Classic Poem

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 sister's 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
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 upon the people of my race. "