Israel In Egypt. Book Nineteenth. Poem by Edwin Atherstone

But, while thus many blamed,--Pharaoh himself
Most censured Pharaoh: not that, by his pride,
And obduracy, that tremendous scourge
On Egypt he had brought; but that, by fear
O'er--ruled, to vile submission he had stooped,
When, haply, one short hour had he held firm,
Self--moved the storm had passed. So in his heart
The demon whispered him. But, most of all
Bitter his shame, remembering how, in sight
Of his own queen, and daughters, rulers, priests,--
Nay, even in presence of base serving--men,--
He had been humbled; to the sorcerers
Of Israel, as though very gods they had been,
Piteously praying. For long hours, alone
He kept; nor any living soul would see.
With face inflamed, hands clenched, and flashing eyes,
In his closed chamber to and fro he strode;
Nor food, nor wine would touch; his burning thirst
With water only cooling. All distraught,
He knew not what to do; by what means best
His shame to wipe away. If real God
Those hideous plagues had sent,--all strength of man,
Resisting, must be vain. Yet how knew he,
How could he know, if, in the verity,
Such Power there were? His sorcerers had laughed;
Himself had laughed, at thought of a new god;
A god, forsooth, of that poor Israel:
Yet, such dread things had been, as gods alone,
Or magic strong as gods, could have brought forth.
On that man only, evil's minister,
That hated, terrible Hebrew, might he hope
Such act to do, as fear of future ills
Would end for aye: the one stroke that should take
From that pernicious the life--breath,--would take
From Egypt all the evils yet in store,
Through his malignance. Yet, if god--sent, he,
God--guarded too, perchance; and, aimed at him,
Stroke deadliest on the striker might recoil;
Turned by the hand divine. Even if with strength
Of magic solely, had the Hebrew wrought,--
His god a mere pretext,--yet, that same strength
And wisdom, more than human, in defence
'Gainst open might of king, or secret stroke,
Potent, perchance, would be as in assault,--
And, lashed to fury, even more terrible still
Might be his vengeance. Nought could he resolve;
The just, or unjust way to take, alike
Irresolute. The promise had been given,
That Israel should go forth. Decree, indeed,
As yet was unproclaimed: but, not the less,
The slaves, he knew, would preparation make
For quick departure; and, unchecked, might go;
Many, if not the whole: yet, dared he not,--
So fresh the terror on him,--tell aloud
How he had lied to Moses; and the word
Send forth, forbidding them. As when the wind,
Fitfully blowing, north, east, south, and west,
Tosses the silken streamer,--even so,
Anger, or fear, or hope, his purpose tossed,
This way, or that; one moment, resolute
That Israel should not go; that, with high hand,
Yet more would he oppress them,--and, the next,
Resolved that go they should; that he himself
Would drive them forth; and be for ever quit
Of those detested, and their sorceries.
Enough of her own people, Egypt had,
For public labor: let them do the work,
Erewhile by Hebrews done. Whate'er the cost,
Cheap were it, purchasing escape from Plague.
That hour of hail more grievous loss had brought,
Than years of Israel's labor could repay.
And, even if all exhausted now the wiles
Of magic,--no new torments to be found,--
Yet, who might know if the old Plagues again
Might not be sent,--again, and yet again,
Till victory should be won, and Egypt lost;
Dispeopled,--nay a desert. They should go!
Go on the morrow: he would scourge them out!
That instant would he send abroad the word,
Driving them forth. But, even while he moved,
His lords to summon, quickly veered the wind.
Pride, hatred, fury, shame, in passionate blasts
Swept through his soul; and, rather than submit,
A thousand deaths he'd die: nay, the whole land
Behold a wilderness! So, all the day,
Like to a vessel on a broken sea;
Fast anchored, but yet restless evermore;
With every changing gust, this way, or that,
Moving, as if on voyage to set out;
Yet faltering soon,--then stopping,--and, anon,
Forward again, or backward, or traverse,--
But straight advancing never,--all the day,
So, on the changeful waves of hate, and fear,
And hope, and doubt, tossed Pharaoh; nor at eve,
More than at morn, on path direct could fix.

But hunger now was on him; and he called,
Commanding food and wine: then, when sufficed,
Touching his daughters questioned, and his queen,--
How they all day had fared: yet, when he heard,
That to his presence they desired to come,--
Shame bowing him, before their eyes, as yet,
Dared he not stand. ``Say to my gracious queen,
That, care--distracted, Pharaoh keeps alone,
Till hour of sleep: and to my daughters say,
`Until the morrow wait; your father then,
Sorrow o'erpast, will gladden in your sight.'''
Thus to his faithful servant Onar, spake
The cloud--wrapped king; and answer thus received.

