The fierce queen wearied, and she smote her hands:
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"Summon my lord, the King," she spake and sighed,
"I sicken of these steaming shallow lands!"
Nebuchadnezzar stood there by her side,
Suppliant. She turned upon him, eagle-eyed;
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"O King, would thou and Babylon ne'er had been!
I die for pines and storms." "Amytis, bride,
There shall be hanging gardens for my queen."
"O for Assyria, where each mountain stands,
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With pine-trees to the peak, and the great stride
Of the north wind, voiced as a god's commands,
Shakes forests into music far and wide,
Iron and granite song; and horsemen ride
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By foam of torrents, laughing, lances keen—
But I mid ooze and baking bricks must bide. . . ."
"There shall be hanging gardens for my queen."
Night fell, and morning rose with crimson bands,
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About her couch the tiring maidens glide,
And one that wove her hair in shining strands
Spake softly: "Vouch, great queen, to gaze outside,
Beyond the curtains"—and Amytis cried,
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And laughed and wept for what her eyes had seen—
Assyria at her window magnified!—
"There shall be hanging gardens for my queen."
"Queen," spake the King, "is thy heart satisfied?
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Unnumbered slaves and Night have wrought this scene—
The rocks and pines of thy Assyrian pride:
There shall be hanging gardens for my queen."