Poems; Iola Leroy

The love of Moses for his race soon found A stern expression. Pharaoh was building A pyramid; ambitious, cold and proud, He scrupled not at means to gain his ends. When he feared the growing power of Israel He stained his hands in children’s blood, and held A carnival of death in Goshen; but now He wished to hand his name and memory Down unto the distant ages, and instead Of lading that memory with the precious Fragrance of the kindest deeds and words, he Essayed to write it out in stone, as cold And hard, and heartless as himself. And Israel was The fated race to whom the cruel tasks Were given. Day after day a cry of wrong And anguish, some dark deed of woe and crime, Came to the ear of Moses, and he said, “These reports are ever harrowing my soul; I will go unto the fields where Pharaoh’s Officers exact their labors, and see If these things be so—if they smite the feeble At their tasks, and goad the aged on to toils Beyond their strength—if neither age nor sex Is spared the cruel smiting of their rods.” And Moses went to see his brethren. ’Twas eventide, And the laborers were wending their way Unto their lowly huts. ’Twas a sad sight,— The young girls walked without the bounding steps Of youth, with faces prematurely old, As if the rosy hopes and sunny promises Of life had never flushed their cheeks with girlish Joy; and there were men whose faces seemed to say We bear our lot in hopeless pain, we’ve bent unto Our burdens until our shoulders fit them, And as slaves we crouch beneath our servitude And toil. But there were men whose souls were cast In firmer moulds, men with dark secretive eyes, Which seemed to say, to-day we bide our time, And hide our wrath in every nerve, and only Wait a fitting hour to strike the hands that press Us down. Then came the officers of Pharaoh; They trod as lords, their faces flushed with pride And insolence, watching the laborers Sadly wending their way from toil to rest. And Moses’ heart swelled with a mighty pain; sadly Musing, he sought a path that led him From the busy haunts of men. But even there The cruel wrong trod in his footsteps; he heard A heavy groan, then harsh and bitter words, And, looking back, he saw an officer Of Pharaoh smiting with rough and cruel hand An aged man. Then Moses’ wrath o’erflowed His lips, and every nerve did tremble With a sense of wrong, and bounding forth he Cried unto the smiter, “Stay thy hand; seest thou That aged man? His head is whiter than our Desert sands; his limbs refuse to do thy Bidding because thy cruel tasks have drained Away their strength.” The Egyptian raised his eyes With sudden wonder; who was this that dared dispute His power? Only a Hebrew youth. His Proud lip curved in scornful anger, and he Waved a menace with his hand, saying, “back To thy task base slave, nor dare resist the will Of Pharaoh.” Then Moses’ wrath o’erleaped the bounds Of prudence, and with a heavy blow he felled The smiter to the earth, and Israel had One tyrant less. Moses saw the mortal paleness Chase the flushes from the Egyptian’s face, The whitening lips that breathed no more defiance And the relaxing tension of the well knit limbs; And when he knew that he was dead, he hid Him in the sand and left him to his rest. Another day Moses walked Abroad, and saw two brethren striving For mastery; and then his heart grew full Of tender pity. They were brethren, sharers Of a common wrong: should not their wrongs more Closely bind their hearts, and union, not division, Be their strength? And feeling thus, he said, “ye Are brethren, wherefore do ye strive together?” But they threw back his words in angry tones And asked if he had come to judge them, and would Mete to them the fate of the Egyptian? Then Moses knew the sand had failed to keep His secret, that his life no more was safe In Goshen, and he fled unto the deserts Of Arabia and became a shepherd For the priest of Midian.