``The king hath spoken. Let him not be wroth
With his poor servant, if the word he brings
Displeaseth him. Thamusin, the high priest,
And other priests, and sorcerers, the past hour
Impatiently have waited;--audience quick
Earnestly praying; for that some great thing
Should be done speedily.'' Pharaoh shook the head,
And turned away. ``May yet thy servant speak?''
After short pause, in low tone Onar said.
And, when he saw that Pharaoh looked on him,
Permission granting, hastily pursued.
``Thus said Thamusin to me; `if thy lord
Inclineth not to hear us, say,--the thing
Of which we have to speak, is even that same
On which the necromancer Hophra spake
But yester--morn unto him; and that now
The last hour cometh?''' O'er the countenance
Of Pharaoh, like a torch--flash in mirk night,
A bright gleam suddenly shot: his bended form
Erect stood instantly: his languid voice,
With its old vigour spake--promptly and clear,
Commanding them before him: for a break
Through the blank darkness which the future hid,
Seemed now about to open; and he longed
To fix on it the eye. With restless foot,
To and fro walked he; and, before him now
When came the priests, with hurried utterance thus.
``Hath he the soul brought back? And speaketh it?''
``Even so, my lord the king,'' Thamusin said:
``With our own ears we heard it. But, alas!
If the king haste not, from the corpse 'twill part,
Ere he can question; for the third day this,
And this the final hour. Thy chariot waits,
O Pharaoh; for even I did so command,
Lest, through delay.....'' ``Thou hast done well, high priest,''
Hastily said the king: ``Where lieth, then,
The body of the Hebrew?'' ``In a vault
Of the north catacomb,'' the priest replied:
``Our mules stand ready; and, so please the king,
His heralds will we be.'' ``Away at once,''
Cried Pharaoh; and himself went quickly forth;
By all as quickly followed. Eve's last rays
Lighted the path: but, in a vestment black
And ample wrapped, no eye that him beheld,
Knew that it looked on Pharaoh. Through the door
Of the dark mansion of the dead, soon passed
The anxious monarch; of the hidden things
Eager to learn, yet fearful; and with awe,
Unfelt till then, touched strangely. The strong breath
Of flesh--preserving spices,--in the air
Of open day so fragrant,--in that house
Of death, itself seemed deathlike; a corpse--sweat,
Loathsome, detestable; and he turned back.
``Bring forth the body to the air of heaven;
I cannot breathe that horror''--he exclaimed.

``O Splendor of the Sun,'' Thamusin said;
``Thou wouldst the impossible. Silence, rest profound,
Alone can lure the spirit to remain
In the fast--perishing corpse. Spells cannot force;
They but conjúre. All now prepared awaits;
And still the spirit answers: but, the hour
Well nigh is ended: and, once passed, the might
Of all earth's charms combined will never draw
The freed soul back. See,--on my torch I throw
A perfume that will call the flowers of Spring
Around us. Hasten then, O Light of Day:
See nought,--nought hear, or feel,--and think of nought,
Save of the one great end for which alone
Here com'st thou,--the far--onward--piercing look
Into the hidden knowledge.'' ``On, then, quick,''
Impatiently said Pharaoh; ``and fail not
To feed thy torch--fire, ever and anon,
With that life--raising essence: the death--air
Will choke me, else.'' A low, and narrow way,
Lined by the dead, they trod; and speedily
A chamber reached. Before the entrance, paused
The monarch, awe--chained: for one ghastly beam
Alone kept off pitch--blackness; a thin flame,--
As 'twere the ghost of light,--nought showing there,
Save the stern, livid faces of the priests,
Like dead men motionless standing. Clearer view
Soon coming,--in the midst a corpse he saw,
Clad in the grave--clothes. From the high--arched breast,
As from a lamp, that supernatural flame,
Like a thin luminous smoke, rose tremulously;
And, slanting on the countenance of the dead,
Distortion gave horrific. While aghast
Thus stood he gazing,--on the stillness broke
The low, hoarse voice of Hophra. ``Quickly wanes,
O king, the life--flame: while that weak light burns,
The spirit lingers: when the flame dies out,
Gone is it, and for ever! Weak the words
Which last it spake; with every moment now,
Death clogs it more: if question thou wouldst put,
Lose not, O king, an instant. Thy right hand,
Stretch toward the gods: on the dead brow, thy left
Lay firmly, and then speak.'' One step advanced
The blood--chilled Pharaoh; but, irresolute, paused;
Shrinking to touch, nay ev'n draw nigh the corpse,
So grimly terrible in stony rest;
Rotting, yet not all dead. ``Of Israel's god
Myself have asked,'' said Hophra, hoping thus
The faltering king to stir; ``but, unto me,
Came not a word: as if for shame, or wrath,
Or terror,--from the crown unto the foot,
The dead flesh trembled; but reply was none.
Yet, if the Splendor of the Sun demand--
To that great voice, reluctant though it be,
Promptly the soul must answer. But, O king,
Fast is the life--flame dying! when 'tis gone,
Question the rock; 'twill answer thee as soon.''

