University of Virginia Library

Prologue.

Sudden authority in those inur'd
To forcing of offensive offices
On men, in stubbornness and discontent,
Begets a churlish spirit; like to his
Who tames a bear with hunger and with blows,
Turning its nature to his purposes.
Treatment like this young Joseph did receive
At the Egyptians' mercenary hands;
Who in their power did indulge themselves
In bitter threats, in grudgings and contempt.
These things do little where the greater are;
For Joseph was departed from himself
Like one who sleeps and dreameth of events;
Or with imagination fondleth still
In pain and passion on a former joy:
And as he journey'd still he turn'd his face
Towards bright Canaan and its misty hills:
And as the evening time of folding came,
Of morning prayer and brotherly repast,
His eyes did pierce to heaven thro' his tears;
And all his features struggled with sharp pain
To wear obedience to the will of God,
And overtop his sorrow in content.
So selfish was he in this heartfelt grief,
And so resolv'd to be obedient
In all mischance that should befal to him
(Seeing he had sought favour at His hand
Who cannot know us without patience),
That he still bore a cheerful countenance
In all his drudgery and offices;
Turning rough speeches with a gentle look,
Wooing respect by execution;
And by forbearance and a temperate tongue
Stealing from out the bosoms of these men
The sting of anger and the fang of wrath.
So as their journey did decrease in leagues
Their favour and their love did cleave to him.—
At length they left the forest and the hill,
The wholesome green, and on the barren sands
Crept on their burning way, where man ne'er comes,
Save the marauder sweeping o'er the plain,
Upon a palfrey fleeter than the wind,
Fearful of officers and men at arms—
Like as the ostrich watchful from afar
Measures his flight, and aids him with his wings,
Screaming towards the desert hard pursued,
Urg'd by the horsemen's javelin and bow
Who seek his rolling feathers for their pride:
So flies the bandit, coursèd by his fears,
Bearing large wine-skins from the city gates
To his companions in the wilderness,
Who curse with parchèd lips his long delay;
With faces freckled black by the fierce sun,
And hands that hunt the lion and the man.
They cleanse their scimitars of stainèd blood
And hang their scalding armour on the boughs,
Midway within a rugged precipice
Browing the raving cataract beneath,
While overhead the grey clouds sail in light
Like drovèd camels dreaming in the sun.
Long time their wheels indent the weary miles,
And many signs and landmarks still remain
To cheer their sickening courage and fatigue;
And oftentimes they scare the wary mule
And gather'd vultures (sign of carrion),
Gorging on what the bear and wolf have left,
Greeting disturbance with a deafening cry;
While sailing warily to distant strands
They stand and safely watch the slow retreat;
And where a barren rock doth forkèd rise,
Old eagles perch'd, unweary of the sun,
With dreamy eyes returning his regard
As tho' his dazzling fire but lull'd their pride:
Meanwhile their eaglets in the gushing spring
Which Providence has wisely planted there,
Mapping its way upon the level sand,
Bathe their young wings. In this immensity
Upon the droughthy sands doth silence dwell—
And wandering winds are lost in loneliness—
Sweeping its level surface without end;
Like to a drove of wolves who miss the track,
And wind a circle and shoot forth again,
Perplexedly in a maze monotonous
Howling their savage discord at the moon.
The fiery heat doth beat against the ground
In a reflective waste of golden light;
Nor tree, nor shrub chequers the tedious blank:
Like a dull stain curs'd o'er with barrenness
Sear'd in the angry glances of the sun.—
Anon they come unto the oozy Nile,
Where the sweet wind doth dally with the sedge,
Peopled with insects strange—of gorgeous dyes,
Where the secretive sun conception breeds
Over the ebbèd bottom, that engluts
The fecund grain; so that pale Fear almost
Possesseth watchful Famine of his being;—
River of speckled snakes and adders blue,
And thriving birds that forage in the slime
To nourish nestlings on the sandy plain,
Tiring the wing towards the wilderness,—
Of armèd crocodiles, whose scales defy
Sol's penetrative beams, in slothful ease
Slumbering upon the bosom of the stream,
And as a cloud drifts to the tide of air,
So they in shapeful course obey the flood.
The alligator there in rushy mew
Doth snare the supple weasel to his jaws,
Scenting the mangled carrion in his throat.—
The golden snake out-rollèd like a cloud
At sunset, when the umber sand gleams red,
Teases the restless spirit of a hawk
Who hath descended on his craven food,
And with his ardent eye by fear illum'd,
And blacker in its lustre than a swan's,
Charmeth his object with his dazzling gaze,
Fencing his shifts as valour doth contend
With certain fear, seizing his faint regard
Until the victim yields to nature's law:
The valiant prisoner with the yellow spurs
Drops from his prey, is prey'd upon in turn.
And now behold! the guard come scouring in
With slacken'd bow athwart the shoulder slung,
Cross'd by the taper lance, whose pennon red
Plays like a flickering flame upon the wind.
Three times they note upon the drowsy horn,—
Joyful announce that water is at hand.
The o'erwrought camels by their eagerness
Had long proclaim'd the presence of fresh springs;
Never more welcome was the cry of land
To mariners bewilder'd on the main.—
And now farewell fatigue and languishment;
The many gaps that weariness had made
In their long line of march were soon fill'd up,
And silence dull was chang'd to cries of joy.
As the wild hymn to Isis shakes the air
The kneeling camels yield their burdens up,
And scour away a swift instinctive course
To crop the rare and straggling tufts of grass
In the vicinity of water pools.
