Idylls of the Bible
...BY...
MRS. F. E. W. HARPER
PHILADELPHIA
1006 BAINBRIDGE STREET
1901
[Illustration: Frances E. W. Harper]
MOSES
A STORY OF THE NILE
THE PARTING.—CHAPTER I.
MOSES.
Kind and gracious princess, more than friend,
I’ve come to thank thee for thy goodness,
And to breathe into thy generous ears
My last and sad farewell. I go to join
The fortunes of my race, and to put aside
All other bright advantages, save
The approval of my conscience and the meed
Of rightly doing.
PRINCESS.
What means, my son, this strange election?
What wild chimera floats across thy mind?
What sudden impulse moves thy soul? Thou who
Hast only trod the court of kings, why seek
Instead the paths of labor? Thou, whose limbs
Have known no other garb than that which well
Befits our kingly state, why rather choose
The badge of servitude and toil?
MOSES.
Let me tell thee, gracious princess; ’tis no
Sudden freak nor impulse wild that moves my mind.
I feel an earnest purpose binding all
My soul unto a strong resolve, which bids
Me put aside all other ends and aims,
Until the hour shall come when God—the God
Our fathers loved and worshipped—shall break our chains,
And lead our willing feet to freedom.
PRINCESS.
Listen to me, Moses: thou art young,
And the warm blood of youth flushes thy veins
Like generous wine; thou wearest thy manhood
Like a crown; but what king e’er cast
His diadem in the dust, to be trampled
Down by every careless foot? Thou hast
Bright dreams and glowing hopes; could’st thou not live
Them out as well beneath the radiance
Of our throne as in the shadow of those
Bondage-darkened huts?
MOSES.
Within those darkened huts my mother plies her tasks,
My father bends to unrequited toil;
And bitter tears moisten the bread my brethren eat.
And when I gaze upon their cruel wrongs
The very purple on my limbs seems drenched
With blood, the warm blood of my own kindred race;
And then thy richest viands pall upon my taste,
And discord jars in every tone of song.
I cannot live in pleasure while they faint
In pain.
PRINCESS.
How like a dream the past floats back: it seems
But yesterday when I lay tossing upon
My couch of pain, a torpor creeping through
Each nerve, a fever coursing through my veins.
And there I lay, dreaming of lilies fair,
Of lotus flowers and past delights, and all
The bright, glad hopes, that give to early life
Its glow and flush; and thus day after day
Dragged its slow length along, until, one morn,
The breath of lilies, fainting on the air,
Floated into my room, and then I longed once more
To gaze upon the Nile, as on the face
Of a familiar friend, whose absence long
Had made a mournful void within the heart.
I summoned to my side my maids, and bade
Them place my sandals on my feet, and lead
Me to the Nile, where I might bathe my weary
Limbs within the cooling flood, and gather
Healing from the sacred stream.
I sought my favorite haunt, and, bathing, found
New tides of vigor coursing through my veins.
Refreshed, I sat me down to weave a crown of lotus leaves
And lilies fair, and while I sat in a sweet
Revery, dreaming of life and hope, I saw
A little wicker-basket hidden among
The flags and lilies of the Nile, and I called
My maidens and said, “Nillias and Osiria
Bring me that little ark which floats beside
The stream.” They ran and brought me a precious burden.
’Twas an ark woven with rushes and daubed
With slime, and in it lay a sleeping child;
His little hand amid his clustering curls,
And a bright flush upon his glowing cheek.
He wakened with a smile, and reached out his hand
To meet the welcome of the mother’s kiss,
When strange faces met his gaze, and he drew back
With a grieved, wondering look, while disappointment
Shook the quivering lip that missed the mother’s
Wonted kiss, and the babe lifted his voice and wept.
Then my heart yearned towards him, and I resolved
That I would brave my father’s wrath and save
The child; but while I stood gazing upon
His wondrous beauty, I saw beside me
A Hebrew girl, her eyes bent on me
With an eager, questioning look, and drawing
Near, she timidly said, “shall I call a nurse?”
