HAND-TO-HAND CONFLICT ON THE BANKS OF THE EUPHRATES


The night is fleeing from the light of dawn,
Which dimly falls upon the palace lawn;
The King upon his royal _dum-khi_[1] sleeps,
And to his couch again Queen Ishtar creeps.
In spite his dream to dismal thoughts she turns,
Her victim tosses, now with fever burns:
He wildly starts, and from his _dum-khi_ springs,
While loud his voice throughout the palace rings:
"Ho! vassals! haste to me! your King!" he cries,
And stamping fiercely while his passions rise.
The _sukhu-li_[2] and _masari_[3] rush in:
"What trouble, Sar? have foes here come within?"
Then searching around they in his chamber rush,
And eagerly aside the curtains push.
The King yet paces on the floor with strides
That show the trouble of his mind, and chides
Them all as laggards; "Soon the sun will rise:
My steed prepared bring hence!" he turning cries.
He mounts and gallops through the swinging gates,
Nor for attendance of his vassals waits.
Nor turns his face toward the _nam-za-khi_,[4]
Who quickly opened for the King to fly
Without the gates; across the plains he rides
Away unmindful where his steed he guides.
The horse's hoofs resound upon the plain
As the lone horseman with bewildered brain,
To leave behind the phantoms of the night,