Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
Belshazzar
By Heinrich Heine (17971856)M
In silent rest lay Babylon.
Red torches gleam and courtiers cry.
Is holding kingly festival.
And emptied the goblets with glowing wine.
And it pleased the stiff-necked monarch well.
And the wine awoke his daring mood.
He blasphemes the Lord with a sinful word;
While the servile courtiers cheered and smiled.
Quickly the servant went and returned.
Of Jehovah’s temple the plunder bold.
The king seized a beaker and filled to the brim,
And foaming he cried, as he drank it up,
To thee. I am monarch of Babylon.”
From his lips, ere the monarch at heart was cold.
Was still as death in the royal hall.
The form of a hand went slowly by,
Letters of fire, and vanished in night.
And with trembling knees, the king sat there;
No word they spoke, but were deathlike still.
None could read the flame-script on the wall.
By the hands of his servants Belshazzar died.