Israel In Egypt. Book Eighteenth. Poem by Edwin Atherstone

Throughout the city, and the lands around,
Soon ran the rumour that, from Israel's God,
Moses a word had brought unto the king,
Threatening, that on the morrow he would send
New plague o'er all the land,--even grievous hail,
Such as in Egypt, from the very day
Of its foundation, never had been seen.
They, therefore, of the servants of the king,
Who feared the word of Israel's Lord, sent forth,
Commanding that all serving men, and beasts,
Should, on the morrow, in safe shelter bide:
But they who heeded not the word of God,
Left in the field their servants, and their beasts.

Audacious most of all, the king himself,
By Satan with great wrath and pride inflamed,
Mocked at the threatening; and his servants bade
Leave all within the field; nay, drive therein
All cattle whatsoe'er, which, under shed,
Or in the stable, else, had been secure:
So boldly his defiance to speak out
'Gainst Moses, and his God. But humbler men
Among the Egyptians, who the wondrous things
By Moses done had seen,--respected him,
And in his word believed: and all their beasts,
As night drew on, brought homeward from the fields;
And bade that, of their servants, not one man,
Woman, or child, should on the morrow stir
From out their dwellings; lest the hail should fall,
And slay them. Through the day, from house to house,
Both they of Egypt, and of Israel too,
Went anxiously,--with pale face, and low voice,
Discoursing of the Terror that should come.
Even they of Pharaoh's servants, who the most
Had feigned a mockery,--rulers, captains, priests,
And sorcerers,--in the silence of the night
Lay sleepless; a strange fear oppressing them,
Like his who, waking from deep slumber, feels
A stirring of the earthquake. One alone
Within the royal palace, no fear had
Of evil on the morrow; for he thought
Cunningly all to 'scape; and great joy have,
And perfect peace, even though the hail should fall
Dread as a rock--storm; and the plains and hills
Make stagger with the smiting. Night, and day,
In the heart of Sethos had a demon worked;
Blowing to heat intense his foul desire
Toward Israel's snow--pure virgin, chosen of God:
When, therefore, standing by his father's side,
That hail--plague he heard threatened,--instantly,
To shun it he resolved; and, in the land
Of Goshen, pleasantly and safely, pass
That day of peril; and, perchance, the night,--
Should the storm pause not; for, that come it would,
Doubt had he none; though sorcery alone
As cause misdeeming. Therefore, the command
At evening gave he, that, with earliest dawn,
His chariot should stand ready,--one alone
Of all his train accompanying, the steeds
To govern; so, with mind unfettered, he
In love's bright heaven might rove. But, through that night,
His whole base nature so the fiend inflamed
With dreams brain--maddening, that even certain death,
As penalty, seemed nought, so he but first
Might revel in the bliss. From bed he sprang,
And toward the east looked out. The morning star
Told night far spent. Attendants roused he then,
And bade that two score horsemen, fully armed,
At day--break, close beyond the eastern gate,
Should bide his coming; for resolved he was,--
Love's lurements failing,--by the violent hand
To seize the Rose of Goshen, and bear off:
Whither, as yet he knew not: that, to time
He left: for him could no place be amiss,
So therein were his goddess,--the sole thing
His frenzied eye could see: his father's wrath,
The blot of public shame; even death itself,
From private vengeance,--all invisible
Behind the one great blaze of hoped--for bliss.
With speed his arms he donned: one hasty cup,
Of food one morsel, took, and hurried forth.