I bade her go; she soon returned, and with her
Came a woman of the Hebrew race, whose
Sad, sweet, serious eyes seemed overflowing
With a strange and sudden joy. I placed the babe
Within her arms and said, “Nurse this child for me;”
And the babe nestled there like one at home,
While o’er the dimples of his face rippled
The brightest, sweetest smiles, and I was well
Content to leave him in her care; and well
Did she perform her part. When many days had
Passed she brought the child unto the palace;
And one morning, while I sat toying with
His curls and listening to the prattle of his
Untrained lips, my father, proud and stately,
Saw me bending o’er the child and said,
“Charmian, whose child is this? who of my lords
Calls himself father to this goodly child?
He surely must be a happy man.”
Then I said, “Father, he is mine. He is a
Hebrew child that I have saved from death.” He
Suddenly recoiled, as if an adder
Had stung him, and said, “Charmian, take that
Child hence. How darest thou bring a member
Of that mean and servile race within my doors?
Nay, rather let me send for Nechos, whose
Ready sword shall rid me of his hateful presence.”
Then kneeling at his feet, and catching
Hold of his royal robes, I said, “Not so,
Oh! honored father, he is mine; I snatched
Him from the hungry jaws of death, and foiled
The greedy crocodile of his prey; he has
Eaten bread within thy palace walls, and thy
Salt lies upon his fresh young lips; he has
A claim upon thy mercy.”
“Charmian,” he said
“I have decreed that every man child of that
Hated race shall die. The oracles have said
The pyramids shall wane before their shadow,
And from them a star shall rise whose light shall
Spread over earth a baleful glow; and this is why
I root them from the land; their strength is weakness
To my throne. I shut them from the light lest they
Bring darkness to my kingdom. Now, Charmian,
Give me up the child, and let him die.”
Then clasping the child closer to my heart,
I said, “the pathway to his life is through my own;
Around that life I throw my heart, a wall
Of living, loving clay.” Dark as the thunder
Clouds of distant lands became my father’s brow,
And his eyes flashed with the fierce lightnings
Of his wrath; but while I plead, with eager
Eyes upturned, I saw a sudden change come
Over him; his eyes beamed with unwonted
Tenderness, and he said, “Charmian, arise,
Thy prayer is granted; just then thy dead mother
Came to thine eyes, and the light of Asenath
Broke over thy face. Asenath was the light
Of my home; the star that faded out too
Suddenly from my dwelling, and left my life
To darkness, grief and pain, and for her sake,
Not thine, I’ll spare the child.” And thus I saved
Thee twice—once from the angry sword and once
From the devouring flood. Moses, thou art
Doubly mine; as such I claimed thee then, as such
I claim thee now. I’ve nursed no other child
Upon my knee, and pressed upon no other
Lips the sweetest kisses of my love, and now,
With rash and careless hand, thou dost thrust aside that love.
There was a painful silence, a silence
So hushed and still that you might have almost
Heard the hurried breathing of one and the quick
Throbbing of the other’s heart: for Moses,
He was slow of speech, but she was eloquent
With words of tenderness and love, and had breathed
Her full heart into her lips; but there was
Firmness in the young man’s choice, and he beat back
The opposition of her lips with the calm
Grandeur of his will, and again he essayed to speak.
MOSES.
Gracious lady, thou remembrest well
The Hebrew nurse to whom thou gavest thy foundling.
That woman was my mother: from her lips I
Learned the grand traditions of our race that float.
With all their weird and solemn beauty, around
Our wrecked and blighted fortunes. How oft!
With kindling eye and glowing cheek, forgetful
Of the present pain, she would lead us through
The distant past: the past, hallowed by deeds
Of holy faith and lofty sacrifice.
How she would tell us of Abraham,
The father of our race, that he dwelt in Ur;
Of the Chaldees, and when the Chaldean king
Had called him to his sacrifice, that he
Had turned from his dumb idols to the living
God, and wandered out from kindred, home and race,
Led by his faith in God alone; and she would
Tell us,—(we were three,) my brother Aaron,
The Hebrew girl thou sentest to call a nurse,
And I, her last, her loved and precious child;
She would tell us that one day our father
Abraham heard a voice, bidding him offer
Up in sacrifice the only son of his
Beautiful and beloved Sarah; that the father’s
Heart shrank not before the bitter test of faith,
But he resolved to give his son to God
As a burnt offering upon Moriah’s mount;
That the uplifted knife glittered in the morning
Sun, when, sweeter than the music of a thousand
Harps, he heard a voice bidding him stay his hand,
And spare the child; and how his faith, like gold
Tried in the fiercest fire, shone brighter through
Its fearful test. And then she would tell us
Of a promise, handed down from sire to son,
That God, the God our fathers loved and worshiped,
Would break our chains, and bring to us a great
Deliverance; that we should dwell in peace
Beneath our vines and palms, our flocks and herds
Increase, and joyful children crowd our streets;
And then she would lift her eyes unto the far
Off hills and tell us of the patriarchs
Of our line, who sleep in distant graves within
That promised land; and now I feel the hour
Draws near which brings deliverance to our race.
