The music throbbed faster and faster, the players breaking into ever madder melodies, as though their music was answering to the mounting and throbbing of the wine. Belshazzar had sunk back on his couch in contented revery, scarce watching the dancers. What king of the Chaldees before him had opened his reign with a fairer triumph? Already to Belshazzar’s vision the artists were portraying upon the palace walls, in imperishable stone and enamel, the mighty deeds of the all-victorious son of Nabonidus. Already before the king’s mind Media, Armenia, Egypt, and farthest Tartary lay conquered. Nay, the barbarous tribes of the Greeks beside their distant sea should learn to pay tribute to the monarch of “Babylon the Great.” But the king’s dreaming ended when Avil touched his elbow and whispered in his ear. And at the next interval in the dances Belshazzar had a command for the chief of the eunuchs:—
“Hasten. Bring us the captured vessels, sacred to the gods of the nations I and the great kings my fathers have put to shame. For we will drink from them to the deities whose favour is upon Babylon.”
An expected order, and quickly obeyed. The eunuchs put in the hands of the captains, the harem girls, and the musicians, innumerable fresh goblets of gold and silver, of many and curious patterns. But to Belshazzar Mermaza bore three golden drinking-cups, each huge and crusted with jewels. Then the king took the first and raised himself from the couch before the vast throng. What with his tiara, his own fair stature, and his lofty seat, he seemed a god indeed.
“Again, lords of the Chaldees!” he commanded, “drink again! I hold the goblet used by Pharaoh Necho, in worship of Ammon-Ra, his god. Nebuchadnezzar took it in the great battle of Karkhemish. Where is the power of Ammon against our Babylonish gods?” Belshazzar held the glittering goblet on high. “Rise, Ammon, god of Egypt, rise! Thou art mocked! Display thy power!” Perfect silence, and the king shouted again, “Drink then with me, since Ammon lies helpless, a pledge to our great Istar, ‘the Lady of Battles’!”
“Hail! Hail to Istar!” from a thousand, and they drank the pledge.
A second goblet was in Belshazzar’s hand; and again he called: “Look—a vessel taken from the temple of Assur in Nineveh, when our fathers sacked the city. Rise, Assur,—rise, god of Assyria! Thou art mocked.—Helpless also—drink therefore again, a pledge to our Samas, ‘the Glory of the Heavens’!”
“Hail to Samas, the undying sun god!” was the tumultuous answer. But the king had not ended.
“Look, warriors and princes! I hold the goblet taken from Jerusalem, from the temple of the impotent demon the shambling Jews and flying Persians fear. When did Jehovah save Zedekiah the Hebrew out of the Chaldee’s power? And how now shall Cyrus, who cries to him under the name of Ahura, find deliverance from my hands? For Cyrus has turned away ashamed, his vassals fail him, his god is helpless, his power is broken! Victorious war is before your king, and empire never won before!”
“Victory! Victory to Belshazzar, the favoured of Marduk!” so the vast company cried; and the king yet a third time uplifted a goblet.