University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

—Another part of Pharaoh's Palace.
Enter two Officers and Magicians, severally.
First Officer.
Oh, 'twas a sight! These sinuous arms of mine
Would never let me 'plaud an idle show;
And I have never slept a sleep so sound
As after battle with marauders fierce
In hoary wilderness or mountain cave:—
And yet I swear I sooner would peruse
A sight like this, than my own scorèd front,
Its gory honours in the plate of steel
Reflected of a newly vanquish'd foe.

Second Officer.
Ne'er did my eyes take in so brave a sight!—
Cloths of all hues, velvets, and softer silks,
Like argent skirted as the frizèd waves,—
Colours bright-glowing, harness of beaten gold,
And splendid tissue vieing with the sun,
Who, as though vex'd with envy, shot his fire
In ardent scorn, o'er-gilding all the host.

First Magician.
I pray thee, what was this?

Second Officer.
The walls did groan.
The trees did bear more men than ever fruit.
No dangerous edge, but like a swallow perch'd,
Some rough Egyptian through his straining eyes
(Much like a hungry beggar at a feast)
Suck'd in magnificence.—Plenitude fed desire:
Appetite crav'd past both. No man did know
That was his house, for still it was o'errun
By general feet; all vacancies chok'd up.
Three parts o'the city emptied the livers out
And chok'd the fourth. It were an easy thing
For twenty men-at-arms to sack the thirds,
And take the other gazing. Age, youth, brown, fair,
Were heap'd-up spoils to wonder; faces were
Like stampèd coin, huddled in heaps to pay
A tribute to the sight.—There was a buzz
Vexing the passing breeze, much like to that
Whenas a man doth put his wary ear
Close to a hive of bees; and then a shout
That made old soldiers redden as they look'd
Into each other's thoughts.—Oh, it was rare!

Second Magician.
This new-found Joseph's triumph, I suppose.

First Magician.
Such boisterous clamour, and such throngèd joy,
Is violent waste of human action.
The clouds do ever mock the bravest show.
Splendour and glory are but folly cloak'd:
Wonder is ignorance; pomp, bright deceit;
Nightfall extinguisheth the garish show,
And then the man must think. But some there are
Whose mealy brains will sleep upon the fret,
And e'en be dazzled with it for a week,
As though the head were stuff'd with barrèd wheels,
Brightly revolving in contrarious ways.—
I have no patient ear to taste such trash.

First Officer.
A sneap,—a sneap,—carry your inky brow
And cloudy eye to those who love your caves,
Your nightly lamps, your silence, and your scrolls.
This your contempt is foolish, and not wise.
Come, come, I'll go about with you for this—
Your wisdom's like a giant of report,
That may be heard and yet is never seen:
Sometimes for proof you show his heavy club,
His bulky garments, or his sandal old;
And map the hollow rock where he abides.
Just such an antic game your gravity
Plays off upon the ignorance of men.
Folly's allowance is the stock he owns:
For so much wisdom he accredits you;
The odds ere ten to one between the two
The man is fool'd. We that are men of life,
Whose blood is purple with the lusty grape,
And purgèd with the scymitars of foes,
Have sharper wits, and travel and observe.
I can perceive some glimpse of wisdom in you,
Yet not so much as you pretend to own;
Therefore your habit and your craft's a cheat.
Then what a monstrous man are you to rail
Upon this kingly festival to-day,
Because 'tis like your own deceit, and plays
On man's imagination!—I perceive
Your gravity is envious.—Go to—
'Tis not the show you hate,—it is the man,
Whose youthful wisdom and diviner sense
Have pluck'd your mantles up, and shown the hoof.
Why, man, by such a practice as this same,
You bray upon your own absurdity.
He who acknowledgeth a man that's wise,
Is counted wise in the acknowledgment:
He 'scapeth ridicule, and balms his name,
Though he do break his gall. If you will stay
And hear me prate a little on this show,
Then I may think you flatter not yourself:
If not, choke on your prejudice.