Obedient, yet amazed, his charioteer,
Armed as for battle, by the chariot stood:
One at the head of each impatient steed,
The humbler grooms awaited. With quick stride
Onward went Sethos; to the chariot leaped:
As lightly sprang the driver: the word spake;
And, to the clattering hoofs and jarring wheels,
On all sides round, the vast void court gave out
The clamoring echoes. Through the eastern gate
Quickly he passed. Beyond it, at each hand,
Mounted on battle--steeds, eager, strong, and swift;
With sword, and spear, and shield, cuirass, and helm,
Armed as for combat; twice ten chosen men,
Waiting his coming, stood. No word he spake,
But onward flew; and they, much marvelling,
In silence followed. From the beaten road
Soon passed they to wide champaign, where, of tree,
Or bush, few were there, or the abodes of man,
Save shepherd's hovel. Uttering not a word,
At speed the prince urged on,--troubled to see
How swiftly waxed the light; yet hoping still,
Ere the first hail should fall, secure to stand
In sanctuary of Goshen. Glances quick
Casting at times toward heaven, thus rapidly on,
Pallid and mute, he drove. Three fourths, at length,
The journey was accomplished; the vault still
Gem--clear reposed: yet, but more anxiously
Glanced his keen eye round heaven; dreading, erelong,
Somewhere, to see first shadowing of the storm:
For now the sun was up; and, as he thought,
Same height had gained, at which, on the day past,
He stood when Moses said, ``about this hour
Tomorrow, will I send a grievous hail:''
Wondered he, therefore, that all crystal clear
Shone yet the cloudless vault; and in his heart
Doubt felt, at length, if verily so far
Might power of magic stretch, that over gods,
Rulers of air, and storms, it might prevail.
At slow pace, then, he journeyed; fully assured,
That, long ere tempest that fair heaven could foul,
Safe should he be in Goshen. But, behold,
When next he looked behind him,--on the verge
Of the horizon where, few minutes back,
Sky had been clear as sapphire--blackness was,
Night--blackness, solid as rock. ``On! on! lash on,''
Eagerly cried he; ``the Plague--Demon comes.''
At once the thong resounded; and the steeds
Thundered along the plain. Backward again
He looked; and lo! in even that span of time,
Visibly higher the black surge had risen.
Upsprang he then,--with left hand clutching hard
The bounding chariot, pointed with the right,
And shouted to the horsemen; ``look behind,--
Terror and Death are after you. On, on;
Keep rank no longer: fly as best ye may.
Reach Goshen, and be safe.'' Again he sat,
But with head backward turned, eyes riveted
On the doom--boding heaven: for still up, up,
Swifter than racer drawing nigh the goal,
Ran the dire blackness: and, erelong,--though yet
No slightest breeze below stirred leaf, or grass,--
Came from that sea of cloud the terrible voice
Of the Storm--Lion, roaring for his prey.

``On, on,'' again he cried. The charioteer,
Wild with affright, shook the loose reins, and stamped,
And shouted to the horses. Tempest--fleet,
They battered the ground. Yet still, ``on--on,'' he cried;
For, over half the sky, the mountainous clouds
Had billowed; and, with din more terrible,
The hurricane roared; no longer over head
Sending its voice from far, but right to earth,
Heavy as water--floods dashing; that the steeds,--
Driven on like dust,--half flying, half with foot
Spurning the ground,--at speed brain--dizzying went.
Full with the wind they ran, or car and horse,
Down had been cast. The chariot, from the earth
Uplifted oft, as if for flight through air,
With wheels revolving sped,--then sank again,
Heavily jarring: but, with desperate gripe,
Still Sethos clung to the car; still round and round
Staring aghast: for, now, o'er all the heavens
Had swept the terrible gloom: the sun was quenched:
Day had seemed night, but that, from midst the clouds,
Like fierce eyes glancing, fiery meteors looked,
Impatient to be loosed. Heart--sick he saw,
The threat remembering; ``Upon every man,
And beast, which in the field shall then be found,
And shall not be brought home, the hail shall come,
And they shall die!'' And now for him no hope!
Goshen to reach, even at that tempest--speed,
Ere leaped on them the Plague, impossible!
