Poems (Acton)/The Tenth Plague of Egypt
THE TENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.
There were strange voices in the seaWhispering mysteriously;And myriads of creatures cameIssuing thence, that bore no name.A shadow was before the sunEre half his daily course was run;And faint and heavy seemed the air,Wont to waft spicy odours there:While Egypt lay beneath a ban,Bringing their doom to beast and man.
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The holy man had cried for aid,And on his foes there had been laidThe mighty finger of God's power,Throwing them prostrate in that hour.The prophet had stretched forth his handTo bring despair on that fair land:The Tenth Plague had been cast around,Felling the pagans to the ground. And desolate before the doomWas palace proud and cottage home;And equal in the terror wildWas the poor slave with fortune's child.
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Amid the gloom that reigned as night,When Egypt's sin had quenched its light,Within his courts stood a proud chief,Whose soul was dark in disbelief.Death was around him: everywhereRose the hoarse wailing of Despair;Yet did that man's vain heart defyMankind's Avenger from on high;Tho' there had fall'n the deadly blow,Laying his own heart's altars low.Slaves to his presence rushed in dread,To fall with untold mission dead;Beneath the terror of God's banThey feared not then the wrath of man.One mighty voice was ringing there,And in that cry of deep despairThe Ruler knew his power gone;That in that hour he stood alone.Pride's reign was over—and his eyeGlared forth its dark malignancy, As the last embers of a fireWhen crushed, gleam out with fiercer ire.But 'twas not thus the man gazed downWith quiv'ring lip and lessened frownTo where there lay his worshipp'd childMotionless in the terror wild."My child! my flower! sure thine eyeLooks on Death's might too fearfully!Am I not scathless, and mine armStrong to save thee from touch of harm?There shall not pass a blight to theeThat brings not first its doom to me!Rise! Thou hast yet the eagle's might!Thine eye hath still the Heaven's light!Thy father guards thee! Dost thou stillDream thou await'st another's will?"And as he spoke, a burning glowOf passion swept across his brow.The young girl's face was bathed in tears,Wrung from her not by woman's fears:Sobs were her answer, as she lay,Her young life passing there away.The damp chill lying on that browThe father deemed so bright but now;The frail form quiv'ring at each breath,Had warned her that she bent to death,If she had trembled at that thought,If at its coming it had brought A vision of the parent leftTo be of earth's last tie bereft,She did not sorrow that her eyesShould close to gaze on Paradise.There had been laid on her a handLeading her towards the better land.Hers had not been her father's path,And the deep grief the righteous hathFor others' sin, grew with her years,Till had that path been traced with tears.Oh! agony undreamt to gazeIn the dark soul where faith's pure raysHave never entered! When that heartSo sinning, is of ours a part!Such misery was hers. Love's trustShe knew had been poured forth on dust;She knew the last left hope was o'er;For him no prayers would rise more.And he was doomed, and she must die,Knowing they part eternally.'Twas as a holy fire was given,To light her glaring eyes from Heaven,As she read searchingly the brow,Bent to her own in terror now."My father dost thou mark a hand,Stretched over our devoted land,Mocking the might of man to saveThose whom it draweth to the grave? It hath been laid upon thy child!Nay! bend not to this anguish wild!A shelter from life's storms to meHath been thy heart's idolatry;Tho' it hath not the power nowTo ward the death-chill from my brow.It needeth not that thou shouldst tellHow long thou'st loved me and how well;Thy child hath answered it to thee,In her faith's deep intensity.But, ere she dies, oh! darest thou hear,Thoughts that weigh down her soul with fear?Curse not thy child, if, at her taleOf falsity, thy cheek grow pale!Father, she heard the holy manCall on his enemies, God's ban!She heard him speak of one whose mightHad turned our country's day to night;Listened until, her senses dimWith awe, she knelt and worshipped him:And then she prayed that she might die,Confessing her apostacy;That pity for her early doomCould in thy heart alone have room.Thou couldst not listen and forgiveThy child's deception did she live."It was a fearful thing to seeThe father's bitter agony; While his young daughter's words of prayerWere mingled with his wild despair.He stood there like the blasted tree,Erect in former majesty;Tho' stripped of every leaf and flower,In the dread whirlwind of that hour.And then the passion of his griefIn his wild ravings found relief;Clasping his first-born to his arm,As it had might to shield from harm,He bounded onwards with the formNow withering in Death's fierce storm;Still on among the scattered deadThe frenzy-stricken parent fled.Where in the wildly gleaming eyeWas then the ruler's majesty?The clenching hands, the gasping breathCalling for mercy upon Death,Told that the prophet's threat had pastAcross his memory at last.Onward—still on, with blinded gaze,'Mid tears which since his childhood's daysHad never started, till his eyeFell on his priests of prophecy.To lay there the now pallid dead,Gently as tho' life had not fled;And drag them, in his anguish wild,To gaze upon his worshipped child, Were as the passing of a thoughtTo him whose madness had been wrought."Her God hath called this Death! Arise!Break ye the spell in which she lies!Say 'tis not this, for Egypt's pride,For honour of your craft beside;Unsay the words she spoke—that weWere parted for eternity!Give her to life again! and proveHer God less mighty than my love!Or in her creed I kneel and bowAmong the dust of earth this brow!Proving, in mine idolatry,That God is truth—man's might a lie!"Silent the ruler bent him downBeside the dead in his renown,And listened for the coming breath,To say he looked not upon Death.And then upon his reason's nightThere seemed to break a sudden light.Starting, he mutely gazed around,As seeking for some yearned-for soundOf life within that lonely roomTo wake the sleeper from her tomb.The glance of that distended eyeWas laden with a mysteryThat to the watchers seemed to say,Madness had lent its glaring ray. And as to one whose thought had fled,They whispered him his child was dead.There was no murmur when the wordSo dreaded had at length been heard.And as they watched there came the thoughtThat the dread knowledge death had brought:And fearfully they raised the formThere levelled in despair's fierce storm,And gazed in wonder on the eye,Fixed on the sleeper dreamily;Filled with the tears that had the pow'rTo quench the madness of that hour;And lighted by the holy raysThat had not shone since childhood's days.With clasping hands and weakened voice,Faltering with the word "Rejoice:"Beside his gentle Saviour there,Egypt's proud ruler knelt in prayer.R. A.