Idylls of the Bible/Moses: a story of the Nile
THE PARTING.—Chapter 1.
MOSES:A STORY OF THE NILE
THE PARTING.—Chapter 1.
MOSES.Kind and gracious princess, more than friend,I've come to thank thee for thy goodness,And to breathe into thy generous earsMy last and sad farewell. I go to joinThe fortunes of my race, and to put asideAll other bright advantages, saveThe approval of my conscience and the meedOf rightly doing.
PRINCESS.What means, my son, this strange election?What wild chimera floats across thy mind?What sudden impulse moves thy soul? Thou whoHast only trod the court of kings, why seekInstead the paths of labor? Thou, whose limbsHave known no other garb than that which wellBefits our kingly state, why rather chooseThe badge of servitude and toil?
MOSES.Let me tell thee, gracious princess; 'tis noSudden freak nor impulse wild that moves my mind.I feel an earnest purpose binding allMy soul unto a strong resolve, which bidsMe put aside all other ends and aims,Until the hour shall come when God—the GodOur fathers loved and worshipped—shall break our chains,And lead our willing feet to freedom.
PRINCESS.Listen to me, Moses: thou art young,And the warm blood of youth flushes thy veinsLike generous wine; thou wearest thy manhoodLike a crown; but what king e'er castHis diadem in the dust, to be trampledDown by every careless foot? Thou hastBright dreams and glowing hopes; could'st thou not liveThem out as well beneath the radianceOf our throne as in the shadow of thoseBondage-darkened huts?
MOSES.Within those darkened huts my mother plies her tasks,My father bends to unrequited toil;And bitter tears moisten the bread my brethren eat.And when I gaze upon their cruel wrongs The very purple on my limbs seems drenchedWith blood, the warm blood of my own kindred race;And then thy richest viands pall upon my taste,And discord jars in every tone of song.I cannot live in pleasure while they faintIn pain.
PRINCESS.How like a dream the past floats back: it seemsBut yesterday when I lay tossing uponMy couch of pain, a torpor creeping throughEach nerve, a fever coursing through my veins.And there I lay, dreaming of lilies fair,Of lotus flowers and past delights, and allThe bright, glad hopes, that give to early lifeIts glow and flush; and thus day after dayDragged its slow length along, until, one morn,The breath of lilies, fainting on the air,Floated into my room, and then I longed once moreTo gaze upon the Nile, as on the faceOf a familiar friend, whose absence longHad made a mournful void within the heart.I summoned to my side my maids, and badeThem place my sandals on my feet, and leadMe to the Nile, where I might bathe my wearyLimbs within the cooling flood, and gatherHealing from the sacred stream.I sought my favorite haunt, and, bathing, foundNew tides of vigor coursing through my veins. Refreshed, I sat me down to weave a crown of lotus leavesAnd lilies fair, and while I sat in a sweetRevery, dreaming of life and hope, I sawA little wicker-basket hidden amongThe flags and lilies of the Nile, and I calledMy maidens and said, "Nillias and OsiriaBring me that little ark which floats besideThe stream." They ran and brought me a precious burden.'Twas an ark woven with rushes and daubedWith slime, and in it lay a sleeping child;His little hand amid his clustering curls,And a bright flush upon his glowing cheek.He wakened with a smile, and reached out his handTo meet the welcome of the mother's kiss,When strange faces met his gaze, and he drew backWith a grieved, wondering look, while disappointmentShook the quivering lip that missed the mother'sWonted kiss, and the babe lifted his voice and wept.Then my heart yearned towards him, and I resolvedThat I would brave my father's wrath and saveThe child; but while I stood gazing uponHis wondrous beauty, I saw beside meA Hebrew girl, her eyes bent on meWith an eager, questioning look, and drawingNear, she timidly said, "shall I call a nurse?"I bade her go; she soon returned, and with her Came a woman of the Hebrew race, whoseSad, sweet, serious eyes seemed overflowingWith a strange and sudden joy. I placed the babeWithin her arms and said, "Nurse this child for me;"And the babe nestled there like one at home,While o'er the dimples of his face rippledThe brightest, sweetest smiles, and I was wellContent to leave him in her care; and wellDid she perform her part. When many days hadPassed she brought the child unto the palace;And one morning, while I sat toying withHis curls and listening to the prattle of hisUntrained lips, my father, proud and stately,Saw me bending o'er the child and said,"Charmian, whose child is this? who of my lordsCalls himself father to this goodly child?He surely must be a happy man." Then I said, "Father, he is mine. He is aHebrew child that I have saved from death." HeSuddenly recoiled, as if an adderHad stung him, and said, "Charmian, take thatChild hence. How darest thou bring a memberOf that mean and servile race within my doors?Nay, rather let me send for Nechos, whoseReady sword shall rid me of his hateful presence."Then kneeling at his feet, and catchingHold of his royal robes, I said, "Not so,Oh! honored father, he is mine; I snatched Him from the hungry jaws of death, and foiledThe greedy crocodile of his prey; he hasEaten bread within thy palace walls, and thySalt lies upon his fresh young lips; he hasA claim upon thy mercy.""Charmian," he said,"I have decreed that every man child of thatHated race shall die. The oracles have saidThe pyramids shall wane before their shadow,And from them a star shall rise whose light shallSpread over earth a baleful glow; and this is whyI root them from the land; their strength is weaknessTo my throne. I shut them from the light lest theyBring darkness to my kingdom. Now, Charmian,Give me up the child, and let him die."Then clasping the child closer to my heart,I said, "the pathway to his life is through my own;Around that life I throw my heart, a wallOf living, loving clay." Dark as the thunderClouds of distant lands became my father's brow,And his eyes flashed with the fierce lightningsOf his wrath; but while I plead, with eagerEyes upturned, I saw a sudden change comeOver him; his eyes beamed with unwontedTenderness, and he said, "Charmian, arise,Thy prayer is granted; just then thy dead motherCame to thine eyes, and the light of AsenathBroke over thy face. Asenath was the lightOf my home; the star that faded out too Suddenly from my dwelling, and left my lifeTo darkness, grief and pain, and for her sake,Not thine, I'll spare the child." And thus I savedThee twice—once from the angry sword and onceFrom the devouring flood. Moses, thou artDoubly mine; as such I claimed thee then, as suchI claim thee now. I've nursed no other childUpon my knee, and pressed upon no otherLips the sweetest kisses of my love, and now,With rash and careless hand, thou dost thrust aside that love.There was a painful silence, a silenceSo hushed and still that you might have almostHeard the hurried breathing of one and the quick.Throbbing of the other's heart: for Moses,He was slow of speech, but she was eloquentWith words of tenderness and love, and had breathedHer full heart into her lips; but there wasFirmness in the young man's choice, and he beat backThe opposition of her lips with the calmGrandeur of his will, and again he essayed to speak.
