For slowly comes the radiance which it sheds
On our oppressed land! No joy to Jacob

Brings the bright sun-beam; for, with his first glance,
Comes the fierce tasker, and with goad and lash,
Drives to the stubble-field the weeping race
Of him, Jehovah's chosen, the loved friend
Of angels, and of spirits! Their bound limbs
Are tortur'd by the beam, their free-born sires
Were wont to court and bless; and when they sink
Worn by th' intolerable burthen down,

The scorpion-whip doth lash them to new life,
Or rob them of the wretched remnant left.
But let us down, and bid them stand prepared,
Nor murmur when they are required to raise
New treasure-domes for Pharaoh.

Moses. (not heeding him.) Yes, thou art
The terrible! the just!-The might of man,
What is it, Lord, before thee! Thou dost close
Thine eye of glory, and dark night descends;
Thou ope'st it, and 'tis light. Thy breathing is
The rage of tempests; and thy face, O God,
Who can behold and live!

Caleb.
Jehovah's hand
Is on his servant now. From his pale brow
Darts forth the mystic light, whose lustrous blaze
Scorches my human eye-balls. His high form
Becomes gigantic, and his clustering locks,
Darker than night, swept by the mighty spirit,
Wave in wild motion, and their homage pay
To the invisible presence of the power
Which every where surrounds him.

Moses.

Hark! he comes !

The one!-the terrible!-the Lord of wo!
The angel of his terrors !-On the air

I hear the rushing of his mighty wings;

His broad palm bears the darkness, the dire pall
Of miserable Egypt !-hark! he comes!—
Wo, to thee, Egypt, wo.

Caleb.
It is the spirit,
The over-ruling, which is passing o'er us!-
The day is bright and clear; yet in the air,
I hear the sound of tempests. All the winds
Girdle his chariot wheels. My brow is cold,
My breath is thick, and o'er my quivering limbs

Breaks the damp glow of fear! I will fall down,
Nor see him pass above me.

Moses.

Hail! O hail !

Thou Lord of judgment!-Lo! he comes; but not
In light-created vestments, nor his brow
Circled by fire ethereal, nor his form
Shooting forth sparkles of immortal light,
Each one a brilliant day; but now he rides
The stern submissive whirlwind, in his purpose
Robed as in some dark garment, like the cloak
Which ancient chaos wore, before the smile
Of God, illumining the dark abyss,
Created light. He comes, the terrible!
In judgment mantled dark, as darkest death!
Before him horror, and behind despair!
Prepare, O Israel, gird your loins, O Jacob!
For now, with the strong arm of power, your God

Doth break your chains, and draw ye forth from bondage:

Now will he show his glory and his terrors!

And thus I stretch mine arm towards the heavens,

And thus I summon from his icy throne,

The pale, cold king, to pour out his chill breath
On miserable Egypt. Come, O come,
Come with thy crown of icicles around

Thy beauteous snowy brow,-Come with thy look
Of still calm majesty-motionless lip

And eye, bright as the crystal, and as still,—
Come, robed in silence, duskiness, and fear,
And with thy sceptre goad thy phantom steed,
Who tramps with noiseless step upon the air
The faster for the touch, which human power
May not endure, and live. Come, Lord of shades,
I call thee by the power of him who reigns
O'er thee, and hath permitted thy dread being,
As the stern doer of his mighty will,

The servant of his vengeance. Come, O come,
I call thee, king of death, approach and strike
All the first-born of Egypt!

Wo, wo, unutterable wo!

Caleb.

It is done!

O, hark:

Whence, leader, is that melancholy sound,

That heavy groan?

Moses.

It is a kingdom's voice,

Lamenting o'er her first born. I can hear

The quick sob of maternal agony,
The shriek of female anguish; and I see
The stern grief of the father, who beholds
The ruin of his hopes his first born son
Laid still and cold before him-he is silent,
For the proud sorrow is too mighty for
The feeble war of words. O mournful sight!
The bosom of each mother is, ere now,
The grave of her sweet son ;-for there it lies
The wither'd lotus, on the mourning stream,
From whence it drew its life and nourishment.

[Enter Jochani. Jochani. Hence, from our bleeding land! King Pharaoh sends

His hasty mandate to ye-speed ye hence,
As swiftly as ye may! this blighted land
Will long remember Israel, his name
May parallel with Typhon's-from the throne
Unto the lowliest hut, the owner's heart
Bears in deep characters of blood, the name
Indelible of Jacob.

[Enter Mamri.

[Enter Rampsinitis.

