Elizabeth Singer Rowe

1674-1737 / England

The History Of Joseph: A Poem In Ten Books. Book Iii.

Mean time the Pagan deities, displeas'd
To find the public storms so soon appeas'd,
Studious attempt by new malicious ways,
Among the Hebrews civil jars to raise:
Moloch already had provok'd the strife,
And kindling mischief threatens Joseph's life.
The lovely youth, fair Rachel's boasted son,
Completely form'd, his seventeenth year begun;
His mother's sparkling eyes, and blooming grace,
Mixt with severer strokes, adorn'd his face.
Not he that in Sabea's fragrant grove,
(As poets sung) inflam'd the queen of love;
Nor Hylas, nor Narcissus look'd so gay,
When the clear streams his rosy blush display.
In all his conduct something noble shone
Which meant him for a greatness yet unknown.
Visions had oft' his rising fate foretold:
The last to Jacob thus his lips unfold,
His brethren by:–when sleep had clos'd mine eyes,
A corny field before my fancy flies;
(Still to my thoughts the yellow crop appears!)
My brothers with me reap'd the bending ears;
Industrious each a single sheaf had bound,
When theirs with sudden motion mine surround,
And bow'd with prostrate rev'rence to the ground.
But now my mind of rural business clear'd,
Above my head a wond'rous scene appear'd;
The moon and stars at highest noon shone bright,
Unconquer'd by the sun's superior light;
Methought I saw the gaudy orbs descend,
And at my feet with humble homage bend.
The shepherds hear his story with surprise:
Must we thy vassals be? proud Ashur cries,
With rage and threatning malice in his eyes.
At Mamre, Jacob and his fav'rite stay,
The rest to Dothan's flow'ry meadows stray;
Infernal envy all their bosoms fires,
And black resolves and horrid thoughts inspires.
At last young Joseph's murder is design'd:
Hell with the monstrous treachery combin'd.
He comes to Dothan, by his father sent,
And heav'n alone his ruin can prevent.
Their guiltless prey he stands, without defence,
But inborn worth, and fearless innocence.
His brethren's crimes, his father's hoary hairs
Were all the subject that alarm'd his fears.
The fatal stroke they now prepare to give,
When Reuben's arts the hopeless youth retrieve,
By thus advising,–let your brother live.
A thousand easy methods yet remain,
To render all his glorious projects vain;
But till we have determin'd the design,
To yonder pit th'aspiring boy confine.
To him they yield, and to their tents retire,
The fiends below their own success admire.
The night prevails, and draws her sable train,
With silent pace, along the ethereal plain.
By fits the dancing stars exert their beams;
The silver crescent glimmers on the streams;
The sluggish waters, with a drowsy roar,
And ling'ring motion, roll along the shore;
Their murmur answers to the rustling breeze,
That faintly whispers thro' the nodding trees;
The peaceful echoes, undisturb'd with sound,
Lay slumb'ring in the cavern'd hills around;
Frenzy and faction, love and envy slept;
A still solemnity all nature kept;
Devotion only wak'd, and to the skies
Directs the pris'ner's pious vows and eyes:
To God's high throne a wing'd petition flew,
And from the skies commission'd Gabriel drew;
One of the seven, who by appointed turns
Before the throne ambrosial incense burns.
A sudden day, returning on the night,
Vanquish'd the shades, and put the stars to flight;
Th' enlighten'd cave receives the shining guest,
In all his heav'nly pomp divinely dress'd;
He greets the youth, and thus his charge express'd.
To-morrow thou must leave rich Jordan's shore.
And trace Moriah's sacred hill no more;
A great and grateful nation yet unknown,
Sav'd by thy care, shall thee their patron own;
But let thy breast impenetrable prove
To wanton beauty, and forbidden love:
This heav'n enjoins.–The wond'ring shepherd bow'd;
The angel mounted on a radiant cloud.
The morning now her lovely face display'd,
And with a rosy smile dispell'd the shade.
The faction rose, and close in council sat,
On means that must determine Joseph's fate;
Nor long they sat, for on the neighb'ring road
A train of camels with their spicy load,
Follow'd by Midian merchants, travell'd by:
Heav'n marks the way, the envious brothers cry:
Whate'er th' ambitious dreamer's thoughts portend,
His hopes with these to foreign lands we'll send.
They stop the Midianites, and soon agree,
Resolved no more his hated face to see.
With looks, which perfect inward anguish tell,
And falling tears, he took this sad farewell.
I go to wander on some barb'rous clime,
May heav'nly justice ne'er avenge this crime!
Be still indulgent to my father's age,
His grief for me with flatt'ring hopes asswage.
They hear, they see the anguish of his soul,
And scarce their struggling pity can control;
Touch'd with so sad a scene, they all begin
To feel remorse for this unnatural sin,
And half repent: but hate and envy prove
Their victor passions, and repress their love.
They form a specious fraud to hide the deed
From their old sire, and in the plot succeed.
Their brother's varied coat they still retain'd,
And with a bleeding kid the vestment stain'd;
With this to Mamre treach'rous Simeon goes,
Too well the lost old man the relick knows.
After a dismal pause, his sorrow breaks
Its violent way, and this sad language speaks.
My son!–alas, some savage monster's prey!
Why have I liv'd to this detested day?
Why have I lingred thus? I should have dy'd,
When thy more happy mother left my side,
My best-lov'd wife:–but all my Rachel's face
I could in thy resembling features trace.
Tormenting thought!–O hide me from the light!
Its useless rays afflict my feeble sight:
Come lead me to the solitary grave,
Despair and woe that dark retirement crave;
There shall I, stretch'd upon my dusty bed,
Forget the toils of life, and mingle with the dead.
In vain his friends attempt to bring relief,
In vain persuade inexorable grief;
'Tis deep, and intermingled with his soul,
Nor time, nor counsel can its force control.
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