MOSES.Gracious lady, thou remembrest wellThe Hebrew nurse to whom thou gavest thy foundling.That woman was my mother; from her lips ILearned the grand traditions of our race that float, With all their weird and solemn beauty, aroundOur wrecked and blighted fortunes. How oft!With kindling eye and glowing cheek, forgetfulOf the present pain, she would lead us throughThe distant past: the past, hallowed by deedsOf holy faith and lofty sacrifice.How she would tell us of Abraham,The father of our race, that he dwelt in Ur;Of the Chaldees, and when the Chaldean kingHad called him to his sacrifice, that heHad turned from his dumb idols to the livingGod, and wandered out from kindred, home and race,Led by his faith in God alone; and she wouldTell us,—(we were three,) my brother Aaron,The Hebrew girl thou sentest to call a nurse,And I, her last, her loved and precious child;She would tell us that one day our fatherAbraham heard a voice, bidding him offerUp in sacrifice the only son of hisBeautiful and beloved Sarah; that the father'sHeart shrank not before the bitter test of faith,But he resolved to give his son to GodAs a burnt offering upon Moriah's mount;That the uplifted knife glittered in the morningSun, when, sweeter than the music of a thousandHarps, he heard a voice bidding him stay his hand,And spare the child; and how his faith, like goldTried in the fiercest fire, shone brighter through Its fearful test. And then she would tell usOf a promise, handed down from sire to son,That God, the God our fathers loved and worshiped,Would break our chains, and bring to us a greatDeliverance; that we should dwell in peaceBeneath our vines and palms, our flocks and herdsIncrease, and joyful children crowd our streets;And then she would lift her eyes unto the farOff hills and tell us of the patriarchsOf our line, who sleep in distant graves withinThat promised land; and now I feel the hourDraws near which brings deliverance to our race.
PRINCESS.These are but the dreams of thy young fancy;I cannot comprehend thy choice. I have heardOf men who have waded through slaughterTo a throne; of proud ambitions, strugglesFierce and wild for some imagined good; of menWho have even cut in twain the crimson threadsThat lay between them and a throne; but INever heard of men resigning ease for toil,The splendor of a palace for the squalorOf a hut, and casting down a diademTo wear a servile badge. Sadly she gazedUpon the fair young face lit with its loftyFaith and high resolves—the dark prophetic eyesWhich seemed to look beyond the present pain Unto the future greatness of his race.As she stood before him in the warmLoveliness of her ripened womanhood,Her languid eyes glowed with unwonted fire,And the bright tropical blood sent its quickFlushes o'er the olive of her cheek, on whichStill lay the lingering roses of her girlhood.Grief, wonder, and surprise flickered like shadowsO'er her face as she stood slowly crushingWith unconscious hand the golden tasselsOf her crimson robe. She had known life onlyBy its brightness, and could not comprehendThe grandeur of the young man's choice; but sheFelt her admiration glow before the earnestFaith that tore their lives apart and led himTo another destiny. She had hoped to seeThe crown of Egypt on his brow, the sacredLeopard skin adorn his shoulders, and his seatThe throne of the proud Pharaoh's; but now herDream had faded out and left a bitter pangOf anguish in its stead. And thus they parted,She to brood in silence o'er her pain, and heTo take his mission from the hands of GodAnd lead his captive race to freedom.With silent lips but aching heart she bowedHer queenly head and let him pass, and heWent forth to share the fortune of his race,Esteeming that as better far than pleasuresBought by sin and gilded o'er with vice. And he had chosen well, for on his browGod poured the chrism of a holy work.And thus anointed he has stood a brightEnsample through the changing centuries of time.
Chapter II.
