University of Virginia Library


423

BOOK TWENTY-FIFTH.

Still, of her course, two hours had night to run;
Yet, for departure so had all prepared;
So the Egyptians, fearing worse might come,
With prayers, and costliest gifts, had urged them on,—
That every Hebrew who in Zoan dwelled,
And round about, already had set forth
Toward Succoth: for, while yet the month was young,
From Moses had the strict command been sent,
That, on the evening of the fifteenth day,
There should all Israel gather. With glad hearts
Then journeyed they: on horse, mule, camel, or ass,
Some riding; but the multitude on foot;
Men, women, youths, and girls; all staff in hand;
Food, raiment, at their backs; within their vests,
The jewels of silver, and gold, cups, armlets, rings;
And every thing of cost, by Egypt given;
Even such in value as had been the spoil
Of a rich city conquered.
In light carts,
And wagons, drawn by oxen, or by mules,—
The aged, the sick, the infants, and the lame,
By women tended lovingly, were borne:
Also their household things, most needed; tools
Of iron, and of wood, which, on the way,

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Chiefly would stead them,—hammer, spade, and saw,
Pickaxe, and iron bar; and spacious tents
For all the host of Israel.
Loosely ranked,
Yet not confused, went on the multitude:
But, in the midst, one band of vigorous men,—
From those select who in the Ethiop wars,
For Egypt, under Moses had drawn sword,—
In firm array, with warrior step marched on,
As if for battle; though nor sword, nor shield,
Nor any arms at all they had; but staffs
For travel only: their sole duty, now,
The bones of the great Patriarch to guard.
For, ere he died, had Joseph straightly sworn
The children of Israel, saying: “Surely God
Will visit you; and ye shall take my bones
Away hence with you.” Therefore, that same night,
While yet 'twas early, Moses from the ground,
Wherein it lay, the hallowed chest had raised:
And now, with all meet pomp funereal
Attended; in an ark-like car, mule-drawn,
The holy relics went.
Clear moonlight shone
On the great multitude; and, from their walls
As the Egyptians looked,—vast as the sound
Of far-off sea, came to them the deep hum
Of countless voices; the thick tramp of feet;
The roll of wheels; the bleating of the sheep;
The neigh of horses, and the oxen's low:
And, as they gazing stood, some, curses sent
Upon the Israelites; some, blessings prayed;
But all, as yet, were glad, that from the land,
At length they were departing: for a fear
On many had been that, even at the last,
As oft before, the proud king might recall
The promised grace; and, in return, might come
Plague even more horrible yet.
Morning drew near;
Pale waxed the moonlight; and the eastern sky
Its fires 'gan kindle. Louder and louder then

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Arose glad voices; for all hearts rejoiced;
Feeling that bondage was behind them now;
Before them, freedom, and hope. While on they sped,—
From north, and south, joined with them multitudes;
And, as they drew together, still went up
Long peals of exultation.
Toward the land
Of Goshen not yet half-way had they reached,
When, underneath a canopy of cloud,
Splendid, and many-hued as sea of gems,
Upsoared the lord of day; for weary years,
The first sun that on Israel had arisen,
Not seeing him a slave. And ne'er before
On him had Israel looked, and glory such,
Felt in his rising. Over all the sky,
Seemed that his rays, in letters of golden light,
Had written “Freedom:” in the air it was,
Like an ethereal wine; at every step,
Earth thrilled it through them; in the song of birds,
They heard it carolled; the leaves whispered it;
The streamlets hummed; the hill-tops sang aloud:
All earth, and the great arch of heaven, at once,
As with loud voice, the proclamation made,
Freedom to Israel!” Not one soul there was,—
Even of the sick, the aged, the suffering most,—
In which joy, like an inner sun, shone not.
Behind them was thick blackness; but, before,
Visions of glory for all life to come.
Thus on, yet slowly, went they; till, at length,
Nigh to the land of Goshen as they drew,—
Behold, descending from the mound, a host
Even as the stars in number! At that sight,
Joyfully shouted they; and, in reply,
Such clamor rose, that, with the double roar,
Air quivered; and the birds affrighted fled;
And, in the far off desert, the wild beast
Sprang up, and hearkened. Who in Zoan walked,
Stopped, and looked round, and marvelled at the din:
And even Pharaoh, from hot slumber waked,

