THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT.
183
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,
T'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!"
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,
T'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!"
He spoke, and downwards flew,
And o'er his shining form a well-cut cloud he threw,
And o'er his shining form a well-cut cloud he threw,
