University of Virginia Library

“On, on,” again he cried. The charioteer,
Wild with affright, shook the loose reins, and stamped,
And shouted to the horses. Tempest-fleet,
They battered the ground. Yet still, “on—on,” he cried;
For, over half the sky, the mountainous clouds
Had billowed; and, with din more terrible,
The hurricane roared; no longer over head
Sending its voice from far, but right to earth,
Heavy as water-floods dashing; that the steeds,—
Driven on like dust,—half flying, half with foot
Spurning the ground,—at speed brain-dizzying went.
Full with the wind they ran, or car and horse,
Down had been cast. The chariot, from the earth
Uplifted oft, as if for flight through air,
With wheels revolving sped,—then sank again,
Heavily jarring: but, with desperate gripe,
Still Sethos clung to the car; still round and round
Staring aghast: for, now, o'er all the heavens
Had swept the terrible gloom: the sun was quenched:
Day had seemed night, but that, from midst the clouds,
Like fierce eyes glancing, fiery meteors looked,
Impatient to be loosed. Heart-sick he saw,
The threat remembering; “Upon every man,
And beast, which in the field shall then be found,
And shall not be brought home, the hail shall come,
And they shall die!” And now for him no hope!
Goshen to reach, even at that tempest-speed,
Ere leaped on them the Plague, impossible!
Was there no shelter, then? no cave, no house,
No poorest hovel of even meanest man,
Wherein he might find safety? Eagerly,
By the red glimmerings aided, he looked forth:
Alas! nought saw he but uprooted shrubs,
Whirling along the ground; or, in mad flight,
Tossing in air; trees bending to the earth,
Writhing and twisting; huge limbs rent away;
And flying, light as leaves; old stubborn trunks,
That would not bow, struck down, as though a hand
Invisible, and almighty, with one blow
Had smitten them to earth. Mad with affright,
“On—on”—still shrieked he, though at blinding speed
The terrified horses flew: but his own voice
Scarce could he hear; in the hurricane's thunder-shout,
Small as the pipe of childhood. Back he looked:
Scattered behind him came the horsemen on,
Bowed to their horses' manes. Hastily then
Skyward he turned; for the black canopy,
Red suddenly grew,—cloud lightning against cloud,—
O'er all the arch of heaven, cloud, and red fire!
“On, on,” again he cried; and, shuddering, turned;
With starting eyeballs keenly peering out;
Hoping to see some shelter.

Far away,
Blazoned by lightning, a low house appeared.
Frantic for joy, he shrieked;—with quivering arm
Eagerly pointed; and still cried, “on, on.”
Again the charioteer, deliriously,
Stamped—shouted—shook the reins—and smote the steeds:—
Away,—away,—away:—and, for awhile,
Feebly yet glimmered hope. But, when again
Backward looked Sethos, scarce could he believe
What his eyes showed him; for, upon the rim
Of the horizon,—all on blaze with war
Of multitudinous lightnings,—seemed to fall
A shower terrific; not of rain, or hail,
But fire, white hot, as from the furnace pours
The melted iron. Rigid as in death,
And voiceless, stared he. Rapidly as cloud,
Low hanging, tempest-driven, sweeps overhead,—
So up the sky-arch mounted the dread Plague;
Sending before him mighty thunderings;
A thousand lightnings for his banner-flags,
The hurricane his trumpets.

Nigher still
As drew the Terror, lo! what fire had seemed,
Falling from heaven like rain,—now, likeness took
Of the dread Hail: and, even from north to south,
Spanning the plain, came on a mighty wave,
As of the storm-driven ocean,—cloud and fire
Mingled together, running on the ground.
And, as it nigher drew, even hurricane
And thunder deadened not the terrible crash
Of the down-pouring; for the Hail it was;
Masses of ice for hailstones, rugged and huge,
That dashed on earth,—shivered, and leaped, and hissed,
And whirled in air; billow-like rolling on;
A foam of ice-dust, lightning, hail, and rain,
Lashing together.

Franticly as clings
To his frail raft the drowning mariner,—
So, to the rocking, leaping, flying car,
As with the death-grip, clung the fear-crazed prince;
Eyes rivetted, jaws locked, while backward still
On the dire Terror he glared. But a glad cry
Aroused him, and he turned. His charioteer
Ardently pointed onward. Blessed sight!
Shelter at last was near him! the lone house,
Seen from afar; humble, yet strong; and, now,
More coveted than, brief hour back, had been
A palace of one gem. A very scream
Of rapture he sent; but, in the midst, broke off:
For, like a sword-stroke, ringing on his helm,
A hailstone smote; one solitary stone;
Sent forward from the Plague,—so might it seem,—
Him singling out for vengeance. Such his thought,
As, rising from the chariot's cavity,
Whereto he had been smitten, he looked out,
And, near him, no hail saw. Again he sat;
Griped with both hands the car; and anxiously
His eyes on the lone house fixed.

Soon, in the porch,
Women and men he spied,—with heads thrust forth,
Fearfully peering; and, with arm upraised,
One standing foremost, pointing earnestly.
Turning to look,—horror on horror,—lo!
The terrible Destroyer, nigh at hand,
Eagle-swift rushing on; its monstrous wave
Tearing along the ground, with noise more dread
Than stormiest ocean's thunder. But, where now,—
Where are the horsemen? Ha! he sees them still;
Scarce arrowflight distant,—almost chest to ground,
The horses stretching. But, far swifter yet
Comes on the Terror,—sending out afar
Vaunt-couriers fierce—wide-scattered hailstones, shot
Like spears of iron from a Titan's arm.
Struck as by thunderbolt, steed, or rider, falls,
And whirls along the ground. Still fly the rest;
Though, with even tempest-wafted falcon's speed,
Hopeless to 'scape......Anon, through all the din,
Pierces a dread sound,—shriek of man, and horse,
In the death-fear-spasm: then, his terrible foot,
The Plague flings out, and stamps them into dust!