Was there no shelter, then? no cave, no house,
No poorest hovel of even meanest man,
Wherein he might find safety? Eagerly,
By the red glimmerings aided, he looked forth:
Alas! nought saw he but uprooted shrubs,
Whirling along the ground; or, in mad flight,
Tossing in air; trees bending to the earth,
Writhing and twisting; huge limbs rent away;
And flying, light as leaves; old stubborn trunks,
That would not bow, struck down, as though a hand
Invisible, and almighty, with one blow
Had smitten them to earth. Mad with affright,
``On--on''--still shrieked he, though at blinding speed
The terrified horses flew: but his own voice
Scarce could he hear; in the hurricane's thunder--shout,
Small as the pipe of childhood. Back he looked:
Scattered behind him came the horsemen on,
Bowed to their horses' manes. Hastily then
Skyward he turned; for the black canopy,
Red suddenly grew,--cloud lightning against cloud,--
O'er all the arch of heaven, cloud, and red fire!
``On, on,'' again he cried; and, shuddering, turned;
With starting eyeballs keenly peering out;
Hoping to see some shelter. Far away,
Blazoned by lightning, a low house appeared.
Frantic for joy, he shrieked;--with quivering arm
Eagerly pointed; and still cried, ``on, on.''
Again the charioteer, deliriously,
Stamped--shouted--shook the reins--and smote the steeds:--
Away,--away,--away:--and, for awhile,
Feebly yet glimmered hope. But, when again
Backward looked Sethos, scarce could he believe
What his eyes showed him; for, upon the rim
Of the horizon,--all on blaze with war
Of multitudinous lightnings,--seemed to fall
A shower terrific; not of rain, or hail,
But fire, white hot, as from the furnace pours
The melted iron. Rigid as in death,
And voiceless, stared he. Rapidly as cloud,
Low hanging, tempest--driven, sweeps overhead,--
So up the sky--arch mounted the dread Plague;
Sending before him mighty thunderings;
A thousand lightnings for his banner--flags,
The hurricane his trumpets. Nigher still
As drew the Terror, lo! what fire had seemed,
Falling from heaven like rain,--now, likeness took
Of the dread Hail: and, even from north to south,
Spanning the plain, came on a mighty wave,
As of the storm--driven ocean,--cloud and fire
Mingled together, running on the ground.
And, as it nigher drew, even hurricane
And thunder deadened not the terrible crash
Of the down--pouring; for the Hail it was;
Masses of ice for hailstones, rugged and huge,
That dashed on earth,--shivered, and leaped, and hissed,
And whirled in air; billow--like rolling on;
A foam of ice--dust, lightning, hail, and rain,
Lashing together. Franticly as clings
To his frail raft the drowning mariner,--
So, to the rocking, leaping, flying car,
As with the death--grip, clung the fear--crazed prince;
Eyes rivetted, jaws locked, while backward still
On the dire Terror he glared. But a glad cry
Aroused him, and he turned. His charioteer
Ardently pointed onward. Blessed sight!
Shelter at last was near him! the lone house,
Seen from afar; humble, yet strong; and, now,
More coveted than, brief hour back, had been
A palace of one gem. A very scream
Of rapture he sent; but, in the midst, broke off:
For, like a sword--stroke, ringing on his helm,
A hailstone smote; one solitary stone;
Sent forward from the Plague,--so might it seem,--
Him singling out for vengeance. Such his thought,
As, rising from the chariot's cavity,
Whereto he had been smitten, he looked out,
And, near him, no hail saw. Again he sat;
Griped with both hands the car; and anxiously
His eyes on the lone house fixed. Soon, in the porch,
Women and men he spied,--with heads thrust forth,
Fearfully peering; and, with arm upraised,
One standing foremost, pointing earnestly.
Turning to look,--horror on horror,--lo!
The terrible Destroyer, nigh at hand,
Eagle--swift rushing on; its monstrous wave
Tearing along the ground, with noise more dread
Than stormiest ocean's thunder. But, where now,--
Where are the horsemen? Ha! he sees them still;
Scarce arrowflight distant,--almost chest to ground,
The horses stretching. But, far swifter yet
Comes on the Terror,--sending out afar
Vaunt--couriers fierce--wide--scattered hailstones, shot
Like spears of iron from a Titan's arm.
