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THE LAST PLAGUE. 



The stars are sole watchers and silently glow 



On Egypt's proud capitol sleeping below, 



For night hath reprieved the galled slave from his chain, 



And dreams yield him freedom and gladness again. 



The tyrant hath sank on his couch of repose, 

 Yet fancy is busy around him she throws 

 A vision of bondsmen who tremble to hear 

 His blasphemous scoffing, his mandate of fear. 



Hark! like the Solano with pestilent breath 

 O'er Araby's wilderness walking in death 

 A voice is abroad, 'tis a tone from on high 

 It calls on the agonized sleepers to die. 



The morning looked forth o'er the cities with dread 

 Where blackened the brave and the beautiful dead ; 

 The first-born child of each house was no more, 

 From the palace of pride to the shed of the poor. 



O ! deep was the pleading of sorrow : the cry 

 Of the desolate mother swept painfully by, 

 The father bent over his only stay's bier 

 In the sternness of anguish that knew not a tear. 



The fond maiden pined that she still should be left, 

 With the living, of life's dearest solace bereft, 

 And waking to struggle with madness the bride, 

 O ! drear dispensation ! found death by her side. 



Thus God, in his judgments, can fearfully prove 

 How dire in his anger how vast is his love ; 

 To save from their bondage his servants and quell 

 Their oppressors with torments that words cannot tell. 



FRAXZ. 



