The Destruction of Sennacherib

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Hetrem

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

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