OH ANCIENT KING !!
Scenes from the Life of Cyrus the Great
rjmendera (c) Germany/Canada
OH ANCIENT KING!! Scenes from the Life of CYRUS the GREAT
poems by rjmendera(c)2013
(from a manuscript begun in 1986)
FORWARD: Most people know the stories of the birth,life and martyrdom of the Palestinian Jesus,but not that of the great warrior King Cyrus the Persian.That a fairly small nation of tribes rose out of the Parsan Valley around 550 BC to conquer the Medic,Lydian and by 539BC,Babylonian Empires can be traced in Isaiah,Jeremias,Esdras and Ezechial;through the greek historian Herodotus as well as other sources.That Cyrus the First(there were at least three kings called Cyrus after him) liberated the Jews held captive in Babylon and generally allowed religious freedom throughout his eventual empire attests to his wisdom and generosity as a ruler.It is still difficult today to imagine all of the Middle East and some of the near Orient governed by one authority.
The many dramatic events in Cyrus‘ life-the revolt against Media, the conquest of Lydia and the famous military stratagem against Babylon, contrast the pacifist ideology of Christ‘s story during the Roman Empire.Cyrus was the embodiment of a Persian legend of a „ruler-sheperd“. In his legend there is the purity not only of a noble campaigner but also of the Persian tribes;their reverence for Nature,their skill as horsemen,their respect for an ancient code of laws---in direct contrast to the corrupt,city-dwelling Babylonians.
Cyrus was not only the historical saviour of the Jews who allowed them to rebuild their temple in Judea,but he also dealt mercifully with defeated enemies like Croesus the Lydian.
Extant among the remnants of Persias Empire are the grand monuments to his son Darius,and Cyrus‘simple tomb;as well as this direct statement in the Book of Esdras--“and King Cyrus brought forth the vessels of the temple of the Lord,which Nebuchadnessar had taken from Jerusalem.“ rjmendera
PART ONE: YOUTH IN PARSAGARD
EZECHIEL:“and i will set up one Sheperd over them“ chp. 34/23
----------------------------Astyages First Dream---------------------------
On the ridge of a cliff one thousand feet up
Stands a stout young boy by a proud white horse.
White clouds drift high across hot desert sands
Green hills,mountains and sun drenched valleys.
The boy spills water onto earth by lifting and
Tilting a small bronze goblet.He speaks to the sky
And rides away recklessly churning a funnel of red-brown dust.
He rests his horse and climbs higher still
To the base of a spring that feeds a clear stream.
From this stream a mist rises up where the water
Rushes and falls on a rock,and by this rock
The boy stoops over cupping his hands
And drinking slowly.When he drinks and stands up
He hears a whisper,the light trickling voice of Anahita!
He mouths her name still standing and listening
He walks in the stream on bare feet,still listening,
Listening,feeling he searches for rocks but finds
Instead treasures jewels at his feet.
But all that is precious he tosses away;opal,
Emerald,silver,jade.Armies stand by to catch
His treasures,whatever he gathers he tosses away
Wherever he walks the rivers give treasures.
Wherever he rides the crops grow green.Now
All of Media runs rich with his wealth,and
The boy is a man,and the people call him „Generous Sheperd“ !!
ISAIAS:“Who has raised up the just one from the east?“
I am a spirit of justice and reason.Mine is an ancient
Voice of empire,the music of hoofbeats,the thunder
Of courage.Men stand in their stirrups to see
My name inscribed upon an obelisk,but i am live!
I breath as a mighty wind upon the mightiest men
I am the blood urge and high minds of Persians
I am the spirit of beasts untamed,of herbs
That heal,of men and women,wherever they are
Who carry themselves without a poor conscience
I ride like a great man upon a fine horse
I sing like a woman who weaves and gives birth
I am the Day‘s sunshining and the Night light‘s fire
By me fountains rise,highways fork,rivers ford
Torrents flow from mountain to valley for the welfare
Of all who greet and preserve me. Oh who shall
Meet me and observe me,she shall be pure,he shall
Be just,him will i praise and exalt on this earth
Her‘s shall be the joy of a family the plain and
Exalted shall stand in one place and rejoice with
Mutual power and wisdom.
Across this earth wild wars are raging,men
Strike like beasts for blood and treasure,but he
Who heeds me tames all demons, him shall i touch
And protect and conceal.
I singe my wings at the altars of Parsa
I stretch my peace over the valleys of Parsa
I wake myself like an unnourished swallow
And contain myself in the mountains of Parsa
I travel,I feed,I bring back fodder
All to the mind of a child of Parsa
Have you heard the music of ancient Persia
Gracing the paths of distant swallows?