First Magician.
Not I.—
I've sometimes heard how kings have been deceiv'd:
Things that are easy said are hard to prove,
And craft can shape event to circumstance,
Though circumstance may shame it in event.
You of the sword oft make a gaudy cloak
Stand for the captain, who at issue fails.

First Officer.
Yea, many a coat is many an officer;
Like a tame leopard that doth lick his pride,
Which is his tawny and bespotted skin,—
Thus men of blood and men of supine thought
Do meet as brother fools when they pretend
To undeservèd knowledge, or to fame.
I do not tell you not to wear your cloak,
For man is faulty in convictions;
But I do tell you not to lay the blame
On others' folly till you purge your own.
And so, great type of wisdom, fare ye well.

[Exeunt Magicians.
Second Officer.
'Faith, you have given his gravity a wrench.

First Officer.
Oh! hang a fellow with a curlèd lip,
Whose modish form and blank morality
Do med'cine to his spleen and crouching pride!
These magi are a double-dealing race.

Second Officer.
Ha! What twin riders have just pass'd the gate?
Their horses' nimble heels do beat and bound
Fast as a ball that chafes towards the bourne.

First Officer.
This way they scour abreast, as they did think
Lightning was in the wind which they have left.
[Enter two Egyptians.
What, Pharaoh's page, and not at court today?

First Egyptian.
Is the scene over?

Second Egyptian.
Has the procession pass'd?

First Officer.
The sun is all the glory of today
That you are like to see. It is all done.

Second Egyptian.
I'm like to one who's dropp'd a precious rose
Which the smooth tide did give me hope to get;
I barely touch it with my fingers' ends
And then it sinks; so time hath hurried on
This goodly show, for which my great desire
Has almost crack'd my breath.

First Egyptian.
Tell us, I pray,
What fortune we have miss'd.

Second Officer.
Why, sir, this much:
Fancy you see all stuck together close
As many people as a dream would hold:
Then, sir, you have a multitude as thick
As flies on luscious honey newly spilt;
All passive, downward, active at the head—
Behold observers.—In the royal path
Came maidens rob'd in white, enchain'd in flowers,
Sweeping the ground with incense-scented palms:
Then came the sweetest voices of the land,
And cried, ‘Bow ye the knee!’—and then aloud
Clarions and trumpets broke forth in the air:
After a multitude of men-at-arms,
Of priests, of officers, and horsèd chiefs,
Came the benignant Pharaoh, whose great pride
Was buried in his smile. I did but glimpse
His car, for 'twas of burnish'd gold. No eye
Save that of eagles could confront the blaze
That seem'd to burn the air, unless it fell
Either on sapphire or carbuncle huge
That riveted the weight. This car was drawn
By twelve jet horses, being four abreast,
And pied in their own foam. Within the car
Sat Pharaoh, whose bare head was girt around
By a crown of iron; and his sable hair,
Like strakey as a mane, fell where it would,
And somewhat hid his glossy sun-brent neck
And carcanet of precious sardonyx.
His jewell'd armlets, weighty as a sword,
Clasp'd his brown naked arms—a crimson robe,
Deep edg'd with silver, and with golden thread,
Upon a bear-skin kirtle deeply blush'd,
Whose broad resplendent braid and shield-like clasps
Were boss'd with diamonds large, by rubies fir'd,
Like beauty's eye in rage, or roses white
Lit by the glowing red. Beside him lay
A bunch of poppied corn; and at his feet
A tamèd lion as his footstool crouch'd.
Cas'd o'er in burnish'd plates I, hors'd, did bear
A snow-white eagle on a silver shaft,
From whence great Pharaoh's royal banner stream'd,
An emblem of his might and dignity;
And as the minstrelsy burst clanging forth,
With shouts that broke like thunder from the host,
The royal bird with kindred pride of power
Flew up the measure of his silken cord,
And arch'd his cloud-like wings as he would mount,
And babble of this glory to the sun.
Then follow'd Joseph in a silver car,
Drawn by eight horses, white as evening clouds:
His feet were resting upon Pharaoh's sword;
And on his head a crown of drooping corn
Mock'd that of Ceres in high holiday.
His robes were simple, but were full of grace,
And (out of love and truth I speak him thus)
I never did behold a man less proud,
More dignified or grateful to admire.
His honours nothing teas'd him from himself;
And he but fill'd his fortunes like a man
Who did intend to honour them as much
As they could honour him.

