When all was prepared, Cyrus determined to wait for the arrival of a certain festival, during which the whole population were wont to engage in drinking and revelling, and then silently in the dead of night to turn the water of the river and make his attack.  It fell out as he hoped and wished.  The festival was held with even greater pomp and splendor than usual; for Belshazzar, with the natural insolence of youth, to mark his contempt of the besieging army, abandoned himself wholly to the delights of the season, and himself entertained a thousand lords in his palace.  Elsewhere the rest of the population was occupied in feasting and dancing.  Drunken riot and mad excitement held possession of the town; the siege was forgotten; ordinary precautions were neglected.  Following the example of their king, the Babylonians gave themselves up for the night to orgies in which religious frenzy and drunken excess formed a strange and revolting medley.

Meanwhile, outside the city, in silence and darkness, the Persians watched at the two points where the Euphrates entered and left the walls.  Anxiously they noted the gradual sinking of the water in the river-bed; still more anxiously they watched to see if those within the walls would observe the suspicious circumstance and sound an alarm through the town.  Should such an alarm be given, all their labors would be lost.  If, when they entered the river-bed, they found the river-walls manned and the river-gates fast-locked, they would be indeed “caught in a trap.”  Enfiladed on both sides by an enemy whom they could neither see nor reach, they would be overwhelmed and destroyed by his missiles before they could succeed in making their escape.  But, as they watched, no sounds of alarm reached them—­only a confused noise of revel and riot, which showed that the unhappy townsmen were quite unconscious of the approach of danger.

At last shadowy forms began to emerge from the obscurity of the deep river-bed, and on the landing-places opposite the river-gates scattered clusters of men grew into solid columns—­the undefended gateways were seized—­a war-shout was raised—­the alarm was taken and spread—­and swift runners started off to “show the King of Babylon that his city was taken at one end.”  In the darkness and confusion of the night a terrible massacre ensued.  The drunken revellers could make no resistance.  The king paralyzed with fear at the awful handwriting upon the wall, which too late had warned him of his peril, could do nothing even to check the progress of the assailants, who carried all before them everywhere.  Bursting into the palace, a band of Persians made their way to the presence of the monarch, and slew him on the scene of his impious revelry.  Other bands carried fire and sword through the town.  When morning came, Cyrus found himself undisputed master of the city, which, if it had not despised his efforts, might with the greatest ease have baffled them.