So swiftly turns this child towards justice
This son of Cambyses who sleeps on his rug
While a minstrels voice chants from a terrace
„Great were thy ways, oh Achaemenes!“
ISAIAS : „ I have raised up one from the North and he shall come from the rising of the sun.He shall make princes to be as dirt,and as the potter treading clay“ Chpt. 41-25
---------------------------------The Wounding of Mithra-----------------------------------------
Aiee how he thirsts his spirit spumes pearl-spangled cheeks
Char-sparkling jewels his eyes defend his hands raise up
Oh sunchild simple prince perfection‘s lord I praise
The grey-checkered scarf at your throat your crown of hair
Swirling round your brows truce.
Out of the mountains he comes to play
Down from the hill with his poor white horse
And Mithra rides up from the Maspians clearing
And others come to play with their friends
Within sight of the entrance steps of Parsa.
They feign at fighting and pretend on the hunt
And then someone wouls play „King of the Land“
NowMithra decides by his wealth and station
He should be the king and set the rules,
But the others refuse to make Mithra king.
So a gate teacher there says to have an election
And gentle Cyrus is chosen king.
Now Mithra has no respect of Cyrus,
The orders he gives,Mithra scoffs away,
And Mithra mounts his small black pony
Disrupting the kingdom of the chosen boy.
„Your soldiers are weak,small king,next to me
Climb on your mount or get out of my path!“
The other boys stand in fear of young Mithra
Who holds a spear and a shield in his rein hands
But Cyrus smiles,“Come Mithra,lets play
We can both be Kings“ yet he stands in his way.
„You there,say,who is your King!“
Mithra points his spear at a small boy beneath him,
Who jumps away,and as he is leaning
Cyrus jumps in,scaring the pony
Dismounting the rider,grabbing the spear.
And with his own spear now poised above him
Cyrus repeats Mithra‘s own harsh words.
„You there,say,who is your King!“
When Mithra tries to roll away
The spear tip rips through the side of his stomach.
His cry of pain brings the Gate Teachers running
And when they ask Cyrus why he has done it
He says.“It was a game and I was King!“
ISAIAS: „And a throne shall be prepared in mercy and one shall sit upon it in truth,judging and seeking judgment,and quickly rendering that which is just.“
What is this that is my son
Whose spirit thrives on the air he breathes
Whose head is raised by the hands of strangers?!
Let me sit on these old stone steps and watch
Him vault and ride his horse.
Sad that his Mother‘s touch can‘t heal him.
Sad he will never be calmed by her eyes
Eyes that died,closed and dried,
Withered flowers,shrivelled leaves,
Wind that cried,winter sighed,
Weather moved her from her grave
Up into the vault-blue sky-
Son of mine,her voice in rhyme
Sings from the green grass bursting vines
Fine! Fine! you balance fine
Violet scented morning time
When she lay still sleeping framed in sunlight
Son was conceived and later she died
As though broken by the bounty of his birth.
How he shines this boy of mine
And all the tribes become his nursemaid,
Every sea a mother embracing
Every stream a goddess whispering
Safely cross over me my son.
Let the beams for the new portico wait awhile-
I am watching my son learn to ride his horse.
ISAIAS: „I have raised him up to justice and i will direct all his ways“ Chpt 45-13
Wearing round felt cap,a neck cover
And tunic girdled by a boy‘s belt
The youth Cyrus rides alone into the Maspians camp.
Without ceremony he is brought before the Kavis
Leaders and counsellors of the tribe.
It is dusk,and to one side another youth,about fourteen
Approaches the campring,assisted from his stallion
Takes his place by his Father‘s side.
„For three generations Maspian warriors
Have shared ground with the other six tribes
Become Asvaran,offered service to the arrogant Medes
Now it is time again for Maspians and Persians
Maraphians and Germanians,Mardians and even
The nomad Dayans to ride North with tribute.
It is our wish that the son of Cambyses
Shall take his warriors‘ vows and training
In this camp for six months,then accompany
Our guides towards Ecbatana.
One does not take such a journey
At an early age without pride.
One does not wound a friend without pride.
And one does not stand before the Medes with pride!
Your pride,son of Cambyses,has injured us
Has injured Mithradat for his remaining life.
It is your Father‘s wish you should make amends
And it is our wish you reply to what has been spoken.“
„For my part and for my Father, I accept your judgment.“
The youth is dismissed from the council fire.
Later,in the near dark,he finds Mithra,
Changed and sullen.They speak little,
But Cyrus sits and takes bread at his side.