Israel in Egypt :: :: University of Virginia Library

Slackened at all. Me,—some loud praises given,
While their first joy was flush,—the priests and lords
Soon 'gan to hate; and into Pharaoh's heart
Their venom poured, that also he, at length,
Turned on me the cold face.”

“But he is dead,
Resumed the questioner: “this present king,
Sesostris, haply, hath with juster hand
Dealt toward thy people: five years hath he now
Filled Egypt's throne; and, if not all your bonds
He hath cast from you, yet, what most did gall,
Doubtless he hath struck off. In few words tell,
What acts of justice, or of gratitude,
Hath he shown toward them.”

“I am ignorant
If such have been at all,” with look deject,
Then Moses answered: “for, these two score years,
In a far distant country have I dwelt;
And but at sunset of the tenth day past,
Hither returned: nor of one righteous act,
By Pharaoh to our suffering people done,
As yet have heard report. Nay, heavier bonds
Of late hath he cast on them; in his rage
That, by commandment from on high, I craved,
A three days' journey in the wilderness
That we might go; and offer sacrifice
Unto the Lord our God.”

“A savage deed!”
Exclaimed the dark-hued phantom of a king;
“And vengeance on him, surely will ye all
Laugh out to see. But, absent so long years,
Of Ethiopia's wondrous history
Perchance thou nought hast heard; nor what the might
Unequalled she hath gained. No power of earth
Before her now could stand. In me behold
Her king, Amosis,—for my father sleeps
These ten years in his tomb: in these behold,—
Ay, Moses—for a warrior's ken is thine—
Look on them,—hence, to where in distance lost;

Though, then, not half their numbers dost thou see,—
What think'st thou of such arms, such steeds, such men?
Is there on earth a power 'gainst these to brave
One stroke in battle? And, for Egypt's king,
With all his legions, dare he a moment bide
The sun-flash of their swords?”

“Beyond compare
With aught mine eyes have seen, is this great force,”
Moses made answer—“as by look adjudged;
By seeming strength, stature, and multitude.
But, not to strength, and multitude, alone,
Is victory alway given: the soldier's heart,
The leader's wisdom, yet a greater might
Than number, and the bulk of body give.
Small hosts, well led, and ardent for their cause,
Have vanquished greater far, when cold the heart,
Or dim the eye, of soldier, or of chief,—
As slender steel more strong than bulky wood,
Unsound within.”

A moment, thoughtful sat
The seeming king; then lightly from his car,
Leaped to the ground; close unto Moses went;
And, his gigantic form down bending, thus,
With voice suppressed, began.

“Thy words are gold,
To whoso' right receives them. Best of strength,
Truly, in bulk, or multitude, is not;
But in the spirit, and wisdom. Hear me now,
Moses—for thou, I know, of living men,
Far wisest, bravest art: and of this land,
By merit, king shouldst be, in place of him,
The ingrate, who therein had never ruled,—
Thine aid withheld. And, haply, even yet,—
Thy wonted wisdom failing not,—his throne
May have more fit possessor. Hearken now;
And weigh what thou shalt hear. Thou see'st this force
'Gainst Egypt come; giants of iron frame,
And numberless as sands on ocean's shore.
Nought, surely, can resist us. Yet, thy words
Thoughts have awaked, that else perchance had slept.

Not might alone, how vast soe'er the odds,
Gives alway victory. The eagle eye
Of a wise leader must the arm direct,
Or even oak-splitting blow may cleave but air.
Myself, though king, the warrior's wisdom lack:
And he, the unconquered captain of our host,
This morn by death was smitten. 'Mongst us all,
No chief like him,—wise, subtle; in the arts
Of war accomplished perfectly,—remains.
Not less, doubt can be none, beneath such force
Must all opposal sink, as, 'neath the foot
Of Mammoth,—even though blind, and running wild,—
Sheep, wolves, nay, lions, if before his path,
A moment they should stand. But, yet more sure
The sure to make,—keen eye, and wisdom deep,
Even Mammoth force should guide. Now, Moses, mark.
The wisdom, warlike lore, which so we need,
Thou, more than all men, hast. Bethink thee, then,
How with thy people is it; with thyself;
What ye have suffered; what ye suffer still;
What more will suffer, if that heartless king,
That cruel race of Egypt, still shall hold
The mastery o'er you. Pictured all these woes,—
Paint next in fancy, what ye shall become,
If thou, even thou alone, wilt aid to wrench
The sceptre from his grasp; and on them put
The chains which wrongfully on you they flung.
I ask not, of your people, that one man,
Thyself except, draw sword. Thy single deed,
Merit for all shall stand: and every man,
Woman, and child of Israel, shall be free:
Not from slave-bondage only, but, to go
Whereso' they will; to any land on earth,
Whither they would. Thy guidance in the war
Is all I ask. Of this unequalled host,
The captain would I name thee. To thy rule,
Sole, irresponsible, would all submit.
What recompense thou wouldst,—that boldly name,
And hold it granted. Yet, lest over-nice,
And diffident thou be, reward to ask,

Hear now my own resolve. The victory won,—
As won it must be, strength by wisdom led,—
To thee the throne of Egypt will I give;
Subject to Ethiopia though it be,
Yet great and wealthy still, most lands beyond;—
And, with it, treasure that might rear a pile
More vast than proudest pyramid,—thy name
To blazon through the world. Yet, more than this;
My youngest daughter, fairer than the flowers
Of spring-time, will I give thee for a wife;
Her dower, a mine of gold. This to refuse,
Thy wisdom, world-wide famed, would bring in doubt;
Thy justice also; for, toward Egypt, nought,
Save enmity, can thou, and Israel feel:
Nought owe, save retribution for foul wrongs;
Which not to punish, power within your hands,
Would be to approve, and make the guilt your own.
This also weighed must be: if obstinate
Thou stand; to Egypt, rather than to us,
Intent thine aid to give,—then, both thyself,
And all thy people, enemies must we hold;
And so deal with you. Honor, on one side,
Advantage great, and freedom to thy race;—
Unto thyself a kingdom, and a queen,
Glory and riches, and a deathless fame,—
All cry aloud upon thee to be ours:
While, on the other side, a hideous voice
Croaks strange allurements; memory of deep wrongs;
Of burthens, scourges, hunger, thirst, and toil,
And chains,—sole thanks as yet from Egypt, saved,
To Israel, his saviour; and sole thanks
For all the years to come. Th' alternate such,
Useless thy choice to ask; for wise thou art,
And canst not,—gold, and dirt, for preference placed
Within thy reach,—take filth, and gold refuse.
My captain therefore art thou; leader sole
Of this all-conquering host; and, few days hence,
King destined to become. My car then mount:
As king with king, beside me take thy seat;
And, while we move, thy counsels in mine ear

Freely pour forth.”

There paused the phantom shape;
And, as though answer he expected not,
And doubt impossible were,—with lordly grace,
His hand extending, as to honored guest
Yielding precedence,—toward the chariot signed.