Fly, while our king yet lives-our people send
Their riches now to bribe your swift departure.
Here are the gems ye ask'd for, silver, gold,
Treasures incalculable, all the heaps
That Egypt hath for ages call'd her own,
Take them, and get ye gone!
Rampsinitis.
The sacrifice
Unto your awful God is made! Look there!
Mine own, mine eldest born! O, go-go, go,
Lest Pharaoh change-lest I, in madness, rush
Upon thy first born, Jacob! My sweet child !—
The gory drink, the livid boils, the hail,
The lurid lightning, tenant of the air,
That did domesticate itself on earth,
And walk'd upon her bosom! Locusts, fear,
Famine, and darkness, all, unshrinkingly
I bore! But this-O, this !-Begone! for I
Have yet another son!

Thy bitter sorrows!-Israel, onward now,

The God of Abraham guides thee! Yea, behold
He comes in visible form to lead ye forth

Through the drear wilderness, and stranger lands-
Yea, tremble, Jacob, bow thee to the dust,
And kiss the earth, now doubly sanctified
By his Almighty presence. In yon cloud
He hides his terrors from your human eyes,
And only shows his mercy!-Forward, Israel,
With fearless heart, and firm-set foot advance,
Follow your mighty leader; as ye go,
Charm his immortal ear with humble praise,
And heart-felt gratitude for boundless mercy!

SECTION XC.

RAMPSINITIS DESCRIBING THE PLAGUE TO PHARAOH.....Ibid.

Son of the ancient word, eldest of kings!
Let not the lightning of thy wrath destroy
The lowliest of thy servants, if he pray

That, in thy wisdom, thou betray not scorn
Against that God of terrors. Thou dost know him,
And Egypt trembles still, e'en midst this darkness,
At the remember'd horrors of his might.

Knew she not him amidst the horrid plague

Of the fierce murrain, which destroyed her flocks,
Broke loathsome on our bodies, struck our wives,

eye

Smote our young babes, and made even these proud men,
These magic-rampired sages, flee for shame,
And hide their livid bodies from the scorn,
That sternly laugh'd within the heaven-lit
Of Nile's adopted son !-Oh knew she not
The God, by this no stranger, in the storm
On which he rode, when scattering the hail,
He lit the sons of Egypt to their graves
By flames of lurid lightning.-But, O king!
If not for fear, at least for pity, hear
The voice of Israel's leader;-look upon
The sufferings of thy people, for thy sake
Plunged in unutterable wo. The plague
So sudden fell upon them, that no thought
Was taken for their safety-in the fields
Were many when it fell, and they sunk down,
E'en in the spot it found them, and expired,
Believing the red fiend had broken loose

From his hard bondage in the Sirbon lake,

And, with its pois'nous exhalations, choaked

The wholesome breath of earth. And there was one
Who crawl'd through that black mist-an only son,
To meet his mother, for he heard her voice
Guiding him to her side,―he crawl'd and crept,
Until, when to a precipice he came,

He thought he grasp'd her garment-it was nought
But the thick air he caught-he slipp'd, and dash'd
Hundreds of fathoms down, o'er pointed rocks,
'Gainst which his mangled body struck, ere he,
Blown by mirac'lous tempests to and fro,
Reach'd his terrific bed, the boiling wave ;-
His horrid shriek broke on his mother's ear,
And with it—sure in mercy-on her soul
Roll'd wild insanity; and now she goes
Crawling and groping through the dull, black air,
For that same spot from whence her darling fell,
Meaning to tread that path; and then, when fails
Her wearied strength, and she has found it not,
Still from her bosom heaves the same sad sound-
"It is not here! it is not here !"-and then
Bursts from her lips the echo of that scream,
Which she, unconscious of her loss, believes
Is utter'd by her son to guide her steps
Unto the spot which shelters him. There was
Another wretch, who, crouching to the earth,
Sat, in a toad-like form, within a cave,

And shriek'd herself to death with horrid fear
At the strange shapes her madden'd fancy had
Conjured from out the darkness. Some there are,
Fainting for hunger, hear their infants' cries,
Yet cannot find them food, nor reach the spot,
To yield the comfort that their fond embrace
To the poor babes might give. The husband cries
In vain upon his wife-for, distant far,
Despairing e'er again to reach her home,
In the wide street she perishes, and dies
Calling upon her husband! Some are struck
By suffocation in their homes, and there
The wretched carcases pollute the air,
And so, corrupting in their houses, bring
The other plague, the pestilence, upon us ;-
And thus at once to darkness, famine, grief,
And the swift-footed mischief of disease,
By thy decree, O king, are we resign'd.