Chorus
Hail, hail to Assur-báni-pal the great,
Whose fame was guarded by a people jealous!
Hail to the kings he labored to create!
Hail to his mages in their worship zealous!
Hail to his reign in Nineveh, where came
To bow the knee the sovereigns he created,
Ay, from his lips a simple word to claim,
And leave in fear and trembling, but elated!
Hail to the puissant and all-holy name
Of Necho, king of Memphis, stern and powerful!
And Pisan-hor, who could the lions tame,
Near Natho, his great city walled and towerful!
Hail to Pagruru, of far Pisupt king!
And Pukkimanin-hapi of Athribis,
Hail and revere him as a holy thing;
Bow in the dust before his sword and ibis.
Great Assur-báni-pal, years, years ago,
Made Nech-ke king of Henins in his glory,
And Petubastes summond by his bow
At Tanis reigned until his brows grew hoary.
Hail, hail! he sent Unamunu the fair
To Natho as his humble lord and vassal,
And Sheshonk to Busiris, even there
To live in fat, and plenty, and in wassail.
Iptikhardesu he did deign to send
To far Pazatti-hurunpi Ku's palace,
To be its king and force all foes to bend,
Foes ever filled with hostile hate and malice.
And Necht-hor-ansini of Pi-sabdnût
In ways imperious cherished and upheld him,
And in his temples, Zika of Siyout
The fattest brutes in sacrifices felled him.
Hail, hail to Assur-báni-pal the great!
Mark on your tablets' clay in writing mystic
How Lamintu to Chemmis draped in state
Brought to his people offerings cabalistic,
And hail to Assur-báni-pal, for he
Sent Munti-Manche to the Theban city!
Hail to his triumph over land and sea!
Hail to his grace, his valor and his pity!
Bel-shar-uzzúr, returning from the bath,
Thinks of the gods within the walls of Bel,
And can remember that he has not prayed
For hours eleven; therefore he commands
His hosts to halt before the sacred shrines,
And, as he has but paltry time to waste,
And yet must all propitiate, he cries
Unto his herald: “Call grave Kalassan,
And bid the flouncéd priests in solemn ways
Pray for their king the war god Merodach,
And likewise tender worship unto El,
And unto Hea, Nisroch, and to Sin!”
For see, the king is weary of the bath,
And he is fain with sleep to kill an hour.
Pray for him, priests! And lo! the priests obeyed,
And, as Bel-shar-uzzúr returned in state
To taste the kisses of a favorite slave
Caught in the snowy mountains of the north,
A woman with long tresses touched with gold,
Who lured his wasting fancies by her charm,
The roar of sacerdotal lungs arose.
Whose fame was guarded by a people jealous!
Hail to the kings he labored to create!
Hail to his mages in their worship zealous!
Hail to his reign in Nineveh, where came
To bow the knee the sovereigns he created,
Ay, from his lips a simple word to claim,
And leave in fear and trembling, but elated!
Hail to the puissant and all-holy name
Of Necho, king of Memphis, stern and powerful!
And Pisan-hor, who could the lions tame,
Near Natho, his great city walled and towerful!
Hail to Pagruru, of far Pisupt king!
And Pukkimanin-hapi of Athribis,
Hail and revere him as a holy thing;
Bow in the dust before his sword and ibis.
Great Assur-báni-pal, years, years ago,
Made Nech-ke king of Henins in his glory,
And Petubastes summond by his bow
At Tanis reigned until his brows grew hoary.
Hail, hail! he sent Unamunu the fair
To Natho as his humble lord and vassal,
And Sheshonk to Busiris, even there
To live in fat, and plenty, and in wassail.
Iptikhardesu he did deign to send
To far Pazatti-hurunpi Ku's palace,
To be its king and force all foes to bend,
Foes ever filled with hostile hate and malice.
And Necht-hor-ansini of Pi-sabdnût
In ways imperious cherished and upheld him,
And in his temples, Zika of Siyout
The fattest brutes in sacrifices felled him.
Hail, hail to Assur-báni-pal the great!
Mark on your tablets' clay in writing mystic
How Lamintu to Chemmis draped in state
Brought to his people offerings cabalistic,
And hail to Assur-báni-pal, for he
Sent Munti-Manche to the Theban city!
Hail to his triumph over land and sea!
Hail to his grace, his valor and his pity!
Bel-shar-uzzúr, returning from the bath,
Thinks of the gods within the walls of Bel,
And can remember that he has not prayed
For hours eleven; therefore he commands
His hosts to halt before the sacred shrines,
And, as he has but paltry time to waste,
And yet must all propitiate, he cries
Unto his herald: “Call grave Kalassan,
And bid the flouncéd priests in solemn ways
Pray for their king the war god Merodach,
And likewise tender worship unto El,
And unto Hea, Nisroch, and to Sin!”
For see, the king is weary of the bath,
And he is fain with sleep to kill an hour.
Pray for him, priests! And lo! the priests obeyed,
And, as Bel-shar-uzzúr returned in state
To taste the kisses of a favorite slave
Caught in the snowy mountains of the north,
A woman with long tresses touched with gold,
Who lured his wasting fancies by her charm,
The roar of sacerdotal lungs arose.
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