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Sprang up, and listened. Dark then grew his brow,
And his heart throbbed: for, as in maddening dreams,
His pride and wrath to inflame, had Satan wrought,
Picturing of Israel's glory, his own shame,—
So now, though broad awake, and quick to hear,
Sense so the demon ruled, that, in the acclaim
Of meeting brethren,—love and joy alone
All speaking unto all,—the voice he heard
Of triumph, and of mockery. Laughter, too,
Distinct he heard,—the vast uproarious laugh
Of Israel's insolent myriads: over him,
Even him, the Splendor of the Sun, that dross
Daring to triumph!
Like the first small cloud
Above the horizon, telling storm at hand,—
Loomed on his soul the black thought that, even still,
Vengeance might seize them! But, as yet, worst rage,
By fear was mastered. “What if that same Power
Which, as with lightning, had the son shrunk up,—
Incensed anew, the father next should strike!”
Thought horrible! He shuddered; with both hands
His ears pressed closely,—the detested sound
All to shut out; then on the pillow sank,
Muttering; and waited till the din should cease.
Meantime, with swifter foot, as they drew nigh,
Both hosts of Israel moved; in van of each,
Elders, and priests, with all their families.
On a fleet steed, gift of Egyptian lord,
Rode Moses: and when, coming on, he saw,
'Mong other friends of old, those chosen ones,
Rachel, and Reuben, Kohath, Malachi,
And timid Sarah, now with joy all bright,—
Forth rode he cheerfully; and from his steed
Alighted: they, too, from their beasts sprang down;
With others, on both sides; and eagerly
Met in the midst, embracing, and embraced:
All blessing, by all blest. But, on that pair,
The maid and youth, chiefly were blessings poured;
And them, and all their kindred, Moses prayed

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Near to himself to journey,—so his eye
Ever might be upon them; from all harm,—
If possible harm were,—to guard them still.
Gladly consented they, and with him went:
And soon, though with slight order,—in one stream
The two great rivers mingled, and flowed on.
At eve, to Succoth came they; and new hosts
There waiting found: and still again went up
The peals of exultation. But, though great
That city, for one tenth of Israel
Room had it not. Of men for battle fit,
Six hundred thousand were they; of the rest,—
Old men, and youths, women, and girls, and babes,—
Four times that number: therefore on the plain,
All round the city, under tents they camped:
Their simple food took cheerfully: thanks, prayer,
And praise to God, with glowing hearts sent up:
Then, stretched on earth,—first free bed they had known;
Hard, yet more soft than down, with slavery,—
In happy slumber lay.
But, ere the sun
On the next morrow rose, all were astir,
Their journey to renew. Around him then,
From every tribe, the chief men Moses called,
And well instructed them, in fashion best
How such great host should move: confusion else
Must come upon them. After they had heard,
And well had understood,—each to his tribe
Swiftly returned. But, ere in order meet
For travel, all those myriads could be ranged,
The sun, high mounted, from a cloudless sky
Shone hotly on them; and their course was slow.
Toward Etham,—for a young and vigorous foot,
Not three hours' travel,—marched they; but, such toil
To women, to the young, and weak, it was,
That, ere they reached it, eve was drawing nigh.
Again upon the plain, each tribe apart,
As they had journeyed, joyfully they camped:

