the flowing billows, the ice-cold, wandering sea with its salt
waves, a naked messenger of ill, a hostile warrior smiting down
its foes, should come again to seek its ancient bed.

(ll. 470-491) The blue air was defiled with blood. The roaring
ocean menaced the march of the seamen with terror of death, till
the Just God swept the warriors away by Moses' hand. The flood
foamed, hunting them afar, bearing them off in its deadly
embrace. The doomed men died. The sea fell on the land; the
skies were shaken. The watery ramparts crumbled, the great waves
broke, the towering walls of water melted away, when the Mighty
Lord of heaven with holy hand smote the warriors and that haughty
race. They could not check the onrush of the sea, nor the fury
of the ocean-flood, but it destroyed the multitude in shrieking
terror. The raging ocean rose on high; its waters passed over
them. A madness of fear was upon them; deathwounds bled. The
high walls, fashioned by the hand of God, fell in upon the
marching army.

(ll. 491-515) With ancient sword the foamy-bosomed ocean smote
down the watery wall, the unprotecting ramparts, and at the blow
of death the great host fell asleep, a sinful throng. Fast shut
in they lost their lives, an army pale with terror of the flood,
when the brown waste of waters, the raging waves, broke over
them. The flower of Egypt perished when the host of Pharaoh, a
mighty multitude, was drowned. The foe of God discovered as he
sank that the Lord of the ocean-floods was mightier than he, and,
terrible in wrath, with deadly power would end the battle. The
Egyptians won a bitter recompense for that day's work. Never
came any survivor of all that countless host unto his home again