great enemy 'scaped. Not so himself:
For the king's spear, with frenzy's fury hurled,
Broke through the shield; and on his helmet struck
So fiercely, that his eyes shot fire, his arm
The lifted buckler lowered. The brazen lance
Of Tartan, in that moment, on the rim
Of the sloped shield impinging, upward glanced;
And on the helmet, just above the ear,
So harshly clanged, that, with the double jar,
Arbaces reeled: but, as the chariots passed,
Instantly rose again,--stood firmly up;
And, with a smile, from either side his shield
The spear--shaft breaking short, to Geber thus;
``Wheel round the horses swiftly as thou may;
That we a second time may prove the strength
Of our pleased adversary; and once more
Our own essay. But, when the cars draw nigh,
Let horse touch horse, and wheel in wheel be driven;
That so, with arm to arm, and face to face,
We better may contend.'' Yet no light task
Found Geber, the wind--footed steeds to turn:
For on both sides the human torrents rushed;
Host against host, like wave encountering wave:
And when, emerging from that troubled sea,
The Mede his eye cast round,--far off he saw,
The monarch's chariot; and on meaner foes,
Perforce his strength let loose. The king not less
Ardently burned, his mightiest enemy
Again to front; but many weaker arms
Now threatened him; and task enough he found
Them to o'ermaster. Still the tide of war
'Gainst him, o'er all the battle--field, set strong:
Yet would he not despair; for, on the gods
Continually he called; and, in his heart,
Said, ``Surely they will yet deliver us;
And will not of a loving father ask
A loving daughter's blood!'' From place to place
Flew he, encouraging, and leading on.
Strong and unwearied as the tempest's roar,
His voice was heard: where'er his helm was seen,
The heart of every warrior bolder grew;
And even the coward, shamed, again fought on.
But wheresoe'er he stood not, there the foe
Moved irresistibly. The king beheld,
And 'gan to sicken. To the sky he looked:
No sun was there; the clouds were hard and dark.
``Not yet the hour,'' he said; ``not yet 'tis noon;
Nor have I given the signal. For his life,
The gloomy wizard dare not on the child
Lay his detested hand!'' So spake aloud
The anxious king: but yet the hour was come:
The servants of the ireful priest, even then,
Were for their victim searching. Dark and dread
As the on--coming of a stormy night,
Grew Barak's brow, when came the seekers back,
And said, ``Throughout the palace have we gone;
Searched terrace, garden, bower, and labyrinth;
But nowhere may the royal maid be found.''

Since the great god of light, from heaven's sublime,
His downward race 'gan run,--two hours had fled;
And still with darker brow, the face of war,
Upon the Assyrians frowned. With fearful glance,
Oft toward the city did the monarch look;
And to the gods imploringly cry out;
``Oh! ask not from me this dread sacrifice!''

But they his prayer heard not. Still toward the wall
The Assyrian host was driven; and more and more
Came terror on them: but, even yet, the king
Could not endure the hateful sign to give.
With fury indescribable he raged;
And every captain nigh, from him caught fire,
And 'gainst the enemy burned. Nebaioth still
Near to the monarch fought; and still his voice
Rang far and near,--to conquer or to die.
Brave Jerimoth, unwearied by assault,
With his mailed horsemen, fierce as famished wolves,
Attacked, and turned, and still attacked again:
And Michael, and Jehoshaphat, with cars
And horse, impetuous drove upon the foe.
Repulsed, they still the hot assault renewed;
And all seemed fixed, to vanquish, or to fall!

But, wheresoever went the mighty Mede,
There victory with him went. His countenance
Appalling, his dread voice, unnerved the arm:
And every Median captain, every man,
Felt conquest sure; and, with unceasing cries,
Still cheered each other on. The third hour passed;
The rout grew wilder; and, at length, arose
The dreadful clamor, ``To the gates, the gates!
The day is lost! Assyrians, to the gates!''

Unutterable then the agony
And consternation of that wretched king!
Looking to heaven, he dropped his spear and shield;
Stretched forth his arms, and shrieked out piteously,
``Save us, all--ruling gods! oh save us yet,
And ask not at my hands a daughter's blood!''

