University of Virginia Library

“Beauty is only rare,” the youth replied,
Modestly blushing, “when with thousands else,
All beautiful, it stands, eclipsing all.
Who one flower only knoweth, cannot know
If in all men's esteem it would be held
Beautiful greatly: in like manner, I,
With thee, my Rachel, my one flower, content,
Have looked on few beside; thence, judgment none
Of rarest beauty have I: nor, in truth,
Of any maiden, in these neighbouring parts,
So excellent in feature, have I heard,
As that to distant lands the fame thereof
Might have been carried... Yet one see I here,—”
Sinking the voice, he said, and blushing deep,
As now, with nearer view, full on the face
Of that angelic shape his eye first fixed;—
“One do I see, whose loveliness, methinks,
The voice of fame might sound throughout the earth.
Say thou, my Rachel,—or am I deceived?,”
He whispered; “Is not that fair creature bright
And beauteous, more than all of woman born
Whom yet thou hast beheld?”

“If woman-born,
Of all most beauteous far,” she answered him:
“But go thou to her, Reuben, for she smiles
Upon thee, as the sunrise on the hills;
And would, methinks, speak with thee.”

Modestly,
As if constrained—though not unwillingly,—
Toward that fair creature Reuben then advanced;
And Rachel, to the silent, gazing prince
Turning again,—her interrupted speech,
Simple, and true, renewed.

“Of whom ye seek,
We know not; nor, as now we think, have heard:
Yet, if her name thou tell,—remembrance then
May come to us; and joyful should we be,
Directing thee aright.”

She paused, and looked
With clear, calm eye, in simple truthfulness,
Upon that bright and glorious countenance,
Full beaming on her; and, as seemed, all speech,
Though silent: but, when ceased her low sweet voice,
Sprang forth his words of fire.

“Whom here I seek,”
Dropping again upon the knee, he cried,
“Is thou thyself, blest Rachel; the one child
Of Kohath and of Sarah; thee I seek.
In heaven is one sun only; and, on earth,
One only flower of Heaven. None, none but thee
Came we to seek. Nought knoweth the bright star
How far-off worlds speak of it: nought knowest thou,—
More than the dew-steeped rose of its own sweets,—
Thine own rare loveliness; and how all tongues
In lands remote speak of it; in plain speech
Of humble shepherds, in high phrase of kings,
In song of harpers, and in tale of bards;
All speaking, and all singing, in the praise
Of Goshen's heaven-flower, scenting the whole earth
With its sky-odour. That sweet flower art thou!
I feel Heaven's breath around thee: Heaven's pure light
I see about thee: sweetest sounds of Heaven
Are in thy voice: all dignity and grace
Of Heaven's bright spirits in thy motions are!
Oh that it were not sin to worship thee!
For, prostrate at thy feet, then, would I fall,
And call thee Goddess. On that exquisite hand,
Grant me, I pray thee, one pure kiss to impress;
Then, happy made, to arise; and thy sweet voice
In all things to obey.”

His glorious face,
All burning adoration,—with clear eye,
And calm, she saw; his passionate words and tones,—
Tumultuous music,—with calm ear she heard:
But her heart sorrowed; for the lofty mind
That should have matched that form almost divine,
Distracted was, she thought,—since words so false
And foolish, never had he uttered, else;
Himself demeaning; and degrading her,
If with clear reason spoken. Gently then,
And with true pity looking,—briefly thus
She answered him.

“I pray thee, prince, arise,—
For this false reverence, though no mock it be,
Even more than mockery paineth,—being given
Where it is owed not. But thy pardon grant,
When, in obedience to our fathers' law,
A thing most valueless I thee refuse.
To strangers,—even though greatest kings they be,—
Daughters of Israel may not give the hand.
Forgive me then, I pray thee, and arise.
I will send forth,—for not far hence he is,—
And call my father hither. Better he
Will answer thee, than I; to courtly words
All unaccustomed.”

Starting to his feet,
“Nay, nay,” with passionate look and tone he cried;
“Thyself 'tis only, fairest work of Him
Who all things fair created,—thee alone
Whom I would see; with whom I would discourse;
Whose knowledge I would know; whose will obey:
For, all things by thee said, or done, or thought,
Wisest, and best, and heavenliest far must be.
All that to thee is worship, custom, law,
Should, to the universal world, be law,
Custom, and worship: for truth, only truth,
Divinest truth, all must be, which by thee
As truth accepted is. Oh! tell me, then,
The mysteries of thy worship: of thy God
Speak to me; of his power, and wisdom speak;
His name, and all his mighty acts declare:
Where throned he is: with man how dealeth he:
In all aright instruct me: for, till now,
Worship of other gods have I been taught;
Gods who false must be, since they are not thine:
Thine, only, can be true; for, truth itself
Not truer is than thou, who, on thy face,
Written, as if with pen in sunbeam dipped,
Bearest heaven's warrant, ‘ever pure, and true’...
But ah! I see thy thought; ‘not this the hour,’
Thy spirit saith, ‘for matter deep as such.’
On lighter speak thou then. Come,—pleasant task
I set thee now,—of thy betrothed-one speak:
For, with thy name, his, too, hath gone abroad;
His comeliness, and goodness, next to thine
By some reported; nay, by maidens' tongues,
E'en more than thine deemed excellent. And see,—
Already have my sister's lustrous eyes
Fallen dimmed to earth, with admiration quelled
Of his scarce mortal beauty. Side by side,
With voices murmuring music, now they walk.
Communion dangerous,—even for both alike;
Were they not both of second passion made
Incapable,—already overfilled
With great first love. On one same spot of earth
Stand not two hills;—nor, in that heart where lives
One pure love, can a second love find place.
No fear, then, have thou, lest her beauty rare,—
For, truly, doth it second stand to thine,—
His love from thee should lure. Betrothed is she
Already, to a prince, in all things held
Worthiest of admiration; and their day
Of marriage is at hand.”

“I pray thee, prince,”
With calm, yet serious voice, said Rachel then,
“Speak thou to me the words of truth alone.
Surely must thou, and all who on us look,
See plainly that, with me compared, is she
As lily to a nettle! Yet no fear,
Even for a moment, have I, that the love
Of Reuben should from me be drawn aside:
For, of a true and faithful mind he is;
Humble in self-esteem; and knoweth well,
That upon him no princess of the earth
With eye of love would look. From earliest years,
Betrothëd have we been: and, sooth to say,
The tree, methinks, from out its native bed
Amid the mountains, would as soon arise,
And in some stately garden plant itself,
As he my side would leave, for even a queen's.”