Men grow strong in action, but in solitude Their thoughts are ripened. Like one who cuts away The bridge on which he has walked in safety To the other side, so Moses cut off all retreat To Pharaoh’s throne, and did choose the calling Most hateful to an Egyptian; he became A shepherd, and led his flocks and herds amid The solitudes and wilds of Midian, where he Nursed in silent loneliness his earnest faith In God and a constant love for kindred, tribe And race. Years stole o’er him, but they took No atom from his strength, nor laid one heavy weight Upon his shoulders. The down upon his face Had ripened to a heavy beard; the fire That glowed within his youthful eye had deepened To a calm and steady light, and yet his heart Was just as faithful to his race as when he had Stood in Pharaoh’s courts and bade farewell Unto his daughter. There was a look of patient waiting on his face, A calm, grand patience, like one who had lifted Up his eyes to God and seen, with meekened face, The wings of some great destiny o’ershadowing All his life with strange and solemn glory. But the hour came when he must pass from thought To action,—when the hope of many years Must reach its grand fruition, and Israel’s Great deliverance dawn. It happened thus: One day, as Moses led his flocks, he saw A fertile spot skirted by desert sands,— A pleasant place for flocks and herds to nip The tender grass and rest within its shady nooks; And as he paused and turned, he saw a bush with fire Aglow; from root to stem a lambent flame Sent up its jets and sprays of purest light, And yet the bush, with leaves uncrisped, uncurled, Was just as green and fresh as if the breath Of early spring were kissing every leaf. Then Moses said I’ll turn aside to see This sight, and as he turned he heard a voice Bidding him lay his sandals by, for Lo! he Stood on holy ground. Then Moses bowed his head Upon his staff and spread his mantle o’er His face, lest he should see the dreadful majesty Of God; and there, upon that lonely spot, By Horeb’s mount, his shrinking hands received The burden of his God, which bade him go To Egypt’s guilty king, and bid him let The oppressed go free. Commissioned thus He gathered up his flocks and herds and sought The tents of Jethro, and said “I pray thee Let me go and see if yet my kindred live;” And Jethro bade him go in peace, nor sought To throw himself across the purpose of his soul. Yet there was a tender parting in that home; There were moistened eyes, and quivering lips, And lingering claspings of the parting hand, as Jethro And his daughters stood within the light of that Clear morn, and gave to Moses and his wife And sons their holy wishes and their sad farewells. For he had been a son and brother in that home Since first with manly courtesy he had filled The empty pails of Reuel’s daughters, and found A shelter ’neath his tent when flying from The wrath of Pharaoh. They journeyed on, Moses, Zipporah and sons, she looking back With tender love upon the home she had left, With all its precious memories crowding round Her heart, and he with eager eyes tracking His path across the desert, longing once more To see the long-lost faces of his distant home, The loving eyes so wont to sun him with their Welcome, and the aged hands that laid upon His youthful head their parting blessing. They Journeyed on till morning’s flush and noonday Splendor glided into the softened, mellowed Light of eve, and the purple mists were deep’ning On the cliffs and hills, when Horeb, dual Crowned, arose before him; and there he met His brother Aaron, sent by God to be His spokesman and to bear him company To Pharaoh. Tender and joyous was their greeting They talked of home and friends until the lighter Ripple of their thoughts in deeper channels flowed; And then they talked of Israel’s bondage, And the great deliverance about to dawn Upon the fortunes of their race; and Moses Told him of the burning bush, and how the message Of his God was trembling on his lips. And thus They talked until the risen moon had veiled The mount in soft and silvery light; and then They rested until morn, and rising up, refreshed From sleep, pursued their way until they reached The land of Goshen, and gathered up the elders Of their race, and told them of the message Of their Father’s God. Then eager lips caught up The words of hope and passed the joyful “news Around, and all the people bowed their heads And lifted up their hearts in thankfulness To God.” That same day Moses sought an audience with the king. He found Him on his throne surrounded by the princes Of his court, who bowed in lowly homage At his feet. And Pharaoh heard with curving lip And flushing cheek the message of the Hebrew’s God, Then asked in cold and scornful tones, “Has Israel a God, and if so where has he dwelt For ages? As the highest priest of Egypt I have prayed to Isis, and the Nile has Overflowed her banks and filled the land With plenty, but these poor slaves have cried unto Their God, then crept in want and sorrow To their graves. Surely Mizraim’s God is strong And Israel’s is weak; then wherefore should I heed his voice, or at his bidding break A single yoke?” Thus reasoned that proud king, And turned a deafened ear unto the words Of Moses and his brother, and yet he felt Strangely awed before their presence, because They stood as men who felt the grandeur Of their mission, and thought not of themselves, But of their message.

On the next day Pharaoh called a council Of his mighty men, and before them laid The message of the brethren: then Amorphel, Keeper of the palace and nearest lord Unto the king, arose, and bending low Before the throne, craved leave to speak a word. Amorphel was a crafty, treacherous man, With oily lips well versed in flattery And courtly speech, a supple reed ready To bend before his royal master’s lightest Breath—Pharaoh’s willing tool. He said “Gracious king, thou has been too lenient With these slaves; light as their burdens are, they Fret and chafe beneath them. They are idle And the blood runs riot in their veins. Now If thou would’st have these people dwell in peace, Increase, I pray thee, their tasks and add unto Their burdens; if they faint beneath their added Tasks, they will have less time to plot sedition And revolt.”

