 | Joseph And His Brethren |  |
Scene IV.
—A Pit in the Wilderness.Enter Reuben.
Reuben.
Oh! I rejoice so much I cannot call.
I see that dangerous evils are more kind
Than our own brothers; for this treacherous gap,
Form'd to betray men's footing, and to drown
Their fearful clamours in its cavèd womb,
Hath yet more tenderness to this young boy,
Now shelter'd in its dark and hideous breast,
Than in his brothers' hollow bosoms dwell,
With hearts of stone and pitiless revenge.—
What, ho! I say—Arise! and cheer thee up.
I come to rifle thee from Danger's arms,
Pale, and alarm'd; to give the warm embrace,
And sun thee in thy father Jacob's love,
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That hatred cannot blemish.—Arise! I say—
So thou may'st smile on my affrighted love
That fruitfully did mourn for thee, like one
Who diggeth his own grave. But thou shalt live.
Thy crafty brothers have o'er-reach'd themselves;
And with a bosom full of zeal I come
To snatch thee quick from out this hollow tomb.—
What, ho! there—answer, ho!—All still as death.
Ah! surely they have stunn'd him with the fall:
But chafing him with bruisèd weeds and balm
Will mend that evil and restore the sense.—
The depth is cruel! If he should be slain,
Take dreadful vengeance on their act, oh God!
Drop burning fire upon their guilty heads.—
And yet, methinks he cannot be much hurt;
A fall like this would never kill a man,
Unless deserted specially of Heaven.
A treacherous silence that doth freeze my blood
Makes answer to the echo of my voice!—
How could they injure such a gentle youth,
So soft of speech, so wooing in his ways,
So wise and holy, and with such a mien,
That, did the angels teach men exercise,
They could add nothing, or of mood or grace,
To that which nature has bestow'd on him?
Yet mothers say with a prophetic nod
They mostly lose these rarer jewels first.
If thou dost live, oh, speak! or make some noise—
What, ho! there—ho!—
[He descends by a rope.
| Joseph And His Brethren | |