It was a great change from the splendor, lightAnd pleasure of a palace to the lowly hutsOf those who sighed because of cruel bondage. As he passedInto the outer courts of that proud palace,He paused a moment just to gaze uponThe scenes 'mid which his early life had passed—The pleasant haunts amid the fairest flowers,—The fountains tossing on the air their silver spray,—The statues breathing music soft and lowTo greet the first faint flushes of the morn,—The obelisks that rose in lofty grandeurFrom their stony beds—the sphynxes gaunt and grim,With unsolved riddles on their lips—and allThe bright creation's painters art and sculptorsSkill had gathered in those regal halls, where mirth,And dance, and revelry, and song had chasedWith careless feet the bright and fleeting hours. He was leaving all; but no regrets cameLike a shadow o'er his mind, for he had feltThe quickening of a higher life, as if hisSoul had wings and he were conscious of their growth;And yet there was a tender light in thoseDark eyes which looked their parting on the scenesOf beauty, where his life had been a joyousDream enchanted with delight; but he trampledOn each vain regret as on a vanquished foe,And went forth a strong man, girded with loftyPurposes and earnest faith. He journeyed onTill palaces and domes and lofty fanes,And gorgeous temples faded from his sight,And the lowly homes of Goshen came in view.There he saw the women of his race kneadingTheir tale of bricks; the sons of AbrahamCrouching beneath their heavy burdens. He sawThe increasing pallor on his sisters cheek,The deepening shadows on his mother's brow,The restless light that glowed in Aaron's eye,As if a hidden fire were smoulderingIn his brain; and bending o'er his motherIn a tender, loving way, he said, "Mother,I've come to share the fortunes of my race,—To dwell within these lowly huts,—to wearThe badge of servitude and toil, and eatThe bitter bread of penury and pain."A sudden light beamed from his mother's eye,And she said, "How's this, my son? but yesterday Two Hebrews, journeying from On to Goshen,Told us they had passed the temple of the SunBut dared not enter, only they had heardThat it was a great day in On; that thou hadstForsworn thy kindred, tribe and race; hadst bowedThy knee to Egypt's vain and heathen worship;Hadst denied the God of Abraham, of Isaac,And of Jacob, and from henceforth wouldstBe engrafted in Pharaoh's regal line,And be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter.When thy father Amram heard the cruel newsHe bowed his head upon his staff and wept.But I had stronger faith than that. By faithI hid thee when the bloody hands of PharaohWere searching 'mid our quivering heart strings,Dooming our sons to death; by faith I woveThe rushes of thine ark and laid thee 'midThe flags and lilies of the Nile, and sawThe answer to that faith when Pharaoh's daughterPlaced thee in my arms, and bade me nurse the childFor her; and by that faith sustained, I heardAs idle words the cruel news that stabbedThy father like a sword.""The Hebrews did not hear aright; last weekThere was a great day in On, from Esoan's gateUnto the mighty sea; the princes, lordsAnd chamberlains of Egypt were assembled;The temple of the sun was opened. Isis And Osiris were unveiled before the people;Apis and Orus were crowned with flowers;Golden censers breathed their fragrance on the air;The sacrifice was smoking on the altar;The first fruits of the Nile lay on the tablesOf the sun: the music rose in lofty swells,Then sank in cadences so soft and lowTill all the air grew tremulous with rapture.The priests of On were there, with sacred palmsWithin their hands and lotus leaves upon theirBrows; Pharaoh and his daughter sat waitingIn their regal chairs; all were ready to hearMe bind my soul to Egypt, and to swearAllegiance to her gods. The priests of OnDrew near to lay their hands upon my headAnd bid me swear, 'Now, by Osiris, judgeOf all the dead, and Isis, mother of usAll,' that henceforth I'd forswear my kindred,Tribe and race; would have no other godsThan those of Egypt; would be engraftedInto Pharaoh's royal line, and be calledThe son of Pharaoh's daughter. Then, motherDear, I lived the past again. Again I satBeside thee, my lips apart with childishWonder, my eager eyes uplifted to thyGlowing face, and my young soul gatheringInspiration from thy words. Again I heardThee tell the grand traditions of our race,The blessed hopes and glorious promises That weave their golden threads among the sombreTissues of our lives, and shimmer still amidThe gloom and shadows of our lot. AgainI heard thee tell of Abraham, with his constantFaith and earnest trust in God, unto whomThe promise came that in his seed should allThe nations of the earth be blessed. Of IsaacBlessing with disappointed lips his first born son,From whom the birthright had departed. Of Jacob,With his warm affections and his devious ways,Flying before the wrath of Esau; how heSlumbered in the wild, and saw amid his dreamsA ladder reaching to the sky, on which God'sAngels did descend, and waking, with a solemnAwe o'ershadowing all, his soul exclaimed, 'HowDreadful is this place. Lo! God is here, and IKnew it not.' Of Joseph, once a mighty princeWithin this land, who shrank in holy horrorFrom the soft white hand that beckoned him to sin;Whose heart, amid the pleasures, pomp and prideOf Egypt, was ever faithful to his race,And when his life was trembling on its frailest chordHe turned his dying eyes to Canaan, and madeHis brethren swear that they would make his graveAmong the patriarchs of his line, becauseMachpelah's cave, where Abraham bowed beforeThe sons of Heth, and bought a place to layHis loved and cherished dead, was dearer to hisDying heart than the proudest tomb amidThe princely dead of Egypt. Then, like the angels, mother dear, who metOur father Jacob on his way, thy wordsCame back as messengers of light to guideMy steps, and I refused to be called the sonOf Pharaoh's daughter. I saw the priests of OnGrow pale with fear, an ashen terror creepingO'er the princess' face, while Pharaoh's brow grewDarker than the purple of his cloak. But IEndured, as seeing him who hides his faceBehind the brightness of his glory.And thus I left the pomp and pride of EgyptTo cast my lot among the people of my race."