PRINCESS.
These are but the dreams of thy young fancy;
I cannot comprehend thy choice. I have heard
Of men who have waded through slaughter
To a throne; of proud ambitions, struggles
Fierce and wild for some imagined good; of men
Who have even cut in twain the crimson threads
That lay between them and a throne; but I
Never heard of men resigning ease for toil,
The splendor of a palace for the squalor
Of a hut, and casting down a diadem
To wear a servile badge.
Sadly she gazed
Upon the fair young face lit with its lofty
Faith and high resolves—the dark prophetic eyes
Which seemed to look beyond the present pain
Unto the future greatness of his race.
As she stood before him in the warm
Loveliness of her ripened womanhood,
Her languid eyes glowed with unwonted fire,
And the bright tropical blood sent its quick
Flushes o’er the olive of her cheek, on which
Still lay the lingering roses of her girlhood.
Grief, wonder, and surprise flickered like shadows
O’er her face as she stood slowly crushing
With unconscious hand the golden tassels
Of her crimson robe. She had known life only
By its brightness, and could not comprehend
The grandeur of the young man’s choice; but she
Felt her admiration glow before the earnest
Faith that tore their lives apart and led him
To another destiny. She had hoped to see
The crown of Egypt on his brow, the sacred
Leopard skin adorn his shoulders, and his seat
The throne of the proud Pharaoh’s; but now her
Dream had faded out and left a bitter pang
Of anguish in its stead. And thus they parted,
She to brood in silence o’er her pain, and he
To take his mission from the hands of God
And lead his captive race to freedom.
With silent lips but aching heart she bowed
Her queenly head and let him pass, and he
Went forth to share the fortune of his race,
Esteeming that as better far than pleasures
Bought by sin and gilded o’er with vice.
And he had chosen well, for on his brow
God poured the chrism of a holy work.
And thus anointed he has stood a bright
Ensample through the changing centuries of time
CHAPTER II.
It was a great change from the splendor, light
And pleasure of a palace to the lowly huts
Of those who sighed because of cruel bondage.
As he passed
Into the outer courts of that proud palace,
He paused a moment just to gaze upon
The scenes ’mid which his early life had passed—
The pleasant haunts amid the fairest flowers,—
The fountains tossing on the air their silver spray,—
The statues breathing music soft and low
To greet the first faint flushes of the morn,—
The obelisks that rose in lofty grandeur
From their stony beds—the sphynxes gaunt and grim,
With unsolved riddles on their lips—and all
The bright creation’s painters art and sculptors
Skill had gathered in those regal halls, where mirth
And dance, and revelry, and song had chased
With careless feet the bright and fleeting hours.
He was leaving all; but no regrets came
Like a shadow o’er his mind, for he had felt
The quickening of a higher life, as if his
Soul had wings and he were conscious of their growth;
And yet there was a tender light in those
Dark eyes which looked their parting on the scenes
Of beauty, where his life had been a joyous
Dream enchanted with delight; but he trampled
On each vain regret as on a vanquished foe,
And went forth a strong man, girded with lofty
Purposes and earnest faith. He journeyed on
Till palaces and domes and lofty fanes,
And gorgeous temples faded from his sight,
And the lowly homes of Goshen came in view.
There he saw the women of his race kneading
Their tale of bricks; the sons of Abraham
Crouching beneath their heavy burdens. He saw
The increasing pallor on his sisters cheek,
The deepening shadows on his mother’s brow,
The restless light that glowed in Aaron’s eye,
As if a hidden fire were smouldering
In his brain; and bending o’er his mother
In a tender, loving way, he said, “Mother,
I’ve come to share the fortunes of my race,—
To dwell within these lowly huts,—to wear
The badge of servitude and toil, and eat
The bitter bread of penury and pain.”
