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Then, like the angels, mother dear, who metOur father Jacob on his way, thy wordsCame back as messengers of light to guideMy steps, and I refused to be called the sonOf Pharaoh's daughter. I saw the priests of OnGrow pale with fear, an ashen terror creepingO'er the princess' face, while Pharaoh's brow grewDarker than the purple of his cloak. But IEndured, as seeing him who hides his faceBehind the brightness of his glory.And thus I left the pomp and pride of EgyptTo cast my lot among the people of my race."
FLIGHT INTO MIDIAN.—Chapter III.
The love of Moses for his race soon foundA stern expression. Pharaoh was buildingA pyramid; ambitious, cold and proud,He scrupled not at means to gain his ends.When he feared the growing power of IsraelHe stained his hands in children's blood, and heldA carnival of death in Goshen; but nowHe wished to hand his name and memoryDown unto the distant ages, and insteadOf lading that memory with the preciousFragrance of the kindest deeds and words, he