But, at that instant, like the rapid cloud
Which on the ocean brings the hurricane,
Sudden and fatal,--the all--dreaded Mede,
With horse and chariots, coming on was seen,
O'erthrowing, scattering, terrible as Fate!

The king beheld, and shuddered: with both hands,
Pressed on his bursting temples;--looked again,
And, with choked utterance, gasped, ``It must be done!
The gods demand the show of sacrifice!
But, even at the altar--stone, their hands
Will they put forth, and save her; and to us
The victory yet will give; for, in my dream
So was it shown me. Gods! all--ruling gods!
Into your hands I render up my child!''

Thus having spoken, with a desperate haste,
A sable flag he seized; unfurled, and waved.

At once a thousand voices raised the cry,
``The sacrifice! the sacrifice! Even yet
The gods will aid us.'' Toward the Nisroch gate,--
For so had been commanded,--flew at once
Swift horsemen,--to the watchers on the tower
The king's behest to bear. But, from above,
Already had the signal been beheld;
And, instantly, upon the pinnacle
Shot upward a huge blood--red gonfalon.

Rigid as marble, in his car yet stood
The monarch,--on the tower, with bursting eyes,
Silently gazing: closely knit his hands,
His teeth were clenched, his nostrils widely spread.
While yet he looked, lo! from the palace rose
A thick, gray smoke. One loud, terrific shriek
He raised; flung wildly up to heaven his arms;
Stiffened; and backward, corpse--like, swayed, and fell!

Among the Assyrians who that sight beheld,
Loud cries of terror rose: thousands then turned,
And to the city fled. With tender hand,
The senseless monarch to his seat was raised:
Tartan the steeds wheeled round; and, shouting loud,
To clear the way, flew swiftly toward the wall.
Rigid, and lifeless seeming, in the arms
Of two heart--stricken captains, lay the king:
His teeth were set; his lips with foam were white;
His eye--balls inward turned. When this was seen,
A cry raised some,--``The king is with the slain!
The day is lost! fly to the city! fly!''

But them Nebaioth angrily rebuked;
``Liars and slaves! Shame on your dastard tongues!
The battle is not lost: the king yet lives;
And soon again in all his might will rise.
Woe to the cowards then, the traitorous dogs
Who, wanting teeth to fight, have tongues to yell!
Surely their day shall come!'' With words like these,
He scared the dastard, and made strong the brave;
And still, in front advancing, called aloud,
To clear the way, and let the chariot pass.

From giddy summit of the palace roof,
The queen, meantime,--though through her brain and heart
Rushed the tumultuous blood,--upon the field
Long had stood gazing. With unsteady eye,
And thoughts distracted, looked she; nor had marked,
In that vast hell of war, the single fall
Of even Assyria's greatest: yet too well
The fatal signs of utter rout at hand
She saw; and, though for action all unfit,
In her soul thus: ``Once more will I go forth,
And cheer the soldiers. Haply, as the voice
Of Peresh warned me, death may be the fruit.
I feel it may,--for fire is in my blood,
And in my brain: yet better far to die,
Than in this day of terror hold aloof,
And live but to behold Assyria's might
Pass like a shadow: for, this battle lost,
All is for ever lost!'' Resolving thus,
Her chariot, ready waiting for the word,
She summoned: on her head a helmet fixed;
Braced on her arm a shield; a spear caught up;
Swiftly descended; sprang into her car;
And through the sounding streets, like tempest flew.

Nearing the gate of Palms,--for there she had marked
The struggle hardest--a great throng she met,
Franticly flying. Them, with words of fire,
She shamed, and bade turn back. As with new life
Suddenly gifted, they the summons hailed;
And with a deafening shout, ``The queen! the queen!''
Again to combat hasted. On went she,
Crying aloud; ``Assyrians, now be men!
Let not the rebel boast again to have seen
Your backs in battle. This day must ye come
Triumphant from the field; or on your necks
Will chains be fixed; your sons will be made slaves;
Your daughters, and your wives, be concubines!
Your temples, and your altars, and your groves,
Will be cast down; the city of your birth
Will be a waste and howling wilderness!
On, on, brave men! this day redeem your fame!
Conquer,--and once again shall Nineveh
Be queen of all the earth; and at your feet
The vanquished foe shall lie! On then! press on!
A noble death far better than mean life!
Shame to the coward, glory to the brave!''

