ng of
Babylon, thy career, hitherto, has been a brilliant one. My armies have
clothed themselves with glory, which glory reflects back on their king.
Surrounding nations do me homage. My coffers are filled from the wealth
of Judah, Egypt, Syria, Phoenicia, and Arabia. What hinders my success?
Babylon is but in the infancy of her greatness. Her glory shall yet reach
the heavens! Tea, I will make her a fit place for the residence of the
gods. Selfish? Yea, truly. And who ever succeeded without being selfish?
Yea, the King of Babylon is selfish; but may the gods assist me to hide
it from the people. To them, may it appear that all my efforts are put
forth in their behalf. But have I no regard for the welfare of my people
aside from my own glory? I have! The gods know I have. And yet, I have a
strong desire that my name shall be carried down to posterity surrounded
by a halo of glory. Is this selfishness? Be it so. It must be done! Am I
not deep in the affections of my people? In this I cannot be mistaken.
Never was the Chaldean empire so firmly established. It will stand
forever. Forever? Ah, that word has a long meaning. But what power can
overthrow us? Is not Babylon the mistress of the world? Is not Chaldea
the queen of nations? Will not her prosperity be perpetual? Alas for our
brief knowledge! The gods, in this, have not elevated the king above the
beggar. The future is enshrouded in gloom and hid from the gaze of
mortals. My wise men say that they can penetrate this gloom. Can they? I
have my doubts. The future--the far, far future of Chaldea--I should be
glad to know: but who shall sit on the throne one hundred years from
to-day, and what shall be the greatness of Babylon in two hundred years,
are questions which time alone must solve. Surely, this is a sultry day!
Well, the future we cannot know. It may be all in wisdom. Peradven--Ah,
sleep! thou art the great conqueror of conquerors. I surrender. Thy
powers are irresistible. Let me not long be thy captive. In one hour, I
pray thee, strike my chains asunder, and restore me to my friends."

And the king, quietly yielding to the stern demands of Nature, was soon
in the fast embrace of slumber.

. . . . . . .

"Oh, ye gods that dwell in light, what a dream!" cried the king, hastily
leaving his couch, in agitation. "Oh, what a dream! But, alas, it has
gone from me! Oh, ye gods, why have I not retained it? But can I not