Israel in Egypt A Poem. By Edwin Atherstone |
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 | Israel in Egypt |  |
He paused; and instantly a voice was heard,
Strongly uplifted. “Splendor of the Sun,”
It said, “thy people all are madness-struck,
By reason of this plague. If no relief
Come quickly to them, they will rend themselves,
Or slay each other. One great cry ascends
From all the city, praying thee again
On Israel's sorcerers to call for help,
And let their people go.”
Strongly uplifted. “Splendor of the Sun,”
It said, “thy people all are madness-struck,
By reason of this plague. If no relief
Come quickly to them, they will rend themselves,
Or slay each other. One great cry ascends
From all the city, praying thee again
On Israel's sorcerers to call for help,
And let their people go.”
Upon the valve
Fiercely then Pharaoh struck, that speech to stop;
And in a very roar of fury cried,
“Fools! they would shun one stroke, to suffer ten!
Bear this they must, and shall. I will not pray
Of those detested sorcerers! They shall die,
When this plague dies: and that will be at noon
Of even tomorrow. If the time seem long,
With you it rests to press it in one hour.
Slay those two Hebrew wizards; and 'tis done!
If this ye will not, your own fault alone,
Or folly, smites you; for ye hug the plague
That ye might fling away. Do as ye list:
Immoveable as mountain stand I here:
I will not send to those vile sorcerers;
I will not let that hated Israel go;
I will not, though with clamors ye rend heaven,—
Even but the width of one small barley corn,
This door draw open. Never here can plague
Plant his black foot. Here, my loved queen and I,
Safely defy it. By a God indeed
Had it been wrought, and not by magic spell,
Here, as elsewhere, the scourge had found its way:
Nay, fiercest here of all, for 'gainst myself,
Chiefly the curse was threatened; me to scare,
That I might loosen Israel: but I laugh
At the poor sorcery—Hah—”
Fiercely then Pharaoh struck, that speech to stop;
And in a very roar of fury cried,
“Fools! they would shun one stroke, to suffer ten!
Bear this they must, and shall. I will not pray
Of those detested sorcerers! They shall die,
When this plague dies: and that will be at noon
Of even tomorrow. If the time seem long,
With you it rests to press it in one hour.
Slay those two Hebrew wizards; and 'tis done!
If this ye will not, your own fault alone,
Or folly, smites you; for ye hug the plague
That ye might fling away. Do as ye list:
Immoveable as mountain stand I here:
I will not send to those vile sorcerers;
I will not let that hated Israel go;
I will not, though with clamors ye rend heaven,—
229
This door draw open. Never here can plague
Plant his black foot. Here, my loved queen and I,
Safely defy it. By a God indeed
Had it been wrought, and not by magic spell,
Here, as elsewhere, the scourge had found its way:
Nay, fiercest here of all, for 'gainst myself,
Chiefly the curse was threatened; me to scare,
That I might loosen Israel: but I laugh
At the poor sorcery—Hah—”
With a wild yell
Of terror he stopped: for, suddenly as falls
Shadow on earth, when the thick-volumed cloud
Shoots, tempest-driven, across the noontide sun,—
So suddenly around him darkness fell,
And the Plague-roar burst forth. A hurried glance
Toward the close-draperied window cast he;—no—
Closed was it still,—no fly therein could come;
Yet was the chamber, even from floor to roof,
Filled with the Torment: and, as troops of wolves
Rush on the fallën steed,—even so on him,
From head to foot, the angry thousands poured,
Stings driving: while the vast, deep, sullen hum
Of myriads, calling in their turn for blood,
Horrific came upon him, as night-howl
Of famishing tiger. Madly, with both palms,
He pressed his face; and crushed, and flung them off;
Shrieking aloud: but, ere again his hands
He could uplift, fresh hundreds filled their place;
Fresh stings infixing: on his throat, and neck,
And breast they fell; and wheresoever else
They might find entrance,—therein shooting fire.
His hideous howlings told to those without
That Plague at last had caught him: and fierce joy
Uplifted them; for now they knew that soon
Would the sole help be summoned. 'Gainst the door,
Boldly then thrust they; hoping lock and bolt
To force, and win quick entrance: but in vain:
Firm as a rock it stood.
Of terror he stopped: for, suddenly as falls
Shadow on earth, when the thick-volumed cloud
Shoots, tempest-driven, across the noontide sun,—
So suddenly around him darkness fell,
And the Plague-roar burst forth. A hurried glance
Toward the close-draperied window cast he;—no—
Closed was it still,—no fly therein could come;
Yet was the chamber, even from floor to roof,
Filled with the Torment: and, as troops of wolves
Rush on the fallën steed,—even so on him,
From head to foot, the angry thousands poured,
Stings driving: while the vast, deep, sullen hum
Of myriads, calling in their turn for blood,
Horrific came upon him, as night-howl
Of famishing tiger. Madly, with both palms,
He pressed his face; and crushed, and flung them off;
Shrieking aloud: but, ere again his hands
He could uplift, fresh hundreds filled their place;
Fresh stings infixing: on his throat, and neck,
And breast they fell; and wheresoever else
They might find entrance,—therein shooting fire.
His hideous howlings told to those without
That Plague at last had caught him: and fierce joy
Uplifted them; for now they knew that soon
Would the sole help be summoned. 'Gainst the door,
Boldly then thrust they; hoping lock and bolt
To force, and win quick entrance: but in vain:
Firm as a rock it stood.
The king, meantime,
Like to a blind man groping,—yelling still,
And stamping as he went,—with arm outstretched,
Sought for the portal—leftward now—now right,—
Like to a drunkard reeling: till, at last,
Coming upon it, back he cast the bolts,—
The key wrenched round,—flung wide;—blind,—howling,—mad,—
Headlong rushed out; amid the thronging crowd
Forcing his way,—assured that in no place,
So fierce as whence he came, could be the plague.
230
And stamping as he went,—with arm outstretched,
Sought for the portal—leftward now—now right,—
Like to a drunkard reeling: till, at last,
Coming upon it, back he cast the bolts,—
The key wrenched round,—flung wide;—blind,—howling,—mad,—
Headlong rushed out; amid the thronging crowd
Forcing his way,—assured that in no place,
So fierce as whence he came, could be the plague.
| Israel in Egypt | |