Struck as by thunderbolt, steed, or rider, falls,
And whirls along the ground. Still fly the rest;
Though, with even tempest--wafted falcon's speed,
Hopeless to 'scape......Anon, through all the din,
Pierces a dread sound,--shriek of man, and horse,
In the death--fear--spasm: then, his terrible foot,
The Plague flings out, and stamps them into dust!

Aghast with horror,--staring--motionless--
Wellnigh of reason bereft--awhile he sat:
Then turned; shut close his eyes, and waited death.
But, suddenly, bethought him,--seized his shield--
Flung it across his back,--and looked again
Toward his one only hope. Even yet, even yet,
Possible seemed escape: scarce bow--shot off,
Stood the lone house; wind--swift the horses flew:
Still, swifter far came on the roar and crash
Of the irresistible Plague; and, ere full speed
Could slackened be, and he could leap to ground,
The Fury might be on them. Thinking thus,
``On, on,'' again he shrieked: but his own voice,
In the dread uproar heard not. By the arm,
He shook the charioteer;--no sign replied;
Nought felt the man, or heard: the body alone
Sat stiffly at its work; with rigid hands,
The reins and scourge holding obediently,
Though Mind, the ruler, slept. On the white face
A moment Sethos looked; then stretched his arm,
The reins to seize; but, in that instant, struck
By a great ice--bolt, headlong to the earth
The driver tumbled, dead; in his clenched hand
Dragging them down. One glance upon the corse
Showed him the reins torn loose from the hard gripe,
And trailing on the ground. Gone now all hope!
Another instant, and beyond the house
The unmastered steeds would fly! Death certain, then,
In the next would leap upon him. Bootless all
That in the porch stood men who would have helped!
Lifting their arms, they seemed to cry to him:
He heard not; had not heard, though every voice
Had been a giant's trumpet. But a hand
More mighty came to save. Stone--dead at once,
A thunderbolt smote the horses. Heavy as lead,
Down dropped they: snapping pole and trace, rolled o'er;
And lay, haunch--foremost. Shot from out the car,
As from a catapult--limbs stretched and stiff,
As in a dream of flying from a height,--
Beyond the horses far, on flew the prince:
Dashed to the earth;--whirled rapidly o'er and o'er;--
Stopped,--heavily backward swayed,--and lay as dead.

Forth from the porch, their own lives perilling,
A woman first, and, after her, three men,
Hastily ran; lifted, and bore him in;
And the door barred. Even at that point of time,
Hail, fire, and rain as from heaven's flood--gates loosed,
Driven by the hurricane's dread artillery,
Heavy as ocean--wave smote on the house;
Battering, and shaking, as if stone from stone
Furious to rend, and scatter on the ground.

His hour not yet was come; and Sethos 'scaped.
Regardless of his priests and sorcerers,--
Who, though aloud they boasted, and made mock
Of Moses, and his God, yet, in their hearts,
Great terror had, lest verily the threat
Should be accomplished; and the dreaded scourge
Themselves should strike; and, therefore, earnestly
Had counselled him that morning to abide
Within the palace,--for, by natural signs,
They read a tempest coming,--of all these
Unheedful; hardened still, and proud of heart,
And resolute more, the more dissuasive they,--
Forth to the river, as his custom was
Ever at sunrise,--by his lords, and priests,
And sorcerers, attended, Pharaoh went,
The threatened plague defying. Round the sky,
Gayly he looked, when they the outer gate
Had passed, and in the open space made pause;
Then, turning to his followers, with a look
And tone derisive, thus. ``A threatening heaven
Verily have we! Yon blue cloudless vault
Hath mischief in it, like the face that smiles,
While the hand gripes a dagger. As I live,
Ye are pale--hued and fearful. If indeed,
As ye aver, the natural signs ye see
Of gathering storm, teach me to see them too.
