By the red plagues which wasted smitten Thebes,

Than heav'n's avenging hand on Pharaoh's host?

Or do the vagrant Trojans, driven by fate
On adverse shores successive, yield a theme
More grateful to the eager appetite
Of young impatience, than the wand'ring tribes
The Hebrew leader through the desert led?
The beauteous maid,* (though tender is the tale;)
Whose guiltless blood on Aulis' altar stream'd,
Smites not the bosom with a softer pang
Than her in fate how sadly similar,
The Gileaditish virgin-victims both
Of vows unsanctify'd.-

Such are the lorely themes which court the bard,
Scarce yet essay'd in verse-for verse how meet!
While heav'n-descended song, forgetting oft
Her sacred dignity and high descent,
Debases her fair origin; oft spreads
Corruption's deadly bane, pollutes the heart
Of innocence, and with unhallow'd hand
Presents the poison'd chalice, to the brim
Fill'd with delicious ruin, minist'ring
The unwholesome rapture to the fever'd taste,
While its fell venom, with malignant pow'r,
Strikes at the root of Virtue, with'ring all
Her vital energy. Oh! for some balm
Of sov'reign power, to raise the drooping Muse
To all the health of virtue! to infuse

* Iphigenia.

A gen'rous warmth, to rouse an holy zeal And give her high conceptions of herself, | Her dignity, her worth, her aim, her end! For me, eternal Spirit, let thy word My path illume! O thou compassionate Gcd! Thou know'st our frame, thou know'st we are but dust;

From dust a Seraph's zeal thou wilt not seek,
Nor wilt thou ask an angel's purity.
But hear, and hearing pardon; as I strive,
Though with a feeble voice and flagging wing
A glowing heart, but pow'rless hand, to paint
The faith of favour'd man to heav'n; to sing
The ways inscrutable of heav'n to man;
May I, by thy celestial guidance led,
Fix deep in my own heart the truths I teach!
In my own life transcribe whate'er of good
To others I propose! and by thy rule
Correct th' irregular, reform the wrong,
Exalt the low, and brighten the obscure!
Still may I note, how all th' agreeing parts
Of this consummate system join to frame
One fair, one finish'd, one harmonious whole !
Trace the close links which form the perfor

chain

In beautiful connexion; mark the scale
Whose nice gradations, with progression tr
For ever rising, end in Deity!

What in me is dark
Illumine! What is low, raise and support!
PARA

1800

PART I.

JOCHEBED, MIRIAM.

Joch. WHY was my pray'r accepted? why did heaven

In anger hear me, when I ask'd a son?
Ye dames of Egypt! ye triumphant mothers!
You no imperial tyrant marks for ruin;
You are not doom'd to see the babes you bore,
The babes you fondly nurture, bleed before you!
You taste the transport of a mother's love,
Without a mother's anguish! wretched Israel!
Can I forbear to mourn the different lot
Of thy sad daughters!-Why did God's own
hand

Rescue his chosen race by Joseph's care?
Joseph! th' elected instrument of heaven,

Decreed to save illustrious Abraham's sons
What time the famine rag'd in Canaan's land.
Israel, who then was spar'd, must perish now!
Thou great mysterious Pow'r, who hast in
volv'd

Thy wise decrees in darkness, to perplex
The pride of human wisdom, to confound
The daring scrutiny, and prove, the faith
Of thy presuming creatures! hear me now:
O vindicate thy honour, clear this doubt,
Teach me to trace this maze of Providence:
Why save the fathers, if the sons must perish?
Mir. Ah me, my mother! whence these foods

of grief?

Joch. My son! my son! I cannot speak the

rest;

Ye who have sons can only know my fondness

Of human wretchedness; so weak is man,
So ignorant and blind, that did not God
Sometimes withhold in mercy what we ask,
We should be ruin'd at our own request.
Too well thou know'st, my child, the stern
decree

Of Egypt's cruel king, hard-hearted Pharaoh ;
That overy male, of Hebrew mother born,
Must die! Oh! do I live to tell it thee!
Must die a bloody death! My child, my son,
My youngest born my darling must be slain!
Mir. The helpless innocent! and must he die?
Joch. No: if a mother's tears, a mother's
prayers,

A mother's fond precautions can prevail,
He shall not die. I have a thought my Miriam,
And sure the God of mercies who inspir'd,
Will bloss the secret purpose of my soul,
To save his precious life.

Mir.

Hop'st thou that Pharaoh

Joch. I have no hope in Pharaoh, much in
God;

Much in the Rock of Ages.
Mir.
Think, O think,
What perils thou already hast incurr'd,
And shun the greater which may yet remain,
Three months, three dangerous months thou
hast preserv'd

Thy infant's life, and in thy house 'conceal'd him!

Mir. But say what heav'n inspires to save thy

son ?

Joch. Since the dear fatal morn which gave him birth,

I have revolv'd in my distracted mind Each means to save his life: and many a thought

Which fondness prompted, prudence has oppos'd

As perilous and rash. With these poor hands
I've fram'd a little ark of slender reeds;
With pitch and slime I have secur'd the sides.
In this frail cradle I intend to lay
My little helpless infant, and expose him
Upon the banks of the Nile.
Mir.
'Tis full of danger.
Joch. 'Tis danger to expose, and death to keep

him.

