Hello everyone –
In the second installment of my October Tales series, I’d
like to call to your attention a holiday that is rising in popularity
throughout the world, which occurs next Thursday. October 29th is
International Cyrus the Great Day, marking the date that Cyrus and his Persian
army took over the city of Babylon without violence. Cyrus was the founding
Emperor of the Persian Empire, and his benevolence toward his native and
conquered subjects was both exceptional and long-remembered. The Greek
historian Xenophon, writing in the 4th century BCE, remarked his
biography of the great king:
“And those who were subject to him, he treated with esteem
and regard, as if they were his own children, while his subjects themselves
respected Cyrus as their "Father" ... What other man but 'Cyrus',
after having overturned an empire, ever died with the title of "The
Father" from the people whom he had brought under his power? For it is
plain fact that this is a name for one that bestows, rather than for one that
takes away!”
Cyrus was renowned in his own time as a liberator of the
oppressed, a promoter of religious toleration and cultural diversity, and an
early champion of what we could call human rights. These characteristics of his
personality, and some of his heroic deeds, are recorded in the Cyrus Cylinder,
a proclamation made after Cyrus conquered Babylon in 538 BCE without bloodshed.
The text of this world-famous decree can be found @ https://web.archive.org/web/20180311235804/https://www.livius.org/ct-cz/cyrus_I/cyrus_cylinder2.html.
Cyrus is also remembered as a heroic figure to this very day by Zoroastrians
(his coreligionists), Jews, Christians, and Muslims.
And so, after all these preliminaries, I present this week’s
October Tale – an excerpt from a poem about the Persian Empire by the first
published poet in Britain’s North American colonies – Anne Bradstreet
(1612-1672), making generous use of both reliable and legendary material drawn
from her vast learning.
The Second Monarchy, being the Persian, began under
Cyrus, Darius being his Uncle and Father-in-law reigned with him about two
years.
Cyrus Cambyses’ Son of Persia King,
Whom Lady Mandana did to him bring,
She daughter unto great Astyages,
He in descent the seventh from Arbaces.
Cambyses was of Achaemenes’ race,
Who had in Persia the Lieutenant’s place
When Sardanapalus was overthrown,
And from that time had held it as his own.
Cyrus, Darius’ Daughter took to wife,
And so unites two Kingdoms without strife.
Darius unto Mandana was brother
Adopts her son for his having no other.
This is of Cyrus the true pedigree,
Whose Ancestors were royal in degree:
His Mother’s dream and Grand-Sires cruelty,
His preservation, in his misery,
His nourishment afforded by a switch,
Are fit for such, whose ears for Fables itch.
He in his younger days an Army led,
Against great Croesus then of Lydia head;
Who over-curious of wars event,
For information to Apollo went:
And the ambiguous Oracle did trust,
So overthrown by Cyrus, as was just;
Who him pursues to Sardis, takes the Town,
Where all that dare resist, are slaughtered down;
Disguised Croesus hoped to escape in the throng,
Who had no might to right from wrong,
But as he past, his Son who was born dumb,
With pressing grief and sorrow overcome:
Among the tumult, blood-shed, and the strife
Brake his long silence, cried, spare Croesus’ life:
Croesus thus known, it was great Cyrus’ doom,
(A hard decree) to ashes he consume;
Then on a wood-pile set, where all might eye,
He Solon, Solon, Solon, thrice did cry.
The Reason of those words Cyrus demands,
Who Solon was? to whom he lifts his hands;
Then to the King he makes this true report,
That Solon sometimes at his stately Court,
His Treasures, pleasures pomp and power did fee,
And viewing all, at all nought moved was he:
That Croesus angry, urged him to express,
If ever King equaled his happiness.
(Quoth he) that man for happy we commend,
Whose happy life attains an happy end.
Cyrus with pity moved knowing Kings stand,
Now up and down, as fortune turns her hand,
Weighing the Age, and greatness of the Prince,
(His Mother’s Uncle) stories do evince:
Gave him his life, and took him for a friend,
Did to him still his chief designs commend.
Next war the restless Cyrus thought upon,
Was conquest of the stately Babylon.
Now treble walled, and moated so about,
That all the world they need not fear nor doubt;
To drain this ditch he many Sluices cut,
But till convenient time their heads kept shut;
That night Belshazzar feasted all his rout,
He cut those banks, and let the River out,
And to the walls securely marches on,
Not finding a defendant thereupon;
Enters the town, the sottish King he slays,
Upon Earth’s richest spoils his Soldiers preys;
Here twenty years provision good he found,
Forty five miles this City scarce could round;
This head of Kingdoms Chaldees excellence,
For Owls and Satyrs made a residence,
Yet wondrous monuments this stately Queen,
A thousand years had after to be seen.
Cyrus doth now the Jewish Captives free
An Edict made, the Temple builded be,
He with his Uncle Daniel sets on high,
And caused his foes in Lions’ Den to dye.
Long after this he against the Scythians goes,
And Tomris’ Son and Army overthrows;
Which to revenge he hires a mighty power,
And sets on Cyrus, in a fatal hour;
There routs his Host, himself she prisoner takes,
And at one blow (world’s head) she headless makes
The which she bathed, within a Bit of blood,
Using such taunting words, as she thought good.
But Xenophon reports he died in his bed,
In honor, peace and wealth, with a grey head;
And in his Town of Pasargadae lies,
Where some long after sought in vain for prize,
But in his Tomb was only to be found
Two Scythian boys, a Sword and Target round:
And Alexander coming to the same,
With honors great, did celebrate his fame.
Three daughters and two Sons he left behind,
Ennobled more by birth then by their mind;
Thirty two years in all this Prince did reign,
But eight whilst Babylon, he did retain:
And though his conquests made the earth to groan,
Now quiet lies under one marble stone.
And with an Epitaph, himself did make,
To shew how little Land he then should take.
Until next time –
Rob 😊
