The tears have dried that mourned you long ago,
Sad Sardanapalus, the mighty lord!
For you the stars, the very stone gods roared
In palaces where now the deserts grow,
And evil winds ill spirits chase and blow,
Your tomb is dust and all your gods ignored,
And peerless Nineveh put to the sword,
And all is waste from flood plain to plateau.
Sardanapalus, was it dissemblers
Who then deceived you in that final time,
Struck with wrath and guile like giant temblors,
Or some slim girl, so cool, with eyes sublime?
And does her voice still whisper on the air,
“My liege, Sardanapalus,” though no one’s there?
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Submission Name: Sardanapalus
