_The Death of Jabaster_
'TWAS midnight, and the storm still raged; 'mid the roar of the thunder
and the shrieks of the wind, the floods of forky lightning each instant
revealed the broad and billowy breast of the troubled Tigris. Jabaster
stood gazing upon the wild scene from the gallery of his palace. His
countenance was solemn, but disquieted.
'I would that he were here!' exclaimed the high priest. 'Yet why should
I desire his presence, who heralds only gloom? Yet in his absence am I
gay? I am nothing. This Bagdad weighs upon me like a cloak of lead: my
spirit is dull and broken.'
'They say Alroy gives a grand banquet in the serail to-night, and toasts
his harlot 'mid the thunderbolts. Is there no hand to write upon the
wall? He is found wanting, he is weighed, and is indeed found wanting.
The parting of his kingdom soon will come, and then, I could weep, oh!
I could weep, and down these stern and seldom yielding cheeks pour the
wild anguish of my desperate woe. So young, so great, so favoured! But
one more step a God, and now a foul Belshazzar!
'Was it for this his gentle youth was passed in musing solitude and
mystic studies? Was it for this the holy messenger summoned his most
religious spirit? Was it for this he crossed the fiery desert, and
communed with his fathers in their tombs? Is this the end of all his
victories and all his vast achievements? To banquet with a wanton!
'A year ago, this very night, it was the eve of battle, I stood within
his tent to wait his final word.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246