Doth emptiness show fulness? Why, nor wind,
Nor cloud, nor moaning in the air; nor aught,
To eye, or ear, or any sense, gives note
Of tempest coming. 'Tis a day for youth
And love to wanton in from morn till night.
Get ye all out, ye downcast sorcerers,
To wood, and river--bank; and search for gold:
Then, when ye find it, look for hailstones too;
'Twould be the rarer prize. From my first days,
Ne'er saw I morn more lustrous, or more sweet:
It brings me youth again. Some joyous sport
Must I devise, to suit such happy time;
That it may be remembered, as the day
Of the great hailstorm.'' Laughing pleasantly,
On went he then; Soter, his second son,
Walking beside him, and right lustily,
Joining his father's merriment. In a while,
His head half backward turning, as they walked,
Again unto his sorcerers, with light mock,
Spake Pharaoh. ``When a sign ye shall behold,
Declare it to me; for mine eyes, alas!
No cunning have to see, save that which is;
The non--existent, or the invisible,
Beholding never.'' ``Will the king look now:''
Said a deep voice: and Pharaoh, at the word,
Stopped, and turned round; and, as the extended arm
Of Hophra pointed, toward the west looked out.

``And what should Pharaoh see, now he doth look?''
After short silence said the king, displeased.
``What dost thou see?'' ``The forelock of the storm,
Of which we warned thee, Pharaoh, do I see,''
Hophra made answer: ``and the lowering brow,
Is mounting; and the whole dread shape, ere long,
Careering on the winds, will shadow earth.
See,--like dread Typhon rising from his throne,
Up soars the blackness. Fleetest desert--steed
Would fail to save thee, king, if on the plain
That demon should pursue thee.'' ``Nought I see,''
Pharaoh made answer, ``save such cloud, night--hued,
As oft, against the season of the rains,
From out the abyss beneath the earth ascends,
To herald their on--coming. In due time,--
At hour of noon, perchance,--that sable mass
Above our heads may sweep, and some broad drops
Cast down upon us. Meantime, toward the bath
Our easy course we take, be thou assured.
The threat of the great sorcerer I defied;
And yield not to thy tremblings.'' ``Nay, O king,''
With firm voice Hophra answered; ``for myself
Nought fear I,--but for thee. If go thou wilt,
Forbidden not, I go. Thunder, and rain,
And hailstones, not more heavy on my head
Than on thine own will fall. But, once again,
O Pharaoh, look. Even in this point of time,
How hath the Fury mounted! At such speed
If it hold on, plainly I tell thee, king,
The threshold of thy palace thou'lt not cross
Ere storm and thunder reach thee. Hark! the voice
Of angry winds already overhead,
Even in yon crystal sky....Thou hearëst it,
O Pharaoh, and yet stirr'st not; though 'tis note
Of death to him who scorns it. Ha! look! look!
Heaven is in flames: the great arch melts: see! see!
In fiery ruin it falls! A moment more,
And flight will be too late!'' Pale, breathless, mute,
Stood Pharaoh, looking on the coming Plague;
Heartsick with fear, and shame; yet iron--stiff
In native obduracy, so that power
To bend, none had he. But, around him now,
Trembling with fear, came rulers, lords, and priests,
Conjuring him to turn: and, with both hands,
Grasping his arm, his son, too, cried aloud,
Imploring him, and gently drawing back:
So that, though slowly, and reluctantly,
Homeward at length he moved. But quicker foot
Soon found he; for the hurricane's first breath
Half overthrew, half lifted him from earth:
And from the dry ground, like a harrow, tore
Pebble, and sand; and in thick cloud drove on,
Like stone--shower from the sling. Arm locked in arm,--
For, singly, none had stood,--heads bowed, teeth clenched,
Sinews hard braced,--stunned, speechless, terror--struck,--
In one close mass, as 'gainst a torrent's force
Thrusting and struggling, onward labored they;
In midst of them the king. 'Gainst a strong wind,
As the deep--laden bark--her port in view--
Oft tacking, heavily rolling, staggering,
Holds on her difficult way,--so these, to the right
Now reeling, now to the left, still toward their goal
Stiffly bore on: and never mariners,
After long, perilous voyage, more rejoiced,
Their native harbour entering, than did these,
When, panting, crushing, through the palace door
They crowded in at last. Even then, from stroke
Of Plague's fierce arm, as though not safe enough,--
Hurriedly toward the hall's remotest end,
Prince, priests, and sorcerers ran: and silent stood;
Listening, and trembling. But, with lowering brow,
To no man speaking,--for great wrath and shame
Burned in him, when of his proud boasts and mocks,
Thus ending, he bethought him,--Pharaoh straight
Toward his own chamber sped; that privily
To rage he might give loose; and, all alone,
On the coming Plague look out. Yet, as he went,
To his servants cried he out; ``Send to the field.
