Forth rushed a western wind, backwards it rolled
The heavy battle's slow-uplifted fold.
O! beauty terrible! he saw afar
The sultry ridges of the heaving war;
Saw down long avenues of disarray
The harsh-scythed chariots mow their levelled way.
'Twas doubtful long, but now the struggle pressed
With weight slow-whelming, gaining on the west;
Far back are swayed the wide Chaldean swarms,
They bow, they faint before the Persian arms.
But hark! a mighty trumpet in the west!
But lo! a warrior for the combat dressed
In mail refulgent, on a milk-white steed,
Comes dashing east with earth-devouring speed!
Started the prince, pale grew his forehead, shook
His knees, as stood he still constrained to look;
For, ha! his father's form that champion shewed,
And plunging deep into the battle rode.
Far waved his sway, stemmed the Chaldean rout,
And changed their terror to a mighty shout,
By thousand thousands on the turrets thronged,
And lofty walls of Babylon prolonged.
A sultrier ferment stirred the field: a band
Thickened behind that arm of high command,
As onward, eastward, with the whirlpool's might,
It sucked the reflux of the scattered fight;
Till with its full concentrated attack,
It bore the centre of the Persians back.
Nor this alone: in shouldered masses wide
Their van was cleared away on either side.
And deep was pushed that column unwithstood;
And aye that waste collateral was renewed,
Till eastward far the Babylonian host
More than regained the ground which they had lost.
Then reeled the Persian power; it wavered, broke,
Was forced, was driven in one commingled shock.
Their camels fled, their Indian archers ceased,
Their chariots rolled away into the east;
Far chased their host, consumed, like stubble sere
Wide fired when withering east-winds close the year.
The Prince his chamber sought, bade bring with speed Narses and Merdan, counsellors of need.
They came :-" We task you not," he cried, " to say,
Not even to guess that Victor of this day.
Slaves! slaves! we'll hear you not. This night at least,
This one night more, we'll be a king and feast.
Our palace guards be doubled: Then when we
Are flown with cups, and filled with midnight glee,
Be Cyra brought; we'll make her drink old wine,
Her heart to warm, to make her beauty shine:
Long have we loved her; and, by Bel above!
Ere morn shall we be happy in her love."
COME to the banquet! Lift your dazzled eyes,
Survey the glory that before you lies!
Far down yon avenue of fainting light,
The dim dance swims away upon the sight.
Behold the central feast! Behold the wine
Around in brimming undulations shine,
As shakes the joyous board! There Beauty sips
The purple glimmer with her murmuring lips:
For there the rose-crowned concubines are set,
For there the maids of Babylon are met,
Each one a princess. Their illumined eyes
Glitter with laughter, glance with coy surprise.
And aye the love-sick dulcimer is played,
Till faintly languishes each melting maid.
Here peaceful satraps quaff; with lofty breast
Built out with gladness, sits each courtly guest.
Has not this day secured to them the right
From victory to extend the festive night?
And then their king is near. But mark him there!
Scarce seems that downcast eye the bliss to share.
Fear quells his heart: Each bowl, each golden cup
With blood, for wine, to him seems welling up,
Smote by the light of that branched candlestick:
These Holy Vessels well may make him sick,
Torn from Jehovah's Courts with impious hands,
To light th' unhallowed feasts of Heathen lands.
Hark! heard ye nought? Restless the monarch sate,
And seemed to listen to some coming fate,
Some sound abrupt; as if that steed of white
Should burst upon them, stamping in his might.
But see young Cyra brought by eunuch slaves,
Pale, pale as are the dead within their graves,
Yet beautiful, in vestments flowered and fair,
With hasty garlands in her raven hair.
Pleased are the nobles of the banquet, round]
Soft murmurs tell the favour she has found.
'Gainst scorn and wrong her heart had high defence;
Approval quelled her glowing innocence,
And Cyra tore the roses from her head,
In trembling haste her Jewish veil to shed.
It was not there; but nature there supplied
More than the wimple of a regal bride,
How lovelier far! her eager hand unbound
Her hair dishevell'd; far it fell around
Her comely form, black as the ancient night,
And vailed the virgin from that insolent light.
Entranced in love, forgetting every fear,
And flushed with wine, the reeling prince drew near.
