Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/66

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Moses in the Bulrushes.
How great was their surpriseWhen they the sight beheld:An infant-lying there,—A lovely Hebrew child.
The tender infant wept,The princess felt its smart,She gently took him up,And pressed him to her heart.Unlike her noble sire,Who wickedly decreedThat every male should die,Born of the Hebrew seed.
Like some kind mother, sheBeheld the helpless babe,And thought within herselfHis life, how shall I save?I'll take him as mine own,And he my son shall be,And at my father's courtHe there shall dwell with me.
In all the arts and skillOf Egypt's sacred lore,I'll fitly train him up,Its mysteries to explore;His name I'll Moses call,To signify and show,That from the rippling waveHis tender form I drew.
And while she mused thus,Young Miriam forward came,And seemed as if she wouldSome information gain;And with a modest lookShe to the princess said,"Shall I a woman seekTo nurse the tender babe?"
"Yes, little maiden, go,A Hebrew woman bringBut least did she suspectThat Miriam knew the thing.With eager haste she ranThe joyful news to tell,That for the lovely babeAll things were working well.