A sudden light beamed from his mother’s eye,
And she said, “How’s this, my son? but yesterday
Two Hebrews, journeying from On to Goshen,
Told us they had passed the temple of the Sun
But dared not enter, only they had heard
That it was a great day in On; that thou hadst
Forsworn thy kindred, tribe and race; hadst bowed
Thy knee to Egypt’s vain and heathen worship,
Hadst denied the God of Abraham, of Isaac,
And of Jacob, and from henceforth wouldst
Be engrafted in Pharaoh’s regal line,
And be called the son of Pharaoh’s daughter.
When thy father Amram heard the cruel news
He bowed his head upon his staff and wept.
But I had stronger faith than that. By faith
I hid thee when the bloody hands of Pharaoh
Were searching ’mid our quivering heart strings
Dooming our sons to death; by faith I wove
The rushes of thine ark and laid thee ’mid
The flags and lilies of the Nile, and saw
The answer to that faith when Pharaoh’s daughter
Placed thee in my arms, and bade me nurse the child
For her; and by that faith sustained, I heard
As idle words the cruel news that stabbed
Thy father like a sword.”
“The Hebrews did not hear aright; last week
There was a great day in On, from Esoan’s gate
Unto the mighty sea; the princes, lords
And chamberlains of Egypt were assembled;
The temple of the sun was opened. Isis
And Osiris were unveiled before the people,
Apis and Orus were crowned with flowers;
Golden censers breathed their fragrance on the air;
The sacrifice was smoking on the altar;
The first fruits of the Nile lay on the tables
Of the sun: the music rose in lofty swells,
Then sank in cadences so soft and low
Till all the air grew tremulous with rapture.
The priests of On were there, with sacred palms
Within their hands and lotus leaves upon their
Brows; Pharaoh and his daughter sat waiting
In their regal chairs; all were ready to hear
Me bind my soul to Egypt, and to swear
Allegiance to her gods. The priests of On
Drew near to lay their hands upon my head
And bid me swear, ‘Now, by Osiris, judge
Of all the dead, and Isis, mother of us
All,’ that henceforth I’d forswear my kindred,
Tribe and race; would have no other gods
Than those of Egypt; would be engrafted
Into Pharaoh’s royal line, and be called
The son of Pharaoh’s daughter. Then, mother
Dear, I lived the past again. Again I sat
Beside thee, my lips apart with childish
Wonder, my eager eyes uplifted to thy
Glowing face, and my young soul gathering
Inspiration from thy words. Again I heard
Thee tell the grand traditions of our race,
The blessed hopes and glorious promises
That weave their golden threads among the sombre
Tissues of our lives, and shimmer still amid
The gloom and shadows of our lot. Again
I heard thee tell of Abraham, with his constant
Faith and earnest trust in God, unto whom
The promise came that in his seed should all
The nations of the earth be blessed. Of Isaac
Blessing with disappointed lips his first-born son,
From whom the birthright had departed. Of Jacob,
With his warm affections and his devious ways,
Flying before the wrath of Esau; how he
Slumbered in the wild, and saw amid his dreams
A ladder reaching to the sky, on which God’s
Angels did descend, and waking, with a solemn
Awe o’ershadowing all, his soul exclaimed, ‘How
Dreadful is this place. Lo! God is here, and I
Knew it not.’ Of Joseph, once a mighty prince
Within this land, who shrank in holy horror
From the soft white hand that beckoned him to sin
Whose heart, amid the pleasures, pomp and pride
Of Egypt, was ever faithful to his race,
And when his life was trembling on its frailest chord
He turned his dying eyes to Canaan, and made
His brethren swear that they would make his grave
Among the patriarchs of his line, because
Machpelah’s cave, where Abraham bowed before
The sons of Heth, and bought a place to lay
His loved and cherished dead, was dearer to his
Dying heart than the proudest tomb amid
The princely dead of Egypt.
Then, like the angels, mother dear, who met
Our father Jacob on his way, thy words
Came back as messengers of light to guide
My steps, and I refused to be called the son
Of Pharaoh’s daughter. I saw the priests of On
Grow pale with fear, an ashen terror creeping
O’er the princess’ face, while Pharaoh’s brow grew
Darker than the purple of his cloak. But I
Endured, as seeing him who hides his face
Behind the brightness of his glory.
And thus I left the pomp and pride of Egypt
To cast my lot among the people of my race.”
FLIGHT INTO MIDIAN.—CHAPTER III.
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.