As perilous and rash. With these poor hands
I've framed a little ark of slender reeds;
With pitch and slime I have secured the sides.
In this frail cradle I intend to lay

My little helpless infant, and expose him.
Upon the banks of Nile.

Mir.

'Tis full of danger.

Joch. 'Tis danger to expose, and death to keep

him.

Mir. Yet, oh! reflect. Should the fierce croco

dile,

The native and the tyrant of the Nile,

Seize the defenceless infant!

Joch.

Oh, forbear!
Spare my fond heart. Yet not the crocodile,
Nor all the deadly monsters of the deep,
To me are half so terrible as Pharaoh,

That heathen king, that royal murderer!

Mir. Should he escape, which yet I dare not hope,
Each sea-born monster, yet the winds and waves
He cannot 'scape.

Joch.
Know, God is everywhere;
Not to one narrow, partial spot confined;
No, not to chosen Israel: he extends
Through all the vast infinitude of space :
At his command the furious tempests rise-
The blasting of the breath of his displeasure.
He tells the world of waters when to roar;
And, at his bidding, winds and seas are calm :
In him, not in an arm of flesh, I trust;

In him, whose promise never yet has fail'd,
I place my confidence.

Mir.

What must I do?

Command thy daughter; for thy words have waked An holy boldness in my youthful breast.

Joch. Go then, my Miriam, go, and take the infant.

Buried in harmless slumbers, there he lies:

Let me not see him-spare my heart that pang.
Yet sure, one little look may be indulg'd,
And I may feast my fondness with his smiles,
And snatch one last, last kiss.-No more, my heart,
That rapture would be fatal-I should keep him.
I could not doom to death the babe I clasp'd:
Did ever mother kill her sleeping boy?

I dare not hazard it-the task be thine.
Oh, do not wake my child; remove him softly;
And gently lay him on the river's brink.

Mir. Did those magicians, whom the sons of Egypt
Consult and think all-potent, join their skill;
And was it great as Egypt's sons believe;
Yet all their secret wizard arts combin'd,
To save this little ark of bulrushes,

Thus fearfully exposed, could not effect it.
Their spells, their incantations, and dire charms
Could not preserve it.

Joch.

Know this ark is charm'd

With incantations Pharaoh ne'er employ'd ;
With spells which impious Egypt never knew:
With invocations to the living God,

I twisted every slender reed together,

And with a prayer did every

Mir. I go.

ozier weave.

Joch. Yet e'er thou go'st, observe me well: When thou hast laid him in his watery bed,

O leave him not; but at a distance wait,

And mark what Heaven's high will determines for him.

Lay him among the flags on yonder beach,
Just where the royal gardens meet the Nile.
I dare not follow him, suspicion's eye
Would note my wild demeanour! Miriam, yes,
The mother's fondness would betray the child.
Farewell! God of my fathers, oh protect him!

MOSES IN THE BULRUSHES.

PART II.

Enter MIRIAM, after having deposited the child.

Mir. YES, I have laid him in his watery bed,
His watery grave, I fear !--I tremble still;
It was a cruel task-still I must weep!

But, ah, my mother! who shall soothe thy griefs?
The flags and sea-weeds will awhile sustain

Their precious load; but it must sink ere long! Sweet babe, farewell! Yet think not I will leave

thee;

No, I will watch thee till the greedy waves

Devour thy little bark: I'll sit me down,

And sing to thee, sweet babe; thou canst not hear; But 'twill amuse me, while I watch thy fate.

[She sits down on a bank, and sings.

SONG.

I.

Thou who canst make the feeble strong,
O God of Israel, hear my song!

Not mine such notes as Egypt's daughters raise :
'Tis Thee, O God of hosts, I strive to praise.

II.

Ye winds, the servants of the Lord,
Ye waves obedient to his word,
spare the babe committed to your trust;
And Israel shall confess the Lord is just!

0

III.

Though doom'd to find an early grave, This infant, Lord, thy pow'r can save, And he, whose death's decreed by Pharaoh's hand, May rise a prophet to redeem the land.

[She rises, and looks out. What female form bends hitherward her steps? Of royal port she seems; perhaps some friend, Rais'd by the guardian care of bounteous heaven, To prop the falling house of Levi.-Soft! I'll listen unperceiv'd; these trees will hide me. [She stands behind.

Enter the PRINCESS of EGYPT, attended by a train of Ladies.

Prin. No farther, virgins; here I mean to rest, To taste the pleasant coolness of the breeze; Perhaps to bathe in this translucent stream. Did not our holy law* enjoin th' ablution Frequent and regular, it still were needful To mitigate the fervours of our clime. Melita, stay the rest at distance wait.

[They all go out except one.

The PRINCESS looks out.

Sure, or I much mistake, or I perceive
Upon the sedgy margin of the Nile
A chest; entangled in the reeds it seems:
Discern'st thou aught?

Mel. Something, but what I know not.
Prin. Go, and examine what this sight may mean.

[Exit maid. Mir. (behind.) O blest beyond my hopes! he is discover'd;

My brother will be sav'd! who is this stranger?
Ah! 'tis the princess, cruel Pharaoh's daughter;
If she resemble her inhuman sire,

The ancient Egyptians used to wash their bodies four times every twenty-four hours.

She must be cruel too : yet fame reports her
Most merciful and mild.—Great Lord of all,
By whose good spirit bounteous thoughts are given,
And deeds of love perform'd-be gracious now,
And touch her soul with mercy!

Prin.

Re-enter MELITA.

Well, Melita !

Hast thou discover'd what the vessel is!

Mel. Oh, Princess, I have seen the strangest sight! Within the vessel lies a sleeping babe,

A fairer infant have I never seen!

Pr. Who knows but some unhappy Hebrew woman Has thus expos'd her infant, to evade

The stern decree of my too cruel sire.
Unhappy mothers! oft my heart has bled
In secret anguish o'er your slaughter'd sons;
Powerless to save, yet hating to destroy.

Mel. Should this be so, my Princess knows the danger.

Prin. No danger should deter from acts of mercy. Mir.(behind) A thousand blessings on her princely head!

Prin. Too much the sons of Jacob have endured From royal Pharaoh's unrelenting hate;

Too much our house has crush'd their alien race.
Is't not enough that cruel taskmasters
Grind them by hard oppression? not enough
That iron bondage bows their spirits down?
Is't not enough my sire his greatness owes,
His palaces, his fanes magnificent,

Those structures which the world with wonder views,
To much insulted Israel's patient race?

To them his growing cities owe their splendour:
Their toils fair Rameses and Pythom built;
And shall we fill the measure of our crimes,
And crown our guilt with murder? and shall I
Sanction the sin I hate? forbid it, Mercy!