FLIGHT INTO MIDIAN.—Chapter III.
The love of Moses for his race soon foundA stern expression. Pharaoh was buildingA pyramid; ambitious, cold and proud,He scrupled not at means to gain his ends.When he feared the growing power of IsraelHe stained his hands in children's blood, and heldA carnival of death in Goshen; but nowHe wished to hand his name and memoryDown unto the distant ages, and insteadOf lading that memory with the preciousFragrance of the kindest deeds and words, he Essayed to write it out in stone, as coldAnd hard, and heartless as himself. And Israel wasThe fated race to whom the cruel tasksWere given. Day after day a cry of wrongAnd anguish, some dark deed of woe and crime,Came to the ear of Moses, and he said,"These reports are ever harrowing my soul;I will go unto the fields where Pharaoh'sOfficers exact their labors, and seeIf these things be so—if they smite the feebleAt their tasks, and goad the aged on to toilsBeyond their strength—if neither age nor sexIs spared the cruel smiting of their rods."And Moses went to see his brethren. 'Twas eventide,And the laborers were wending their wayUnto their lowly huts. 'Twas a sad sight,—The young girls walked without the bounding stepsOf youth, with faces prematurely old,As if the rosy hopes and sunny promisesOf life had never flushed their cheeks with girlishJoy; and there were men whose faces seemed to sayWe bear our lot in hopeless pain, we 've bent untoOur burdens until our shoulders fit them,And as slaves we crouch beneath our servitudeAnd toil. But there were men whose souls were castIn firmer moulds, men with dark secretive eyes,Which seemed to say, to day we bide our time, And hide our wrath in every nerve, and onlyWait a fitting hour to strike the hands that pressUs down. Then came the officers of Pharaoh;They trod as lords, their faces flushed with prideAnd insolence, watching the laborersSadly wending their way from toil to rest.And Moses' heart swelled with a mighty pain; sadlyMusing, he sought a path that led himFrom the busy haunts of men. But even thereThe cruel wrong trod in his footsteps; he heardA heavy groan, then harsh and bitter words,And, looking back, he saw an officerOf Pharaoh smiting with rough and cruel handAn aged man. Then Moses' wrath o'erflowedHis lips, and every nerve did trembleWith a sense of wrong, and bounding forth heCried unto the smiter, "Stay thy hand; seest thouThat aged man? His head is whiter than ourDesert sands; his limbs refuse to do thyBidding because thy cruel tasks have drainedAway their strength." The Egyptain raised his eyesWith sudden wonder; who was this that dared disputeHis power? Only a Hebrew youth. HisProud lip curved in scornful anger, and heWaved a menace with his hand, saying, "backTo thy task base slave, nor dare resist the willOf Pharaoh." Then Moses' wrath o'erleaped the bounds Of prudence, and with a heavy blow he felledThe smiter to the earth, and Israel hadOne tyrant less. Moses saw the mortal palenessChase the flushes from the Egyptian's face,The whitening lips that breathed no more defianceAnd the relaxing tension of the well knit limbs;And when he knew that he was dead, he hidHim in the sand and left him to his rest. Another day Moses walkedAbroad, and saw two brethren strivingFor mastery; and then his heart grew fullOf tender pity. They were brethren, sharersOf a common wrong: should not their wrongs moreClosely bind their hearts, and union, not division,Be their strength? And feeling thus, he said, "yeAre brethren, wherefore do ye strive together?"But they threw back his words in angry tonesAnd asked if he had come to judge them, and wouldMete to them the fate of the Egyptian?Then Moses knew the sand had failed to keepHis secret, that his life no more was safeIn Goshen, and he fled unto the desertsOf Arabia and became a shepherdFor the priest of Midian.
Chapter IV.
