A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/Moses (Alfred de Vigny)
MOSES.
Upon the crests of tents the day-god threw
His rays oblique; blazed, dazzling to the view,
The tracts of gold that on the air he leaves
When in the sands he sets on cloudless eves,
Purple and yellow clothed the desert plain.
High rose the sterile Nebo: climbed with pain
Moses, the man of God, its rugged side—
No soul more meek, less subject unto pride.
One moment had he stopped to cast a look
Upon the vast horizon, Nature's book.
Pisgah at first he saw with fig-trees crowned,
Then, o'er the mountains as they stood around
Gilead, Ephraim, Manasseh,—lands
Fertile to his right, unvexed with sands,
Then to the south Judah far stretching wild
Its deserts, at whose edge the bright sea smiled.
Then further on, with olives graced, a vale,
Naphtali's portion,—pale, already pale
With twilight's shadows, then in flowers and calm,
Jericho slumbering, city of the palm.
Then Phogor's meadows lengthened out with woods
Of mastic-trees, to Segor's solitudes.
He saw all Canaan, all the promised land
He knew he should not enter: stretched his hand
Over the Hebrews, as some words to say,
Then to the mountain top in silence took his way.
The fields of Moab filled a circle vast,
On which the sacred mount its shadow cast,
Nearer, the host of Israel in the vale
Stirred like the blades of corn beneath the gale.
Ere yet on golden sands were dried the drops,
Or the pearls vanished from the maples' tops,
Since dawn, the prophet centenarian, feared
As more than man, and more than man revered,
Had left the camp, to seek the living Lord.
And hear,—oh, wondrous privilege!—His word.
Men traced his march—on, onwards as he went—
By flames that darted from his eyes intent;
And when the mountain's summit he attained,
And his brow pierced the cloud, whence silver-maned
The lightnings ran,—at once the incense smoke
From the stone altars in the valley broke.
Six hundred thousand Hebrews then in dust
Bent down. The perfumed cloud with every gust
Wavered around them, while the sun's last ray
Melted insensibly to sombre grey.
With one voice chanted in the twilight dim
Arose from many hearts the thrilling hymn;
And Levi's sons erect among the crowd,
Stood like a cypress grove 'mid foreheads bowed,
In their skilled hands, clear, loud, the harp-strings rung,
While to the King of kings the people sung.
And in God's presence, Moses took his place
Veiled in the cloud,—and saw Him face to face.
He said,—'O Lord! When shall my journey end?
Where wilt Thou further yet Thy servant send?
Must I live feared and lonely from my birth?
Oh! let me sleep the sleep of all the earth.
What have I done, elected thus to stand?
Lo! I have led Thy people to their land.
Let some one else appear upon the scene
'Twixt Thee and them, like me to intervene.
Wild is Thy courser Israel, O my God!
He needs the iron curb and scorpion rod.
These and my book I gladly shall resign—
But Thou art just: Thy will be done, not mine.
'On all my hopes why still descends a blight?
Why is my ignorance dispelled by light,
Since from mount Horeb unto Nebo mount
Six feet of earth, alas! I cannot count
To rest in? What to him who never dies
Avails it to be wisest of the Wise?
My finger guides a nation's wanderings,
And draws down fire upon the heads of kings,
With signs and portents no man ever saw;
The future on its knees shall take my law;
The dead, in old tombs opened at my choice,
Find a mysterious and prophetic voice;
I stamp upon the nations with my feet;
My hand makes armies triumph or retreat;
I lift up generations; at my frown
From their high place, headlong they tumble down;
Mighty and lonely from, alas! my birth—
Now let me sleep the sleep of all the earth.
'Ah me! The secrets even of the skies
Are known to me, such power Thou gav'st mine eyes;
Night at my voice its dark veil rends afar,
My lips have named and counted every star.
O'er the blue heavens, whene’er those stars I call,
"Present"—they say, and shine out one and all.
I place my hands on clouds with sombre forms,
And from their flanks wring out the latent storms.
Cities I bury in huge piles of sand,
Mountains o'erturn by winds at my command,
My feet ne'er tire when travelling through space,
At my nod rivers change their wonted place,
Ocean itself is silent at my voice,
I make thine Israel in his griefs rejoice.
When he requires new laws, or ease from pains,
I look up unto Thee. Thy Spirit deigns
To visit me; earth trembles to its source
And the sun starts affrighted from its course.
Angels admire me, jealous seem, and fear,
And yet, good Lord, I am not happy here.
Mighty and lonely from, alas! my birth,
Now let me sleep the sleep of all the earth.
'Thy breath inspired the shepherds soul,—men saw
And thought me more than man, and fled in awe.
Bent low their eyes before mine eyes of flame,
For there they saw what thoughts within me came.
I've seen Love die, and Friendship quench his light,
And virgins veil themselves, or faint with fright.
And thus enveloped in a sable cloud,
Alone and sad, I marched before the crowd.
"O lonely heart," I said, "what wilt thou now?
Upon no breast may'st thou e'er lean thy brow,
Thy hand leaves fear upon the hand it meets,
Lightnings and storms on thy lips fix their seats,
Men cannot love thee,—see, they tremble all,
Thou openest arms, and on their knees they fall."
Mighty I've lived and lonely from my birth,
Oh, let me sleep the sleep of all the earth.'
The people waited long. They feared God's wrath,
And dared not gaze upon the mountain path.
Whene'er they raised their eyes, the clouds piled black
Redoubled deafening, thunder, storm and wrack,
And sheets of lightning, blinding earth and air,
Made them bow down again in silent prayer.
The mountain top at last from clouds grew free,
But where was Moses? Him they could not see.
They wept his loss. To lead them to their land
Stepped to the front, the sceptre in his hand,
Joshua, God's new Elect, oppressed with care,
Pensive and pale, the weight of rule to bear.