Bid that all cattle therein be brought home:
Let not a hoof be left. Instantly send;
Else will all perish.'' But too late the word!
For, when he gained his chamber, and looked forth,--
Not far away, like bars of steel white--hot,
From cloud to earth ran down the fire--lit hail;
Thunders before it coming, and great blasts,
That all the palace shook. With piercing shrieks,--
Yet, in that hurly, small as infant's wail,--
The queen, and her two daughters, pale as death,
Rushed in the chamber; fell upon their knees:
Uplifted trembling hands, and piteously called,
Imploring him. But, in that uproar, nought
Heard he, or cared to hear. Suddenly then
Sirois upstarted,--grasped his arm,--her face,
All wild with terror, lifted,--drew him down,--
Close to his ear put her white quivering lips,
And cried out franticly; ``Oh Pharaoh dear,
Why didst thou mock me when I prayed of thee
To let the Hebrews go! Thou canst not stand
Against their terrible God! Six fearful plagues
Already hath he sent; and now a seventh,
More dreadful far, is coming. Ere it fall,
Send thou to Moses; I beseech thee send;
Else, such destruction as....'' Her speech to stop,
Pharaoh his hand uplifted; shook the head,
And turned away,--anger, and shame, and pride,
O'er mastering him. But every moment now
More terrible grew the roar of hurricane,
The thunder, and the thickening lightning's flash;
And yet again, by the arm seizing him,
Into his ear she shrieked. ``Oh, Pharaoh, send--
Send, ere too late. The ever blessed gods
So have disposed, that, in this very house,
With thy dear father's sister, Moses sits
At morning meal,--invited yester--eve;
For the old love she bears him. Aaron too,
The high priest, with them sits. Oh! send thou, then,
I do implore thee, Pharaoh.....'' Uttering cries
As of death--torment, suddenly she ceased,
And dropped upon the knee; with hand on floor,
A moment stayed herself,--then, senseless all,
Rolled back, and lay as dead. Shrieking, down sank
Her daughters also. The astounded king,
Staggering, and cowering, trembling, wailing, ran;
Fell on a couch, and, with sharp--quivering hands,
Covered his face: for, in one moment, burst
The Plague in all its wrath; lightning in floods,--
Cataracts for rain,--and hail that, like the clang
Of myriad iron hammers, on the roof
And walls brought trembling. As the very world
Were in its death--throes, and the elements
Rending asunder,--ocean, sky, and earth,
In horrible uproar battling,--seemed the din.
Stopping his ears, he sat, and glared around,
As if to see when walls should topple down;
Or the whole palace, like a stone cast forth
Into deep water, sink within the earth!
All plagues, to this, seemed light. One single hour
Should it endure, Egypt a waste would be.
Submit he must. Nerving himself, he rose,
To seek the Hebrews. But, ere step he took,--
Behold, as, terror--stunned, will lamb and kid
With lions mingle,--so, all form forgot,
Even in the royal chamber, yelling, poured
Priests, rulers, sorcerers, princes, serving--men,
Crowded together; fell before his feet;
Lifted their quivering hands, and cried to him.
