University of Virginia Library

In the dim age when yet the rind of earth,
Unworn by time, gave eager nature life,
Zealous to furnish what the seasons wore
That in a vigorous brightness flourishèd;
When light and dark and constellations bright,
The splendid sun, the silent gliding moon,
Govern'd men's habits; taught them when to thrive,
To rest, and sleep; till, full of temperate years,
Rude in their art, and ignorant of all
Save passions and affections wild, untaught,
They sank like giants in an earthy pit,
Leaving the generation of their days
'Twixt grief and reverence to mourn their loss
And miss them from the village and the field;—
God's voice (that mingled up the beauteous world,
Inlaid pure heaven, and sweetly colour'd it;
And with the wondrous magic of the clouds
Enveils the sacred flooring evermore,
Without bright golden, but within more rare)
Was then upon the earth and with men's ears,
Creating reverence and faith and love.—

Jacob was gone into the vale of years:
And like an oak that standeth by a hill,
Whose sinuous trunk begins to fret to dust,
And sapless knots fail in their iron strength;
Whose wrinkled branches drying up with age,
Stiff to the winds, with top emblanch'd and bare,
Though but poor spoil to winter in its leaves,
Yet still it casts a shadow o'er those slips
That from its acorns dropp'd into the earth
From time to time, and settled, flourish there
To keep its memory fresh in seasons new
When it is wither'd to the sodden core,
And all its beauty faded from the earth:
Like to that tree that faileth on the hill
Is agèd Jacob with the wither'd arms.
And like its fruit that chanc'd to spring and grow,
Are Jacob's sons that put their promise forth;
And like the guardian shadow from the tree
Is Jacob's yearning full of love for them.
To Bethel was he come with all his host,
His herds and flocks, and men both bond and free,
By God's command to sojourn in the land.
Down in a valley deep and overbrow'd
With sloping pastures skirted round with beech,
Shadowing the grazing cattle in the breeze,
E'en in this vale of Hebron did he halt,
And set his tent (rude habitation)
To wait with patience the will of Him
Supreme in Heaven, on Earth; for He had said
‘Thy seed shall grow and flourish in the land,
Outnumbering the sea-sand. Grace shall be thine.
My countenance is with thee. Go, and live.’

Of all his sons, Joseph, a gentle youth,
Tender in years, graceful, and full of strength,
Pleas'd Jacob most; most fill'd his doting mind,
Nourish'd his sight, and charm'd his doubting ear.
Well might it be; for he was yet the child
Of his declining years, reflecting on
His youthful vigour in those days now pass'd
When the grown men Reuben and Simeon
Were yet but children gleaning in his corn,
Merry, and apt to profit by that lore
(Or rather simple industry) that kept
The image of their Maker fine and clear
With wholesome viands, food of a beaded brow.

Rachel his wife, and Joseph's mother, died
Midway between this Bethel and her home;
And solemnly she was laid up in earth
Hard by the highway, and a pillar set,
Call'd by her name; a tomb of elder years,
Old monument of man's affection!
For this he lov'd young Joseph, but the more
That he was kind and tender to his sire;
Sober'd his youth, and calm'd his sprightly tongue;
And like a mantle warm and comfort-lined
Cover'd his father from all outward frets;
And love for love return'd in such a sort,
So full of reverence, mild, and duteous,
That it flow'd blandly from his genial breast
And mingled in his being, making his sire
Taste the sweet sympathy of unripe age,
Which could not be in those his other sons
More old, more independent in their love.
But there was mischief to this human faith
Born of the very goodness that it bred,
For Joseph's brethren fretted on the lip,
Wrinkled their brows, and smote upon the earth
With boisterous foot, whence envy leapèd out.
The best would group together in the shade,
And sitting 'neath the eglantine and vine
That wreath'd a verdurous trellis through the vale,
Would scoff at Jacob's love, that still was spilt
(As they would say) unequal on that side
Where Joseph kept his stand. Envy, the slug,
Had ta'en its second change, and like a worm
Stray'd from its blinder chrysalis the brain,
And nimble as the blood that scours the veins
Lay keenly gnawing in their rancour'd hearts.

The shepherd beats his bell; the tranquil herds
Lowing obedience, from the dimpled spring
(Where the bright flowers disturb'd with their sweet breath
Tremble like starry gems in Dian's hair),
Slow wind the hill, and in their stakèd folds
Snuff the fresh straw and scent the keener wind,
Crook their sleek knees to welcome night's repose.
The Sun while sinking from his daily round
Had starr'd the heavens like a fiery flaw,
Showing his glory greater than the west:
Glancing the Moon and frighting her faint beam,
Across the barrèd portals of the East
His fulgent heat reflected glowing fire.
The dying embers of the burnish'd king,
Now sunk behind the mountain'd hemisphere,
Were fading fast away. He was declin'd
(Not like pale Cynthia to her bath, a lake
Rich in its violet sward and jasmine bowers),
A god gigantic habited in gold,
Stepping from off a mount into the sea:
The evening breeze that whispers of repose,
And fans the crimson'd marygold to sleep,
Grows sharp and brisk; and silence on the light
Gains step for step, as light retires to shade.
The tawny harvestmen from yellow fields
Their sweet repast, their lated meal enjoy
Hard by their tents, beneath some ample oak,
Or vine, or fig-tree burthen'd with its fruit
And fragrant to the air. Now Jacob's sons,
Who kept their herds and cattle on the hills,
Retire from folding to their father's tent.
Lo! Joseph meets them with a welcome smile,—
A basket on his head with purple grapes
O'erswelling from the brink, and o'er his cap,
And hair, and shoulders, hanging gracefully,—
Shows like an angel, youthful, beauteous.
Stifle your passions, curb your spleens, young men;
Dull not this image of your father's mind
By vaporous suggestions of his youth
Which oversteps you in the old man's sight.
Look on his youth; be older, and be wise.