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Again their light food took; praise, prayer, again
To heaven sent up; and soon in sleep were wrapped.
Early at morning, once more summons went,—
The Elders, priests, and chief men of each tribe,
Calling together. When they all had met,—
Standing before them, Aaron at his side,
Thus Moses spake. “To Canaan, as ye know,
Finally go we: but, by way direct,
Permitted not: for, when at night I stood
On Horeb; and the voice of God had heard,
Commanding how to Pharaoh I should go,
And out of Egypt bring forth Israel,—
Then also thus it spake: ‘When thou hast brought
The people out of Egypt, on this mount
Shall ye serve God; and this a token shall be
That I have sent thee.’ Toward the holy hill
Therefore I led you,—not the nearer way
To promised Canaan, through Philistine land;
Wherein, moreover, enemies had we found,
Prompt to withstand us. But again the voice
Of the Lord God, even in the night just passed,
Hath come unto me, saying; ‘At morn speak thou
Unto the children of Israel, that they turn
Toward Pi-hahiroth, and before it camp,
'Twixt Migdol and the sea; right opposite
To Baal-zephon: by the sea-shore there,
Before it shall ye camp.’.....What more was said,
I tell not now: but ye shall see how God
Will His great Hand Omnipotent put forth
For full deliverance. Quickly, then, return;
And speak unto the people; that with haste
They get them ready: for the way is long;
And if, while day is young, they set not forth,
Within the wilderness of the Red Sea
Night will entangle them.”
Thus having said,
The assembly he dismissed: and, in brief time,
Throughout the host of Israel was it known
How God their course had ordered. With great joy

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Then made they ready; and, ere second hour
Of day had wasted,—in ten separate bands,
Each broad as a great river, they marched on.
The hum of their glad voices, and the tread
Of that vast multitude, was like the sound
Of storm amid the forest.
But, anon,
Fell on them a dead silence: for, behold!
A tower-like pillar, dark as thundercloud;
Higher than loftiest pine; solid as rock
Appearing,—yet foundationed not on earth,—
Suddenly stood before them! Every eye
In the same moment saw it; every foot
Hurriedly stopped; and every heart beat loud,
For marvel, and fear. But, heaven-taught, Moses knew
Therein a sign from Heaven; and, turning round,
His voice uplifted.
“Be ye not afraid,
Children of Israel; for, what ye behold,
A token is from God that His ye are,
And that He guideth you. Within yon cloud
God's angel is; and, wheresoe'er it move,
There must we follow; asking not of man
Whereto it leadeth; fearing not, though rock,
Or gulf, or roaring sea, lie in the way:
For, Him obeying, through the deep, unwet;
Through fire, unsinged; through pestilence, and sword,
Unharmed shall we go on. Bow therefore down,
And worship God: and, after ye have prayed,
Arise; and let all voices send to Heaven
Our chorus of thanksgiving.”
When he thus,
And with great voice, by thousands clearly heard,
Had spoken,—lighting from his horse, he kneeled,
Covered his face, and prayed. As he, so all:
And, like the moaning of a troubled sea,
Went up the sound of myriads,—with low voice,
Fervently worshipping. When they had risen,
And silent stood again—lifting his arm,
Moses began the song.

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Even from the time
Of Abraham, to all Israel had that hymn
Been as a heart-voice,—glory unto God,
Praise and thanksgiving rendering. Every soul,
At the first word, caught fervor; every voice
Outpoured it; the weak pipe of trembling age;
Manhood's deep organ, and the clarion breath
Of fiery-blooded youth; heart-thrilling tones
Of woman in her summer, and clear ring
Of maidens, and young boys; while, over all,—
Like a bright spray above that sea of sound,—
Went up, from tens of myriads, the sweet song
Of childhood innocent. Every quivering hand
Was lifted; every gleaming eye, tear-filled,
Heavenward was turned. As, to the eagle aloft,
Ascends the roar of ocean, tempest-torn,
So, unto listening angels, in mid sky,
Pealed up the hymn of that vast multitude.
The chorus ended: and, for little while,
Again all silent stood; tears wiping off,
Strength gathering; for, with that great ecstacy,
Even soul had seemed exhaling. Soon again
Was every head uplifted; every face
With a great joy was bright. Upon his beast
Sprang every rider; every foot moved on;
But every tongue was mute,—in such deep awe,
On the vast pillar of cloud all eyes were fixed,
Feeling God's angel there. Invisible
Its motion, yet before them still it went;
And, where it led, they followed.
At high noon,
Steadfast it stood. Moses the meaning knew,
And bade the trumpets sound. Joyfully all
The signal heard,—for weary and faint they were,—
Then took forth food, and drink; and on the ground,
Panting, yet cheerful, sat, and were refreshed;
And talked together of that wondrous sign,
And all their God's great mercies: then, at last,
Covering their heads, at full length lay them down:

