The sons of Heth, and bought a place to lay
His loved and cherished dead, was dearer to his
Dying heart than the proudest tomb amid
The princely dead of Egypt.
Then, like the angels, mother dear, who met
Our father Jacob on his way, thy words
Came back as messengers of light to guide
My steps, and I refused to be called the son
Of Pharaoh’s daughter. I saw the priests of On
Grow pale with fear, an ashen terror creeping