The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, <br />And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; <br />And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, <br />When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. <br />Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, <br />That host with their banners at sunset were seen: <br />Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, <br />That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. <br /> <br />For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, <br />And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd, <br />And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, <br />And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! <br />And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, <br />But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride; <br />And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, <br />And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. <br /> <br />And there lay the rider distorted and pale, <br />With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: <br />And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, <br />The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown. <br />And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, <br />And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; <br />And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, <br />Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/destruction-of-sennacherib-the/
