Poems (Baldwyn)/The Death of the First-born in Egypt
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THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN IN EGYPT.
The land is desolate, each herb and flower
Has died before the great destroyer's power.
The midnight darkly spreads o'er Egypt's shore;
The hand of God shall smite it yet once more!
Has died before the great destroyer's power.
The midnight darkly spreads o'er Egypt's shore;
The hand of God shall smite it yet once more!
The moon has sunk beyond the rolling wave;
Loud, thundering winds o'er booming waters rave.
The cloud falls sudden o'er the sloop of war,
That shone but lately like a bright red star:
Deep groans resound:—the falling sails denote
The dead alone in that dark vessel float!
Loud, thundering winds o'er booming waters rave.
The cloud falls sudden o'er the sloop of war,
That shone but lately like a bright red star:
Deep groans resound:—the falling sails denote
The dead alone in that dark vessel float!
Now o'er the city broods the fearful pall:
It comes in silence. Ah, no voice, no call,
Forbids the timbrel! Soon the hand is still'd
Which those wide halls with sounds of music fill'd
Whose hand was that? the monarch's only son
Whose life was rich in pleasures but begun!
Who fall? who fall? the rich, the young, the gay,
No more to see the glory of the day!
The youthful band of brothers that remain
Cry loud in terror, seek for help in vain!
To the king's palace funeral trains pass on;—
There loud the anguish for the first-born son!
It comes in silence. Ah, no voice, no call,
Forbids the timbrel! Soon the hand is still'd
Which those wide halls with sounds of music fill'd
Whose hand was that? the monarch's only son
Whose life was rich in pleasures but begun!
Who fall? who fall? the rich, the young, the gay,
No more to see the glory of the day!
The youthful band of brothers that remain
Cry loud in terror, seek for help in vain!
To the king's palace funeral trains pass on;—
There loud the anguish for the first-born son!
Now sounds of joy from happy groups arise,
And torches light the gloomy low'ring skies.
Oh, fair the bride the flowing veil conceals,
And bright the joy the bridegroom's eye reveals.
The torches fall! the music swift is still'd;
With cries of grief the mourning air is fill'd.
Loud on the midnight air they sweep along,
And every echo wakes them, deep and strong.
Far o'er the land the clouds of sorrow fall,
And friend to friend all sadly, vainly call.
How can they leave their own then dying one?
All, all have lost their own, their first-born son!
And torches light the gloomy low'ring skies.
Oh, fair the bride the flowing veil conceals,
And bright the joy the bridegroom's eye reveals.
The torches fall! the music swift is still'd;
With cries of grief the mourning air is fill'd.
Loud on the midnight air they sweep along,
And every echo wakes them, deep and strong.
Far o'er the land the clouds of sorrow fall,
And friend to friend all sadly, vainly call.
How can they leave their own then dying one?
All, all have lost their own, their first-born son!
The steed that bore the warrior o'er the plain
Stands at his watching mother's door again;
But he who rode away to-day in pride
Far in the lonely desert fell and died!
The ruler bends his stately form in grief;
Deep groans can give his spirit no relief,—
The loveliest maid in all wide Egypt lies
A cold, cold corpse before her father's eyes!
The mother claps her infant in her rest,
While tender fear is trembling in her breast;
She wakes,—she finds the lovely one is there,
Smiles at her dream, and breathes a whisper'd pray'r;
But lo! how cold that little form and still:—
The mother's cries the lonely dwelling fill!
In the deep dungeon 'neath the palace walls
The poor lone captive mourns his fate, and calls
In vain for mercy; but to-night he weeps
Tears of calm grief,—his son beside him sleeps.
The dim light gives his features to his view,
And hope springs in his aged breast anew.
Ah, will the heart that granted his request,
And gave once more his lov'd one to his breast,
Restore to him the long lost light of morn,
And all from which his faithful heart was torn?
A deep, dull groan replies: the shades of death
Are on that face! hush'd is his gentle breath.
Ah, who will mourn with thee, thou stricken one?
All, all! for all have lost their first-born son!
Stands at his watching mother's door again;
But he who rode away to-day in pride
Far in the lonely desert fell and died!
The ruler bends his stately form in grief;
Deep groans can give his spirit no relief,—
The loveliest maid in all wide Egypt lies
A cold, cold corpse before her father's eyes!
The mother claps her infant in her rest,
While tender fear is trembling in her breast;
She wakes,—she finds the lovely one is there,
Smiles at her dream, and breathes a whisper'd pray'r;
But lo! how cold that little form and still:—
The mother's cries the lonely dwelling fill!
In the deep dungeon 'neath the palace walls
The poor lone captive mourns his fate, and calls
In vain for mercy; but to-night he weeps
Tears of calm grief,—his son beside him sleeps.
The dim light gives his features to his view,
And hope springs in his aged breast anew.
Ah, will the heart that granted his request,
And gave once more his lov'd one to his breast,
Restore to him the long lost light of morn,
And all from which his faithful heart was torn?
A deep, dull groan replies: the shades of death
Are on that face! hush'd is his gentle breath.
Ah, who will mourn with thee, thou stricken one?
All, all! for all have lost their first-born son!
Rut harsher voices mingle with the wail
That spreads afar o'er desert, woods, and dale;
The mourning kine and nobler beasts proclaim,
With frighted cries and eyes of red'ning flame,
The direful fate has torn away their young,
Who had but now with joy around them sprung.
To man alone is tender feeling given?
Oh, hear that groan that reaches unto heaven!
That spreads afar o'er desert, woods, and dale;
The mourning kine and nobler beasts proclaim,
With frighted cries and eyes of red'ning flame,
The direful fate has torn away their young,
Who had but now with joy around them sprung.
To man alone is tender feeling given?
Oh, hear that groan that reaches unto heaven!
To the king's ear the midnight cry is borne;
His breast with sorrow is all reft and torn;
He could not feel the stranger's heartfelt woe
Till all his hope and pride were laid so low.
Now, as he weeps, he calls the man of God;
Not now he needeth him to cast his rod;
His heart believes! he bids him haste away.
God sends his people victory to-day!
Their wives, their little ones, are rous'd from rest,
And joyous faith makes glad the weary breast.
Swift they prepare to leave the stranger's land,
To seek a home provided by God's hand;
To find an altar for his worship there,
To offer sacrifice thereon, and pray'r.
And when the morning star adorns the east,
Their hundreds follow God's appointed priest;
In solemn grandeur th' bars of day unclose;
The sea divides, and far beyond them flows;
The sun shines brightly on a people free,
And silent all they bend, oh God, to thee![1]
His breast with sorrow is all reft and torn;
He could not feel the stranger's heartfelt woe
Till all his hope and pride were laid so low.
Now, as he weeps, he calls the man of God;
Not now he needeth him to cast his rod;
His heart believes! he bids him haste away.
God sends his people victory to-day!
Their wives, their little ones, are rous'd from rest,
And joyous faith makes glad the weary breast.
Swift they prepare to leave the stranger's land,
To seek a home provided by God's hand;
To find an altar for his worship there,
To offer sacrifice thereon, and pray'r.
And when the morning star adorns the east,
Their hundreds follow God's appointed priest;
In solemn grandeur th' bars of day unclose;
The sea divides, and far beyond them flows;
The sun shines brightly on a people free,
And silent all they bend, oh God, to thee![1]
- ↑ This poem was suggested by the recollection of the Cholera season a few years since, when for nine successive nights our door was opened to receive the intelligence of some neighbour's calamity and the appeals of the poor; the accounts reaching us from other places being appalling in the extreme.