The Exodiad, A Poem By the authors of Calvary and Richard the First [i.e. James Bland Burges] |
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| 3. | BOOK THE THIRD. |
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 | The Exodiad, A Poem |  |
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BOOK THE THIRD.
ARGUMENT.
THE Amalekites are dispersed—Joshua, being wounded in the battle, is visited by Moses and is healed—The altar Jehovah-nissi is built—Perpetual war with Amalek is denounced— Korah confers with the son of Peleth and declaims against Moses—Jethro arrives with the wife and two sons of Moses— Moses entertains him—Jethro addresses the People and departs —Moses admonishes Korah of his danger—The People come to Sinai—They are prepared against the third day—The fearful presence of God upon the mount—Moses receives from God the ten commandments, and recites them to the People.
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THE fight was o'er; the victors kept the field,
The vanquisht to their mountain-holds were fled
On their swift horses, broken and dispers'd:
Silent they straggled o'er the sandy waste;
Horror in every face, on every side
Their wounded comrades writhing in the dust
Where was their vaunting? Where the proud array
And martial pomp, in which they issu'd forth
Under the standard of their haughty king,
Now number'd with the dead? Israel the whilst
Stood firm, and with the clarion's loud recall
Gave warning to the legions to forbear
Fruitless pursuit: the archer slung his bow,
The weary soldier rested on his spear,
And from the barrier-top, where he had sate
Spectator of the fight, Moses came down
To hail the victory, purchas'd by his prayers.
The vanquisht to their mountain-holds were fled
On their swift horses, broken and dispers'd:
Silent they straggled o'er the sandy waste;
Horror in every face, on every side
Their wounded comrades writhing in the dust
Where was their vaunting? Where the proud array
And martial pomp, in which they issu'd forth
Under the standard of their haughty king,
Now number'd with the dead? Israel the whilst
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Gave warning to the legions to forbear
Fruitless pursuit: the archer slung his bow,
The weary soldier rested on his spear,
And from the barrier-top, where he had sate
Spectator of the fight, Moses came down
To hail the victory, purchas'd by his prayers.
Led by Ahiezer, the halted tribes
Rush'd through the rocky pass, and fill'd the plain,
Where, as at first, the host four-fronted stood.
Through all the ranks of Judah ran the cry—
“Why comes not Joshua forth? What stays the chief?
Where is our leader? What unhappy chance
Forbids us to behold him, to embrace
His knees, and crown him with applauding shouts?”
Rush'd through the rocky pass, and fill'd the plain,
Where, as at first, the host four-fronted stood.
Through all the ranks of Judah ran the cry—
“Why comes not Joshua forth? What stays the chief?
Where is our leader? What unhappy chance
Forbids us to behold him, to embrace
His knees, and crown him with applauding shouts?”
“Faint are the hopes I cherish, Nahshon said,
And sad the tidings I must needs report
Of life so dear to Israel”—“Cease complaint,
Moses exclaim'd, (for unobserv'd his ear
Had caught the mournful words) let none despair:
God is all merciful”—and forth he went
To seek him and to ask his life of God,
For much he lov'd the man. There when he came,
Stretcht on his couch the fainting hero lay;
There too Elishama, all o'er besprent
With blood, and gasht with honourable wounds,
In death-like trance was wrapp'd. Beside the couch,
Watching the languid breathings of his friend,
In sad and pensive silence Caleb sate:
The outer-tent display'd an armed throng
Of warrior-princes, anxious to enquire
The fate of their brave champion, whilst around
Great was the press; for there upon his bier
Arabia's king, in golden armour clad,
A corpse gigantic, was expos'd to view;
Frowning he laid, and dreadful e'en in death.
And sad the tidings I must needs report
Of life so dear to Israel”—“Cease complaint,
Moses exclaim'd, (for unobserv'd his ear
Had caught the mournful words) let none despair:
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To seek him and to ask his life of God,
For much he lov'd the man. There when he came,
Stretcht on his couch the fainting hero lay;
There too Elishama, all o'er besprent
With blood, and gasht with honourable wounds,
In death-like trance was wrapp'd. Beside the couch,
Watching the languid breathings of his friend,
In sad and pensive silence Caleb sate:
The outer-tent display'd an armed throng
Of warrior-princes, anxious to enquire
The fate of their brave champion, whilst around
Great was the press; for there upon his bier
Arabia's king, in golden armour clad,
A corpse gigantic, was expos'd to view;
Frowning he laid, and dreadful e'en in death.
Moses approach'd: the princes and the chiefs
Fell back and left him passage—“Hail, they cried,
Favour'd of Heav'n, all hail! Father, entreat
The Lord of mercy for thy dying son;
Let not the light of Israel be put out:
Oh, enter and restore him!” “What am I,
Moses replied, to ask the life of man,
The limit of whose days is with the Lord?
To whom is Joshua dearer than to me?
Therefore retire; encroach not on the tent:
It may be God shall listen to my prayer,
And our dear friend shall live.”—This said, he pass'd
In silence on; Caleb arose; the seer
Approach'd and took the sick man's hand, and rais'd
His tearful eyes to Heav'n—The healing charm
In a soft breeze descended on the tent,
And, eddying to the couch where Joshua lay,
Breath'd its balsamic health into his veins,
And calm'd his aching wounds; when, as he felt
The thrilling virtue coursing to his heart,
As if from sleep arous'd, he started, gaz'd,
And lo, before him stood the reverend form
Of the heav'n-gifted seer—“Joshua, he cried,
The Lord, who gave thee victory, gives thee life
And health and strength renew'd. Thou must abide,
But I must pass away: in the Lord's name
Wond'rous will be the things that thou shalt do:
When God hath put the word into thy heart,
The very stars of Heav'n shall hear thy voice;
I see the sun stand still at thy command,
Pois'd in the firmament. Great shalt thou be,
When I, who bid thee live, shall live no more,
And this mortality shall turn to dust;
But give not then unto thyself the praise,
Give it to God, and glorify his name.”—
Fell back and left him passage—“Hail, they cried,
Favour'd of Heav'n, all hail! Father, entreat
The Lord of mercy for thy dying son;
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Oh, enter and restore him!” “What am I,
Moses replied, to ask the life of man,
The limit of whose days is with the Lord?
To whom is Joshua dearer than to me?
Therefore retire; encroach not on the tent:
It may be God shall listen to my prayer,
And our dear friend shall live.”—This said, he pass'd
In silence on; Caleb arose; the seer
Approach'd and took the sick man's hand, and rais'd
His tearful eyes to Heav'n—The healing charm
In a soft breeze descended on the tent,
And, eddying to the couch where Joshua lay,
Breath'd its balsamic health into his veins,
And calm'd his aching wounds; when, as he felt
The thrilling virtue coursing to his heart,
As if from sleep arous'd, he started, gaz'd,
And lo, before him stood the reverend form
Of the heav'n-gifted seer—“Joshua, he cried,
The Lord, who gave thee victory, gives thee life
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But I must pass away: in the Lord's name
Wond'rous will be the things that thou shalt do:
When God hath put the word into thy heart,
The very stars of Heav'n shall hear thy voice;
I see the sun stand still at thy command,
Pois'd in the firmament. Great shalt thou be,
When I, who bid thee live, shall live no more,
And this mortality shall turn to dust;
But give not then unto thyself the praise,
Give it to God, and glorify his name.”—
Thus spake the prophet, in the spirit of God
Revealing things to come, auspicious scenes
Of future glory, to th' astonisht sense
Of the reviving hero. He the whilst
Rais'd on his couch, in fixt attention heard
The heav'n-inspir'd disclosure of his fate,
And, for a time abstracted, seem'd as one,
Whose thoughts had wander'd into other worlds;
When after pause he thus address'd the seer.
Revealing things to come, auspicious scenes
Of future glory, to th' astonisht sense
Of the reviving hero. He the whilst
Rais'd on his couch, in fixt attention heard
The heav'n-inspir'd disclosure of his fate,
And, for a time abstracted, seem'd as one,
Whose thoughts had wander'd into other worlds;
When after pause he thus address'd the seer.
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“But that I know thy truth, and feel the power,
Thy presence hath to stay the hand of death,
Cold at my heart but now, hard to believe,
And far above my reason would appear
The things, which thou foretellest shall be done
Of me, a frail weak mortal; but when now
I rise, as if resurgent from the grave;
When I perceive and know that thou art he,
Whom God hath sent to manifest his power,
And execute his promise to the sons
Of Jacob; when, as in this day, I see
His vengeance wreak'd on the rebellious hordes,
Who hallow idol gods with rites impure,
Can I, who live but on the breath He gives,
Presume as of myself to think or act
But in the furtherance of his gracious will,
And by the aid of his almighty power?
What He now wills, I am; what He decrees
Hereafter I shall be; when He withdraws
My breath, I know this body shall return
To the insensate clay, of which I am.
The glory then I gain rests not with me;
It cannot with corruption make abode;
It is not earthly, it belongs to Heaven.
And now forgive me, gracious as thou art,
If I presume to hope thou art not come,
With power by God all-merciful endow'd,
To heal me only: was it I alone,
Who turn'd the fate of battle? Omar fell
By Caleb's conqu'ring sword; his shield preserv'd
The brave Elishama, when sinking fast
In th' arms of victory, by his valour won:
Turn thine eyes thither, and behold the wreck
Of him, so dreadful to the foes of God.
Shall I revive, and must that hero die?
Oh brave Elishama, thy manly breast
Still heaves in agony, whilst mine is free;
Thy gaping wounds still open their dumb mouths,
And plead to share the balm, that makes me whole.”
Thy presence hath to stay the hand of death,
Cold at my heart but now, hard to believe,
And far above my reason would appear
The things, which thou foretellest shall be done
Of me, a frail weak mortal; but when now
I rise, as if resurgent from the grave;
When I perceive and know that thou art he,
Whom God hath sent to manifest his power,
And execute his promise to the sons
Of Jacob; when, as in this day, I see
His vengeance wreak'd on the rebellious hordes,
Who hallow idol gods with rites impure,
Can I, who live but on the breath He gives,
Presume as of myself to think or act
But in the furtherance of his gracious will,
And by the aid of his almighty power?
What He now wills, I am; what He decrees
Hereafter I shall be; when He withdraws
My breath, I know this body shall return
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The glory then I gain rests not with me;
It cannot with corruption make abode;
It is not earthly, it belongs to Heaven.
And now forgive me, gracious as thou art,
If I presume to hope thou art not come,
With power by God all-merciful endow'd,
To heal me only: was it I alone,
Who turn'd the fate of battle? Omar fell
By Caleb's conqu'ring sword; his shield preserv'd
The brave Elishama, when sinking fast
In th' arms of victory, by his valour won:
Turn thine eyes thither, and behold the wreck
Of him, so dreadful to the foes of God.
Shall I revive, and must that hero die?