"Thou chosen flower of Jewry, why so pale?"
He cried, "Nay, look from out that envious veil.
Give me thy soft hand, come drink wine with me,
Cling to my love, my bosom's jewel be!"
Back Cyra stepped, her tresses back she threw,
Their wavy beauty o'er her shoulders flew.
But burned her eye intense, as far it looked,
Nor check of terror intermediate brooked;
For in a moment the prophetic might,
God-given, was hers, the seer's awful sight.
Pale, fixedly rapt, concentrated, entranced
She stood, one arm outstretched, one foot advanced;
Nor moved that foot, nor fell that arm disturbed,
Not for a moment was her far glance curbed,
As from her lips, o'erruled with heavenly flame,
The impetuous words that told the vision came:-
"Cling to thy love? I see a haughtier bride
Sent down from Heaven to clasp thy wedded side!
O! more than power, than majesty she brings,
Drawn from the loins of old anointed Kings,
To be her dower! Destruction is her name,
With terror crown'd, with sorrow and with shame!
Her eyes of ravishment shall burn thee up!
And Babylon shall drink her mingled cup!
Weary thine idol-gods, old Babylon ;
Yet tremble, tremble for thy glory gone!
City of waters! not o'erflowing thee,
Thy boasted streams shall yet thy ruin be!
Look to thy rivers! Shod with crusted blood,
The Persian mule-I see him on thy flood
Walk with dry hoof! Ha! in thy hour of trust,
He stamps thy golden palaces to dust,
Which dims the bold winds of the wilderness.
One hour-Then, where art thou? And who shall guess
Thy pomp? its place, even? Let the bittern harsh
Give quaking answer from her sullen marsh;
From drier haunts, where desolate creatures dwell,
Let tell the satyr, let the dragon tell!"
She ceased, she clasped her hands, nor yet withdrew
Her eye concentred in its piercing view.
"Nay," said the King, "it ill befits those lips
To talk of kingdoms', and of thrones' eclipse!
Rein now the lovely madness of those eyes,
And see the bliss that near before thee lies.
Thy harp? 'Twas brought with thee from out the cave." -The monarch nodded to a waiting slave;
The harp was brought-"Now strike one nuptial strain
Of those that graced thy wisest sovereign's reign:
Sing a glad song of Solomon." She took
Her harp inviolate, as with scorn she shook;
Forth in fierce bursts her holy quarrel leapt
'Gainst Zion's mockers, as the cords she swept.
"Nay," cried the prince, and interposed his hand,
"Sweet Fury, stay; thy harp must be more bland.
Give us, we'll teach thee." Back in sacred pride
The Jewess shrunk. "It shall not be," she cried.
"Our people's woes-Oh! Jacob's God, how long?-
Have filled these chords with many a mournful song,
Have sanctified them. For thy mighty King,
Thy father, too, how oft has thrilled each string,
To soothe him in the lonely wilderness,
By thee forgotten in his sore distress!
But I did ne'er forget him! Thou bad son,
My harp were tainted, touched by such a one,
Ungrateful, daring in voluptuous rest,
In the flowered garments of thy women dressed,
To shame the throne of such a father; yea,
With dogs of chase to vex him in thy play!
Ne'er shall thy finger touch one hallowed wire!"
Mighty beyond herself, in holy ire
She burst the cords, her harp asunder tore,
And wildly strewed the fragments on the floor.
In fast revulsion kneeling down she prayed
With trembling fervour to her God for aid.
Loud blew a trump: Up quickly did she spring.
"Hence to my chamber with her!" cried the King.
Slaves seized the maid; she shrieked, with effort strong,
O! minutes, moments could she but prolong!
Hark! shouts and clashing swords!" Help, God, ere I
Must"—is she saved? The doors wide-bursting fly;
He comes sublime-'tis he! The King restored!
And thronging guards behind attend their lord.
Dark stood the warrior-king; his head was bare;
His nostril quivered, scorn and wrath were there;
Hot was his glancing brow; his eyes below
Were like the lightnings running to and fro.
But ha! to meet him, Merdan, Narses spring:-
"Those guards are faithless: Shall this madman king
Destroy us all?" With simultaneous start,
Each aimed a poniard at his sovereign's heart.
