Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/41

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And crouching at his master's feet A burden strange he laid, A beauteous babe, with aspect sweet, Close wrapt in silken plaid.

Not she of Egypt's royal blood Was moved with more surprise, When from the bosom of the flood, She heard an infant's cries.

Shelter and rest, and needful food, The noble dog disdain'd, But with persuasion fondly rude The aid of man obtain'd.

They follow, though the tempest raves, Their trembling torches glow, O'er cliffs, and gulfs, and travellers' graves, And trackless wastes of snow.

With fawn and whine their faithful guide Allured o'er barriers cold, And leaping from his master's side, Upraised a garment's fold.

Oh God of Mercy!—what was there, Enrobed in vestments white?— What lovely one with brow so fair Hath dared such fearful night?—

Seal'd was that eye with pencil'd arch, So exquisitely wrought, Yet Death had left in hasty march No trace of torturing thought.