Oh brave Elishama, thy manly breast
Still heaves in agony, whilst mine is free;
Thy gaping wounds still open their dumb mouths,
And plead to share the balm, that makes me whole.”
He said, and on the meek diviner cast
Such a beseeching look, and dropt a tear
On his pale cheek so eloquently mute,
That Moses, eager to assuage his grief,—
“Fear not, my son, replied: God will forgive
The importunity of him, who pleads
For an afflicted brother, and I feel,
By the impressive witness in my heart,
That thy accepted pray'r is with the Lord,
And will bring down like healing with thine own.
Though sorely wounded is Manasseh's chief,
And deep the trance, that locks his senses up,
His sleep is not to death; and know withal,
That he, who eats of that celestial dew,
Which angels feed upon, hath in his blood
An antidote so pure, that, though the sword
May gash, no canker can infect the wound.
And now arise!”—This said, he took the hand
Of the delighted chief, and rais'd him up.
Erect the hero stood: him Caleb saw,
And his brave heart with generous transport glow'd.
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On his pale cheek so eloquently mute,
That Moses, eager to assuage his grief,—
“Fear not, my son, replied: God will forgive
The importunity of him, who pleads
For an afflicted brother, and I feel,
By the impressive witness in my heart,
That thy accepted pray'r is with the Lord,
And will bring down like healing with thine own.
Though sorely wounded is Manasseh's chief,
And deep the trance, that locks his senses up,
His sleep is not to death; and know withal,
That he, who eats of that celestial dew,
Which angels feed upon, hath in his blood
An antidote so pure, that, though the sword
May gash, no canker can infect the wound.
And now arise!”—This said, he took the hand
Of the delighted chief, and rais'd him up.
Erect the hero stood: him Caleb saw,
And his brave heart with generous transport glow'd.
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Forth from the tent they issu'd, and behold
An altar, so ordain'd of Moses, stood
In centre of the plain. Hither they came,
And thus, when all was still, the prophet spake—
“Sacred to God our Banner we erect
This tributary altar, to record
To after-ages, that we gave the praise
To Him, Jehovah-nissi, in whose name
We fought and conquer'd. Now let Israel hear
What He, the judge all-righteous, hath decreed:
No peace shall be with Amalek. He died,
As he had liv'd, in blood; his sin is rank;
His bold defiance of the Lord your God
Hath from the book of mercy struck his name,
And Israel must not make forbidden truce
With his apostate hordes, who, from the faith
Of holy Abr'ham swerving, hath decreed
Altars, oblations, rites profane and vile
To Chemos, and renounc'd his father's God:
Too long hath his intolerable pride
Been suffer'd to usurp the bleeding earth,
And tread the nations down; the sun, the moon
And the chaste stars have sicken'd to behold
Crimes so unnatural, orgies so accurst:
Therefore, O Joshua, in the name of Him,
Who gave thee life and victory, I require,
That on this altar thou shalt lay thine hand,
And swear, that whilst thou hold'st command supreme
Over the armies of the living God,
Thou never wilt admit into thy peace
The impious race of Amalek.”—He said;
The chief approach'd, the solemn vow was pledg'd,
The ministers levitical retir'd,
And evening warn'd the weary host to rest.
An altar, so ordain'd of Moses, stood
In centre of the plain. Hither they came,
And thus, when all was still, the prophet spake—
“Sacred to God our Banner we erect
This tributary altar, to record
To after-ages, that we gave the praise
To Him, Jehovah-nissi, in whose name
We fought and conquer'd. Now let Israel hear
What He, the judge all-righteous, hath decreed:
No peace shall be with Amalek. He died,
As he had liv'd, in blood; his sin is rank;
His bold defiance of the Lord your God
Hath from the book of mercy struck his name,
And Israel must not make forbidden truce
With his apostate hordes, who, from the faith
Of holy Abr'ham swerving, hath decreed
Altars, oblations, rites profane and vile
To Chemos, and renounc'd his father's God:
Too long hath his intolerable pride
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And tread the nations down; the sun, the moon
And the chaste stars have sicken'd to behold
Crimes so unnatural, orgies so accurst:
Therefore, O Joshua, in the name of Him,
Who gave thee life and victory, I require,
That on this altar thou shalt lay thine hand,
And swear, that whilst thou hold'st command supreme
Over the armies of the living God,
Thou never wilt admit into thy peace
The impious race of Amalek.”—He said;
The chief approach'd, the solemn vow was pledg'd,
The ministers levitical retir'd,
And evening warn'd the weary host to rest.
Not so with Korah. Envy knows no rest;
Rebellion will not let the eyelids close
In peaceful slumbers. He had heard the words
Of Moses, and his malice straight devis'd
A specious argument, whereby to build
Treach'rous conclusions on fair-seeming truths:
For there are men so impiously perverse,
They will arraign the providence of God,
When He forbears to punish; when He strikes,
Dispute his justice, and affect to find
In their own hearts more mercy than in Heaven.
Rebellion will not let the eyelids close
In peaceful slumbers. He had heard the words
Of Moses, and his malice straight devis'd
A specious argument, whereby to build
Treach'rous conclusions on fair-seeming truths:
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They will arraign the providence of God,
When He forbears to punish; when He strikes,
Dispute his justice, and affect to find
In their own hearts more mercy than in Heaven.
Soon as the morning dawn'd the assembled tribes
Across Rephidim's plain, whence all were fled,
Tow'rds Sinai's desart northward turn'd their course,
When to the son of Peleth in the front
Of Reuben, where he march'd, thus Korah spake—
Across Rephidim's plain, whence all were fled,
Tow'rds Sinai's desart northward turn'd their course,
When to the son of Peleth in the front
Of Reuben, where he march'd, thus Korah spake—
“Warrior, you see how fast the nations sink
Before our conqu'ring standard; you have heard
The doom of Amalek, by him pronounc'd,
Who is our Israel's oracle, and seal'd
By Joshua on God's altar with an oath.
Not one must live of Esau's hapless race;
Nor age, nor sex, nor innocence can save,
But e'en the harmless nursling at the breast
Must perish with the mother, dreadful doom!
If this be so as Moses hath decreed,
And general carnage is announc'd from Heav'n,
Where shall we look for mercy? Have these plains
Not drank so deeply of their masters' blood,
But we must drain from infants their small store,
And wring the last faint drop from wrinkled age,
To perfect a libation full and fit—
What shall I say? For God?—No, God forbid!
For Moses, for a plume of deeper dye
To crown the helm of Joshua, and replace
That crest, which Amalek's keen falchion cleft?
The sentence I have heard, but tell me now,
For I am yet to learn, what is the sin
Of this unhappy people: in past time
Jacob did homage to them, brought them gifts,
As to his brethren of the elder stock:
They envied not his store, they had enough,
And but for his entreaty had declin'd
The tributary offerings of his flock:
They were the stronger then; his wives, his babes,
His all was in their pow'r; but they were kind
And merciful, and to our fathers gave
That peace, which to their sons we now deny.
What if the gods they worship be no gods,
They do but follow where their fathers trode,
And what they taught believe; if so they sin,
Then is obedience guilt. Moses to them
Is not a lawgiver, hath not divulg'd,
As unto us, his conference with God
At Horeb's mount; and, if he had, perchance
He might have found them of less easy faith
Than we, the humblest of his subjects, are,
Not daring of ourselves to act, or speak,
Or think but as he wills, who makes revenge
A virtue, and to desolate mankind
A sacrifice acceptable to Heaven—.”
Before our conqu'ring standard; you have heard
The doom of Amalek, by him pronounc'd,
Who is our Israel's oracle, and seal'd
By Joshua on God's altar with an oath.
Not one must live of Esau's hapless race;
Nor age, nor sex, nor innocence can save,
But e'en the harmless nursling at the breast
Must perish with the mother, dreadful doom!
If this be so as Moses hath decreed,
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Where shall we look for mercy? Have these plains
Not drank so deeply of their masters' blood,
But we must drain from infants their small store,
And wring the last faint drop from wrinkled age,
To perfect a libation full and fit—
What shall I say? For God?—No, God forbid!
For Moses, for a plume of deeper dye
To crown the helm of Joshua, and replace
That crest, which Amalek's keen falchion cleft?
The sentence I have heard, but tell me now,
For I am yet to learn, what is the sin
Of this unhappy people: in past time
Jacob did homage to them, brought them gifts,
As to his brethren of the elder stock:
They envied not his store, they had enough,
And but for his entreaty had declin'd
The tributary offerings of his flock:
They were the stronger then; his wives, his babes,
His all was in their pow'r; but they were kind
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That peace, which to their sons we now deny.
What if the gods they worship be no gods,
They do but follow where their fathers trode,
And what they taught believe; if so they sin,
Then is obedience guilt. Moses to them
Is not a lawgiver, hath not divulg'd,
As unto us, his conference with God
At Horeb's mount; and, if he had, perchance
He might have found them of less easy faith
Than we, the humblest of his subjects, are,
Not daring of ourselves to act, or speak,
Or think but as he wills, who makes revenge
A virtue, and to desolate mankind
A sacrifice acceptable to Heaven—.”
Thus spake the glozing hypocrite, and strove
With the vain mock'ry of compassion, feign'd,
Not felt, to varnish o'er his rancour foul.—
With the vain mock'ry of compassion, feign'd,
Not felt, to varnish o'er his rancour foul.—
“Father, replied the chief, with me and some
Of Reuben's elder tribe, who weigh men's words,
All is not oracle, that Moses speaks.
When cruelty is sanction'd, I must doubt,
If what I'm taught to think that God abhors,
And human reason starts from, can be right;
Therefore my sword shall sleep within its shell,
And Moses must not rail if I refuse
To stab the wretch, that kneels to me for life,
Or mingle blood of babes with mothers' milk,
Although some young idolater may live
To sacrifice to Chemos. If the will
Of God had been to exterminate the race,
His pestilence had swept them from the earth,
And cruelties more dire, than ere disgrac'd
The worshippers of Moloch had been spar'd.
I and my tribe without the barrier stood;
We heard the din of arms, but neither shar'd,
Nor saw the battle. We are not of those,
Whom Moses favours; Joshua hath his heart,
And Judah holds possession of the van.
I saw the corpse of Amalek expos'd
Before the conqu'ror's tent: I envied not
His fame, nor Caleb's, nor the glorious wounds
Of brave Elishama; alike conceal'd
The quarrel and the contest were from me.”—
Of Reuben's elder tribe, who weigh men's words,
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When cruelty is sanction'd, I must doubt,
If what I'm taught to think that God abhors,
And human reason starts from, can be right;
Therefore my sword shall sleep within its shell,
And Moses must not rail if I refuse
To stab the wretch, that kneels to me for life,
Or mingle blood of babes with mothers' milk,
Although some young idolater may live
To sacrifice to Chemos. If the will
Of God had been to exterminate the race,
His pestilence had swept them from the earth,
And cruelties more dire, than ere disgrac'd
The worshippers of Moloch had been spar'd.