Men grow strong in action, but in solitudeTheir thoughts are ripened. Like one who cuts awayThe bridge on which he has walked in safetyTo the other side, so Moses cut off all retreatTo Pharaoh's throne, and did choose the callingMost hateful to an Egyptian; he becameA shepherd, and led his flocks and herds amidThe solitudes and wilds of Midian, where heNursed in silent loneliness his earnest faithIn God and a constant love for kindred, tribeAnd race. Years stole o'er him, but they tookNo atom from his strength, nor laid one heavy weightUpon his shoulders. The down upon his faceHad ripened to a heavy beard; the fireThat glowed within his youthful eye had deepenedTo a calm and steady light, and yet his heartWas just as faithful to his race as when he hadStood in Pharaoh's courts and bade farewellUnto his daughter.There was a look of patient waiting on his face,A calm, grand patience, like one who had liftedUp his eyes to God and seen, with meekened face,The wings of some great destiny o'ershadowingAll his life with strange and solemn glory.But the hour came when he must pass from thoughtTo action.—when the hope of many years Must reach its grand fruition, and Israel'sGreat deliverance dawn. It happened thus:One day, as Moses led his flocks, he sawA fertile spot skirted by desert sands,—A pleasant place for flocks and herds to nipThe tender grass and rest within its shady nooks;And as he paused and turned, he saw a bush with fireAglow; from root to stem a lambent flameSent up its jets and sprays of purest light,And yet the bush, with leaves uncrisped, uncurled,Was just as green and fresh as if the breathOf early spring were kissing every leaf.Then Moses said I'll turn aside to seeThis sight, and as he turned he heard a voiceBidding him lay his sandals by, for Lo! heStood on holy ground. Then Moses bowed his headUpon his staff and spread his mantle o'erHis face, lest he should see the dreadful majestyOf God; and there, upon that lonely spot,By Horeb's mount, his shrinking hands receivedThe burden of his God, which bade him goTo Egypt's guilty king, and bid him letThe oppressed go free. Commissioned thusHe gathered up his flocks and herds and soughtThe tents of Jethro, and said "I pray theeLet me go and see if yet my kindred live;And Jethro bade him go in peace, nor soughtTo throw himself across the purpose of his soul. Yet there was a tender parting in that home;There were moistened eyes, and quivering lips,And lingering claspings of the parting hand, as JethroAnd his daughters stood within the light of thatClear morn, and gave to Moses and his wifeAnd sons their holy wishes and their sad farewells.For he had been a son and brother in that homeSince first with manly courtesy he had filledThe empty pails of Reuel's daughters, and foundA shelter 'neath his tent when flying fromThe wrath of Pharaoh. They journeyed on,Moses, Zipporah and sons, she looking backWith tender love upon the home she had left,With all its precious memories crowding roundHer heart, and he with eager eyes trackingHis path across the desert, longing once moreTo see the long-lost faces of his distant home,The loving eyes so wont to sun him with theirWelcome, and the aged hands that laid uponHis youthful head their parting blessing. TheyJourneyed on till morning's flush and noondaySplendor glided into the softened, mellowedLight of eve, and the purple mists were deep'ningOn the cliffs and hills, when Horeb, dualCrowned, arose before him; and there he metHis brother Aaron, sent by God to beHis spokesman and to bear him companyTo Pharaoh. Tender and joyous was their greeting. They talked of home and friends until the lighterRipple of their thoughts in deeper channels flowed;And then they talked of Israel's bondage,And the great deliverance about to dawnUpon the fortunes of their race; and MosesTold him of the burning bush, and how the messageOf his God was trembling on his lips. And thusThey talked until the risen moon had veiledThe mount in soft and silvery light; and thenThey rested until morn, and rising up, refreshedFrom sleep, pursued their way until they reachedThe land of Goshen, and gathered up the eldersOf their race, and told them of the messageOf their Father's God. Then eager lips caught upThe words of hope and passed the joyful "newsAround, and all the people bowed their headsAnd lifted up their hearts in thankfulnessTo God." That same dayMoses sought an audience with the king. He foundHim on his throne surrounded by the princesOf his court, who bowed in lowly homageAt his feet. And Pharaoh heard with curving lipAnd flushing cheek the message of the Hebrew's GodThen asked in cold and scornful tones, "HasIsrael a God, and if so where has he dweltFor ages? As the highest priest of EgyptI have prayed to Isis, and the Nile hasOverflowed her banks and filled the land With plenty, but these poor slaves have cried untoTheir God, then crept in want and sorrowTo their graves. Surely Mizraim's God is strongAnd Israel's is weak; then wherefore shouldI heed his voice, or at his bidding breakA single yoke?" Thus reasoned that proud king,And turned a deafened ear unto the wordsOf Moses and his brother, and yet he feltStrangely awed before their presence, becauseThey stood as men who felt the grandeurOf their mission, and thought not of themselves,But of their message.
Chapter V.
On the next day Pharaoh called a councilOf his mighty men, and before them laidThe message of the brethren: then Amorphel,Keeper of the palace and nearest lordUnto the king, arose, and bending lowBefore the throne, craved leave to speak a word.Amorphel was a crafty, treacherous man,With oily lips well versed in flatteryAnd courtly speech, a supple reed readyTo bend before his royal master's lightestBreath—Pharaoh's willing tool. He said"Gracious king, thou has been too lenientWith these slaves; light as their burdens are, they Fret and chafe beneath them. They are idleAnd the blood runs riot in their veins. NowIf thou would'st have these people dwell in peace,Increase, I pray thee, their tasks and add untoTheir burdens; if they faint beneath their addedTasks, they will have less time to plot seditionAnd revolt."