Stirred by the demon, Pharaoh boldly then
Advanced: his right hand lifted toward the gods:
On the damp, wrinkled, icy brow, his left
Laid firmly: on the stone face looked; and spake.
``Soul, which within this dead clay hoverest yet,
By the Dread Powers do I conjure thee, speak.
While in this flesh thou dwelt, not the great god
Osiris, didst thou worship, but a name
To Israel only known. As thou wouldst hope,
Within the bark of Athom safe to reach
The nether world; and, in the realms of death,
Enemies vanquish; and divinities soothe;
And in the hall of judgment have thy sins
Weighed mercifully,--speak to me the truth.
Is there a god, Jehovah named; a god
Of thy peculiar people?'' Like the moan
Of night--wind in the wave--worn sea--shore cave,
Went through the vault a low, deep, shuddering sound,
As though even air were awe--struck. 'Neath his hand,
The hard brow seemed to quiver; ne'ertheless,
By the fiend strengthened, on the marble lips
Keenly his eyes he bent; waiting to see
When the dead breath should stir them. Motionless
Lay they: the whole gaunt face hard fixed as rock:
But, from within the body of the dead,
A voice he heard,--faint, dim, like sound from far,
Coming at hush of midnight, yet distinct;
And thus it spake. ``Oppressor of our race!
Why wilt thou question me? Is't not enough
That, while in flesh, we thy poor slaves should be?
Thou hast called back my soul, to force from it
Knowledge pernicious. Ask me, then, no more,
But let me go. The bark of Athom waits
My coming; and the impatient souls look out,
Chiding my long delay. If speak I must,
Truth only can I speak; and, of my words,
A whip thou'lt make, to scourge our people more.
Be pitiful, O king; and let me go!''

``Speak, first, then go,'' said Pharaoh: ``by all Powers
Of the Great Mysteries, I command thee speak:
Is there a god, Jehovah?'' Silence deep
And long there was: then the thick air again
Shuddered, and moaned; and, afterwards, the voice,
But fainter than before,--as if the clay
Deader had grown about it; or the soul
More weak to struggle through,--thus, sighing, spake.

``Would that I dared refuse to answer thee!
For, losing fear, the worse wilt thou become;
Yea, make of Israel one great voice of woe.
But answer thee I must.....Whom Hebrews call
Their God Jehovah, but a shadow is;
A name, a sound,--nought else. Had they a god
Peculiar to them, slaves they had not been
Long years to thee, and thine. Release me now,
I pray thee, king, lest other misery,
Through me, thou bring on Israel.'' ``Tell me, first,''
Said Pharaoh, ``why, in name of Israel's god,
Plagues threatening, Moses came,--if, in the truth,
No god hath Israel? Was he mind--diseased;
Conceiting that a god he saw, and heard?
Or falsehoods uttered he, us to mislead,
And bend unto his purpose? Furthermore,
Tell me thou this: how came on us those plagues?
How their on--coming did your Moses know?
Were they of natural cause, and but foreseen
By his keen prescience? or, by his great spells
Solely were they brought on us? Quickly speak;
For thy life--flame low burneth.'' ``While on earth,''
Sighed the thin voice, ``even righteous men, for good,
Do evil; falsehood speak, in cause of truth:
And Moses thus, great, virtuous though he is,--
To serve his suffering Israel, did with guile
Strive to dismay thee; threatening as from god,
Though god was none; that sooner from their bonds
Might thou set free his people. For the plagues,
He, Moses, all alone, them sent on you;
Master of spells that might the moon eclipse;
Root up the mountains; and make ocean boil,
As water in a cauldron. Heed, O king,
How thou confront him. But thy sorcerers, too,
Strange might are gathering: and I see, methinks,
Far off, great clouds wherein a conflict is
'Twixt him and them. Osiris aid the right!
I have replied to all: let me then go;
For the clay chokes me.'' ``Yet one question more,''
Said Pharaoh quickly,--every instant now
Marking the pale flame weaker, paler, grow,--
``One only; then I let thy spirit pass.
Hath Moses power yet other plagues to send?
And will he send? What, then, our best course were?
To endure,--or shun them,--or the sorcerer crush?
Speak.'' Like a hasty blow rang out the word;
For, suddenly sank the life--flame to a point,
Small as a star; and darkness so thick fell,
That no man saw his fellow. As thin smoke
To the eye,--just visible, and melting fast,--
So faint, and sinking, to the listening ear
Came the dim spirit--voice; ``Yet two plagues more
Will Moses bring on Egypt; after that--
The king--shall rest--in peace.'' Like scarce--heard voice
Of lessening echoes from far distant hills,
Faint, fainter fell the words. As ceased the last,
Died out the life--flame. From the clammy brow
Pharaoh his chilled hand snatched; and on his robe,
Heart--sick, wiped off the death--dew. Torchlight soon
Flashed in the chamber: quickly he went out:
For water cried: washed: to his chariot sprang:
Word uttered none; but toward the palace sped.

In bath of sweetest perfume plunged, two hours,
The death--scent to purge utterly, he laved;
Then hastened to repose. Glad was he now;
In his new knowledge confident; and stern
With high hand yet to rule o'er Israel:
The threatened plagues to endure; then, the poor spells
Of Moses to defy; and of his god
To make a mockery. Thus, with spirit proud,
To rest he sank; and, all the night, in dreams
Of power and glory infinite rejoiced.