I and my tribe without the barrier stood;
We heard the din of arms, but neither shar'd,
Nor saw the battle. We are not of those,
Whom Moses favours; Joshua hath his heart,
And Judah holds possession of the van.
I saw the corpse of Amalek expos'd
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His fame, nor Caleb's, nor the glorious wounds
Of brave Elishama; alike conceal'd
The quarrel and the contest were from me.”—
He paus'd; when Korah, eager to secure
A proselyte, so apt to catch the spark
By his imposing sophistry struck out,
And kindle into open discontent,
Thus with fresh spleen resum'd his taunting theme—
A proselyte, so apt to catch the spark
By his imposing sophistry struck out,
And kindle into open discontent,
Thus with fresh spleen resum'd his taunting theme—
“Ambition urges rival states to war;
Men fight for spoil, for plunder, for increase
Of commerce and dominion—These at least
Are motives natural to man, deprav'd
And sensual as he is; but who will say
What by this causeless quarrel we have gain'd?
What we have lost the very dead can tell:
The fathers, husbands, sons, untimely slain,
Over whose graves their weeping relicts mourn
Now occupy the only tract of soil,
That we have won from Amalek; but we,
Regardless of their sorrows, we pass on
Exulting in our conquest, and erect
An altar to our God, where we should leave
A pile funereal to our slaughter'd friends.
Why do men whet the sword and point the spear,
Reason will ask? Why are there wars on earth?
Experience answers—Evil deeds prevail
Because the world is evil. Tell me then,
If war be evil, is it not a crime
To say, that God, whose goodness none can doubt,
Hath counsell'd against peace? It cannot be.
If Moses be indeed what he affirms,
The shepherd, chosen of the Lord to lead
His flock to pasture in a land, that flows
With milk and honey, should he seek to turn
His lambs to wolves, and fatten them on blood?
The meek should study peace, the godly man
Should conquer by instruction, and the priest
Should consecrate his labours to the good
And welfare of mankind; but now, alas!
When armies, countless as the sand, and war
In all its horrors, are let loose, our tombs
Will be the trophies, by which after-times
Shall trace our progress to the promis'd land.”—
Men fight for spoil, for plunder, for increase
Of commerce and dominion—These at least
Are motives natural to man, deprav'd
And sensual as he is; but who will say
What by this causeless quarrel we have gain'd?
What we have lost the very dead can tell:
The fathers, husbands, sons, untimely slain,
Over whose graves their weeping relicts mourn
Now occupy the only tract of soil,
That we have won from Amalek; but we,
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Exulting in our conquest, and erect
An altar to our God, where we should leave
A pile funereal to our slaughter'd friends.
Why do men whet the sword and point the spear,
Reason will ask? Why are there wars on earth?
Experience answers—Evil deeds prevail
Because the world is evil. Tell me then,
If war be evil, is it not a crime
To say, that God, whose goodness none can doubt,
Hath counsell'd against peace? It cannot be.
If Moses be indeed what he affirms,
The shepherd, chosen of the Lord to lead
His flock to pasture in a land, that flows
With milk and honey, should he seek to turn
His lambs to wolves, and fatten them on blood?
The meek should study peace, the godly man
Should conquer by instruction, and the priest
Should consecrate his labours to the good
And welfare of mankind; but now, alas!
137
In all its horrors, are let loose, our tombs
Will be the trophies, by which after-times
Shall trace our progress to the promis'd land.”—
More he had said, for malice without stint
Was in his heart, and venom flow'd as fast
To his oil'd tongue as to the adder's tooth,
But here the traitor paus'd, for now all eyes
Were northward turn'd, where, journeying o'er the waste
From Midian's confines, an extended line
Of pastoral Arabs came with flocks and droves
In peaceful order; upon sight whereof
The army halted, when an aged priest,
The father of his horde, on his meek ass
Rode forth, and gave the greeting of a friend—
Was in his heart, and venom flow'd as fast
To his oil'd tongue as to the adder's tooth,
But here the traitor paus'd, for now all eyes
Were northward turn'd, where, journeying o'er the waste
From Midian's confines, an extended line
Of pastoral Arabs came with flocks and droves
In peaceful order; upon sight whereof
The army halted, when an aged priest,
The father of his horde, on his meek ass
Rode forth, and gave the greeting of a friend—
If Moses liv'd, he will'd them to report
That Jethro was his name; that she, who sate
Veil'd on her camel in the rank behind,
Was Zipporah his daughter and the wife,
Whom Moses had espous'd in Midian's land,
When there he sojourn'd, and with her were come
His two sons, anxious to embrace his knees,
And supplicate the blessing, long withheld.
That Jethro was his name; that she, who sate
Veil'd on her camel in the rank behind,
Was Zipporah his daughter and the wife,
Whom Moses had espous'd in Midian's land,
138
His two sons, anxious to embrace his knees,
And supplicate the blessing, long withheld.
Thus in unstudied phrase, distinct and brief,
The holy stranger to the army's chief
Detail'd his errand; he in courteous sort
Gave him fair welcome, and assurance full
That all to him belonging should be safe:
The females in his train should pass secure
To Moses, station'd in the army's rear:
They need not fear offence by word or look,
For Caleb should escort them—“Is it then
To Joshua I am list'ning, Jethro cried?
Your action marks assent. Now Heav'n be prais'd!
For great, O Joshua, hath been my desire,
That with mine eyes I might behold that face,
Which in my visions I have seen, and heard
Auspicious voices hailing thee by name,
For Israel's glory, the elect of God.
Truly, my son, the Lord hath laid his hand
Upon the goodliest of the sons of men,
And grac'd with beauty what he crowns with fame.”—
The holy stranger to the army's chief
Detail'd his errand; he in courteous sort
Gave him fair welcome, and assurance full
That all to him belonging should be safe:
The females in his train should pass secure
To Moses, station'd in the army's rear:
They need not fear offence by word or look,
For Caleb should escort them—“Is it then
To Joshua I am list'ning, Jethro cried?
Your action marks assent. Now Heav'n be prais'd!
For great, O Joshua, hath been my desire,
That with mine eyes I might behold that face,
Which in my visions I have seen, and heard
Auspicious voices hailing thee by name,
For Israel's glory, the elect of God.
Truly, my son, the Lord hath laid his hand
139
And grac'd with beauty what he crowns with fame.”—
He said; the modest hero turn'd aside
His eyes in silence, and to Caleb's care
Consign'd the charge of Jethro and his train,
Then bow'd his head in rev'rence, and retir'd.
Slowly they journey'd onwards through the ranks
With eyes uplifted, as if nought could stir
Their curiosity below the clouds;
Solemn, deliberate men—And now the sun
Had dipp'd his golden orb into the west,
When Caleb stopp'd, and thus to Jethro spake—
His eyes in silence, and to Caleb's care
Consign'd the charge of Jethro and his train,
Then bow'd his head in rev'rence, and retir'd.
Slowly they journey'd onwards through the ranks
With eyes uplifted, as if nought could stir
Their curiosity below the clouds;
Solemn, deliberate men—And now the sun
Had dipp'd his golden orb into the west,
When Caleb stopp'd, and thus to Jethro spake—
“Father, 'tis now the hour of evening prayer,
And nearer access may not be allow'd
To those, who form thy train, till that be pass'd;
But thou, whose function is before the Lord,
A priest in Midian, holy and approv'd,
Thou, if it be thy pleasure to alight
From off thy beast, may'st enter and behold
The face of Moses; I the whilst will wait
Here with thy company.” This said, the sage
Observant of the word, dismounted straight
And stood; then, lifting up his hands, he cried—
“The Lord be blessed! Let his will be done.
Well hast thou said, my son. My harmless folk
Will not offend against your holy forms.”—
When straight the trumpet gave the warning blast,
That now the chaunting of the evening prayer
Was to commence: then came the elders forth
With Moses and with Aaron at their head:
The congregated Levites knelt around,
And loudly thus their solemn pray'r rehears'd.—
And nearer access may not be allow'd
To those, who form thy train, till that be pass'd;
But thou, whose function is before the Lord,
A priest in Midian, holy and approv'd,
Thou, if it be thy pleasure to alight
From off thy beast, may'st enter and behold
The face of Moses; I the whilst will wait
140
Observant of the word, dismounted straight
And stood; then, lifting up his hands, he cried—
“The Lord be blessed! Let his will be done.
Well hast thou said, my son. My harmless folk
Will not offend against your holy forms.”—
When straight the trumpet gave the warning blast,
That now the chaunting of the evening prayer
Was to commence: then came the elders forth
With Moses and with Aaron at their head:
The congregated Levites knelt around,
And loudly thus their solemn pray'r rehears'd.—
“Lord of all mercy, give thy people rest,
And as thy sun now hastens to descend,
So much the rather let thy living light
Shine in our hearts, that we may know thy truth,
Thy pow'r, thy providence and praise thy name.
Send, gracious Lord, thy dew upon the earth
This night, as thou art wont, to be our bread
In this bare wilderness; and as thy food
Sustains our bodies, let our faith in thee
Support our constancy in all attempts
By evil counsels to estrange our minds
From thy pure worship: as thy hand, O Lord,
Hath from the house of bondage led us forth,
So from the various perils of our march,
Whether of thirst, of famine or of foe,
Protect us in thy mercy, and inspire
Thy people's hearts with patience to abide
The fullness of thy time, when of the land,
To our forefathers promis'd, we their sons,
In thee confiding, may at length obtain
Lasting possession, and repose in peace.”—
And as thy sun now hastens to descend,
So much the rather let thy living light
Shine in our hearts, that we may know thy truth,
Thy pow'r, thy providence and praise thy name.
Send, gracious Lord, thy dew upon the earth
This night, as thou art wont, to be our bread
In this bare wilderness; and as thy food
141
Support our constancy in all attempts
By evil counsels to estrange our minds
From thy pure worship: as thy hand, O Lord,
Hath from the house of bondage led us forth,
So from the various perils of our march,
Whether of thirst, of famine or of foe,
Protect us in thy mercy, and inspire
Thy people's hearts with patience to abide
The fullness of thy time, when of the land,
To our forefathers promis'd, we their sons,
In thee confiding, may at length obtain
Lasting possession, and repose in peace.”—
The pray'r was ended; the assembly rose,
And darkness 'gan to steal upon the world:
With folded arms, in meditation deep
Revolving in his thoughts the awful scene,
The priest of Midian stood. Him Moses saw,
And disengaging from the crowd, approach'd—
“Blest of the Lord, my father, may'st thou be,”
The prophet cried, and gave the filial kiss,
And bow'd the head and paid obeisance due.
As from a trance new-waken'd, for a time
In solemn silence Jethro stood, and gaz'd
Upon the alter'd features of the seer,
Time-stricken now, and yet more deeply mark'd
With cares and weary watchings; when at length—
“All hail, my son!” the aged hierarch cried,
And spread his arms, and press'd him to his heart,
And wept upon his neck—“Father, forbear!
