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The infant corn, which yet did scarce appear,
Escap'd this general massacre

Of every thing that grew,

And the well-stor'd Egyptian year Began to clothe her fields and trees anew.

When, lo! a scorching wind from the burnt countries blew,

And endless legions with it drew
Of greedy Locusts; who, where'er
With sounding wings they flew,

Left all the earth depopulate and bare,
As if Winter itself had march'd by there.
Whate'er the Sun and Nile

Gave with large bounty to the thankful soil,
The wretched pillagers bore away,
And the whole Summer was their prey;
Till Moses with a prayer

Breath'd forth a violent western wind, Which all these living clouds did headlong bear (No stragglers left behind)

Into the purple sea, and there bestow

On the luxurious fish a feast they ne'er did know. With untaught joy Pharaoh the news does hear, And little thinks their fate attends on him and his

so near.

What blindness or what darkness did there e'er
Like this undocile king's appear!

What, e'er, but that which now does represent
And paint the crime out in the punishment?

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From the deep baleful caves of hell below,
Where the old mother Night does grow―
Substantial Night, that does disclaim
Privation's empty name—

Through secret conduits monstrous shapes arose,
Such as the sun's whole force could not oppose:
They with a solid cloud

All heaven's eclipsed face did shroud; Seem'd, with large wings spread o'er the sea and

earth,

To brood up a new Chaos's deformed birth.
And every lamp, and every fire,

Did at the dreadful sight wink and expire,
To th' Empyrean source all streams of light seem'd
to retire.

The living men were in their standing houses buried; But the long Night no slumber knows,

But the short Death finds no repose!

Ten thousand terrors through the darkness fled,
And ghosts complain'd, and spirits murmured;
And Fancy's multiplying sight

View'd all the scenes invisible of Night.

Of God's dreadful anger these
Were but the first light skirmishes;
The shock and bloody battle now begins,
The plenteous harvest of full-ripen'd sins.
It was the time when the still moon

Was mounted softly to her noon,

And dewy Sleep, which from Night's secret springs

arose,

Gently as Nile the land o'erflows.

When, lo! from the high countries of refined day, The golden heaven without allay—

Whose dross, in the creation purg'd away,

Made up the sun's adulterate ray

Michael, the warlike prince, does downwards fly, Swift as the journeys of the sight,

Swift as the race of light,

And with his winged will cuts through the yielding

sky.

He pass'd through many a star, and, as he pass'd, Shone (like a star in them) more brightly there Than they did in their sphere.

On a tall pyramid's pointed head he stopp'd at last, And a mild look of sacred pity cast

Down on the sinful land where he was sent,

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Tinflict the tardy punishment.

"Ah! yet," said he, " yet, stubborn king! repent, "Whilst thus unarm'd I stand,

"Ere the keen sword of God fill my commanded "hand;

"Suffer but yet thyself, and thine to live:

"Who would, alas! believe

"That it for man," said he,

"So hard to be forgiven should be,

"And yet for God so easy to forgive!"

He spoke, and downwards flew,

And o'er his shining form a well-cut cloud he threw,

Made of the blackest fleece of Night,

And close-wrought to keep in the powerful light,
Yet wrought so fine it hinder'd not his flight;
But through the key-holes and the chinks of doors,
And through the narrow'st walks of crooked pores,
He pass'd more swift and free,

Than in wide air the wanton swallows flee.
He took a pointed Pestilence in his hand;
The spirits of thousand mortal poisons made
The strongly-temper'd blade,

The sharpest sword that e'er was laid

Up in the magazines of God to scourge a wicked land.

Through Egypt's wicked land his march he took, And as he march'd the sacred first-born strook

[heir.

Of every womb; none did he spare, None, from the meanest beast to Cenchre's purple

The swift approach of endless night
Breaks ope the wounded sleepers' rolling eyes;
They' awake the rest with dying cries,
And darkness doubles the affright;

The mixed sounds of scatter'd deaths they hear,
And lose their parted souls 'twixt grief and fear.
Louder than all the shrieking women's voice
Pierces this chaos of confused noise;

As brighter lightning cuts a way
Clear and distinguish'd through the day.
With less complaints the Zoan temples sound,
When the adored heifer's drown'd,

And no true mark'd successor to be found.

Whilst health and strength, and gladness does pos

sess

The festal Hebrew cottages;

The blest Destroyer comes not there,
To interrupt the sacred cheer

That new begins their well-reformed year:
Upon their doors he read, and understood,
God's protection, writ in blood;

Well was he skill'd i' th' character Divine;
And, though he pass'd by it in haste,

He bow'd, and worship'd, as he pass'd,

The mighty mystery through its humble sign.

The sword strikes now too deep and near,
Longer with its edge to play;

No diligence or cost they spare

To haste the Hebrews now away :
Pharaoh himself chides their delay;
So kind and bountiful is Fear!

But, oh the bounty which to fear we owe,
Is but like fire struck out of stone;
So hardly got, and quickly gone,

That it scarce out-lives the blow.
Sorrow and fear soon quit the tyrant's breast;
Rage and revenge their place possess'd;
With a vast host of chariots and of horse,
And all his powerful kingdom's ready force,
The travelling nation he pursues;

Ten times o'ercome, he still th' unequal war renews.

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