Then Rhadma, oldest lord in Pharaoh’s court, Arose. He was an aged man, whose white And heavy beard hung low upon his breast, Yet there was a hard cold glitter in his eye, And on his face a proud and evil look. He had been a servant to the former king, And wore his signet ring upon his hand. He said, “I know this Moses well. Fourscore Years ago Princess Charmian found him By the Nile and rescued him from death, and did Choose him as her son, and had him versed in all The mysteries and lore of Egypt. But blood Will tell, and this base slave, with servile blood Within his veins, would rather be a servant Than a prince, and so, with rude and reckless hand, He thrust aside the honors of our dear Departed king. Pharaoh was justly wroth, But for his daughter’s sake he let the trespass Pass. But one day this Moses slew an Egyptian In his wrath, and then the king did seek his life; But he fled, it is said, unto the deserts Of Arabia, and became a shepherd for the priest Of Midian. But now, instead of leading flocks And herds, he aspires to lead his captive race To freedom. These men mean mischief; sedition And revolt are in their plans. Decree, I pray thee, That these men shall gather their own straw And yet their tale of bricks shall be the same.” And these words pleased Pharaoh well, and all his Lords chimed in with one accord. And Pharaoh Wrote the stern decree and sent it unto Goshen— That the laborers should gather their own straw, And yet they should not ’minish of their tale of bricks ’Twas a sad day in Goshen; The king’s decree hung like a gloomy pall Around their homes. The people fainted ’neath Their added tasks, then cried unto the king, That he would ease their burdens; but he hissed A taunt into their ears and said, “ye are Idle, and your minds are filled with vain And foolish thoughts; get you unto your tasks, And ye shall not ’minish of your tale of bricks.” And then they turned their eyes Reproachfully on Moses and his brother, And laid the cruel blame upon their shoulders. ’Tis an old story now, but then ’twas new Unto the brethren,—how God’s anointed ones Must walk with bleeding feet the paths that turn To lines of living light; how hands that bring Salvation in their palms are pierced with cruel Nails, and lips that quiver first with some great truth Are steeped in bitterness and tears, and brows Now bright beneath the aureola of God, Have bent beneath the thorny crowns of earth. There was hope for Israel, But they did not see the golden fringes Of their coming morn; they only saw the cold, Grey sky, and fainted ’neath the cheerless gloom.

Moses sought again the presence of the king: And Pharaoh’s brow grew dark with wrath, And rising up in angry haste, he said, Defiantly, “If thy God be great, show Us some sign or token of his power.” Then Moses threw his rod upon the floor, And it trembled with a sign of life; The dark wood glowed, then changed into a thing Of glistening scales and golden rings, and green, And brown and purple stripes; a hissing, hateful Thing, that glared its fiery eye, and darting forth From Moses’ side, lay coiled and panting At the monarch’s feet. With wonder open-eyed The king gazed on the changed rod, then called For his magicians—wily men, well versed In sinful lore—and bade them do the same. And they, leagued with the powers of night, did Also change their rods to serpents; then Moses’ Serpent darted forth, and with a startling hiss And angry gulp, he swallowed the living things That coiled along his path. And thus did Moses Show that Israel’s God had greater power Than those dark sons of night. But not by this alone Did God his mighty power reveal: He changed Their waters; every fountain, well and pool Was red with blood, and lips, all parched with thirst, Shrank back in horror from the crimson draughts. And then the worshiped Nile grew full of life: Millions of frogs swarmed from the stream—they clogged The pathway of the priests and filled the sacred Fanes, and crowded into Pharaoh’s bed, and hopped Into his trays of bread, and slumbered in his Ovens and his pans.

Then came another plague, of loathsome vermin; They were gray and creeping things, that made Their very clothes alive with dark and sombre Spots—things so loathsome in the land they did Suspend the service of the temple; for no priest Dared to lift his hand to any god with one Of these upon him. And then the sky grew Dark, as if a cloud were passing o’er its Changeless blue; a buzzing sound broke o’er The city, and the land was swarmed with flies. The murrain laid their cattle low; the hail Cut off the first fruits of the Nile; the locusts, With their hungry jaws, destroyed the later crops, And left the ground as brown and bare as if a fire Had scorched it through, Then angry blains And fiery boils did blur the flesh of man And beast; and then for three long days, nor saffron Tint, nor crimson flush, nor soft and silvery light Divided day from morn, nor told the passage Of the hours; men rose not from their seats, but sat In silent awe. That lengthened night lay like a burden On the air,—a darkness one might almost gather In his hand, it was so gross and thick. Then came The last dread plague—the death of the first-born. ’Twas midnight, And a startling shriek rose from each palace, Home and hut of Egypt, save the blood-besprinkled homes Of Goshen; the midnight seemed to shiver with a sense Of dread, as if the mystic angels wing Had chilled the very air with horror. Death! Death! was everywhere—in every home A corpse—in every heart a bitter woe. There were anxious fingerings for the pulse That ne’er would throb again, and eager listenings For some sound of life—a hurrying to and fro— Then burning kisses on the cold lips Of the dead, bitter partings, sad farewells, And mournful sobs and piercing shrieks, And deep and heavy groans throughout the length And breadth of Egypt. ’Twas the last dread plague, But it had snapped in twain the chains on which The rust of ages lay, and Israel was freed; Not only freed, but thrust in eager haste From out the land. Trembling men stood by, and longed To see them gather up their flocks and herds, And household goods, and leave the land; because they felt That death stood at their doors as long as Israel Lingered there; and they went forth in haste, To tread the paths of freedom.