Moses replied; alas! thou hast endur'd
A tedious pilgrimage to see the wreck
Of a storm-beaten vessel, and thine age,
Like my exhausted strength, must need repose.
Behold the tent; and lo! where Caleb comes
With those, whom God hath giv'n me, and thy care
Hath foster'd in my absence: scenes like these,
Which call the feelings up, should be reserv'd
For sacred privacy, and well I know
In Midian your propriety forbids
The eye of man to rest upon the face
Of the unveiled matron: enter then
Thou and thy welcome charge! Here we may trust
The heart to its affections, and exchange
Those mutual fond enquiries, that to friends
Long parted in such numbers will occur.”—
And darkness 'gan to steal upon the world:
With folded arms, in meditation deep
Revolving in his thoughts the awful scene,
The priest of Midian stood. Him Moses saw,
And disengaging from the crowd, approach'd—
“Blest of the Lord, my father, may'st thou be,”
142
And bow'd the head and paid obeisance due.
As from a trance new-waken'd, for a time
In solemn silence Jethro stood, and gaz'd
Upon the alter'd features of the seer,
Time-stricken now, and yet more deeply mark'd
With cares and weary watchings; when at length—
“All hail, my son!” the aged hierarch cried,
And spread his arms, and press'd him to his heart,
And wept upon his neck—“Father, forbear!
Moses replied; alas! thou hast endur'd
A tedious pilgrimage to see the wreck
Of a storm-beaten vessel, and thine age,
Like my exhausted strength, must need repose.
Behold the tent; and lo! where Caleb comes
With those, whom God hath giv'n me, and thy care
Hath foster'd in my absence: scenes like these,
Which call the feelings up, should be reserv'd
For sacred privacy, and well I know
In Midian your propriety forbids
143
Of the unveiled matron: enter then
Thou and thy welcome charge! Here we may trust
The heart to its affections, and exchange
Those mutual fond enquiries, that to friends
Long parted in such numbers will occur.”—
No more, for now with Zipporah and her sons,
Gershom and Eliezer Caleb came,
And to the hand of Moses, who had stopp'd
In the tent-door, resign'd them and withdrew.
Gershom and Eliezer Caleb came,
And to the hand of Moses, who had stopp'd
In the tent-door, resign'd them and withdrew.
After due time for nature to express
Those soft emotions, which the joyful sight
Of objects so belov'd might well inspire,
Jethro, who saw that time and place were fit
To tell the purpose of his coming, now,
When all were seated, thus to Moses spake—
Those soft emotions, which the joyful sight
Of objects so belov'd might well inspire,
Jethro, who saw that time and place were fit
To tell the purpose of his coming, now,
When all were seated, thus to Moses spake—
“When to my ear the wond'rous tidings came
Of what had pass'd in Egypt, where the Lord,
For ever blessed be His name! had arm'd
Thy hand with pow'r miraculous to strike
The harden'd heart of Pharaoh, and redeem
From long captivity in Goshen's land
His chosen tribes, conviction smote my mind,
That 'twas indeed the voice of God Himself,
Which call'd to thee from Horeb to come forth,
And leave all lesser duties to perform,
As at this day, thy heav'n-appointed task.
At once I saw thee resolute to slight
The trust of all my store, and break those ties,
Which nature sanctions and thy vows had pledg'd.
If then I held thee in respect less kind
Than I were wont to do, impute it not:
A father's feelings plead in my excuse;
Thy wife, thy children in my hands were left:
It seem'd to me as if thou wert possest
With thoughts beyond thyself. Tears could not move,
Nor intercessions stay thee. Thou hadst heard
A voice; but when I urg'd thee to reveal
What wond'rous thing thou had'st in charge to do,
Thou said'st it was a secret betwixt Heav'n
And thine own heart, and pray'd me to desist:
I ceas'd, I yielded; for I fear'd the Lord.
Zipporah can witness for me if thenceforth
My lips e'er utter'd murmur or reproach;
No, Heav'n be prais'd, though all to me was dark,
Patient I waited till the light broke forth:
Then came the wond'rous embryo to the birth,
Then Egypt witness'd those portentous plagues,
That smote her cities, palaces and fields,
Made the air deadly and the noon-day dark,
Till suffering Nature could endure no more,
But shrieking out with all a mother's pangs,
Prevail'd to save a remnant of her sons,
And stay the scourge of thy wide-wasting rod.
Then, then I knew no mortal of himself
Could do the mighty things that thou had'st done:
Strictly I search'd my heart if ever doubt
Had left a guilty recollection there,
And humbly pray'd forgiveness. Thus confirm'd,
Behold I come to manifest my faith
In thy divine legation, and to hail
Thine Israel, emergent from the waves,
Under the fiery ensign of the Lord
Marching triumphant o'er this wilderness
To its predestin'd portion in the land,
Where God's high temple on His mount shall rise,
And His great name be sounded through the world.”—
Of what had pass'd in Egypt, where the Lord,
For ever blessed be His name! had arm'd
Thy hand with pow'r miraculous to strike
144
From long captivity in Goshen's land
His chosen tribes, conviction smote my mind,
That 'twas indeed the voice of God Himself,
Which call'd to thee from Horeb to come forth,
And leave all lesser duties to perform,
As at this day, thy heav'n-appointed task.
At once I saw thee resolute to slight
The trust of all my store, and break those ties,
Which nature sanctions and thy vows had pledg'd.
If then I held thee in respect less kind
Than I were wont to do, impute it not:
A father's feelings plead in my excuse;
Thy wife, thy children in my hands were left:
It seem'd to me as if thou wert possest
With thoughts beyond thyself. Tears could not move,
Nor intercessions stay thee. Thou hadst heard
A voice; but when I urg'd thee to reveal
What wond'rous thing thou had'st in charge to do,
Thou said'st it was a secret betwixt Heav'n
145
I ceas'd, I yielded; for I fear'd the Lord.
Zipporah can witness for me if thenceforth
My lips e'er utter'd murmur or reproach;
No, Heav'n be prais'd, though all to me was dark,
Patient I waited till the light broke forth:
Then came the wond'rous embryo to the birth,
Then Egypt witness'd those portentous plagues,
That smote her cities, palaces and fields,
Made the air deadly and the noon-day dark,
Till suffering Nature could endure no more,
But shrieking out with all a mother's pangs,
Prevail'd to save a remnant of her sons,
And stay the scourge of thy wide-wasting rod.
Then, then I knew no mortal of himself
Could do the mighty things that thou had'st done:
Strictly I search'd my heart if ever doubt
Had left a guilty recollection there,
And humbly pray'd forgiveness. Thus confirm'd,
Behold I come to manifest my faith
146
Thine Israel, emergent from the waves,
Under the fiery ensign of the Lord
Marching triumphant o'er this wilderness
To its predestin'd portion in the land,
Where God's high temple on His mount shall rise,
And His great name be sounded through the world.”—
Thus spake the priest of Midian, whilst his voice
Swell'd to prophetic rapture, as the scene
Of future glories dawn'd upon his sight;
When thus with mild composure Moses spake—
Swell'd to prophetic rapture, as the scene
Of future glories dawn'd upon his sight;
When thus with mild composure Moses spake—
“Rightly you judge that nature never bred,
Nor learning foster'd, attributes in man,
That might achieve those wonders, which surpass
All pow'r but of the Lord. Me you have known
The keeper of your flock, an exil'd man,
And to my proper nation hardly known:
I eat your bread, and gave, 'twas all I could—
My daily labour: when I took to wife
Your daughter, no inheritance had I:
Friendless, the wide world had not where for me,
Save by your charity, to rest my head.
No grace had I, no hope of better days
Gleam'd in my view. Ambition builds her nest
In souls of lofty pitch, whence she may launch
Her flight high-soaring and attempt the clouds.
It was not so with me; my lowly thoughts
Ne'er reach'd above the shepherd's simple life:
The desart was my lot; thy flock my care,
And leading them to pasture at the foot
Of Horeb's mount, there was I found of God,
Who by the meanness of his agent marks
His acts how mighty. From a cloud He spake,
And gave commandment: in a cloud we came,
Marshall'd by miracles, from Goshen's land.
Through the Red Sea we march'd; Pharaoh pursued,
And perish'd in the gulph: by God's command
O'er the uplifted waves I stretch'd my rod,
And they fell down; we stood and view'd the wreck.
Over the sandy waste we held our way;
The people thirsted where no water was;
God heard their cry and gave them their desire:
They hunger'd, and their stores of food were spent,
The Lord had pity, and the dews of Heaven
Are to this hour all Israel's daily bread:
We cross'd Rephidim's plain; nor man, nor beast,
Nor e'en the trodden sand, o'er which we pass'd,
Had harm or wrong of us: with furious threats
The tyrants of the soil oppos'd our march,
And Amalek drew all his warriors forth:
On their fleet coursers with the whirlwind's speed
Their thund'ring squadrons rush'd upon our host:
We fought, we conquer'd, for the Lord was with us,
And to the unflesht sword of Joshua gave
The triumph of that day: their monarch slain,
Their barbarous hordes dispers'd, and all the tract
'Twixt this and Midian clear, secure you pass
Their hostile borders, and we meet in peace.”—
Nor learning foster'd, attributes in man,
That might achieve those wonders, which surpass
All pow'r but of the Lord. Me you have known
The keeper of your flock, an exil'd man,
And to my proper nation hardly known:
I eat your bread, and gave, 'twas all I could—
My daily labour: when I took to wife
Your daughter, no inheritance had I:
147
Save by your charity, to rest my head.
No grace had I, no hope of better days
Gleam'd in my view. Ambition builds her nest
In souls of lofty pitch, whence she may launch
Her flight high-soaring and attempt the clouds.
It was not so with me; my lowly thoughts
Ne'er reach'd above the shepherd's simple life:
The desart was my lot; thy flock my care,
And leading them to pasture at the foot
Of Horeb's mount, there was I found of God,
Who by the meanness of his agent marks
His acts how mighty. From a cloud He spake,
And gave commandment: in a cloud we came,
Marshall'd by miracles, from Goshen's land.
Through the Red Sea we march'd; Pharaoh pursued,
And perish'd in the gulph: by God's command
O'er the uplifted waves I stretch'd my rod,
And they fell down; we stood and view'd the wreck.
