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 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 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 perfect

chain

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

What in me is dark

Illumine! What is low, raise and support!

PARADISE LOST.

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 floods
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 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!
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 bless 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.
'Tis full of danger.

Mir.

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.

Of royal port she seems; perhaps some friend, Rais'd by the guardian care of bounteous

ven,

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.

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!

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

means

And most unlikely instrument, full oft
Are great events produc'd. This rescued child
Perhaps may live to serve his upstart race
More than an host.

Prin.
How ill it does 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 Heaven 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 con-
quered!

Lead on-and from the rushes we'll remove The feeble ark which cradles this poor babe. [The PRINCESS and her maid go out.

scribes 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 stolen 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.

To whom I may confide him?
Mir.

Well I know
A prudent matron of the house of Levi;
Her name Jochebed, is 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 son ;—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.

PART III. Enter JOCHEBED.

sees me !

[She looks out.