Classic Poem

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.

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,
O spare the babe committed to your trust;
And Israel shall confess the Lord is just!

III.

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

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.

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.

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.

Mir. 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,
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 — he gracious now,
And touch her soul with mercy!

Prin. 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!
Prin. 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. 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!
Mel. I know thy royal father fears the strength
Of this still growing race, who flourish more
The more they are oppress'd: he dreads their numbers.
Prin. Apls forbid! Pharaoh afraid of Israel!
Yet should this outcast race, this hapless people,
E'er grow to such a formidable greatness,
(Which all the gods avert whom Egypt worships,)
This infant's life can never serve their cause,
Nor can his single death prevent their greatness.
Mel. Trust not to that vain hope. By weakest means
And most unlikely instruments, full oft
Are great events produced. This rescued child
Perhaps may live to serve his upstart race
More than on host.
Prin. How ill does it beseem
Thy tender years and gentle womanhood,
To steel thy breast to pity's sacred touch!
So weak, so unprotected is our sex,
So constantly expos'd, so very helpless,
That did not heav'n itself enjoin compassion,
Yet human policy should make us kind,
Lest in the rapid turn of fortune's wheel,
We live to need the pity we refuse.
Yes, I will save him — Mercy, thou hast conquered!
Lead on — and from the rushes we'll remove
The feeble ark which cradles this poor babe.

How poor were words to speak my boundless joy
The princess will protect him; bless her, heaven!
With what impatient step she seeks the shore!
Now she approaches where the ark is laid!
With what compassion, with what angel sweetness
She bends to look upon the infant's face!
She takes his little hand in hers — he wakes —
She smiles upon him — hark, alas! he cries; —
Weep on, sweet babe! weep on, till thou hast touch'd
Each chord of pity, waken'd every sense
Of melting sympathy, and stolen her soul!
She takes him in her arms — O lovely Princess!
How goodness brightens beauty! now she clasps him
With fondness to her heart, she gives him now
With tender caution to her damsel's arms;
She points her to the palace, and again
This way the Princess bends her gracious steps;
The virgin train retire, and bear the child.

Prin. Did ever innocence and infant beauty
Plead with such dumb but powerful eloquence?
If I, a stranger, feel these soft emotions,
What must the mother who expos'd him feel!
Go, fetch a woman of the Hebrew race,
That she may nurse the babe: — and, by her garb,
Lo, such a one is here!
Mir. Princess, all hail!
Forgive the hold intrusion of thy servant,
Who stands a charm'd spectator of thy goodness.
Prin. I have redeem'd an infant from the waves,
Whom I intend to nurture as mine own.
Mir. My transports will betray me! Gen'rous Princess!
Prin. Know'st thou a matron of the Hebrew race
To whom I may confide him?
Mir. Well I know
A prudent matron of the house of Levi;
Her name is Jochebed, the wife of Amram;
Of gentle manners, fam'd throughout her tribe
For soft humanity; full well I know
That she will rear him with a mother's love.
Oh truly spoke! a mother's love indeed!
To her despairing arms I mean to give
This precious trust; the nurse shall be the mother!
Prin. With speed conduct this matron to the palace.
Yes, I will raise him up to princely greatness,
And he shall be my son; I'll have him train'd
By choicest sages, in the deepest lore
Of Egypt's sapient sons; — his name be Moses ,
For I have drawn him from the perilous flood.
Thou Great Unseen! who causest gentle deeds,
And smil'st on what thou causest; thus I bless thee,
That thou did'st deign consult the tender make
Of yielding human hearts, when thou ordain'dst
Humanity a virtue! didst thou make it
A rigorous exercise to counteract
Some strong desire within; to war and fight
Against the pow'rs of nature; but did'st bend
The nat'ral bias of the soul to mercy:
Then mad'st that mercy duty! Gracious Power
Mad'st the keen rapture exquisite as right;
Beyond the joys of sense; as pleasure sweet,
As reason vig'rous, and as instinct strong!