Over the sandy waste we held our way;
148
God heard their cry and gave them their desire:
They hunger'd, and their stores of food were spent,
The Lord had pity, and the dews of Heaven
Are to this hour all Israel's daily bread:
We cross'd Rephidim's plain; nor man, nor beast,
Nor e'en the trodden sand, o'er which we pass'd,
Had harm or wrong of us: with furious threats
The tyrants of the soil oppos'd our march,
And Amalek drew all his warriors forth:
On their fleet coursers with the whirlwind's speed
Their thund'ring squadrons rush'd upon our host:
We fought, we conquer'd, for the Lord was with us,
And to the unflesht sword of Joshua gave
The triumph of that day: their monarch slain,
Their barbarous hordes dispers'd, and all the tract
'Twixt this and Midian clear, secure you pass
Their hostile borders, and we meet in peace.”—
“Then is the day of vengeance come at last,
And blest for evermore be Israel's God,
Jethro replied, for He hath giv'n us rest
From these idolaters, than whom the earth,
Fertile in monsters, doth not aught contain
So savage, so athirst for human blood.
At length their horrid blasphemies are heard,
At length their impious orgies and the yells
Of their infuriate zealots have call'd down
The long-suspended judgment. If to them
Mercy had been continued, we had heard
Impious opinions spread about the world,
And boldly vouch'd, that man could not offend,
That murder, spoil and rapine were no crimes,
And Chemos had the earth at his command.
But Israel's God, who is the Lord of Hosts,
Hath drawn His armies forth, and put the sword
Of heav'nly justice in the hand of man.
No creature, that had life, might pass their haunts:
All nature was their prey; on every hill,
In every hollow of the earth they couch'd;
Their scent was as the vulture's keen for blood,
Swift as the eagle's flight was their pursuit,
They sprung as doth the lion, and their cry
Was horrid as the gaunt hyæna's howl:
About their altars the blood-sprinkled ground
Shew'd like a charnel-house, with ghastly bones,
The reliques of their impious offerings, strewn;
And who but must adore the righteous doom
Of an avenging God, when He expels
Monsters like these from the affrighted earth?”—
And blest for evermore be Israel's God,
149
From these idolaters, than whom the earth,
Fertile in monsters, doth not aught contain
So savage, so athirst for human blood.
At length their horrid blasphemies are heard,
At length their impious orgies and the yells
Of their infuriate zealots have call'd down
The long-suspended judgment. If to them
Mercy had been continued, we had heard
Impious opinions spread about the world,
And boldly vouch'd, that man could not offend,
That murder, spoil and rapine were no crimes,
And Chemos had the earth at his command.
But Israel's God, who is the Lord of Hosts,
Hath drawn His armies forth, and put the sword
Of heav'nly justice in the hand of man.
No creature, that had life, might pass their haunts:
All nature was their prey; on every hill,
In every hollow of the earth they couch'd;
Their scent was as the vulture's keen for blood,
150
They sprung as doth the lion, and their cry
Was horrid as the gaunt hyæna's howl:
About their altars the blood-sprinkled ground
Shew'd like a charnel-house, with ghastly bones,
The reliques of their impious offerings, strewn;
And who but must adore the righteous doom
Of an avenging God, when He expels
Monsters like these from the affrighted earth?”—
Here as he paus'd, an intervening sigh
Burst from the bosom of the conscious seer,
Who knew how deep conspiracy had work'd
Into the hearts of some, and mourn'd the doom,
Impendent on their guilt—“Father, he cried,
You are a priest in Midian, and the life
Your peaceful people pass amongst their flocks,
Inspires simplicity: they have not learnt
The sophistry of Egypt, have not dwelt
In Goshen's land, environ'd with a swarm
Of brute divinities, who haunt the stream,
Or graze the banks of Nile: you love your God,
Revere His judgments and observe His laws:
Alas! for Israel: 'tis not so with them;
And Heav'n have mercy upon me your son,
Who am at once the servant of the Lord,
And yet in pity intercede for those,
Of whose sins, when I cease to be the judge,
I am partaker in the sight of Heaven.
Wonder not then, if when you bring before me
These soft affinities of wife and sons,
My heart preoccupied can find no room
To entertain one joy, that might allay
The pressure of the burden that I bear.
The bread, that you have brought, must be your food;
Our manna is the Lord's: to you and these
This tent will be for rest. I must away;
My calls are from without. I shall forbid
To-morrow's march, and give the host repose:
The third day we must reassume our toil,
And you must part—Ah Zipporah! Ah my sons!
Me miserable! never will the hours return,
That we have known in Midian. Pisgah's mount
Bounds my horison: there at once I see
The rising and the setting of my sun.”—
Burst from the bosom of the conscious seer,
Who knew how deep conspiracy had work'd
Into the hearts of some, and mourn'd the doom,
Impendent on their guilt—“Father, he cried,
You are a priest in Midian, and the life
Your peaceful people pass amongst their flocks,
Inspires simplicity: they have not learnt
The sophistry of Egypt, have not dwelt
In Goshen's land, environ'd with a swarm
Of brute divinities, who haunt the stream,
151
Revere His judgments and observe His laws:
Alas! for Israel: 'tis not so with them;
And Heav'n have mercy upon me your son,
Who am at once the servant of the Lord,
And yet in pity intercede for those,
Of whose sins, when I cease to be the judge,
I am partaker in the sight of Heaven.
Wonder not then, if when you bring before me
These soft affinities of wife and sons,
My heart preoccupied can find no room
To entertain one joy, that might allay
The pressure of the burden that I bear.
The bread, that you have brought, must be your food;
Our manna is the Lord's: to you and these
This tent will be for rest. I must away;
My calls are from without. I shall forbid
To-morrow's march, and give the host repose:
The third day we must reassume our toil,
And you must part—Ah Zipporah! Ah my sons!
152
That we have known in Midian. Pisgah's mount
Bounds my horison: there at once I see
The rising and the setting of my sun.”—
He said, and parted. The prophetic words
Sunk to the heart of Zipporah; she sigh'd,
And, whilst the tear hung on her faded cheek,
She smote her hands and mournfully exclaim'd—
“It is God's will, and let His will be done—!”
When thus the father—“Be content, my child.
Though dead to thee thy husband, to the Lord
He lives, and is His servant. Now no more!
Get thee to rest. I shall walk forth a space,
And in the contemplation of His works
Visit the Lord in spirit: it may be,
He shall inform me of His gracious will,
That when to-morrow Moses shall require
That I address the people, I may speak,
The words, that God shall put into my heart,
And before Israel glorify his name.”
Sunk to the heart of Zipporah; she sigh'd,
And, whilst the tear hung on her faded cheek,
She smote her hands and mournfully exclaim'd—
“It is God's will, and let His will be done—!”
When thus the father—“Be content, my child.
Though dead to thee thy husband, to the Lord
He lives, and is His servant. Now no more!
Get thee to rest. I shall walk forth a space,
And in the contemplation of His works
Visit the Lord in spirit: it may be,
He shall inform me of His gracious will,
That when to-morrow Moses shall require
That I address the people, I may speak,
The words, that God shall put into my heart,
And before Israel glorify his name.”
153
Now Night her star-bespangled zone had spread
Over Heav'n's vault, when Moses sought the tent
Of Korah, for he knew his rash discourse
With Peleth's son, and trembled for his fate.
There, by the light of one pale glimm'ring lamp,
Sullen and sad the musing traitor sate:
His patient consort, silent and apart,
Watch'd him with fearful look, whilst at her feet
Two infant boys play'd on the matted floor.
At sight of Moses the aw'd matron rose—
“Not so, he cried; arise not from your seat,
Nor let these innocents be robb'd of sleep.”—
Surpris'd and conscience-stricken Korah sprung
Upon his feet, and eagerly exclaim'd—
“Why art thou come? What vengeance to denounce
On me, on her and these devoted babes,
Who are thy kindred, but not thou their friend.”—
Over Heav'n's vault, when Moses sought the tent
Of Korah, for he knew his rash discourse
With Peleth's son, and trembled for his fate.
There, by the light of one pale glimm'ring lamp,
Sullen and sad the musing traitor sate:
His patient consort, silent and apart,
Watch'd him with fearful look, whilst at her feet
Two infant boys play'd on the matted floor.
At sight of Moses the aw'd matron rose—
“Not so, he cried; arise not from your seat,
Nor let these innocents be robb'd of sleep.”—
Surpris'd and conscience-stricken Korah sprung
Upon his feet, and eagerly exclaim'd—
“Why art thou come? What vengeance to denounce
On me, on her and these devoted babes,
Who are thy kindred, but not thou their friend.”—
“You wrong me, Korah; I am much their friend,
In accent mild and by his taunts unmov'd,
Moses replied. Behold, once more I come
For the last time to warn you of your doom.
You have arraign'd the judgments of the Lord,
And talk'd of Amalek, as if the wrath,
Which is denounc'd on his blaspheming race,
Were not of them deserv'd. If in your heart
There be so much compassion for the sinful,
Why not for these your infants and your wife,
Who have not sinn'd, and yet must share your doom,
When ruin falls upon you? 'Tis not well,
That thus you tempt the vengeance of your God.
Am I not then your friend, your children's friend,
The friend of all that's dear to you, when thus,
Planting myself betwixt Heav'n's wrath and you,
I warn you to repent?”—“I do repent,
Korah indignant cried, of many a fault,
To which, by weak credulity betray'd,
I now look back with shame: I do repent
That ever I was dup'd by flattering hopes
To dream of freedom in some happier clime,
And wander forth with these from Goshen's land
To perish in the wilderness: of this
I from my heart repent; but when I hear
Unsparing vengeance vow'd, and the decree
Ascrib'd to God all-merciful, if then
I hold the vouch'd authority in doubt,
Of that, O Moses, I do not repent.”—
In accent mild and by his taunts unmov'd,
Moses replied. Behold, once more I come
154
You have arraign'd the judgments of the Lord,
And talk'd of Amalek, as if the wrath,
Which is denounc'd on his blaspheming race,
Were not of them deserv'd. If in your heart
There be so much compassion for the sinful,
Why not for these your infants and your wife,
Who have not sinn'd, and yet must share your doom,
When ruin falls upon you? 'Tis not well,
That thus you tempt the vengeance of your God.