Then Rhadma, oldest lord in Pharaoh's court,Arose. He was an aged man, whose whiteAnd heavy beard hung low upon his breast,Yet there was a hard cold glitter in his eye,And on his face a proud and evil look.He had been a servant to the former king,And wore his signet ring upon his hand.He said, "I know this Moses well. FourscoreYears ago Princess Charmian found himBy the Nile and rescued him from death, and didChoose him as her son, and had him versed in allThe mysteries and lore of Egypt. But bloodWill tell, and this base slave, with servile bloodWithin his veins, would rather be a servantThan a prince, and so, with rude and reckless hand,He thrust aside the honors of our dearDeparted king. Pharaoh was justly wroth,But for his daughter's sake he let the trespassPass. But one day this Moses slew an EgyptianIn his wrath, and then the king did seek his life;But he fled, it is said, unto the deserts Of Arabia, and became a shepherd for the priestOf Midian. But now, instead of leading flocksAnd herds, he aspires to lead his captive raceTo freedom. These men mean mischief; seditionAnd revolt are in their plans. Decree, I pray thee,That these men shall gather their own strawAnd yet their tale of bricks shall be the same."And these words pleased Pharaoh well, and all hisLords chimed in with one accord. And PharaohWrote the stern decree and sent it unto Goshen—That the laborers should gather their own straw,And yet they should not 'minish of their tale of bricks 'Twas a sad day in Goshen;The king's degree hung like a gloomy pallAround their homes. The people fainted 'neathTheir added tasks, then cried unto the king,That he would ease their burdens; but he hissedA taunt into their ears and said, "ye areIdle, and your minds are filled with vainAnd foolish thoughts; get you unto your tasks,And ye shall not 'minish of your tale of bricks." And then they turned their eyesReproachfully on Moses and his brother,And laid the cruel blame upon their shoulders.'Tis an old story now, but then 'twas newUnto the brethren,—how God's anointed onesMust walk with bleeding feet the paths that turnTo lines of living light; how hands that bringSalvation in their palms are pierced with cruel Nails, and lips that quiver first with some great truthAre steeped in bitterness and tears, and browsNow bright beneath the aureola of God,Have bent beneath the thorny crowns of earth. There was hope for Israel,But they did not see the golden fringesOf their coming morn; they only saw the cold,Grey sky, and fainted 'neath the cheerless gloom.
Moses sought again the presence of the king:And Pharaoh's brow grew dark with wrath,And rising up in angry haste, he said,Defiantly, "If thy God be great, showUs some sign or token of his power."Then Moses threw his rod upon the floor,And it trembled with a sign of life;The dark wood glowed, then changed into a thingOf glistening scales and golden rings, and green,And brown and purple stripes; a hissing, hatefulThing, that glared its fiery eye, and darting forthFrom Moses' side, lay coiled and pantingAt the monarch's feet. With wonder open-eyedThe king gazed on the changed rod, then calledFor his magicians—wily men, well versedIn sinful lore—and bade them do the same.And they, leagued with the powers of night, didAlso change their rods to serpents; then Moses'Serpent darted forth, and with a startling hissAnd angry gulp, he swallowed the living things That coiled along his path. And thus did MosesShow that Israel's God had greater powerThan those dark sons of night. But not by this aloneDid God his mighty power reveal: He changedTheir waters; every fountain, well and poolWas red with blood, and lips, all parched with thirst,Shrank back in horror from the crimson draughts.And then the worshiped Nile grew full of life:Millions of frogs swarmed from the stream—they cloggedThe pathway of the priests and filled the sacredFanes, and crowded into Pharaoh's bed, and hoppedInto his trays of bread, and slumbered in hisOvens and his pans.
Then came another plague, of loathsome vermin;They were gray and creeping things, that madeTheir very clothes alive with dark and sombreSpots—things so loathsome in the land they didSuspend the service of the temple; for no priestDared to lift his hand to any god with oneOf these upon him. And then the sky grewDark, as if a cloud were passing o'er itsChangeless blue; a buzzing sound broke o'erThe city, and the land was swarmed with flies.The murrain laid their cattle low; the hailCut off the first fruits of the Nile; the locusts,With their hungry jaws, destroyed the later crops, And left the ground as brown and bare as if a fireHad scorched it through, Then angry blainsAnd fiery boils did blur the flesh of manAnd beast; and then for three long days, nor saffronTint, nor crimson flush, nor soft and silvery lightDivided day from morn, nor told the passageOf the hours; men rose not from their seats, but satIn silent awe. That lengthened night lay like a burdenOn the air,—a darkness one might almost gatherIn his hand, it was so gross and thick. Then cameThe last dread plague—the death of the first born. 'Twas midnight,And a startling shriek rose from each palace,Home and hut of Egypt, save the blood-besprinkled homesOf Goshen; the midnight seemed to shiver with a senseOf dread, as if the mystic angels wingHad chilled the very air with horror.Death! Death! was everywhere—in every homeA corpse—in every heart a bitter woe.There were anxious fingerings for the pulseThat ne'er would throb again, and eager listeningsFor some sound of life—a hurrying to and fro—Then burning kisses on the cold lipsOf the dead, bitter partings, sad farewells,And mournful sobs and piercing shrieks, And deep and heavy groans throughout the lengthAnd breadth of Egypt. 'Twas the last dread plague,But it had snapped in twain the chains on whichThe rust of ages lay, and Israel was freed;Not only freed, but thrust in eager hasteFrom out the land. Trembling men stood by, and longedTo see them gather up their flocks and herds,And household goods, and leave the land; because they feltThat death stood at their doors as long as IsraelLingered there; and they went forth in haste,To tread the paths of freedom.
Chapter VI.
