The Gileaditish virgin-victims both
Of vows unsanctified.-

Such are the lovely themes which court the Bard,
Scarce yet essay'd in verse-for verse how meet!
While Leaven-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 power,
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
A gen'rous warmth, to rouse a 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 God!
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 point
The faith of favour'd man to Heaven; to sing
The ways inscrutable of Heaven 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 the irregular, reform the wrong,
Exalt the low, and brighten the obscure!
Still may I note, how all the agreeing parts
Of this consummate system join to frame
One fair, one finish'd, one harmonious whole!
Trace the close links which form the perfect chain
In beautiful connexion; mark the scale
Whose nice gradations, with progression true,
For ever rising, end in DEITY!

WHY was my pray'r accepted? why did Heav'n
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 child you bore,
The babes you fondly nurture, bleed before you!
You taste the transports 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 Heav'n,
Decreed to save illustrious Abraham's sons,
What time the famine rag'd in Canaan's land.
Israel, who then was spared, must perish now!
Thou great mysterious Pow'r, who hast involv'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?

MIRIAM.

JOCHEBED.

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 inspired,
Will bless the secret purpose of my soul,
To save his precious life.

MIRIAM.

Hop'st thou that Pharaon

JOCHEBED.

I have no hope in Pharaoh, much in God; Much in the ROCK OF AGES.

MIRIAM.

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!
Should Pharaoh know!

JOCHERED.

JOCHEBED.

My son! my son! I cannot speak the rest;
Ye who have sons can only know my fondness;
Ye who have lost them, or who fear to lose,
Can only know my pangs! none else can guess them
A mother's sorrows cannot be conceiv'd
But by a mother-Would I were not one.

MIRIAM.

With earnest pray'rs thou didst request this son, And Heaven has granted him.

JOCHEBED.

O sad estate Of human wretchedness! so weak is man, So ignorant ana 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 every 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.

MIRIAM.

The helpless innocent, and must he die?

This seeming evil for some latent good.
Yes, I will laud thy grace, and bless thy goodness
For what I have, and not arraign thy wisdom
For what I fear to lose. Oh, I will bless thee
That Aaron will be spared! that my first born
Lives safe and undisturb'd'; that he was given me
Before this impious persecution raged!

MIRIAM.

And yet who knows but the fell tyrant's rage May reach his precious life?

JOCHEBED.

I fear for him, For thee, for all. A doting parent lives In many lives; through many a nerve she feels; From child to child the quick affections spread, For ever wandering, yet for ever fix'd. Nor does division weaken, nor the force Of constant operation e'er exhaust Parental love. All other passions change With changing circumstances; rise or fall, Dependent on their object; claim returns; Live on reciprocation, and expire Unfed by hope. A mother's fondness reigns Without a rival, and without an end.

MIRIAM.

But say what Heaven inspires to save thy son?

A

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 indulged,
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.

Oh, 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!

PART II.

Enter Miriam, after having deposited the Child.

MIRIAM.

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 soothe thy griefs?
The flags and sea-weeds will a while 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.

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.

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

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.

No further, virgins; here I mean to rest, To taste the pleasant coolness of the breeze; Perhaps to bathe in this translucent stream. Did not our hoiy law enjoin the 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?

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.

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-sweet

ness,

She bends to look upon the infant's face!
She takes his little hand in her's-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.
She takes him in her arms-O lovely Princess!
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 and her Maid.
PRINCESS.

Did ever innocence and infant beauty
Plead with such durnb 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 garh,
Lo, such a one is here!

Thou Great Unseen! who causest gentle deeds,
And smilest 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 natural bias of the soul to mercy:

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

PART III.

Enter JOCHEBED.

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 imagined 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 watery 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 casket'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 spared-
And I shall never, never see my boy!

Yes, thou shalt pour into his infant mind The purest precepts of the purest faith.

JOCHEBED.

Oh! 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 helmet of Salvation crown'd,
Inured to watching, and disposed to pray'r;
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.

MIRIAM.

May bounteous Heaven thy pious cares reward!

JOCHEBED.

O Amram! oh, my husband! when thou com'st Wearied at night to rest thee from the toils Imposed by haughty Pharaoh, what a tale Have I to tell thee! Yes, thy darling son Was lost, and is restored; was dead, and lives!

MIRIAM.

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.

JOCHEBED.

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

As a fond mother trembles to recall,
He had not been preserved.

MIRIAM.

And mark still further; Had be been saved by any other hand, He had been still exposed to equal ruin.

JOCHEBED.

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 adventurous fondness; then exposed E'en by that very fondness which conceal'd him, Is now, to fill the wondrous round of mercy, Preserved from perishing by Pharaoh's daughter, Saved by the very hand that sought to crush him! Wise and unsearchable are all thy ways, Thou God of mercies!-Lead me to my child,

2 Thes. v. Ephes. vi.