Am I not then your friend, your children's friend,
The friend of all that's dear to you, when thus,
Planting myself betwixt Heav'n's wrath and you,
I warn you to repent?”—“I do repent,
Korah indignant cried, of many a fault,
To which, by weak credulity betray'd,
I now look back with shame: I do repent
That ever I was dup'd by flattering hopes
To dream of freedom in some happier clime,
And wander forth with these from Goshen's land
155
I from my heart repent; but when I hear
Unsparing vengeance vow'd, and the decree
Ascrib'd to God all-merciful, if then
I hold the vouch'd authority in doubt,
Of that, O Moses, I do not repent.”—
To him the prophet—“Since thou wilt persist
Thus to uphold thy judgment, the appeal
Must be referr'd to God. If I have dar'd
To falsify his mandate, and denounce
Vengeance unauthoriz'd upon the race
Of Amalek, let Israel take up stones,
And be your hand the first to hurl them on me:
And now tow'rds Sinai we direct our march;
There on His holy mount if God shall deign
After some wond'rous manner to come down,
And manifest to all that I am His,
And speak by His commandment, then beware
How you provoke rebellion in His host,
Defame His servant and dispute His laws;
For know, obdurate man, I cannot then
Presume, as now, to intercede with God
Longer to stay His vengeance from a wretch,
Who braves destruction and defies his judge.”—
Thus to uphold thy judgment, the appeal
Must be referr'd to God. If I have dar'd
To falsify his mandate, and denounce
Vengeance unauthoriz'd upon the race
Of Amalek, let Israel take up stones,
And be your hand the first to hurl them on me:
And now tow'rds Sinai we direct our march;
There on His holy mount if God shall deign
After some wond'rous manner to come down,
And manifest to all that I am His,
And speak by His commandment, then beware
How you provoke rebellion in His host,
Defame His servant and dispute His laws;
156
Presume, as now, to intercede with God
Longer to stay His vengeance from a wretch,
Who braves destruction and defies his judge.”—
Thus as he spake in deep and awful tone,
His voice, as with a solemn horror, shook;
Whilst on the mother and her sleeping babes
He cast a look so mournful, that her soul
Sunk in despair, and when he turn'd to part,
She felt as if forsaken of all hope,
And would have knelt to stay him, had not then
The eye of her stern husband glanc'd upon her,
And look'd her motionless—Alas for thee,
Sad mother! who, that has a heart, and reads
Thy piteous story, can refuse a tear,
Although we trust, when Innocence went down,
And the earth shut her mouth upon thy babes,
That, whilst they shar'd a guilty father's doom,
For them there yet was mercy in the pit?
His voice, as with a solemn horror, shook;
Whilst on the mother and her sleeping babes
He cast a look so mournful, that her soul
Sunk in despair, and when he turn'd to part,
She felt as if forsaken of all hope,
And would have knelt to stay him, had not then
The eye of her stern husband glanc'd upon her,
And look'd her motionless—Alas for thee,
Sad mother! who, that has a heart, and reads
Thy piteous story, can refuse a tear,
Although we trust, when Innocence went down,
And the earth shut her mouth upon thy babes,
That, whilst they shar'd a guilty father's doom,
For them there yet was mercy in the pit?
Now dawn'd the day, when from his humble couch
The priest of Midian rose, and tow'rds the east
Look'd forth to hail the blest return of light,
And chaunt his early oraisons, when lo!
In the mid space before his tent he spied
An altar by the Levites rais'd of stones
Rude and unfashion'd by the mason's tool;
And there intent upon the work, behold,
Moses and Aaron stood: them to accost,
And pay his homage to the God he serv'd,
Rob'd in appropriate vesture, as beseem'd
His sacerdotal function, forth he came;
When Aaron thus—“To thee our honour'd guest,
Right holy and approv'd, your kindred we,
The sons of Jacob, consecrate this pile,
As a memorial of your visit paid
Here in the wilderness to us your friends.
And now behold, our offerings are prepar'd,
And solemn intercession will be made
To grant thee safe return and peaceful days
In Midian, where thou dwell'st before the Lord.
These ceremonies ended, we expect
That to the congregation thou wilt speak
What to thy judgment and the sapient grace,
In which we know thee gifted, may seem meet
For our instruction, and the general good
Of all this people, who attend to hear.”—
157
Look'd forth to hail the blest return of light,
And chaunt his early oraisons, when lo!
In the mid space before his tent he spied
An altar by the Levites rais'd of stones
Rude and unfashion'd by the mason's tool;
And there intent upon the work, behold,
Moses and Aaron stood: them to accost,
And pay his homage to the God he serv'd,
Rob'd in appropriate vesture, as beseem'd
His sacerdotal function, forth he came;
When Aaron thus—“To thee our honour'd guest,
Right holy and approv'd, your kindred we,
The sons of Jacob, consecrate this pile,
As a memorial of your visit paid
Here in the wilderness to us your friends.
And now behold, our offerings are prepar'd,
And solemn intercession will be made
To grant thee safe return and peaceful days
In Midian, where thou dwell'st before the Lord.
158
That to the congregation thou wilt speak
What to thy judgment and the sapient grace,
In which we know thee gifted, may seem meet
For our instruction, and the general good
Of all this people, who attend to hear.”—
He said; devout and silent Jethro heard,
And on his forehead humbly press'd his hand,
And bow'd obeisant, marking his assent.
When pray'r was ended, and the people stood
In silent expectation, Aaron turn'd
To the sage Midianite, and led him forth,
Where from the altar step he might be seen
And heard of the assembly; when at once,
As if with sudden inspiration fill'd,
His head uncover'd and his silv'ry locks
Loose and surrender'd to the passing breeze,
He spread his arms, and rais'd his eyes to Heav'n,
And thus in tone declamatory spake—
And on his forehead humbly press'd his hand,
And bow'd obeisant, marking his assent.
When pray'r was ended, and the people stood
In silent expectation, Aaron turn'd
To the sage Midianite, and led him forth,
Where from the altar step he might be seen
And heard of the assembly; when at once,
As if with sudden inspiration fill'd,
His head uncover'd and his silv'ry locks
Loose and surrender'd to the passing breeze,
He spread his arms, and rais'd his eyes to Heav'n,
And thus in tone declamatory spake—
“Heaven is my witness how it glads my heart,
Ye men of Israel, to perceive this day,
God, ever merciful to Abraham's seed,
And mindful of His word, hath brought you out
From your Egyptian bondage in his cloud,
With signs and wonders, which your eyes beheld
Wrought by his servant Moses for your sakes.
Therefore across the wilderness I come,
And here in presence of you all I stand
Before the altar of the living God,
Whose priest I am, to witness this great thing,
Which He hath thus begun, and will complete,
If ye continue faithful. Oh! ye sons
Of holy Jacob, when ye saw and pass'd
Th' uplifted waters, did ye not confess
Your God was God indeed? Could ye then doubt
If Egypt's idol gods were vain to save,
When Pharaoh sunk with all his host, and you
Look'd on, and saw him perish in the waves?
What is there more that ye can ask of Heav'n?
What other demonstration can ye need,
Where all is miracle, to fix your faith?
Nature would sentence you to starve for want
In this bare wilderness, and die with thirst;
What is it but a miracle to feed
On dew that drops from Heav'n, and drink your fill
From the hard flint, rod-stricken by the hand
Of him, who is the chosen of the Lord
For your salvation? Can ye doubt if God
Speak in his voice, who with a word controls
The elements, puts Nature from her course,
Makes the rock water and the waters rock,
And does those things, which since the world had birth
No man of woman born e'er saw or did?
Sons of the promise, sanctify your hearts!
Let me not plead against your unbelief,
And call upon the mount, whence Moses came,
To utter 'midst severer fires a voice,
Denouncing your rebellion. Hath the Lord
Struck down the foe of you and all mankind,
And is there present one, who rashly dares
To murmur at the judgment, and affect
To mourn for Amalek? If such there be,
Let him stand forward; for to him I say,
God in his mercy never freed the earth
From pest more terrible: if pity spring
So quick into his heart, let him direct
Its stream to those, who can produce their claim;
Amongst the rest to me—My flocks, my herds,
My unoffending people were the prey
Of this unsparing tyrant, who ne'er felt
One touch of pity for his fellow men;
And who shall feel for Amalek? Away!
Hence with such gross dissembling! Mark that man,
And purge your congregation from his stain.
Now may the Lord direct you on your way,
And bring you to His promis'd land in peace!
Back to my native Midian, whence I came,
My weary steps I must retrace—Alas!
This wilderness is no abiding place
For the soft charities of wife and sons:
Nor they, nor I shall e'er again behold
The face of Moses—Servant of the Lord
He must at once dismiss all earthly cares,
And dedicate his heart to Heav'n and you.
Therefore let him, who doubts his truth, beware,
Lest when he sees the Lord, and hears His voice
Unfolding the great pandect of His laws,
Struck by the dread conviction, he may find
The irreversible decree is past,
And miserably perish. Oh ye tribes,
Elect, if faithful! put your trust in God,
And honour His meek prophet, who is sent
For their deliverance, who receive his words;
For their assur'd destruction, who reject.
Thus far the light is with me—I have said.
The rest is darkness.”—At the word he ceas'd,
And bow'd his head, and once more rais'd his hands,
And bless'd the people: they with reverence due
Paid low obeisance, whilst the choral priests
Sung their loud hallelujahs to the Lord.
159
God, ever merciful to Abraham's seed,
And mindful of His word, hath brought you out
From your Egyptian bondage in his cloud,
With signs and wonders, which your eyes beheld
Wrought by his servant Moses for your sakes.
Therefore across the wilderness I come,
And here in presence of you all I stand
Before the altar of the living God,
Whose priest I am, to witness this great thing,
Which He hath thus begun, and will complete,
If ye continue faithful. Oh! ye sons
Of holy Jacob, when ye saw and pass'd
Th' uplifted waters, did ye not confess
Your God was God indeed? Could ye then doubt
If Egypt's idol gods were vain to save,
When Pharaoh sunk with all his host, and you
Look'd on, and saw him perish in the waves?
What is there more that ye can ask of Heav'n?
What other demonstration can ye need,
160
Nature would sentence you to starve for want
In this bare wilderness, and die with thirst;
What is it but a miracle to feed
On dew that drops from Heav'n, and drink your fill
From the hard flint, rod-stricken by the hand
Of him, who is the chosen of the Lord
For your salvation? Can ye doubt if God
Speak in his voice, who with a word controls
The elements, puts Nature from her course,
Makes the rock water and the waters rock,
And does those things, which since the world had birth
No man of woman born e'er saw or did?
Sons of the promise, sanctify your hearts!
Let me not plead against your unbelief,
And call upon the mount, whence Moses came,
To utter 'midst severer fires a voice,
Denouncing your rebellion. Hath the Lord
Struck down the foe of you and all mankind,
And is there present one, who rashly dares
161
To mourn for Amalek? If such there be,
Let him stand forward; for to him I say,
God in his mercy never freed the earth
From pest more terrible: if pity spring
So quick into his heart, let him direct
Its stream to those, who can produce their claim;
Amongst the rest to me—My flocks, my herds,
My unoffending people were the prey
Of this unsparing tyrant, who ne'er felt
One touch of pity for his fellow men;
And who shall feel for Amalek? Away!
Hence with such gross dissembling! Mark that man,
And purge your congregation from his stain.
Now may the Lord direct you on your way,
And bring you to His promis'd land in peace!
Back to my native Midian, whence I came,
My weary steps I must retrace—Alas!
This wilderness is no abiding place
For the soft charities of wife and sons:
162
The face of Moses—Servant of the Lord
He must at once dismiss all earthly cares,
And dedicate his heart to Heav'n and you.
Therefore let him, who doubts his truth, beware,
Lest when he sees the Lord, and hears His voice
Unfolding the great pandect of His laws,
Struck by the dread conviction, he may find
The irreversible decree is past,
And miserably perish. Oh ye tribes,
Elect, if faithful! put your trust in God,
And honour His meek prophet, who is sent
For their deliverance, who receive his words;
For their assur'd destruction, who reject.
