THE HEBREW MOTHER.
(A PAINTING.)
Bright glowed the sun on Nile’s resplendent tide,
Reflecting the rich landscape far and wide;
The verdant hills, with lofty cedars crowned,
Those heights sublime, where, in stern glory, frowned
Egypt’s proud battlements, stretched forth on high,
Like a dark cloud athwart the summer sky!
But softer shadows claimed a birth-place there;
The pensile willow, and the lotus fair,
And flowers of richest bloom, their perfume gave,
To wreathe the margin of the azure wave.
’Twas to this calm and beautiful retreat,
With wildly throbbing heart and trembling feet,
The Hebrew Mother came. To her sad breast,
Her youngest hope, a lovely boy, she prest,—
He whom a tyrant’s voice had doomed to die!
With anguish-riven soul and tearful eye,
She looked on his bright cheek and cherub smile,
Then gently hushed him to repose; and while
Within his fragile barque she laid him, gazed
Her last upon the sleeping babe! then raised
To the Almighty one a fervent prayer,
Confiding her soul’s treasure to his care:
Then, as with firmer step she homeward trod,
With faith renewed, she left him to his God!
——