the fatal blow struck; and all its branching honors tumbled to the dust. And did he fall alone? No: the hopes of his father that begat him, and the pleasing prospects of her that bare him, fell, and were crushed together with him.

Doubtless it would have pierced one's heart, to have beheld the tender parents following the breathless youth to his long home. Perhaps, drowned in tears, and all overwhelmed with sorrows, they stood, like weeping statues, on this very spot. Methinks I see the deeply distressed mourners attending the sad solemnity. How they wring their hands, and pour forth floods from their eyes! Is it fancy? or do I really hear the passionate mother, in an agony of affliction, taking her final leave of the darling of her soul? Dumb she remained, while the awful obsequies were performing; dumb with grief, and leaning upon the partner of her woes. But now the inward anguish struggles for vent; it grows too big to be repressed. She advances to the brink of the grave. All her soul is in her eyes. She fastens one more look upon the dear doleful object, before the pit shuts its mouth upon him. And as she looks, she cries; in broken accents, interrupted by many a rising sob, she cries, Farewell, my son! my son! my only beloved! would to God I had died for thee! Farewell, my child! and farewell all earthly happiness! I shall never more see good in the land of the living. Attempt not to comfort me. I will go mourning all my days, till my gray hairs come down with sorrow to the grave.

JOCHEBED, MIRIAM.

Jochebed. W HY was my prayer accepted? why

did Heaven

In anger hear me, when I ask'd a son?

Ye dames of Egypt! happy! happy mothers!
No tyrant robs you of your fondest hopes;
You are not doom'd to see the babes you bore,
The babes you nurture, bleed before your eyes!
You taste the transports of maternal love,
And never know its anguish! Happy mothers!
How diff'rent is the lot of thy sad daughters,
O wretched Israel! Was it then for this-
Was it for this the righteous arm of God
Rescu'd his chosen people from the jaws
Of cruel want, by pious Joseph's care?
Joseph th' elected instrument of Heav'n,
Decreed to save illustrious Abram's race,
What time the famine rag'd in Canaan's land.
Israel, who then was spar'd, must perish now!
O thou 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! clear this doubt;
Teach me to trace this maze of providence;
Why save the fathers, if the sons must perish?
Miriam. 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! 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 conceived,

But by a mother. Wherefore am I one?

Mir. With many prayers thou didst request this son, And Heav'n has granted him.

Foch. O sad estate 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." O! 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
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.

prayers,

Hop'st thou that Pharaoh

Think, O think,

foch. I have no hope in Pharaoh; much in God; Much in the Rock of Ages.

Mir.

What perils thou already hast incurr'd;

And shun the greater which may yet remain.

Three months, three dang'rous months thou hast preserv'd

Thy infant's life, and in thy house concealed him! Should Pharaoh know!

Joch. O! let the tyrant know,

And feel what he inflicts! Yes, hear me, Heav'n!
Send the right aiming thunderbolts-But hush,
My impious murmurs! Is it not thy will,
Thou infinite in mercy? Thou permitt'st
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. O, I will bless thee,
That Aaron will be spar'd! that my first born
Lives safe and undisturb'd! that he was giv'n me
Before this impious persecution rag'd!

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

I fear for him,

Foch.
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,
Forever wand'ring, yet forever 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,
Livendent on their object; claim returns;
Depeon reciprocation, and expire

Unfed by hope. A mother's fondness reigns
Without a rival, and without an end.

Mir. But say what Heaven inspires, to save thy son?
Joch. Since the dear fatal morn which

birth,

I have revolv'd in my distracted mind

gave him

Each mean 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 secured the sides.
In this frail cradle I intend to lay

My little helpless infant, and expose him
Upon the banks of Nile.

Mir.

'Tis full of danger.

Foch. 'Tis danger to expose, and death to keep him. Mir. Yet, O reflect! should the fierce crocodile, The native and the tyrant of the Nile,

Seize the defenceless infant!

Foch.

O, forbear!

Spare iny 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.

Foch.
Know, God is every where;
Not to one narrow, partial spot confined;
No, not to chosen Israel. He extends
Through all the vast infinitude of space.
At his command the furious tempests rise,
The 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.

pang.

Foch. 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 Yet sure, one little look may be indulg'd; One kiss; perhaps the last. No more, my soul! That fondness would be fatal. I should keep him. I could not doom to death the babe clasp'd: Did ever mother kill her sleeping boy?

I dare not hazard it. The task be thine.

O! 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 combined,
To save this little ark of bulrushes,

Thus fearfully exposed, could not effect it.
Their spells, their incantations, and dire charms
Could not preserve it.

Foch.

Know, this ark is charm'd

With spells, which impious Egypt never knew.
With invocations to the living God,

I twisted every slender reed together,
And with a prayer did ev'ry osier weave.
Mir. I go.

Joch. Yet ere 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 Heav'n'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