Thus far the light is with me—I have said.
The rest is darkness.”—At the word he ceas'd,
And bow'd his head, and once more rais'd his hands,
And bless'd the people: they with reverence due
Paid low obeisance, whilst the choral priests
Sung their loud hallelujahs to the Lord.
163
This done, the people to their tents retir'd;
The sun was sunk, and rest-restoring Night
Spread her soft mantle o'er the silent camp.
The pale moon, wand'ring through the vault of Heav'n,
At length withdrew her interlucent lamp,
When Moses, who with clearer prescience saw
The awful revelation, whose approach
Jethro, though somewhat darkly, had announc'd,
Rose with the dawn, and to the pious sage,
Now on the point to leave him, thus he spake—
The sun was sunk, and rest-restoring Night
Spread her soft mantle o'er the silent camp.
The pale moon, wand'ring through the vault of Heav'n,
At length withdrew her interlucent lamp,
When Moses, who with clearer prescience saw
The awful revelation, whose approach
Jethro, though somewhat darkly, had announc'd,
Rose with the dawn, and to the pious sage,
Now on the point to leave him, thus he spake—
“Much is my soul disquieted, that you,
My benefactor, father and my friend,
With these my earthly blessings must depart;
Whilst I your son, who scarce have found an hour
For a short welcome, now alas! must take
A long, a sad farewel. What shall I say?
If God hath call'd me forth to Sinai's mount,
There to receive His laws, must I complain,
And call His service hard? That were to sin:
That be far from me.”—“In the name of God
Go forth, my son, the aged priest replied,
And strain'd him to his breast. Your wife and sons
Shall be my care, and, if the Lord permit,
We meet again; if not, His will be done!
And hark! the trumpet calls thee. Judah's van
Is on the march; behold, my peaceful horde
Trail their long line slow-pac'd athwart the plain:
See, Zipporah waves her hand! It must be so:
Take then my last embrace, and in your prayers
Remember Midian.”—More had he essay'd
To speak, his voice had fail'd. His patient beast
Stoop'd to receive her venerable load,
And on he pass'd. With pensive looks awhile
Moses pursu'd his track, then turn'd aside
And join'd the train, that follow'd Joseph's corpse.
My benefactor, father and my friend,
With these my earthly blessings must depart;
Whilst I your son, who scarce have found an hour
For a short welcome, now alas! must take
A long, a sad farewel. What shall I say?
If God hath call'd me forth to Sinai's mount,
There to receive His laws, must I complain,
And call His service hard? That were to sin:
That be far from me.”—“In the name of God
164
And strain'd him to his breast. Your wife and sons
Shall be my care, and, if the Lord permit,
We meet again; if not, His will be done!
And hark! the trumpet calls thee. Judah's van
Is on the march; behold, my peaceful horde
Trail their long line slow-pac'd athwart the plain:
See, Zipporah waves her hand! It must be so:
Take then my last embrace, and in your prayers
Remember Midian.”—More had he essay'd
To speak, his voice had fail'd. His patient beast
Stoop'd to receive her venerable load,
And on he pass'd. With pensive looks awhile
Moses pursu'd his track, then turn'd aside
And join'd the train, that follow'd Joseph's corpse.
When after toilsome march the weary tribes
To Sinai's wilderness had now arriv'd;
Moses, who by the spirit had been warn'd
There to expect the coming of the Lord,
Before the mountain bade his camp be spread,
And thus to Joshua spake—“Here rest awhile,
And to the several leaders of the host,
Captains of thousands, hundreds and of tens,
Give order that no human foot shall pass
The circumvallant line, that bounds the camp.
Let every soldier see his garment cleans'd
From soil of travel, or the stain of blood
Spilt in the battle, and when evening prayer
Is ended, and the trumpet warns to rest,
Let all in silence to their tents withdraw,
And there solicit sleep; no council hold,
Nor talk prolong over the nightly lamp;
For other light than that of yonder moon,
Renascent in her orbit, none must be.
Now God be with thee! Hence, and see it done!”—
To Sinai's wilderness had now arriv'd;
Moses, who by the spirit had been warn'd
There to expect the coming of the Lord,
Before the mountain bade his camp be spread,
165
And to the several leaders of the host,
Captains of thousands, hundreds and of tens,
Give order that no human foot shall pass
The circumvallant line, that bounds the camp.
Let every soldier see his garment cleans'd
From soil of travel, or the stain of blood
Spilt in the battle, and when evening prayer
Is ended, and the trumpet warns to rest,
Let all in silence to their tents withdraw,
And there solicit sleep; no council hold,
Nor talk prolong over the nightly lamp;
For other light than that of yonder moon,
Renascent in her orbit, none must be.
Now God be with thee! Hence, and see it done!”—
No more. The chief assenting bow'd his head;
The prophet in the spirit tow'rds the mount
In awful expectation turn'd his steps.
Thither he came, and at the rocky base
Stopt, and shook off the sandals from his feet,
Then kneeling thus preferr'd his humble suit—
The prophet in the spirit tow'rds the mount
In awful expectation turn'd his steps.
Thither he came, and at the rocky base
Stopt, and shook off the sandals from his feet,
166
“Lord, if it be thy token, which I feel
Now at my conscious heart, behold me here,
Thy soul-devoted servant, to receive,
And by thy gracious furtherance to perform,
What for thy people Israel here encamp'd
Thy wisdom may ordain.”—This said, he wrapt
His mantle o'er his face, and on the rock
Prostrate awaited if perchance the Lord
Might speak as heretofore; when soon was heard
A voice, thus answering awfully distinct—
Now at my conscious heart, behold me here,
Thy soul-devoted servant, to receive,
And by thy gracious furtherance to perform,
What for thy people Israel here encamp'd
Thy wisdom may ordain.”—This said, he wrapt
His mantle o'er his face, and on the rock
Prostrate awaited if perchance the Lord
Might speak as heretofore; when soon was heard
A voice, thus answering awfully distinct—
“Arise, and say to Israel—Ye have seen
What I have done to Pharaoh and his host,
And how I bear you upon eagle's wings,
And brought you to myself. Now if indeed
Ye will obey my voice, and sacred keep
My covenant, a kingdom ye shall be
Of priests, a holy nation, a reserve
Peculiar, and of Me in favour held
Above all people, that inhabit earth;
For all that earth is mine. These are My words:
Mark them, for these to Israel thou shalt speak.”—
What I have done to Pharaoh and his host,
And how I bear you upon eagle's wings,
And brought you to myself. Now if indeed
Ye will obey my voice, and sacred keep
My covenant, a kingdom ye shall be
Of priests, a holy nation, a reserve
Peculiar, and of Me in favour held
Above all people, that inhabit earth;
167
Mark them, for these to Israel thou shalt speak.”—
The voice now ceas'd; the heav'n-commission'd seer.
Charg'd with the gracious oracle, conven'd
The elders of the people, and rehears'd,
Grave and correct, in their attentive ears
The words, which he had heard. They, much amaz'd,
With one voice answer'd—“Should it please the Lord
Again to commune with thee from the mount,
Say, that His grateful people have receiv'd
The wond'rous promulgation, and declare,
That His most holy will shall be their law,
And all that He commands them they will do.”—
Charg'd with the gracious oracle, conven'd
The elders of the people, and rehears'd,
Grave and correct, in their attentive ears
The words, which he had heard. They, much amaz'd,
With one voice answer'd—“Should it please the Lord
Again to commune with thee from the mount,
Say, that His grateful people have receiv'd
The wond'rous promulgation, and declare,
That His most holy will shall be their law,
And all that He commands them they will do.”—
“'Tis well, the prophet cried, this fit reply
Beseemeth you to make and me to bear
To that almighty Pow'r, whose promis'd love
Your strict and prompt obedience will ensure.”—
Beseemeth you to make and me to bear
To that almighty Pow'r, whose promis'd love
Your strict and prompt obedience will ensure.”—
This said, he parted, and without delay
By the pale moon-beam at the mountain's foot
Unsandall'd stood, and, ere he bent the knee,
Look'd up, and lo! a thick and murky cloud
Hung hovering o'er the top. Again broke forth
The awful voice; again the prophet veil'd
His face and lowly knelt; when thus the Lord—
By the pale moon-beam at the mountain's foot
Unsandall'd stood, and, ere he bent the knee,
168
Hung hovering o'er the top. Again broke forth
The awful voice; again the prophet veil'd
His face and lowly knelt; when thus the Lord—
“Behold, encanopied in clouds I come,
That, when I speak, the congregated tribes
May hear my voice, and of thy truth assur'd,
May know thee for my servant, and henceforth
For evermore believe thee. Hie thee hence
Unto the people; sanctify their hearts,
And let them wash their garments, and be clean
Against the third day; for in that same day
In sight of all the host I will come down
Upon Mount Sinai, round whose hallow'd base
Thou shalt set bounds, and proclamation make
To all the people, that they take good heed
How they approach, or rashly tempt the mount;
For he, that tempteth it, shall surely die.—
When thou shalt hear the cornet sounding long,
Then may the tribes draw near unto the mount.”—
That, when I speak, the congregated tribes
May hear my voice, and of thy truth assur'd,
May know thee for my servant, and henceforth
For evermore believe thee. Hie thee hence
Unto the people; sanctify their hearts,
And let them wash their garments, and be clean
Against the third day; for in that same day
In sight of all the host I will come down
Upon Mount Sinai, round whose hallow'd base
Thou shalt set bounds, and proclamation make
To all the people, that they take good heed
How they approach, or rashly tempt the mount;
For he, that tempteth it, shall surely die.—
When thou shalt hear the cornet sounding long,
Then may the tribes draw near unto the mount.”—
169
The mandate thus deliver'd, Moses sought
The camp, and all, that was enjoin'd him, told,
Warning the people to reserve themselves
Pure and expectant to behold the Lord
On the third day. To the minutest word
The strict command was fearfully obey'd;
When at the dawn of that important day
Anxious the people rose, and whilst all eyes
Were fixt upon the east, where Sinai's mount
Steep and yet dark in the horizon stood,
In fiery streams from forth the thund'ring clouds
The flashing light'nings burst, the mountain quak'd,
And the whole vault of Heav'n was wrapt in flame.
Then was the terror, then all Israel hid
Their faces, and the boldest of the host
Shook in their mailed habergeons for fear,
And trembling stood aloof. Still blaz'd the mount,
And loud the elemental roar was heard
In bursts, that seem'd to shake the pillar'd earth.
Then Korah shrunk into his inmost tent,
And would have knelt to Moses, if no eye
Might witness his submission: then a cry
Ran through the multitude—“Have mercy, Lord!