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And soon o'er all that mighty multitude
A heavy slumber fell.
Three hours they slept;
But, by command of Moses summoned then,
'Gan waken: in a great amazement most,
Where they might be: yet, in a little while,
All to their feet arose; and eagerly
For the tower-pillar looked. There stood it still,
Sign of a present God, to guide and guard.
Unbidden, to the knee they sank, and prayed;
Then rose, and, waiting, stood; all in high hope;
By slumber sound refreshed; and in good heart
Their journey to renew: for now the sun,
By thick clouds mantled, poured no longer down
His withering fervor; and a fresh north wind
Brought lightness to their limbs. At length was heard
The silver trumpet's sound, signal of march;
And the vast host moved on.
Before them far,
Mountains, and rocks, they spied: and when, toward eve,
Nearer they drew, all marvelled; for, straight on,
As if to o'erclimb them, went the pillar of cloud;
And how might mortal follow! Silently,
And in deep awe, moved on the multitude:
Till, nigh the base of the hill-range arrived,
Rocks so precipitous saw they,—wings alone,
It seemed, might scale them. Still the cloud went on:
But, 'twixt the roots of two great hills, at last,
Pausing, wide passage showed. Prompt order then
Sent Moses, in what manner every tribe
Should enter; so, for easy march, might be
Free space to all. The tribe of Levi first,
In fit array went forward; and the cloud,
Which in the entrance of the gorge, till then,
Like a huge tower to bar the way, had stood,
Moved on before them. Tribe by tribe was formed;
Confused awhile, but orderly at last;
And, as commanded, marched. A wondrous length
Stretched out that human river,—flowing slow,
Yet not in silence; for the tread of man;

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The tramp of beasts; the roll and jar of wheels;
The voices of the myriads,—mid high rocks
Echoing, and echoed back,—loud seemed as roar
And boiling of great billows.
Ere one half
Had entered in the gorge, the sun went down;
And darkness quickly fell. But, then, behold,
Wonder of wonders! what, by day, had been
A pillar of cloud to marshal them the way,—
Suddenly, now, a pillar of fire became,
To guide them through the night! Like new-risen sun
It flamed; and on the low-hung vault of cloud
Cast crimson; that the mountain-tops shone out;
And the deep pass,—else steeped in blackest gloom,—
Lay clear for the free footstep. Wondering, paused
The myriads; and the hand of God, again
Put forth to aid them, saw. Even as one man,
In the same moment the whole multitude
Bent down the head, and worshipped.
The mid hour
Of night had come, ere, from the long defile,
The rearmost tribe had issued. Vanished then
The pillar of fire; and heavy darkness fell,
Earth and sea hiding. But, in little while,
As sight recovered, the clear-shining moon,
And glittering stars they saw; and, with glad hearts,
Their labors plied. Already on the plain
Myriads of tents stood pitched, ere from the pass
The rear had come; for still, as they arrived,
By Moses ordered, every tribe its place
In quiet took; and preparation made
To camp them for the night.
Soon, all was done:
Hunger and thirst were stayed; thanksgiving, prayer,
To God sent up; then, stretched upon the ground,
In the great fulness of their happiness,
To sleep serene they sank. On the vast plain
Near Pi-hahiroth, close unto the shore,
'Twixt Migdol and the sea; right opposite
To Baal-zephon, Israel lay encamped.

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No foot was now astir; no voice was heard;
No sound, save of the low, deep breath of sleep,
From all those numberless,—like the steady moan
Of night-wind mid some antique forest afar;
Or, sometimes, the faint plash of slow-paced wave,
Washing the pebbly shore; or distant howl
Of wild beast mid the mountains. Fear was none
In any soul of Israel: not one eye
Waked to behold the hills that shut them in
On every side; save where, worse barrier, lay
The impassable sea. None doubtful was, how thence
Might they depart; none of pursuit had dread:
Beneath a sky serene, and glorious,
With moon, and sun-like stars all burning bright,
Soundly they slept; and knew not that, even then,
The chariots of all Egypt, and the horse,
Hotly were gathering; that, like thunderbolts,
They might fall on them, and slay utterly;
Or to yet worse captivity drive back.