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SETHON
- KING SETHON of Egypt
- Cried out in his woe,
- “My kingdom will perish,
- My race be brought low.
- “Ruthless Sennacherib
- With warriors draws near
- To conquer our country
- With arrow and spear.
- “Our men are a handful;
- In vain we contend;
- Vain, vain is our struggle—
- But short be the end!”
- Beneath the clear starlight
- Of Egypt he stood,
- The invaders’ camp stretched
- Far away like a wood;
- When lo! through the stillness
- Arose a strange sound,
- A scratching and scraping
- Came up from the ground.
- And thick as when corn‐blades
- Each leaps forth a tongue,
- Some thousands of field‐mice
- From the warm soil sprung.
- They scrambled up palings
- And scaled pediments—
- They sped past King Sethon
- To the enemies’ tents.
- And there helter‐skelter,
- They seized on the quivers,
- They nibbled the bowstrings,
- Bit into shivers
- The wooden shield‐handles
- The enemies used,
- Who woke in the morning
- Surprised and confused!
- Without arms, defenceless,
- They fled fast before
- The happy Egyptians,
- And came back no more.
- Then a statue of Sethon
- Was made—very grand—
- A crown on his head and
- A mouse in his hand!
