LITMIR.BIZ

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she kept in check the Arabians, the Saracens, and the Armenians; nor would I have preserved her life, if I had not thought she would much benefit the Roman state.” This was written after her defeat.

      Tired of making unsuccessful attempts, Aurelian determined to try the effects of negotiation, and accordingly wrote to Zenobia. The style he adopted, however, rather commanded terms than proposed them: —

      “Aurelian, emperor of the Roman world, to Zenobia, and the others united together in hostile alliance.

      “You ought to do that of your own accord, which is commanded by my letters. I charge you to surrender, on your lives being spared; and you, Zenobia, may pass your life in some spot where I shall place you, in pursuance of the distinguished sentence of the senate; your gems, silver, gold, silk, horses, and camels, being given up to the Roman treasury. The laws and institutions of the Palmyrenes shall be respected.”

      To this letter Zenobia returned the following answer: —

      “Zenobia, Queen of the East, to the Roman Emperor, Aurelian.

      “Never was such an unreasonable demand proposed, or such rigorous terms offered, by any but yourself! Remember, Aurelian, that in war, whatever is done should be done by valour. You imperiously command me to surrender: but can you forget, that Cleopatra chose rather to die with the title of queen, than to live in any inferior dignity? We expect succours from Persia; the Saracens are arming in our cause; even the Syrian banditti have already defeated your army. Judge what you are to expect from the junction of these forces. You shall be compelled to abate that pride with which, as if you were absolute lord of the universe, you command me to become your captive.”

      When Aurelian read this letter, says Vopiscus, he blushed; not so much with shame, as with indignation.

      Her answer inflamed the emperor to the highest pitch. He pressed the siege, therefore, with redoubled vigour; and the city was reduced to such extremities, that her council advised her to send for succour to the Persians. Thus counselled, she determined on going to the king of Persia in person. She set out, therefore, on the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates (about sixty miles from Palmyra), when she was overtaken by Aurelian’s light horse, and brought back, captive, to the feet of Aurelian. We are told, that the sight of the queen gave the Roman emperor infinite pleasure; but that his ambition suffered some humiliation, when he considered that posterity would always look upon this only as the conquest of a woman60. The city surrendered soon after, and was treated with great lenity.

      Aurelian now went to Emesa; on arriving at which place, he questioned the queen as to her motives, and the persons who had advised her to make so obstinate a defence. He sternly asked her, how she had presumed to rise in arms against the emperors of Rome? “Because,” answered Zenobia, “I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign; and this I do, because you know how to conquer.”

      When, however, the soldiers demanded her immediate execution, her fortitude forsook her. She confessed by whose counsel she had been guided. She purchased a dishonourable life at the expense of her friends. They were immediately led to execution; herself was reserved to grace the conqueror’s triumph.

      Among those of her friends, whose names she had betrayed, was the illustrious Longinus, author of that noble Treatise on the Sublime, which is so well known and appreciated by every scholar. He it was, she confessed, who had drawn up the letter. “Her councillors,” she said, “were to be blamed, and not herself. What could a weak, short-sighted, woman do? especially when beset by artful and ambitious men, who made her subservient to all their schemes? She never had aimed at empire, had they not placed it before her eyes in all its allurements. The letter which affronted Aurelian was not her own – Longinus wrote it; the insolence was his.”

      When Aurelian heard this, he directed all his fury against the unfortunate Longinus. That illustrious person was immediately led to execution. Far from lamenting his fate, however, he condoled with his friends, pitied Zenobia, and expressed his joy; looking upon death as a blessing, since it would rescue his body from slavery, and give his soul to that freedom he the most desired. “This world,” said he, with his expiring breath, “is nothing but a prison; happy, therefore, is he who gets soonest out of it, and gains his liberty.”

      A modern poet has very finely alluded to this in his poem on Palmyra.

      On the hushed plain, where sullen horror broods,

      And darkest frown the Syrian solitudes;

      Where morn’s soft steps no balmy fragrance leave,

      And parched and dewless is the couch of eve;

      Thy form, pale city of the waste, appears

      Like some faint vision of departed years;

      In massy clusters still a giant train,

      Thy sculptured fabrics whiten on the plain.

      Still stretch thy columned vistas far away,

      The shadowed dimness of their long array.

      But where the stirring crowd, the voice of strife,

      The glow of action and the thrill of life?

      Hear the loud crash of yon huge fragments fall,

      The pealing answer of each desert hall;

      The night-bird shrieking from her secret cell,

      The hollow winds, the tale of ruin tell.

      See, fondly lingering, Mithra’s parting rays

      Gild the proud towers, once vocal with his praise:

      But the cold altars clasping weeds entwine,

      And Moslems worship at the godless shrine.

      Yet here slow pausing memory loves to pour

      Her magic influence o’er this pensive hour:

      And yet, as yon recesses deep prolong

      The echoed sweetness of the Arab song,

      Recalls that scene, when wisdom’s sceptred child,

      First broke the stillness of the lonely wild.

      From air, from ocean, from earth’s utmost clime,

      The summoned genii heard the muttered rhyme;

      The tasking spell their airy hands obeyed,

      And Tadmor glittered in the palmy shade.

      So to her feet the tide of ages brings

      The wealth of nations and the pomp of kings,

      And for her warrior queen, from Parthia’s plain

      To the dark Ethiop, spreads her ample reign:

      Vain boast, ev’n she who winds the field along,

      Waked fiercer frenzy in the patriot throng;

      And sternly beauteous in the meteor’s light,

      Shot through the tempest of Emesa’s fight.

      While trembling captives round the victor wait,

      Hang on his eye, and catch the word of fate,

      Zenobia’s self must quail beneath his nod,

      A kneeling suppliant to the mimic god.

      But one there stood amid that abject throng,

      In truth triumphant, and in virtue strong;

      Beamed on his brow the soul which, undismayed.

      Smiled at the rod, and scorned the uplifted blade.

      O’er thee, Palmyra, darkness seems to lower

      The boding terrors of that fearful hour;

      Far from thy glade indignant freedom fled,

      And hope too withered as Longinus bled61.

      Palmyra, having become subject to a foreign yoke, bore the burthen with impatience. The inhabitants cut

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