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

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 every where, Not to one narrow, partial spot confin'd: No, not to chosen Israel: he extends Through all the vast infinitude of space: At his command the furious tempests riseThe 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 wak'd

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;
[him.
That rapture would be fatal-I should keep
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 expos'd, 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 pray'r did every ozier weave.
Mir. I go.

Joch. Yet e'er thou go'st, observe me well;
When thou hast laid him in his wat'ry 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 demeanor! Miriam, yes,
The mother's fondness would betray the child.
Farewell! God of my fathers. Oh, protect him!

PART II.

Enter MIRIAM after having deposited the child.
Mir. YES, I have laid him in his wat'ry bed,
His wat'ry grave, I fear!-I tremble still;
It was a cruel task-still I must weep!
But ah, my mother! who shall sooth 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 can'st 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 daughter's

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, Oh 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,

Too much our house has crush'd their alien

race.

Is 't not enough that cruel task-masters
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 [
Sanction the sin I hate ? forbid it, Mercy!

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

Mir.

From that vessel

Th' Egyptian princess took him.
Joch.

Pharaoh's daughter? Then still he will be slain: a bloodier death Will terminate his woes.

Mir.
His life is safe;
For know, she means to rear him as her own.
Joch.
[Falls on her knees in rapture.
To God, the Lord, the glory be ascrib'd!
O magnify'd forever be thy might
Who mock'st all human forethought! who o'er-
rulest

The hearts of all sinners to perform thy work,
Defeating their own purpose! who canst plant
Unlook'd-for mercy in a heathen's heart,
And from the depth of evil bring forth good?
[She rises.

Mir. O blest event, beyond our warmest hopes! Joch. What! shall my son be nurtur'd in a court,

In princely grandeur bred? taught every art
And ev'ry wond'rous science Egypt knows?
Yet ah! I tremble Miriam ; should he learn,
With Egypt's polish'd arts her baneful faith!
O worse exchange for death! yes, should he

learn

In yon proud palace to disown His hand
Who thus has sav'd him: should he e'er em-
brace

(As sure he will, if bred in Pharaoh's court)
The gross idolatrics which Egypt owns,
Her graven images, her brutish gods,
Then shall I wish he had not been preserv'd
To shame his fathers and deny his faith.

Mir. Then to dispel thy fears and crown thy joy,

Hear farther wonders-Know, the gen'rous princess

To thine own care thy darling child commits. Joch. Speak, while my joy will give me leave [here, Mir. By her commission'd, thou behold'st me

to listen!

'To seek a matron of the Hebrew race To nurse him: thou, my mother, art that mation I said I knew thee well; that thou would'st rea him,

E'en with a mother's fondness; she who bare him

(I told the princess) would not love him more. Joch. Fountain of Mercy! whose pervading

eye

Can look within and read what passes there, Accept my thoughts for thanks! I have no words.

My soul, o'erfraught with gratitude, rejects The aid of language-Lord! behold my heart. Mir. Yes, thou shalt pour into his infant mind The purest precepts of the purest faith.

Joch. O! I will fill his tender soul with virtue, And warm his bosom with devotion's flame! Aid me celestial Spirit! with thy grace, And be my labours with thy influence crown'd! Without it they were vain. Then, then, my Miriam,

When he is furnish'd 'gainst the evil day, With God's whole armour,* girt with sacred truth,

And as a breastplate wearing righteousness,
Arm'd with the Spirit of God, the shield of faith,
And with the helinet of salvation crown'd,
Inur'd to watching and dispos'd to prayer;
Then may I send him to a dangerous court,
And safely trust him in a perilous world,
Too full of tempting snares and fond delusions!
Mir. May bounteous Heav'n thy pious cares
reward!

Joch. O Amram! O my husband! when thou
com'st,

Wearied at night, to rest thee from the toils
Impos'd by haughty Pharaoh, what a tale
Have I to tell thee! Yes: thy darling son
Was lost, and is restor'd; was dead, and lives
Mir. How joyful shall we spend the live-long
night

In praises to Jehovah; who thus mocks
All human foresight, and converts the means
Of seeming ruin into great deliverance!

Joch. Had not my child been doom'd to such
strange perils

As a fond mother trembles to recal,
He had not been preserv'd.

Mir.
And mark still farther;
Had he been sav'd by any other hand,
He had been still expos'd to equal ruin.

Joch. Then let us join to bless the hand of
Heaven,

That this poor outcast of the house of Israel,
Condemn'd to die by Pharaoh, kept in secret
By my advent'rous fondness; then expos'd
E'en by that very fondness which conceal'd
him,

Is now, to fill the wondrous round of mercy,
Preserv'd from perishing by Pharaoh's daughter,
Sav'd by the very hand which sought to crush
him.

Wise and unsearchable are all thy ways,
Thou God of Mercies-Lead me to my child.

*Thess. chap. 5. Ephe chap. vi.