At his right hand speeds Obedience the holy,
At his left hand flies powerful Justice,
Behind him drives lie-smiting Fire!”
When the chant was finished the General Gobryas rode up beside the royal chariot.
“Lord of the Aryans, what shall be the battle-cry to-night?”
And Cyrus, leaning from the car, made answer, “Give this battle-cry to the host, as it shall enter Babylon,—‘For Ahura, for Atossa!’”
The officer bowed, vanished in the deepening gloom. Cyrus turned to his charioteer. “Forward!” he commanded softly.
The reins shook over the white Nisæans. As the chariot moved onward, the thousands made haste to follow. Once Atrobanes, the “handkerchief-bearer,” who cantered beside his lord, ventured remonstrance.
“Will not your Majesty take your litter? My lord is not so young as once. If he drive all night, he will grow weary.”