He stopped at last,
And a mild look of sacred pity cast
Down on the sinful land where he was sent
To inflict 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!"
Through Egypt's wicked land his march he took,
And as he march'd the sacred first born strook
Of every womb: none did he spare,
None, from the meanest beast to Pharaoh's purple heir.
Whilst health and strength and gladness doth possess
The festal Hebrew cottages;
The blest destroyer comes not there
To interrupt the sacred cheer:
Upon their doors he read, and understood
God's protection writ in blood;
Well was he skill'd i' the character divine;
And though he passed by it in haste,
He bow'd and worshipp'd, as he pass'd,
The mighty mystery through its humble sign.
--_A. Cowley_
[Illustration: THE EGYPTIANS DROWNED IN THE RED SEA.]
[Illustration]