But Pharaoh was strangely blind, and turning From his first-born and his dead, with Egypt’s wail Scarce still upon his ear, he asked which way had Israel gone? They told him that they journeyed Towards the mighty sea, and were encamped Near Baalzephn. Then Pharaoh said, “the wilderness will hem them in, The mighty sea will roll its barriers in front, And with my chariots and my warlike men I’ll bring them back, or mete them out their graves.” Then Pharaoh’s officers arose And gathered up the armies of the king And made his chariots ready for pursuit. With proud escutcheons blazoned to the sun, In his chariot of ivory, pearl and gold, Pharaoh rolled out of Egypt; and with him Rode his mighty men, their banners floating On the breeze, their spears and armor glittering In the morning light; and Israel saw, With fainting hearts, their old oppressors on their Track: then women wept in hopeless terror; Children hid their faces in their mothers’ robes, And strong men bowed their heads in agony and dread; And then a bitter, angry murmur rose,— “Were there no graves in Egypt, that thou hast Brought us here to die?” Then Moses lifted up his face, aglow With earnest faith in God, and bade their fainting hearts Be strong and they should his salvation see. “Stand still,” said Moses to the fearful throng Whose hearts were fainting in the wild, “Stand still.” Ah, that was Moses’ word, but higher and greater Came God’s watchword for the hour, and not for that Alone, but all the coming hours of time. “Speak ye unto the people and bid them Forward go; stretch thy hand across the waters And smite them with thy rod.” And Moses smote The restless sea; the waves stood up in heaps, Then lay as calm and still as lips that just Had tasted death. The secret-loving sea Laid bare her coral caves and iris-tinted Floor; that wall of flood which lined the people’s Way was God’s own wondrous masonry; The signal pillar sent to guide them through the wild Moved its dark shadow till it fronted Egypt’s Camp, but hung in fiery splendor, a light To Israel’s path. Madly rushed the hosts Of Pharaoh upon the people’s track, when The solemn truth broke on them—that God For Israel fought. With cheeks in terror Blenching, and eyes astart with fear, “let Us flee,” they cried, “from Israel, for their God Doth fight against us; he is battling on their side.” They had trusted in their chariots, but now That hope was vain; God had loosened every Axle and unfastened every wheel, and each Face did gather blackness and each heart stood still With fear, as the livid lightnings glittered And the thunder roared and muttered on the air, And they saw the dreadful ruin that shuddered O’er their heads, for the waves began to tremble And the wall of flood to bend. Then arose A cry of terror, baffled hate and hopeless dread, A gurgling sound of horror, as “the waves Came madly dashing, wildly crashing, seeking Out their place again,” and the flower and pride Of Egypt sank as lead within the sea Till the waves threw back their corpses cold and stark Upon the shore, and the song of Israel. Triumph was the requiem of their foes. Oh the grandeur of that triumph; up the cliffs And down the valleys, o’er the dark and restless Sea, rose the people’s shout of triumph, going Up in praise to God, and the very air Seemed joyous for the choral song of millions Throbbed upon its viewless wings. Then another song of triumph rose in accents Soft and clear; “’twas the voice of Moses’ sister Rising in the tide of song.” The warm blood Of her childhood seemed dancing in her veins; The roses of her girlhood were flushing On her cheek, and her eyes flashed out the splendor Of long departed days, for time itself seemed Pausing, and she lived the past again; again The Nile flowed by her; she was watching by the stream, A little ark of rushes where her baby brother lay; The tender tide of rapture swept o’er her soul again She had felt when Pharaoh’s daughter had claimed Him as her own, and her mother wept for joy Above her rescued son. Then again she saw Him choosing “’twixt Israel’s pain and sorrow And Egypt’s pomp and pride.” But now he stood Their leader triumphant on that shore, and loud She struck the cymbals as she led the Hebrew women In music, dance and song, as they shouted out Triumphs in sweet and glad refrains.