But naught prevailed, for sore disease had scourged the low and high,
And the hail of God had fallen and crushed the growing grain,
And a fire no hand had kindled in searing wrath swept by--
Such fire as none had seen before--as none would see again.
Then came the pirate locusts, with a sea-song free and bold;--
The spent and broken people lacked the strength to force them back,
But watched them take the last green blades that never would be gold--
And shut their doors against the foe that turned the meadows black.
Then Pharaoh wavered--more--he called the Hebrews in his haste
Imploring respite--pleading his repentance bitterly--
For there was death on every side, and all the land was waste;--
So the western wind of God blew the locusts out to sea.
Yet not enough. Once more the king denied his given word;
He dared the wrath of Heaven, and he made his heart as steel;
Then all the lights of God went out, and no man even stirred--
But stayed companioned by his fear, in darkness he could feel.
So had each dreadful day gone by, each slow departing night,
And the queen stood now at sunset alone with grief and shame,
When one came running towards her through the failing crimson light,
A little lad, with Egypt's eyes--but hair like golden flame.
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