But wary, he forestalled the double thrust;
Shrunk; wheeling round, hewed Narses to the dust,
Who missed his aim: Nor Merdan's took effect,
But glanced from off him, by his corslet checked;
And ere the traitor could his blow repeat,
With severed neck he lay at Narses' feet,
With gnashing teeth the bloody carpet tore,
His hands convulsive beating on the floor.
Dread paused the potentate, and waved his hand;
He looked around, he saw his Cyra stand;
The grasp of slaves is on her shoulder still,
As yet they wait their office to fulfil.
"Off, menial dogs!" he cried with vehemence,
And withered up their spirits with his glance;
Down drop their hands, half stumbling they retreat.
But Cyra rushed and fainted at his feet.
He raised her, called his eunuchs, bade them bring
In haste sweet scents and water from the spring;
Till soon revived, she leant upon his hand,
As sternly sad those revellers he scanned.
From the far halls the pomp had shrunk away,
A dreary silence there affrighted lay.
Here sullen stood the superseded king,
With prostrate heads around him in a ring.
The sovereign turned, he called with brief command
His guards; they come, submissively they stand :-
"Guards, seize that slave imperial-yea, my son;
Him put in ward till justice shall be done,
His reign be tried and purified: Away!
Wait further orders at the dawn of day."
Then came the ancient servants of their lord,
And faithful watch was to the court restored.
Forth leading Cyra slow, the monarch stayed
With arm paternal the much-trembling maid.
"MAJESTIC child of gratitude! this hour
I bid thee ask not half my realm for dower :
I dare not mock thy pure young soul; but say
How shall I honour-nought can thee repay?"
Thus spake the king to Cyra, as she stood
Before him trembling and with eyes subdued.
"Why tremble, child? Uplift to me the face
That met me first with smiles of infant grace,
Then when I saw it lie, a priceless gem
Shining in blood, all pleased, upturned to them
That trode around thee, and had scorned to bow
To save from crushing hoofs thy radiant brow.
I saw, O God! thy bloody hands in play
Grasp at the fetlocks in their perilous way;
I seized thee up, around my neck were thrown
Thy little arms, and thou becam'st mine own.
With pride I reigned in youth: In those high days
Thy harp was filled with Zion's sorrowing lays :
Yea, yet a child, sweet wisdom was thy dower;
Thou saw'st my pride, and sang'st Jehovah's power,
Who for his people stretched his darkened hand,
And drove down wonders o'er the Egyptian land:
The green curled heaps of the curbed sea, for them
The swift pursuing hosts of Pharaoh stem,
Heaved on them, whelming them; his Israel
O'er lands of drought and deserts terrible,
He bore; before them went his cloud by day,
By night his fiery pillar led the way:
Such was thy anthem, such the argument,
That I might fear, for Judah might relent.
Dark dreams came o'er me; thy sweet soul refrained
From plaintive hymns, that I might not be pained:
O! more than generous, delicately just
To sorrow wert thou when I lay in dust!
But I am raised to reason's awful peace;
And ne'er to tell thy glory shall I cease.
With songs the gifted bards of Babylon,
With harps peculiar shall thy praise make known.
Aloft a golden tablet shall declare,
In grateful lines, for me thy wondrous care,
Reared on those mountains: Thee all lands shall know;
And in thy presence queens shall softly go."
With tears of gratitude the virgin kissed
The monarch's hand, low kneeling to be blessed.
"Be just," she rising said, "be more than kind
To me; let Zion's sufferings touch thy mind!
Build up her walls, her temple! Let thy hand
Shield back our people to their ancient land!
Would that the days were come, O! would they were,
When old, old men again shall be in her,
Again forth leaning on their staves shall meet
With cheerful voices in each sunny street,
Shall count her towers, her later glories shew,
Shall tell the praise of one exalted foe!
Think not of me, my young life's waning fast,
I feel it here: I've loved thee through the past;
And now my king, dear father! in my hour
Of death I'll claim of thee a daughter's dower:
Thou shalt not then evade my last command,
To take my young bones to my own far land.
Thy love alone from tears has kept me free,
When oft I've longed my mother's home to see:
Ne'er shall I see it; but I'll make thee swear
To take my body hence, and lay it there.
And wilt thou not, as in thy days of need
I've loved thee much? Thou wilt, thou wilt indeed!"
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