First Egyptian.
Why, this was rare.

Second Officer.
Then came the honour'd elders of the land,
Whose sombre habits answer'd to their age,
Wove of the ancient woof which sibyls love;—
Their faces as old chronicles were mapp'd
And furrow'd with an age of mystic thought;
Their snowy hair that mingled with their beards
Flow'd o'er their shadowy forms in many a fold,
Covering their garments like a silvery cloud
At moonlight o'er some darksome sepulchre;
Following the gorgeousness that went before,
Thus they crept on as night succeeds the day:
In their right hand they bore a charmèd wand,
And in their left a dusky scroll o'erwrought
With hieroglyphics and deep mysteries:
Each one was follow'd by his sacred charge,
In silver cradles work'd with lotus flowers,
Wherein were shrin'd with reverential awe
Emblems of Egypt since her antique days
(As on her brazen pillars it is writ)
Coeval with creation's misty age,—
Those venerated old and mystic forms,
Sacred receptacles of Egypt's faith:
Then came devices work'd in various ways
That a fantastic fancy could invent,—
The crocodile and serpents of the Nile
Mail'd doubly in resplendent jewelry,
And chain'd with chains of gold.

First Egyptian.
I've travell'd much and many countries seen,
Frozen and arid, where whole nations swarm'd
E'en as they do to build our monuments,
Witness'd the crowning of most potent kings,
Their advent and their inhumation;
But this in gorgeous taste elaborate
Surpasses all;—more! more! I thirst to hear!

