But at the word the king lifted his last javelin.
“Be this my answer to your god!”
The missile brushed the white lock on the old man’s forehead, and fell harmless.
The Babylonians retreated sullenly to the wall, set their backs against it. Then, with death in the face of each, with the shattered plaster frowning down on them, those men who had fought so long and well to save their king and city, raised their song,—the pæan of the vanquished, to the god whose power that night had passed:—
“Bel-Marduk, sovereign of archers,
Bel-Marduk, spoiler of cities,
Bel-Marduk, lord of all gods,
Bel-Marduk, who rulest forever,
Thee, thee we praise!”