The tents are pitch'd, the horses are all stak'd,
And the square bales of merchandise up-pil'd,
Show like a circling compact city wall.
Now as a swarm of bees when an eclipse
Surprises them with artificial night,
Come pouring in, wedging the entrance up,
Encumbering all the wax-built avenues
And golden galleries of their citadel,—
So here, oh! wonder, where so late entwin'd
Young Silence and old Time slept side by side,
On this forlorn and barren wilderness
A populous city on a sudden springs,
Teeming with man and beast all full of life,
Bustle and movement in their enterprise.
Now nature's cravings being satisfied,
Behold Fatigue, so lately scared aloof,
Once more approaching with a stealthy step,
And all, enamour'd of its soft embrace,
Yield to entrancèd slumber, shadowy dreams,
Fantastic reflex of their wanderings,
Form'd of the vastness of the elements;
Light now becomes more solid, never dark
When blinded by a heavy summer dew,
Barely opaque, and nature's murmurings,
Or rather the mysterious life of night,
Mingling is lost in an oblivious calm.
Thus gentle night into day's mantle glides;
It is no more than if the golden day
Enfolded her within a silver veil,
Or when the diver 'mid the coral rocks
Sees many a fathom through the liquid main.
And now with wakeful and accustom'd eye
The guards, attended by their wary dogs,
Form a wide circle round the encampèd host
To keep their weary watch: and as the hours,
Though to the sleepers but a single link,
To them an endless ever-dragging chain,
Touch close upon the middle of the watch,
The dogs give sign of interruption.
No sound, or near or distant, strikes the ear
Upon the velvet carpet of the sands.
See yonder sombre mass advancing swift!
Is it the fleeting shadow of a cloud,
Or else a compact herd of prowling beasts?
Perhaps, dire danger on these barren plains,
Banded marauders on their wingèd steeds,
Who, having track'd their victims through the day,
Come now to fall upon them in their sleep,
And fill the air with cries of blood and death.
But suddenly they stop in mid career
As though aware of man's vicinity,
These nightly wanderers in the wilderness,
Seeking from far a change of pasturage;
The guard whose heart beats fast and audibly
Already hath his horn upon his lips,
And the keen hound, scarce by a gesture stay'd,
Crouches half buried in the indented sand.
All needless caution, for the intruders turn
With rapid flight towards the mountain'd west,
Are sudden lost in dim obscurity
But though the camp still slumbers undisturb'd,
'Tis not for long this sweet oblivion
For the vex'd guard who rocks him to and fro
On the uncertain balance of his spear,
At odds with sleep, with eyes weigh'd down, subdued,
Whose sense of hearing lingers on the edge
And painful confines of half consciousness,
And blendeth with its fading powers:—a noise
Like a loud whispering hangeth in the air!
As it approaches nearer it becomes
Like the north wind when rushing through the trees,
Thence to a roaring and a hissing sound
As when the storm makes havoc in the sails
And cordage taut of some be-tossèd ship,
In answering discord to the seething waves;
Now he looks up, behold, in darken'd space,
As a huge dragon stretching many a rood,
The birds of night as blended into one,
In the obscurity themselves have made,
Bent on their measur'd migratory flight,
Wing their slow way across the desert sands,
Aweary of the forage they have left,
Shunning the inhospitable Dead Sea shore,
Where fish nor fowl make willing residence,
Shaping their course with oblique certitude
Towards the ever-teeming fruitful Nile.
And now the advance guard wheels above the camp,
Sweeps a wide circle and descends more near,
With a prolong'd and simultaneous cry,
Gives notice to the myriads who respond
With deafening clamour warping on the air,
Rise higher and hold on their safer course.
The camp is rous'd in wild bewilderment,
All rush in terror madly to their arms,
As sudden fallen on the day of doom.
The morning sees them once more on the march,
And many a weary day and lingering night
Is still betwixt them and their journey's end.
At length they cross and leave the unctuous flood;
Dreamy Egyptians in the outer field
Scatter the grain in swolten idleness,
And yonder towers and turrets now arise
From parchèd Egypt's city, rude and old.
The Egyptian shouted and to Joseph spake:
‘Since I do find you worthy of your hire,
Courteous and willing in your servitude;
Withal endued with a fair knowledge, far
Beyond your young experience and your years,
I shall dispose you to some officer,
Some man of state and good ability;
Whereby the comfort of your life to come
Will be increas'd by trust and fair regard,
E'en as you rise in favour with your lord:
And I shall gain a profit better worth
Than were you barter'd at the common mart
For common hire.’—Young Joseph but replied:
‘God's will be done.’—But this benign intent
Was thwarted by the malice of the chief
Into whose hands young Joseph fell by lot,
And as if fatally he was decreed
To drain the cup of anguish to the dregs,
Was without mercy driven to the mart
With every mark of barbarous cruelty.
Might it not be design'd by Providence
That Joseph's patience and humility
Should merit the reward and dignities
Reserv'd for his high exaltation?
To an Egyptian lord of great estate
Nam'd Potiphar, the captain of the guard
Of Pharaoh, king of Egypt—unto him
Was Joseph sold a bondsman to his will.
But Potiphar (a man of gentle blood),
Seeing young Joseph's merit, put him straight
Into some trust, and by degrees increas'd
His favour and regard (following desert).
So Joseph lived in honourable bonds,
The steward of his household and affairs.
Meanwhile his grievèd father mourn'd his loss
As tho' he had been ravish'd from the earth.