Pharaoh’s fair daughter bends low to caress:

“Hushaby, pretty one! give me a kiss;—

Who ever saw such a cradle as this,

Built out of rushes!

“Go! call a Hebrew to nurse it for me:—

Sing a glad song till it laughs in its glee.

’Tis well I was first the sweet cherub to see,

Hid in the rushes.

“Dress it in raiment of loveliest dyes;

Pharaoh’s great gems are not bright as its eyes;