Not in thy terror, Lord, break forth upon us,
But spare thy people!”—This when Moses heard,
From forth the camp he came, and cross'd the bound,
And to the interdicted mountain's foot,
So privileg'd of God, unharm'd approach'd:
Then ceas'd the lightnings, then the air was still,
And the quell'd thunder died upon the ear.
And now the cornet, sounding long and loud,
Gave signal to the people to come forth:
Withdrawn they stood beside the nether part
Of the envelop'd mount, that to the clouds
Smok'd like a furnace: all the while the sound
Of the loud cornet echo'd through the air,
Till Moses spake, and to the mount call'd up
To meet the Lord, this gracious charge receiv'd—
The camp, and all, that was enjoin'd him, told,
Warning the people to reserve themselves
Pure and expectant to behold the Lord
On the third day. To the minutest word
The strict command was fearfully obey'd;
When at the dawn of that important day
Anxious the people rose, and whilst all eyes
Were fixt upon the east, where Sinai's mount
Steep and yet dark in the horizon stood,
In fiery streams from forth the thund'ring clouds
The flashing light'nings burst, the mountain quak'd,
And the whole vault of Heav'n was wrapt in flame.
Then was the terror, then all Israel hid
Their faces, and the boldest of the host
Shook in their mailed habergeons for fear,
And trembling stood aloof. Still blaz'd the mount,
And loud the elemental roar was heard
In bursts, that seem'd to shake the pillar'd earth.
Then Korah shrunk into his inmost tent,
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Might witness his submission: then a cry
Ran through the multitude—“Have mercy, Lord!
Not in thy terror, Lord, break forth upon us,
But spare thy people!”—This when Moses heard,
From forth the camp he came, and cross'd the bound,
And to the interdicted mountain's foot,
So privileg'd of God, unharm'd approach'd:
Then ceas'd the lightnings, then the air was still,
And the quell'd thunder died upon the ear.
And now the cornet, sounding long and loud,
Gave signal to the people to come forth:
Withdrawn they stood beside the nether part
Of the envelop'd mount, that to the clouds
Smok'd like a furnace: all the while the sound
Of the loud cornet echo'd through the air,
Till Moses spake, and to the mount call'd up
To meet the Lord, this gracious charge receiv'd—
“Go down unto the people, and give heed
Lest they break in to gaze upon the Lord,
And many of them perish. Let the priests,
Who sanctify themselves, come near, but none,
Save thee and Aaron, may ascend the mount.”—
Lest they break in to gaze upon the Lord,
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Who sanctify themselves, come near, but none,
Save thee and Aaron, may ascend the mount.”—
Thus to His servant Moses spake the Lord
From out the cloud, whilst all the people stood
Silent, aghast and trembling for the fate
Of their great prophet, now no more in sight,
Lost in the bright effulgence. He the whilst
In his mysterious conference receiv'd
Those statutes, by supernal wisdom fram'd,
The dictates of Jehovah, which have stood
Through the long lapse of ages, and shall stand
Through ages yet to come. His gracious work
Of heav'nly legislation thus perform'd,
God from the mount ascended, and the fires,
That kindled at his presence, were withdrawn;
The cloud dispers'd, and now upon the top
Of Sinai's mount oracular was seen
The white-rob'd prophet—Joyful was the sight,
And all the people cried—“The Lord be prais'd!
The hope of Israel lives! Now, now we see,
We know him for the chosen of the Lord”—
He the meanwhile with solemn step came down,
Bearing the sacred code, and from the rock
Above the multitude outspread below
His great commission thus aloud proclaim'd—
From out the cloud, whilst all the people stood
Silent, aghast and trembling for the fate
Of their great prophet, now no more in sight,
Lost in the bright effulgence. He the whilst
In his mysterious conference receiv'd
Those statutes, by supernal wisdom fram'd,
The dictates of Jehovah, which have stood
Through the long lapse of ages, and shall stand
Through ages yet to come. His gracious work
Of heav'nly legislation thus perform'd,
God from the mount ascended, and the fires,
That kindled at his presence, were withdrawn;
The cloud dispers'd, and now upon the top
Of Sinai's mount oracular was seen
The white-rob'd prophet—Joyful was the sight,
And all the people cried—“The Lord be prais'd!
172
We know him for the chosen of the Lord”—
He the meanwhile with solemn step came down,
Bearing the sacred code, and from the rock
Above the multitude outspread below
His great commission thus aloud proclaim'd—
“Hear, Israel, hear! The Lord your God this day
Hath made of you a nation, and I come
To stablish His commandments. Thus He speaks;
These are the words of your enacting God,
And these the sacred duties He ordains;
Mark them, digest them, write them on your hearts!
Hath made of you a nation, and I come
To stablish His commandments. Thus He speaks;
These are the words of your enacting God,
And these the sacred duties He ordains;
Mark them, digest them, write them on your hearts!
‘I am the Lord thy God, which brought thee out,
And from the house of bondage set thee free:
Other than Me no God shalt thou confess.’
And from the house of bondage set thee free:
Other than Me no God shalt thou confess.’
‘Thou shalt not grave an image to thyself,
In form and fashion like to aught thou see'st
In Heav'n above, or in the earth beneath,
Or in the watery depths below the earth.
To these thou shalt not bow thyself, nor make
The work of thine own hands to be a god:
For I the Lord am jealous, and my wrath
To third and fourth descendants will pursue
Apostasy paternal; but of those,
Who love and serve me, thousands shall receive
My mercy for the righteous father's sake.’
In form and fashion like to aught thou see'st
In Heav'n above, or in the earth beneath,
Or in the watery depths below the earth.
To these thou shalt not bow thyself, nor make
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For I the Lord am jealous, and my wrath
To third and fourth descendants will pursue
Apostasy paternal; but of those,
Who love and serve me, thousands shall receive
My mercy for the righteous father's sake.’
‘Take not God's name in vain; for if thou dost,
Thy God will not acquit thee of the guilt.’
Thy God will not acquit thee of the guilt.’
‘Hallow the sabbath! Six days shall be thine
To do thy work; the sabbath is the Lord's.
Rest thou in that from labour: let thy son,
Thy daughter, thy domestic and thy guest,
Stranger although he be, rest on that day;
Nay, e'en thy cattle shall abstain from work:
For in six days the world's great Founder built
Heav'n's starry arch, the solid earth, and spread
The circling seas, with all that they contain;
Then made the seventh day His day of rest,
A holy sabbath, blessed of the Lord.’
To do thy work; the sabbath is the Lord's.
Rest thou in that from labour: let thy son,
Thy daughter, thy domestic and thy guest,
Stranger although he be, rest on that day;
Nay, e'en thy cattle shall abstain from work:
For in six days the world's great Founder built
Heav'n's starry arch, the solid earth, and spread
The circling seas, with all that they contain;
Then made the seventh day His day of rest,
A holy sabbath, blessed of the Lord.’
‘Father and mother, (for of them thou art)
See that thou hold'st in honour, so will God
Give length of days to thee in Canaan's land.’
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Give length of days to thee in Canaan's land.’
‘From murder, from adultery, from theft
Be diligent to keep thy conscience free.’
Be diligent to keep thy conscience free.’
‘Bear not false witness in thy neighbour's wrong.’
‘Let not thine heart covet thy neighbour's house,
His wife, his servant, whether man or maid,
His ox, his ass, or aught thy neighbour hath.’—
His wife, his servant, whether man or maid,
His ox, his ass, or aught thy neighbour hath.’—
Let these commandments be to thee a law
Holy for ever, and transgress them not!”
Holy for ever, and transgress them not!”
Ah hapless Israel! blessed had'st thou been,
And above all the unenlighten'd world
Glorious in knowledge, had'st thou wisely kept
Pure and inviolate these sacred proofs
Of one eternal, immaterial God,
To thee alone reveal'd from Sinai's mount.
Thou wert God's nation, and He was thy king:
Why art thou now rejected and dispers'd
Through every quarter of the peopled earth?—
Because thou gav'st thyself to human kings,
And they gave thee to less than human gods,
To lifeless stocks and stones. Did'st thou not then,
Or ere Mount Sinai's fulminating top
Had ceas'd to glow with those seraphic fires,
That veil'd the face of thy descending God,
Did'st thou not even then revolt, and kneel
To the brute image of a molten calf?
What likeness saw'st thou of the living God,
That thou should'st pay it worship, and provoke
The meekest of mankind to dash to earth,
And in an angry moment to destroy,
The work of forty days, the sacred laws
On stony tablets grav'd by God Himself?
What ail'd thee, Aaron, to forget the Lord?
What, Miriam, thee—a leper white as snow?
Why burn'd the fires at Taberah? Why died,
Unmourn'd of Israel, Aaron's priestly sons?
Greatly, oh wretched people, have ye sinn'd,
And sore aggriev'd the spirit of your God;
But forasmuch as faithfully ye kept
The wond'rous annals, which that Book divine
From the first birth of nature through the chain
Of your eventful history unfolds,
More grateful thanks from the whole Christian world,
And milder treatment than ye have receiv'd,
Justly ye merit; for to you we owe
Discoveries, which no human thought had reach'd,
And only inspiration could supply.
Therefore we know that for the remnant left
God will provide, and, though for ages past
Ye have been wand'rers, will in his good time
Gather your scatter'd flock into His fold.
And above all the unenlighten'd world
Glorious in knowledge, had'st thou wisely kept
Pure and inviolate these sacred proofs
Of one eternal, immaterial God,
To thee alone reveal'd from Sinai's mount.
Thou wert God's nation, and He was thy king:
Why art thou now rejected and dispers'd
Through every quarter of the peopled earth?—
Because thou gav'st thyself to human kings,
175
To lifeless stocks and stones. Did'st thou not then,
Or ere Mount Sinai's fulminating top
Had ceas'd to glow with those seraphic fires,
That veil'd the face of thy descending God,
Did'st thou not even then revolt, and kneel
To the brute image of a molten calf?
What likeness saw'st thou of the living God,
That thou should'st pay it worship, and provoke
The meekest of mankind to dash to earth,
And in an angry moment to destroy,
The work of forty days, the sacred laws
On stony tablets grav'd by God Himself?
What ail'd thee, Aaron, to forget the Lord?
What, Miriam, thee—a leper white as snow?
Why burn'd the fires at Taberah? Why died,
Unmourn'd of Israel, Aaron's priestly sons?
Greatly, oh wretched people, have ye sinn'd,
And sore aggriev'd the spirit of your God;
But forasmuch as faithfully ye kept
176
From the first birth of nature through the chain
Of your eventful history unfolds,
More grateful thanks from the whole Christian world,
And milder treatment than ye have receiv'd,
Justly ye merit; for to you we owe
Discoveries, which no human thought had reach'd,
And only inspiration could supply.
Therefore we know that for the remnant left
God will provide, and, though for ages past
Ye have been wand'rers, will in his good time
Gather your scatter'd flock into His fold.
END OF THE THIRD BOOK.
| The Exodiad, A Poem | |