Like Love is the fragile Lotus bud,
When kissed by the gleaming, golden flood
Of light from shining Ra;
It blooms 'neath the warm, caressing beams
On the Nile of Life, and its blossom seems
To shine as a milk-white star.
But lo! when the fateful season turns,
And the tawny desert glows and burns,
Shimmering, parched, and dry—
As the vanquished foe to the victor stoops,
All faded and shriveled the Lotus droops—
And, withered, it falls to die!
"Strange!" mused Ninus, combing at his beard. "The Egyptian sitteth with Sozana in the gardens down below and singeth a song of love; albeit I mark that his song be sad.... Yet—why should he sing at all, the fool! Doth he, too, whisper into the maiden's ear, and—"
The monarch paused abruptly, to call to his faithful leech in a tone of petulance:
"Argol! come stroke my side in the region of my wound; for I tell thee, man, it itcheth damnably."
CHAPTER XIII
THE SKIN OF A ONE-EYED LION
The throne-hall of the palace was of lofty pitch—and of spacious depth and width. In its rear, through arches, lay an open portico, while beyond could be seen the Valley of the Tigris and the reaches of the river on its journey to the sea. Within were carven pillars of marble and of stone brought hither by utmost toil from foreign lands; likewise other pillars of malachite, of silver, and of hammered gold, draped with hangings of purple and embroidered stuffs from the treasure-stores of far Phoenicia. There were curious arms, the trophies of chase and war, rare gifts from conquered princes sent to Nineveh through love or fear, and the mounted heads and skins of beasts which had fallen before the King's own spear and shafts.
The entrance was set with chiselled lions, and wingéd bulls in miniature of those which guarded the western gate, while the walls were lined with steles, whereon were pictured the battles of the King, his deeds of prowess in the hunt, his sacrifices at the altars of his gods.
On the ceiling stretched a tessellated emblem of all the deities wrought cunningly with bits of tinted stone and precious gems, a work of art so fabulous in price that even the spendthrift Ninus drew his breath when the cost thereof was known to him. In the centre sat the great lord Asshur in his godly robes, his breast adorned with the wingéd disk designed in pearls and sapphires on a base of lapis-lazuli. Before high Asshur King Ninus knelt, obedient to the heavenly will alone, while around them were grouped the lesser deities—Ramân hurling forth his lightning forks, Bel in his hornéd cap, red Gibil peering out through sacrificial flame and smoke, Bêlit princess of the dawn, Shala, Nebo, Ninêb, and Nerga of the chase, Shamashi-Ramân, father of the King—a heavenly litter of divinities, each dear to the heart of his special worshipper.
On a sumptuous throne sat Ninus, with Sozana at his side, for the queen had passed away ere Nineveh was complete; so now his daughter held the highest place in the monarch's heart. The hall was thronged with chieftains, priests, and the king's good friends. At the feet of Ninus sat Menon, and at his side the Arabian Prince, Boabdul Ben Hutt, whom the king had urged to grace his festival. There were kings of Tyre and Sidon, from beside the Sea of the Setting Sun, whose cities sent their caravans of tribute and of tax with muttered curses trailing after them; and likewise came the sons of Canaan, giant Khatti chiefs still restless beneath their yoke, princes of Babylon, Syrians, lords of the desert and the sea; grim mountaineers who had fought like rats in the caverns of their rocky homes; governors, rulers, and a swarm of wives and daughters of these men, all now unveiled at the mandate of the King.