Words he heard none; but saw their moving lips,
And their speech guessed. To one of them signed then;
And, when the man arose, close to his ear
His voice uplift to the highest, and thus cried.
``At table with my father's sister, sit
Moses and Aaron, at the morning meal.
Fly to her chamber: bid them hither haste;
Even on the instant: the king waiteth them.''

Forth sped the man: and Pharaoh, seeing now
His queen and daughters stretched upon the floor,
With his own trembling hands uplifted them;
On couches placed; and to the servants then,
Priests, rulers, sorcerers, signed that they should go.
Backward all went; yet lingered; for the Plague
More terror had than even Pharaoh's wrath;
And from the chamber, though about the doors
They gathered, yet departed not one man.
Crazed with affright, the king beheld them not;
Stunned by the uproar, dazzled by the fires;
But, with stopped ears, eyes bent upon the floor,
To and fro hurriedly walked; a furtive glance
Casting at times, expecting to behold
Whom most he feared, and loathed; yet now, of all,
The most desired to see. Nor long the time
Ere, with calm mien, and gesture dignified;
Yet look severe, as of doom--speaking judge;
Moses and Aaron entered. Pride and rank
In that great dread forgetting,--with hands clasped--
Lips quivering--eyes wide staring--his whole look
Mercy imploring,--toward them Pharaoh ran;
To the highest pitch lifted his voice, and cried,
Piteously cried: ``Oh, I have sinned this time!
The Lord is righteous: I, and my people all,
Are wicked! But entreat ye now the Lord,
That no more thunderings and hail there be;
Then shall ye go; ye shall no longer stay.''

In stern mood Moses on him looked, and said;
``Soon as without the city I am gone,
I will spread forth my hands unto the Lord;
And the great thunder and the hail shall cease:
So mayst thou know that all the earth is God's.
But, as for thee, and thine, I know that yet
Ye will not fear the Lord.'' Like two sharp swords
Piercing the flesh, in Pharaoh's spirit pierced
The eyes of Moses, when, thus having said,
Full in the face he looked him; without word,
A book of censure speaking. Turning then,
Aaron beside him, swiftly he went forth.

No hailstone smote them; tempest stirred them not:
With a great pity at their hearts, they sped:
And when without the city Moses came,
He spread abroad his hands unto the Lord.
Hail, rain, fire, hurricane, and thunder, ceased.
Through all the land of Egypt, instantly
The mighty uproar ceased; and silence fell,
Even as a blow; so, unto common noise,
Was every ear made deaf. But, in a while,
When from the houses pallid men looked forth,
A gathering sound they heard; like gentle flow
Of streamlet first; but, as the sense returned,
Swelling and deepening to the torrent's rush:
For, channelling the ground, through all the land,
Toward Nile the rain--flood, and the melting hail,
Ran roaring: and the fervent sun poured down
On the huge hailstones, and the leaping streams,
That all the earth with a great glory blazed.

But when, with trembling, men 'gan issue forth,
And walk abroad,--destruction terrible
On all sides round they saw. Dead men, and beasts,--
All flesh that from the field had not been brought,--
Stiff, crushed, and battered, lay: birds of all wing,
Sparrow, and eagle alike;--from sheltered nook,
Or lofty eyry mid the far--off hills,
Blown forth, and smitten: trees by the roots dragged up;
Or snapped in the midst; or, branchless, leaning down:
Bushes, and plants, and all grain that had sprung,--
As by a harrow, torn from out the ground,
And utterly destroyed. A voice of wail
Went quickly through the land. Many cried out,
Cursing the Israelites,--through whom had come
Such bitter woes: but many on the king
Cast censure; saying that, obstinate and proud,
And faithless to his promise, he himself
Those ills had brought on Egypt; the great power
Of Hebrew magic, or of Israel's God,
Defying still, though, by six fearful Plagues,
Might he have learned that, 'gainst it, all his strength
Mere breath was, 'gainst the everlasting rock.