But Pharaoh was strangely blind, and turningFrom his first-born and his dead, with Egypt's wailScarce still upon his ear, he asked which way hadIsrael gone? They told him that they journeyedTowards the mighty sea, and were encampedNear Baalzephn.Then Pharaoh said, "the wilderness will hem them in,The mighty sea will roll its barriers in front,And with my chariots and my warlike menI'll bring them back, or mete them out their graves." Then Pharaoh's officers arose.And gathered up the armies of the kingAnd made his chariots ready for pursuit With proud escutcheons blazoned to the sun,In his chariot of ivory, pearl and gold,Pharaoh rolled out of Egypt; and with him.Rode his mighty men, their banners floatingOn the breeze, their spears and armor glitteringIn the morning light; and Israel saw,With fainting hearts, their old oppressors on theirTrack: then women wept in hopeless terror;Children hid their faces in their mothers' robes,And strong men bowed their heads in agony and dread;And then a bitter, angry murmur rose,—"Were there no graves in Egypt, that thou hastBrought us here to die?"Then Moses lifted up his face, aglowWith earnest faith in God, and bade their fainting heartsBe strong and they should his salvation see."Stand still," said Moses to the fearful throngWhose hearts were fainting in the wild, "Stand still."Ah, that was Moses' word, but higher and greaterCame God's watchword for the hour, and not for thatAlone, but all the coming hours of time."Speak ye unto the people and bid themForward go; stretch thy hand across the watersAnd smite them with thy rod." And Moses smoteThe restless sea; the waves stood up in heaps,Then lay as calm and still as lips that justHad tasted death. The secret-loving sea Laid bare her coral caves and iris-tintedFloor; that wall of flood which lined the people'sWay was God's own wondrous masonry;The signal pillar sent to guide them through the wildMoved its dark shadow till it fronted Egypt'sCamp, but hung in fiery splendor, a lightTo Israel's path. Madly rushed the hostsOf Pharaoh upon the people's track, whenThe solemn truth broke on them—that GodFor Israel fought. With cheeks in terrorBlenching, and eyes astart with fear, "letUs flee," they cried, "from Israel, for their GodDoth fight against us; he is battling on their side."They had trusted in their chariots, but nowThat hope was vain; God had loosened everyAxle and unfastened every wheel, and eachFace did gather blackness and each heart stood stillWith fear, as the livid lightnings glitteredAnd the thunder roared and muttered on the air,And they saw the dreadful ruin that shudderedO'er their heads, for the waves began to trembleAnd the wall of flood to bend. Then aroseA cry of terror, baffled hate and hopeless dread,A gurgling sound of horror, as "the wavesCame madly dashing, wildly crashing, seekingOut their place again," and the flower and prideOf Egypt sank as lead within the seaTill the waves threw back their corpses cold and stark Upon the shore, and the song of Israel'sTriumph was the requiem of their foes.Oh the grandeur of that triumph; up the cliffsAnd down the valleys, o'er the dark and restlessSea, rose the people's shout of triumph, goingUp in praise to God, and the very airSeemed joyous for the choral song of millionsThrobbed upon its viewless wings.Then another song of triumph rose in accentsSoft and clear; "'twas the voice of Moses' sisterRising in the tide of song. The warm bloodOf her childhood seemed dancing in her veins;The roses of her girlhood were flushingOn her cheek, and her eyes flashed out the splendorOf long departed days, for time itself seemedPausing, and she lived the past again; againThe Nile flowed by her; she was watching by the stream,A little ark of rushes where her baby brother lay;The tender tide of rapture swept o'er her soul againShe had felt when Pharaoh's daughter had claimedHim as her own, and her mother wept for joyAbove her rescued son. Then again she sawHim choosing "'twixt Israel's pain and sorrowAnd Egypt's pomp and pride." But now he stoodTheir leader triumphant on that shore, and loudShe struck the cymbals as she led the Hebrew womenIn music, dance and song, as they shouted outTriumphs in sweet and glad refrains.
MIRIAM'S SONG.
A wail in the palace, a wail in the hut, The midnight is shivering with dread,And Egypt wakes up with a shriek and a sob To mourn for her first-born and dead.
In the morning glad voices greeted the light, As the Nile with its splendor was flushed;At midnight silence had melted their tones, And their music forever is hushed.
In the morning the princes of palace and court To the heir of the kingdom bowed down;'Tis midnight, pallid and stark in his shroud He dreams not of kingdom or crown.
As a monument blasted and blighted by God, Through the ages proud Pharaoh shall stand,All seamed with the vengeance and scarred with the wrath That leaped from God's terrible hand.
Chapter VII
They journeyed on from Zuphim's sea untilThey reached the sacred mount and heard the solemnDecalogue. The mount was robed in blackness,—Heavy and deep the shadows lay; the thunderCrashed and roared upon the air; the lightningLeaped from crag to crag; God's fearful splendorFlowed around, and Sinai quaked and shudderedTo its base, and there did God proclaimUnto their listening ears, the great, the grand, The central and the primal truth of allThe universe—the unity of God. Only one God.—This truth received into the world's great life,Not as an idle dream nor speculative thing,But as a living, vitalizing thought,Should bind us closer to our God and link usWith our fellow man, the brothers and co-heirsWith Christ, the elder brother of our race.Before this truth let every blade of warGrow dull, and slavery, cowering at the light,Skulk from the homes of men; insteadOf war bring peace and freedom, love and joy,And light for man, instead of bondage, whipsAnd chains. Only one God! the strongest handsShould help the weak who bend before the blastsOf life, because if God is only oneThen we are the children of his mighty hand,And when we best serve man, we also serveOur God. Let haughty rulers learn that menOf humblest birth and lowliest lot haveRights as sacred and divine as theirs, and theyWho fence in leagues of earth by bonds and claimsAnd title deeds, forgetting land and water,Air and light are God's own gifts and heritageFor man—who throw their selfish lives betweenGod's sunshine and the shivering poor—Have never learned the wondrous depth, nor scaledThe glorious height of this great central truth, Around which clusters all the holiest faithsOf earth. The thunder died upon the air,The lightning ceased its livid play, the smokeAnd darkness died away in clouds, as softAnd fair as summer wreaths that lie aroundThe setting sun, and Sinai stood a bareAnd rugged thing among the sacred scenesOf earth.
