y desired to add our queen to the number of his wives,
hoping, in his insatiable thirst for more territories, to gain our land
with her."

Cambyses was silent and the envoy went on. "Cyrus caused a bridge to be
made over our boundary river, the Araxes. We were not dismayed at this,
and Tomyris sent word that he might save himself this trouble, for that
the Massagetae were willing either to await him quietly in their own
land, leaving the passage of the river free, or to meet him in his.
Cyrus decided, by the advice of the dethroned king of Lydia, (as we
learnt afterwards, through some prisoners of war) on meeting us in our
own land and defeating us by a stratagem. With this intention he sent at
first only a small body of troops, which could be easily dispersed and
destroyed by our arrows and lances, and allowed us to seize his camp
without striking a blow. Believing we had defeated this insatiable
conqueror, we feasted on his abundant stores, and, poisoned by the sweet
unknown drink which you call wine, fell into a stupefied slumber, during
which his soldiers fell upon us, murdered the greater number of our
warriors and took many captives. Among the latter was the brave, young
Spargapises, our queen's son.

"Hearing in his captivity, that his mother was willing to conclude
peace with your nation as the price of his liberty, he asked to have his
chains taken off. The request was granted, and on obtaining the use
of his hands he seized a sword and stabbed himself, exclaiming: 'I
sacrifice my life for the freedom of my nation.'"

"No sooner did we hear the news that the young prince we loved so well
had died thus, than we assembled all the forces yet left to us from your
swords and fetters. Even old men and boys flew to arms to revenge our
noble Spargapises, and sacrifice themselves, after his example, for
Massagetaen freedom. Our armies met; ye were worsted and Cyrus fell.
When Tomyris found his body lying in a pool of human blood, she cried:
'Methinks, insatiable conqueror, thou art at last sated with blood!'
The troop, composed of the flower of your nobility, which you call the
Immortals, drove us back and carried your father's dead body forth from
our closest ranks. You led them on, fighting like a lion. I know you
well, and that wound across your manly face, which adorns it like a
purple badge of honor, was made by the sword now hanging at my side."

A movement passed through the listening crowd; they trembled for