University of Virginia Library

“And what should Pharaoh see, now he doth look?”
After short silence said the king, displeased.
“What dost thou see?”

“The forelock of the storm,
Of which we warned thee, Pharaoh, do I see,”
Hophra made answer: “and the lowering brow,
Is mounting; and the whole dread shape, ere long,
Careering on the winds, will shadow earth.
See,—like dread Typhon rising from his throne,
Up soars the blackness. Fleetest desert-steed
Would fail to save thee, king, if on the plain
That demon should pursue thee.”

“Nought I see,”
Pharaoh made answer, “save such cloud, night-hued,
As oft, against the season of the rains,
From out the abyss beneath the earth ascends,
To herald their on-coming. In due time,—
At hour of noon, perchance,—that sable mass
Above our heads may sweep, and some broad drops
Cast down upon us. Meantime, toward the bath
Our easy course we take, be thou assured.
The threat of the great sorcerer I defied;
And yield not to thy tremblings.”

“Nay, O king,”
With firm voice Hophra answered; “for myself
Nought fear I,—but for thee. If go thou wilt,
Forbidden not, I go. Thunder, and rain,
And hailstones, not more heavy on my head
Than on thine own will fall. But, once again,
O Pharaoh, look. Even in this point of time,
How hath the Fury mounted! At such speed
If it hold on, plainly I tell thee, king,
The threshold of thy palace thou'lt not cross
Ere storm and thunder reach thee. Hark! the voice
Of angry winds already overhead,
Even in yon crystal sky....Thou hearëst it,
O Pharaoh, and yet stirr'st not; though 'tis note
Of death to him who scorns it. Ha! look! look!
Heaven is in flames: the great arch melts: see! see!
In fiery ruin it falls! A moment more,
And flight will be too late!”

Pale, breathless, mute,
Stood Pharaoh, looking on the coming Plague;
Heartsick with fear, and shame; yet iron-stiff
In native obduracy, so that power
To bend, none had he. But, around him now,
Trembling with fear, came rulers, lords, and priests,
Conjuring him to turn: and, with both hands,
Grasping his arm, his son, too, cried aloud,
Imploring him, and gently drawing back:
So that, though slowly, and reluctantly,
Homeward at length he moved.

But quicker foot
Soon found he; for the hurricane's first breath
Half overthrew, half lifted him from earth:
And from the dry ground, like a harrow, tore
Pebble, and sand; and in thick cloud drove on,
Like stone-shower from the sling. Arm locked in arm,—
For, singly, none had stood,—heads bowed, teeth clenched,
Sinews hard braced,—stunned, speechless, terror-struck,—
In one close mass, as 'gainst a torrent's force
Thrusting and struggling, onward labored they;
In midst of them the king.

'Gainst a strong wind,
As the deep-laden bark—her port in view—
Oft tacking, heavily rolling, staggering,
Holds on her difficult way,—so these, to the right
Now reeling, now to the left, still toward their goal
Stiffly bore on: and never mariners,
After long, perilous voyage, more rejoiced,
Their native harbour entering, than did these,
When, panting, crushing, through the palace door
They crowded in at last. Even then, from stroke
Of Plague's fierce arm, as though not safe enough,—
Hurriedly toward the hall's remotest end,
Prince, priests, and sorcerers ran: and silent stood;
Listening, and trembling.

But, with lowering brow,
To no man speaking,—for great wrath and shame
Burned in him, when of his proud boasts and mocks,
Thus ending, he bethought him,—Pharaoh straight
Toward his own chamber sped; that privily
To rage he might give loose; and, all alone,
On the coming Plague look out. Yet, as he went,
To his servants cried he out; “Send to the field.
Bid that all cattle therein be brought home:
Let not a hoof be left. Instantly send;
Else will all perish.”

But too late the word!
For, when he gained his chamber, and looked forth,—
Not far away, like bars of steel white-hot,
From cloud to earth ran down the fire-lit hail;
Thunders before it coming, and great blasts,
That all the palace shook.

With piercing shrieks,—
Yet, in that hurly, small as infant's wail,—
The queen, and her two daughters, pale as death,
Rushed in the chamber; fell upon their knees:
Uplifted trembling hands, and piteously called,
Imploring him. But, in that uproar, nought
Heard he, or cared to hear. Suddenly then
Sirois upstarted,—grasped his arm,—her face,
All wild with terror, lifted,—drew him down,—
Close to his ear put her white quivering lips,
And cried out franticly; “Oh Pharaoh dear,
Why didst thou mock me when I prayed of thee
To let the Hebrews go! Thou canst not stand
Against their terrible God! Six fearful plagues
Already hath he sent; and now a seventh,
More dreadful far, is coming. Ere it fall,
Send thou to Moses; I beseech thee send;
Else, such destruction as....”

Her speech to stop,
Pharaoh his hand uplifted; shook the head,
And turned away,—anger, and shame, and pride,
O'er mastering him. But every moment now
More terrible grew the roar of hurricane,
The thunder, and the thickening lightning's flash;
And yet again, by the arm seizing him,
Into his ear she shrieked.

“Oh, Pharaoh, send—
Send, ere too late. The ever blessed gods
So have disposed, that, in this very house,
With thy dear father's sister, Moses sits
At morning meal,—invited yester-eve;
For the old love she bears him. Aaron too,
The high priest, with them sits. Oh! send thou, then,
I do implore thee, Pharaoh.....”

Uttering cries
As of death-torment, suddenly she ceased,
And dropped upon the knee; with hand on floor,
A moment stayed herself,—then, senseless all,
Rolled back, and lay as dead. Shrieking, down sank
Her daughters also. The astounded king,
Staggering, and cowering, trembling, wailing, ran;
Fell on a couch, and, with sharp-quivering hands,
Covered his face: for, in one moment, burst
The Plague in all its wrath; lightning in floods,—
Cataracts for rain,—and hail that, like the clang
Of myriad iron hammers, on the roof
And walls brought trembling. As the very world
Were in its death-throes, and the elements
Rending asunder,—ocean, sky, and earth,
In horrible uproar battling,—seemed the din.
Stopping his ears, he sat, and glared around,
As if to see when walls should topple down;
Or the whole palace, like a stone cast forth
Into deep water, sink within the earth!
All plagues, to this, seemed light. One single hour
Should it endure, Egypt a waste would be.
Submit he must. Nerving himself, he rose,
To seek the Hebrews. But, ere step he took,—
Behold, as, terror-stunned, will lamb and kid
With lions mingle,—so, all form forgot,
Even in the royal chamber, yelling, poured
Priests, rulers, sorcerers, princes, serving-men,
Crowded together; fell before his feet;
Lifted their quivering hands, and cried to him.
Words he heard none; but saw their moving lips,
And their speech guessed. To one of them signed then;
And, when the man arose, close to his ear
His voice uplift to the highest, and thus cried.
“At table with my father's sister, sit
Moses and Aaron, at the morning meal.
Fly to her chamber: bid them hither haste;
Even on the instant: the king waiteth them.”