Are great events produc'd. This rescu'd child
Perhaps may live to serve his upstart race

More than an 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 conquer'd! Lead on — and from the rushes we'll remove

The feeble ark which cradles this poor babe.

[The PRINCESS and her Maid go out.

MIRIAM comes forward.

Mir. How poor were words to speak my boundless joy;

The Princess will protect him! bless her, Heav'n !

[She looks out after the Princess, and describes her action.

With what impatient steps 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 stol'n her soul!

How goodness heightens 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.

Re-enter the PRINCESS.

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 bold 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! [aside] Generous 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!

[Aside] 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.

[They go out. She kneels.

Thou Great Unseen! who causest gentle deeds, And smil'st on what thou causest; thus I bless thee, That thou didst deign consult the tender make Of yielding human hearts, when thou ordain'dst Humanity a virtue ! didst not make it

A rigorous exercise to counteract

Some strong desire within; to war and fight
Against the powers of Nature; but didst bend
The natʼral bias of the soul to mercy:

Then mad'st that mercy duty! Gracious Pow'r!
Mad'st the keen rapture exquisite as right;
Beyond the joys of sense; as pleasure sweet,
As reason vigorous, and as instinct strong!

MOSES IN THE BULRUSHES.

PART III.

Enter JOCHEBED.

I'VE almost reach'd the place-with cautious steps I must approach the spot where he is laid,

Lest from the royal gardens any spy me.

Poor babe! ere this the pressing calls of hunger Have broke thy short repose; the chilling waves, Ere this, have drench'd thy little shivering limbs, What must my babe have suffered! - No one sees me! But soft, does no one listen? - Ah! how hard, How very hard for fondness to be prudent! Now is the moment to embrace and feed him.

[She looks out.

Where's Miriam? she has left her little charge,
Perhaps through fear; perhaps she was detected!
How wild is thought! how terrible conjecture!
A mother's fondness frames a thousand fears;
With thrilling nerve feels every real ill,
And shapes imagin'd miseries into being.

[She looks towards the river. Ah me! where is he? soul-distracting sight!

He is not there—he's lost, he's gone, he's drown'd! Toss'd by each beating surge my infant floats.

Cold, cold, and wat'ry is thy grave, my child!

Oh no! - I see the ark-Transporting sight!

She goes towards it.

I have it here. — Alas, the ark is empty!
The casker's left, the precious gem is gone!
You spared him pitying spirits of the deep!
But vain your mercy, some insatiate beast,
Cruel as Pharaoh, took the life you spar'd —
And I shall never, never see my boy!

Enter MIRIAM.

Joc. Come and lament with me thy brother's loss Mir. Come and adore with me the God of Jacob! Joe. Miriam!-the child is dead!

He lives! he lives!

Joc. Impossible! — Oh, do not mock my grief; See'st thou that empty vessel?

Then still be will be slain: a bloodier death

W terminate his woes.

Mir

His life is safe!

For know she means to rear him as her own.

To God, the Lord, the glory be ascrib'd!

Ot, magnified for ever be THY might

Who mock'st all human forethought! who o'errul'st
The hearts of sinners to perform thy work,
Defeating their own purpose; who canst plant
Uzlook'd-for mercy in a heathen's heart,
And from the depth of evil bring forth good!

She rises.