With words like these,--as still, from place to place,
Swiftly she flew,--the ardent did she fire,
The cold incite,--that all who heard, or saw,
Again for battle burned; and, as one man,
Sprang on the foe anew. But nought availed.
As well, against the angry thunderer,
Might strive the inferior gods, as, 'gainst the force
Of the terrific Mede, Assyria's arms,
Though of the bravest banded. Backward still
Did they retire; and still, with heart elate,
Bore on the enemy. Nigh unto the wall
The chariot of the monarch had arrived,
When, suddenly recovering, wildly round
His eyes he cast; and horrible rout beheld
Still raging. Feeble were his limbs; his brain
Confused, and swimming; yet, with strong resolve,
Sitting erect; ``Turn instantly the steeds,
And back into the fight!'' he cried. ``Be sure
The gods will give us yet the victory.
The fire is kindled,--but the victim still
Unharmed will rise. Shout out, `the king! the king!'
And pour into the battle!'' Crying thus,

With trembling arm he lifted up his spear,
And strove to stand: but, with yet fiercer gripe,
The spasm returned; and, senseless as a corpse,
Rigid, and horribly convulsed, he fell,
Foaming, and stony--eyed. Within their arms
The weeping captains held him; while again
Tartan the steeds turned round; and rapidly
Drove onward through the gate. Arrived at length
Within the palace, to his couch was borne
The exhausted king. Again the spasm had ceased;
But, helpless as a dreaming child he lay;
With wandering eye, that nought appeared to see;
Mind, that nought seemed to know. Without a word,
Upon the captains idly did he gaze,
As, piece by piece, his armour they removed:
From Peresh then, with trembling hand, and look
Submissive as an infant, took the cup;
Slowly the strong and bitter potion drained,
Unmurmuring; and, with a vacant smile,
Upon his pillow gently sank to rest.

The roar of battle seemed to stir him not:
At times, when some enormous cry burst forth,
His eyes he opened, and rolled wildly round,
As he would question: but, in little time,
Again they closed; and, with a placid look
Of mindless life, he lay, while through his frame
The potent drug, with swift and silent foot,
Stole onward; locking, at its magic touch,
Each gate of sense, by which the grosser world
External, to the ethereal world within,
The realm of soul, finds entrance. A deep sleep,
Dreamless, and death--like, on him fell at last;
Body and spirit slumbered. Well for him,
For all, had he ne'er wakened! But, meantime,
Avenging Fate slept not. With every hour,
More hopeless for the Assyrians grew the strife.
Yet still, while with them stood the heroic queen,
Madly they fought: in heaps on heaps they died;
And still the living, as for death athirst,
Flew headlong to the fight. The ceaseless cry
Of the distracted queen, amazed they heard;
Yet knew not that 'twas frenzy fired her now.
O'erwrought at length, a hideous laugh she raised;
Staggered, and backward fell. With tenderest care
Was she upraised, and to the palace borne.

But cooling herbs, and drinks, no soothing brought:
All night, in strong delirium did she rave:
Now, as in battle, gaily cheering on;
Now, as beside her dying brother's couch,
Gently consoling: bursting now in tears,
As though beside his corse again she knelt;
And now, with hurried whisper, to her child,
Counselling flight. But, ever and anon,
Chief burthen of her frenzy, rose the cry,
``On, on, brave men, to victory, or to death!
See! see! they fly, they fly! the day is ours:
Pursue! pursue! ha! victory, victory!''

So all the night she raved; nor, till the eve
Of the next day, found rest. As though with her,
Assyria too had fallen,--in hideous rout
Fled the scared host. The choked--up gates refused
To myriads entrance; and, till closed the day,
The sword was busy. Thousands, to the banks
Of the swoln flood driven back, plunged in, and died:
Thousands, down trodden, lay, and rose no more.
Darkness fell thick; and Death was satiate.

The Median signal of recall rang loud.
Anon the watch--fires blazed: the voice of joy
Was heard within the camp: but, in the walls
Of long triumphant Nineveh, the sounds
Of anguish, lamentation, and despair!