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