Chapter VIII.
It was a weary thing to bear the burdenOf that restless and rebellious race. WithSinai's thunders almost crashing in their ears,They made a golden calf, and in the desertSpread an idol's feast, and sung the merry songsThey had heard when Mizraim's songs bowed down beforeTheir vain and heathen gods; and thus for many yearsDid Moses bear the evil manners of his race—Their angry murmurs, fierce regrets and strangeForgetfulness of God. Born slaves, they did not loveThe freedom of the wild more than their pots of flesh.And pleasant savory things once gatheredFrom the gardens of the Nile.If slavery only laid its weight of chains Upon the weary, aching limbs, e'en thenIt were a curse; but when it frets through nerveAnd flesh and eats into the weary soul,Oh then it is a thing for every humanHeart to loathe, and this was Israel's fate,For when the chains were shaken from their limbs,They failed to strike the impress from their souls.While he who'd basked beneath the radianceOf a throne, ne'er turned regretful eyes uponThe past, nor sighed to grasp again the pleasuresOnce resigned; but the saddest trial wasTo see the light and joy fade from their facesWhen the faithless spies spread through their campTheir ill report; and when the people weptIn hopeless unbelief and turned their facesEgyptward, and asked a captain from their bandsTo lead them back where they might bind anewTheir broken chains, when God arose and shutThe gates of promise on their lives, and leftTheir bones to bleach beneath Arabia's desert sands.But though they slumbered in the wild, they diedWith broader freedom on their lips, and for theirLittle ones did God reserve the heritageSo rudely thrust aside.
THE DEATH OF MOSES.—Chapter IX.
His work was done; his blessing layLike precious ointment on his people's head,And God's great peace was resting on his soul.His life had been a lengthened sacrifice,A thing of deep devotion to his race,Since first he turned his eyes on Egypt's gildAnd glow, and clasped their fortunes in his handAnd held them with a firm and constant grasp.But now his work was done; his charge was laidIn Joshua's hand, and men of younger bloodWere destined to possess the land and passThrough Jordan to the other side. He tooHad hoped to enter there—to tread the soilMade sacred by the memories of hisKindred dead, and rest till life's calm close beneathThe sheltering vines and stately palms of thatFair land; that hope had colored all his life'sYoung dreams and sent its mellowed flushes o'erHis later years; but God's decree was otherwise.And so he bowed his meekened soul in calmSubmission to the word, which bade him climbTo Nebo's highest peak, and view the pleasant landFrom Jordan's swells unto the calmer ripplesOf the tideless sea, then die with all itsLoveliness in sight.As he passed from Moab's grassy vale to climb The rugged mount, the people stood in mournful groups,Some, with quivering lips and tearful eyes,Reaching out unconscious hands, as if to stayHis steps and keep him ever at their side, whileOthers gazed with reverent awe uponThe calm and solemn beauty on his aged brow,The look of loving trust and lofty faithStill beaming from an eye that neither careNor time had dimmed. As he passed upward, tenderBlessings, earnest prayers and sad farewells roseOn each wave of air, then died in one sweetMurmur of regretful love; and Moses stoodAlone on Nebo's mount.
Alone! not oneOf all that mighty throng who had trod with himIn triumph through the parted flood was there.Aaron had died in Hor, with son and brotherBy his side; and Miriam too was gone.But kindred hands had made her grave, and KadeshHeld her dust. But he was all alone; nor wifeNor child was there to clasp in death his hand,And bind around their bleeding hearts the preciousParting words. And yet he was not all alone,For God's great presence flowed around his pathAnd stayed him in that solemn hour.He stood upon the highest peak of Nebo,And saw the Jordan chafing through its gorges, Its banks made bright by scarlet bloomsAnd purple blossoms. The placid lakesAnd emerald meadows, the snowy crestOf distant mountains, the ancient rocksThat dripped with honey, the hills all bathedIn light and beauty; the shady grovesAnd peaceful vistas, the vines opprestWith purple riches, the fig trees fruit-crownedGreen and golden, the pomegranates with crimsonBlushes, the olives with their darker clusters,Rose before him like a vision, full of beautyAnd delight. Gazed he on the lovely landscapeTill it faded from his view, and the wingOf death's sweet angel hovered o'er the mountain'sCrest, and he heard his garments rustle throughThe watches of the night.Then another, fairer, visionBroke upon his longing gaze; 'twas the landOf crystal fountains, love and beauty, joyAnd light, for the pearly gates flew open,And his ransomed soul went in. And when morningO'er the mountain fringed each crag and peak with light,Cold and lifeless lay the leader. God had touchedHis eyes with slumber, giving his beloved sleep.
Oh never on that mountainWas seen a lovelier sightThan the troupe of fair young angelsThat gathered 'round the dead. With gentle hands they bore him,That bright and shining train,From Nebo's lonely mountainTo sleep in Moab's vale.But they sung no mornful dirges,No solemn requiems said,And the soft wave of their pinionsMade music as they trod.But no one heard them passing,None saw their chosen grave;It was the angels secretWhere Moses should be laid.And when the grave was finished,They trod with golden sandalsAbove the sacred spot,And the brightest, fairest flowersSprang up beneath their tread.Nor broken turf, nor hillockDid e'er reveal that grave,And truthful lips have never saidWe know where he is laid.