Saballidin monologue (Act 2) — The House of Rimmon: A Drama in Four Acts

He comes but now, returning from the field Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame! Three times he led the charge; three times he fell Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. Yet every wound was but a spur to urge His valour onward. In the last attack He rode before us as the crested wave That heads the flood; and lo, our enemies Were broken like a dam of river-reeds, Burst by the torrent, scattered, swept away! But look! the Assyrian king in wavering flight Is lodged like driftwood on a little hill, Encircled by his guard, and stands at bay. Then Naaman, followed hotly by a score Of whirlwind riders, hammers through the hedge Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke: "Take back this gift," he cries; and shatters it On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight Dissolves in universal rout: the king, His chariots and his horsemen melt away; Our captain stands the master of the field, And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, First to the king, report of this great triumph.