PHARAOH's DAUGHTER

Fast by the margin of her native flood, Whose fertile waters are well known to fame, Fair as the bord'ring flow'rs the princess stood, And rich in bounty as the gen'rous stream. When, lo! a tender cry afflicts her ear, The tender cry declares an infant's grief; Soon she, who melted at each mortal's care, With tend'rest pity sought the babe's relief. The babe, adorn'd in beauty's early bloom, But to the last distress expos'd, appears, His infant softness pleads a milder doom, And speaks with all the eloquence of tears. The kind Egyptian gaz'd upon his charms, And with compassion view'd the weeping child; She snatch'd the little Hebrew to her arms, And kiss'd the infant—the sweet infant smil'd. Again she clasps him with a fond embrace, Yet more she pities the young stranger's woe; She wip'd the tears that hung upon his face, Her own the while in pious plenty flow. Now, cruel father, thy harsh law I see, And feel that rigour which the Hebrews mourn; O! that I could reverse the dire decree, Which dooms the babe a wretch as soon as born! But that, alas! exceeds my slender pow'r— And must this tender innocent be slain? Poor harmless babe! born in a luckless hour, Yet sweet as ever sooth'd a mother's pain. Must thou, poor undeserving infant, die? No! in my bosom ev'ry danger shun; A princess shall thy parents loss supply, And thou art worthy to be call'd her son.