Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Destroying Angel

The Destroying Angel.

"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host, "And slaughter a sacrifice;Let the life-blood be sprinkled on each door-post, Nor stir till the morn arise;And the Angel of Vengeance shall pass you by,He shall see the red stain, and shall come not nigh Where the hope of your household lies."

The people hear, and they bow them low— Each to his house has flown;The lamb is slain, and with blood they go, And sprinkle the lintel stone;And the doors they close when the sun hath set,But few in oblivious sleep forget The judgment to be done.

'Tis midnight—yet they hear no sound Along the lone still street;No blast of a pestilence sweeps the ground, No tramp of unearthly feet,Nor rush as of harpy-wing goes by,But the calm moon floats in the cloudless sky, 'Mid her wan light clear and sweet.

Once only, shot like an arrowy ray, A pale-blue flash was seen;It passed so swift, the eye scarce could say That such a thing had been:Yet the beat of every heart was still,And the flesh crawled fearfully and chill, And back flowed every vein.

The courage of Israel's bravest quailed At the view of that awful light,Though knowing the blood of their offering availed To shield them from its might:They felt 'twas the Spirit of Death had passed,That the brightness they saw his cold glance had east On Egypt's land that night.

Wail, King of the Pyramids! Death hath cast His shafts through thine empire wide,But o'er Israel in bondage his rage hath passed, No first-born of hers hath died—Go, Satrap! command that the captive be free,Lest their God in fierce anger should smite even thee, On the crown of thy purple pride.