Second Officer.
But the chief sight, and far beyond the rest,
Was a vast platform ample as a town,
Wherein by matchless craftsmen had been set
A thousand springs:—and on as many wheels
It rollèd not, but glided undulant,
So that no shock could jar its precious freight,
Drawn by some hundred trainèd elephants
All hous'd in velvet and in cloth of gold,
And on it was bestow'd with wondrous art
Forest and rocky fastness, wood and glen,
Peopled with all that nature could bestow
Of savage beauty, beast or bird or fish.
Behold a mimic Nile appear'd to flow
From end to end, and its inhabitants
By snare or force from out the parent flood,
Monster or reptile, had been gather'd here;—
Their keepers, habited in caney sedge,
Diff'ring but little from their dang'rous charge,
With chain and club still kept a wary eye,—
While on an elevated stand a troop
Of chosen archers with a single aim
Stood ready, with a hundred arrows drawn,
To strike all danger with a sudden death.
Huge serpents wound about the sapling trees,
While others, charm'd, wander'd at liberty,
Or undulating in their graceful folds,
Follow'd a shepherd with his reedy pipe,
Proud of their tam'd and willing servitude,
Mark'd by the jewell'd collar round their necks.
Here plaintive syrens in their crystal caves,
With star-flower crowns and lotus garland tress'd
In their down-flowing and enrobing hair,—
There fabled men and women of the deep,
Deck'd in the secret treasures of the sea.
The mountains had been robb'd, the eagle's home
Rifled, and pillag'd was the vulture's hold.
The supple panther and white elephant,
The hoary lion with his ivory fangs,
The barrèd tiger with his savage eye,
The untam'd zebra, beasts from foreign lands,
Beauteous or rare, were with nice judgment rang'd.
Bowers there were, sweet shrubs and brilliant flowers,
And nymphs, and dance, and festival, and song,—
Then the ten thousand actors in this scene,
In costumes of all hues and qualities,
Each suited to the office that he held.
There was a man, if man he could be call'd,
Who had no age, being neither old nor young,
Chain'd by an iron girdle to a tree;—
A giant monster, dwarf'd, deform'd, and grim,
Whose muscles seem'd to roll upon his bones,
That never knew an honest covering;
And through his matted hair his kindling eyes
Loom'd on his destin'd mortal enemy:
The wondrous snowy brilliance of his teeth,
Perfection mocking his deformity,
Gleam'd through the swarthy freckles of his skin,
Bronz'd in a life's defiance to the sun.
On either side an Ethiopian youth,
Perfect in symmetry and supple grace,
With naked skin of satin ebony
Zon'd by a belt of emerald and gold,
Held one an antique ewer fill'd with wine;
The other a huge vermaille-fretted cup,
To serve the giant culprit's privilege,
And feed his courage for the coming fight.
Ferocious as his deed, all criminals
Were spotless in his brute comparison;—
Slave, he had slain his master while asleep,
And had devour'd his heart.
A fasting lion in a rocky den,
Disdaining other than the flesh of man,
And destin'd to devour him in his turn
In the arena when the fight was done,
Was chain'd before him, not so far apart
But that the mingling of their fetid breath
And fiery eyes returning glare for glare
Gave foretaste of defiance, blood for blood;—
Anon the famish'd monster beats the air,
And rearing o'er his prey his hideous roar,
Seems to shake Pharaoh and his mighty host.
Into his native den meanwhile the man,
Equally mad with courage and with wine,
Braves and defies, and with his sinewy arms
Throws forth to grapple with his horny hands,
Emboss'd and rigid in their iron strength,
All arm'd with nails yellow as eagle's claws
Prepar'd to plough his victim to the bone:
He laugh'd a hideous and cavern'd laugh,
As echo'd from some monster of the woods.
Grave soldiers doubted of the victory
The lion or the man.
Then in the midst of all rose high in air
A towering pagoda, on whose top
An ample platform of sweet cedar wood,
Reclin'd a monster frightful to behold,—
A dragon body with a human head.
His eyes were sapphires burning in their orbs,
And all his scales of massive jewelry
So artfully bestow'd that the sun's beams
Play'd on a thousand scintillating rays
Dazzling in their harmonious brilliancy;
His hair of diamond sparkles threaded lithe;
His teeth of pearls matchless in shape and size,
Pallid and pure, opaque, of the moon's tint
Seen through a white and soft unveiling cloud;
His face incongruous ponderous iron-wood,
Marbled with yellow veins of native growth,
Wrinkled and old, and black as ebony,
Carv'd in a torment by fanatic hands,
In form and colour ghastly hideous,—
The man, the brute, the demon mystical;—
And 'neath his gaping mouth his nether lip
Was pierc'd and drooping with a golden ring
Broad as your palm, besmear'd promiscuously
(Priceless defiance of contemnèd art)
With gems creation-born so primitive
That time, impatient at their latent growth,
Grew fretful and expos'd them to the light,—
Ransom of old from three barbaric kings,
Grand masterpiece indeed, ignoble strife
Of that once brilliant race undeified,
Of fallen angels forfeit of their wings.
Around the potent god a hundred priests
Burnt incense, and with bodies lowly curb'd
Utter'd his name with gravity and awe,
While on each stage a widen'd turret, throng'd
With magi of the temple, sumptuously
Adorn'd in all the splendour of their caste:
Following at intervals the signal given
By the high-priest, as suddenly inspir'd
These beat their gongs, and all the countless host
Turn'd to the beast adoring.—
Great Pharaoh reverently touch'd his front,
While Joseph's sadness struggled with a smile.
Such life and movement ne'er was seen before,
Sieges and single combats, eddy fights,
On mount or plain in swift succession came;
And the imperial army, foot and horse,
Wag'd mimic war, but somewhat dangerous,
Rous'd by contagious ardour of the scene;
And many a feud and private enmity
Had this day sanguinary issue found,
Were it not writ in crimson characters
On a gigantic banner snowy-white,
Wav'd ever to the trumpet's warning sound,—
‘Mark! He who sheds a drop of human blood
During this day of plenty and of peace
Shall by the royal archers of the king
Be put to sudden death. Joseph, the lord
And governor of Egypt, thus decrees
Glory and honour to his living God.’