BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST 181 ness more oppressive, yet they dare not move. As if carved from marble, they watch the awful vision, until, as silently and as swiftly as it came, it vanishes, but the writing remains in bold and distinct characters with meaning as fathomless as the starry skies. Then there are choking gasps and quaking limbs in that splendid hall. The mirth and song so thrillingly sweet are hushed, and only hoarse whispers break the chilly stillness. The throng, but one short hour ago so merry, so fearless, now start at their own shadows. What of King Belshazzar who fears not God or man? The wild, horrorstricken faces turned to him for help meet the same fixed marble stare in his own. His trembling hand refuses to hold the golden vessel half-raised to his lips, and it falls-its ring reverberating in hollow tones-"The time is come! The time is come!' Listen! the king speaks: "Summon immediately the wise men of Babylon; let them unroll this mystery; their gifted minds can pierce the thickest veil." They come. They start and shake as did their fellows at sight of those strange words of fire. They try to speak, but are as powerless as infants in a lion's paw. They have failed. What will the king do now? The talent of the land has failed him. Oh! if those flaming letters would but vanish, but they gleam with renewed force, burning like firebrands into the king's soul. What will he do? Where will he go for succor? Is there no one?-Yes, the queen, prostrating her self in the king's presence, pleads with him to send for the pale-faced dreamer, the captive Israelite, whose soul speaks with the God of the skiesDaniel. They bring him forth. His white locks, falling over the long black robe and around the glorious face, contrast with that gorgeous band as does clear, calm moonlight with the dazzling noonday sun. His earthly hopes and joys were borne with the moans and cries of fellow-captives, away on the bosom of the Euphrates. But can captivity crush the soul? Not such as his. His freedom lies in the hands of the Eternal God. Breathlessly they watch him scan the mystic inscription, fearful lest they miss one tone or gesture. Will he know? Will he tell? Will he be, above all, the favored of the king? Does he shrink or start? No. His stately form rises as a pillar from among that cowering host, but with paling cheek he turns to King Belshazzar. "O king, before whom nations bow in reverence, whom men delight to honor-thou in whose hand lies the fate of millions-thou has forgotten the Almighty Ruler of earth and sky-thou hast defied the God of Heaven, in whose power lies thy fate, and at whose hand thou shalt suffer. Thou canst not repent. Thou hast set at utter defiance Him before whom every knee shall bow and whom every tongue shall reverence. Listen! Thou art weighed in the balance and found wanting. This night thy kingdom shall be taken from thee, and the conqueror's hand shall lay thee low." BELSHAZZAR'S FEAST 183 For one moment the very heart stops only to burst forth with terrific energy as if to free itself from prison walls and fly to the bosom of the deep. The breeze which so lately wafted only the sweetness of music and of flowers, now seeks in vain for the hushed melody, and moans, O Babylon! Babylon! Ah! does it not bear another sound, a distant rumbling, a hollow clatter? No, 'tis but a fleeting fancy. On with the wild, weird music, the joyous dance; let not mere fancy bring a barrier to our sport. Hark! that far-sounding cry comes nearer and yet nearer. A surging, seething sound, the clattering of hoofs, and the clanging and clashing of steel. O King Belshazzar, where now is thy power, thy boasted might? On, on they rush, bursting like howling beasts into palace and hovel alike. Destruction is their watchword. The shouts of victory and the shrill blasts of the trumpet mingle with the shrieks of the doomed. The glittering spear is darkened with the reeking blood of its victim. Belshazzar the Great, the one above all others, mingles his blood with that of his fellowvictims. He was weighed in God's balance and found wanting. Oh! the horror of that scene. The beautiful city, which so lately rejoiced in its own happiness, now echoes to lashing flames and to the last moaning wail of the dying. What wonder that the stars fade and that all nature weeps? The lonely wind wanders sadly through the blackened ruins of the once noble walls, moaning piteously for the familiar sounds, but to the river's aching breast brings ever the plaintive message" Babylon is no more, no more." Buried deep in the bosom of the river goes on to the old ocean the same lamentation—“ No more, no more." Beautiful Babylon is fallen. Proud, queenly Babylon! Thy pride hath slain thee, thou that daredst bring defiance to Almighty God. MINNIE L. SELLERS 70 BELSHAZZAR Hour of an empire's overthrow! The princes from the feast were gone; That night the feast was wild and high; The last deep cup of wrath was drained. 'Mid jewelled roof and silken pall, Belshazzar on his couch was flung: A burst of thunder filled the hall; 66 He heard but 'twas no mortal tongue. King of the East! the trumpet calls A curse is on thy palace walls, A curse is in thy guardian wave; BELSHAZZAR "A surge is in Euphrates' bed, That never filled its bed before; A surge, that ere the morn be red, Shall load with death its mighty shore. "Behold a tide of Persian steel! A torrent of the Median car; Belshazzar gazed; the voice was past; He listened; all again was still! He heard no chariot's iron clang; He slept; in sleep wild murmurs came; 66 Sleep, Sultan! 'tis thy final sleep; Or wake or sleep, the guilty dies; He started; 'mid the battle's yell He saw the Persians rushing on; He saw the flames around him swell; Thou'rt ashes, King of Babylon! 185 GEORGE CROLY |