and second, the burden of oppression; and closing with the phrase
above mentioned, upon which they unite in simple but majestic harmony.
Then follow eight more bars of recitative for tenor, and the long series
of descriptive choruses begins, in which Handel employs the imitative
power of music in the boldest manner. The first is the plague of the
water turned to blood, "They loathed to drink of the River,"--a single
chorus in fugue form, based upon a theme which is closely suggestive of
the sickening sensations of the Egyptians, and increases in loathsomeness
to the close, as the theme is variously treated. The next number is an
aria for mezzo soprano voice ("Their Land brought forth Frogs"), the air
itself serious and dignified, but the accompaniment imitative throughout
of the hopping of these lively animals. It is followed by the plague of
insects, whose afflictions are described by the double chorus. The tenors
and basses in powerful unison declare, "He spake the Word," and the reply
comes at once from the sopranos and altos, "And there came all Manner of
Flies," set to a shrill, buzzing, whirring accompaniment, which increases
in volume and energy as the locusts appear, but bound together solidly
with the phrase of the tenors and basses frequently repeated, and
presenting a sonorous background to this fancy of the composer in insect
imitation. From this remarkable chorus we pass to another still more
remarkable, the familiar Hailstone Chorus ("He gave them Hailstones for
Rain"), which, like the former, is closely imitative. Before the two
choirs begin, the orchestra prepares the way for the on-coming storm.
Drop by drop, spattering, dashing, and at last crashing, comes the storm,
the gathering gloom rent with the lightning, the "fire that ran along
upon the ground," and the music fairly quivering and crackling with the
wrath of the elements. But the storm passes, the gloom deepens, and we
are lost in that vague, uncertain combination of tones where voices and
instruments seem to be groping about, comprised in the marvellously
expressive chorus, "He sent a Thick Darkness over all the Land." From the
oppression of this choral gloom we emerge, only to encounter a chorus of
savage, unrelenting retribution ("He smote all the First-born of Egypt").
Chorley admirably describes the motive of this great fugue:--

"It is fiercely Jewish. There is a touch of Judith, of Jael, of Deborah
in it,--no quarter, no delay, no mercy