Читать книгу The Hebrew Slave: In Eight Books with Other Poems - Anonymous - Страница 9

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When loathsome guilt hath spread its dark controul,

Blasting with direful pow’r the human soul,

How soon, from thence each better feeling barr’d,

The heart becomes than Parian rock more hard;

Each passion mild, with warm affection fill’d,

Forsakes the breast, by hate infernal chill’d;

There demons foul an easy entrance find,

And banish thence ought merciful or kind.

’Twas thus, with spirits fierce, remorseless, stern,

The brethren from the fatal cavern turn;

Unpitying, leave their guileless victim there,

The prey of sick’ning fear and biting care.

Hard by a pleasant wood exuberant grew,

And thither they with hasty steps withdrew;

A lovely spot it was, with shady bow’r,

Inviting soft, at noon-tide’s scorching hour,

The weary traveller, who passing by

With lagging step, might its blest shade draw nigh—

Full pleased, while journeying through a weary land,

To find a place of rest and covert bland,

Where, underneath o’erhanging palms reclined,

He should, “tired Nature’s sweet restorer find”—

In gentle rest, beguile the tedious hour,

With balmy sleep recruit th’ exhausted pow’r

Of harass’d limbs, that so, his strength renew’d,

His way with vigour fresh might be pursued.

There beauteous palms, and cedars tall and fair,

Their foliage spread with verdure past compare;

And other trees of rich and splendid mien,

With pleasing shrubs enrob’d in brightest green—

And myrtle trees and tender saplings grew

Luxuriant, delightful to the view;

In truth, it seem’d the favourite retreat

Of blooming Nature, who had fixed her seat

In that sweet spot, and exercised her skill,

Its mossy bed with rarest plants to fill;

And tasteful Flora, too, had chosen there

To furnish tokens of her choicest care:

There beauteous buds and blooming flow’rs were found,

With colours soft and richest hues adorn’d;

Such lines, as all the pow’rs of mortal art,

With facile cunning skill can ne’er impart—

Such as in gayest splendour far excel

The pomp of those who ’mid proud courtiers dwell,

In palaces of kings among the great,

Who, decked with pride, appear in glorious state.

The lovely rose, the snow white lily too,

And striped tulip there spontaneous grew,

And balmy scents and fragrant perfumes breathe,

While round the clust’ring boughs fair garlands wreathe;

With other flowers in Flora’s train that shine,

And, eloquent, their Maker’s love divine

Proclaim to man with gentle winning voice,

And bid him with a grateful song rejoice—

With glowing heart and pious soul, to raise

The holy sacrifice of prayer and praise

To Him whose providence on every side

Doth for his pleasure such rich stores provide—

With kind and lib’ral hand diffusing round,

Blessings untold with choicest mercies crown’d.

Within such bright enamouring retreat

The brethren find a calm delightful seat,

By sloping banks and gentle hillocks made,

With velvet moss and flowerets array’d.

There nect’rine balms absorb th’ enraptur’d sense,

And spicy odours rich delights dispense;

Whilst over all, tall cedars cast their shade,

Forming with clust’ring boughs a broad arcade—

An august canopy of tow’ring height,

Fantastical in form, a splendid sight

Of colours warm, and lovely silver hues,

And golden tints which balmy light diffuse.

Beneath such grove sublime, the brethren there

A tranquil covert find—and straight prepare

With flesh of slaughter’d kids a rich repast—

The flocks meanwhile in fold secure made fast.

As yet their consciences unblench’d, and sear’d,

Felt no remorse, no retribution fear’d;

Dark louring frowns their sturdy brows o’ercast,

And mournfully with Nature’s smiles contrast;

Her beauteous form in sunny brightness drest,

Serv’d but the more their guilt to manifest.

And while mild radiance spreads delight around,

Nought save chill gloom and sullen wrath are found

In their stern visage, darken’d o’er with guile—

Fierce scowling rage and envious passions vile.

While thus old Jacob’s son’s, embower’d in shade,

Their rich repast with full libations made,

Of gen’rous wines which from the vintage flow,

Or juice of palms that on Mount Lib’nus grow,

Or feast on fruits of fair inviting hue,

Which round their bower in great abundance grew,

Young Joseph, hidden in the dismal den,

With ruminations sad his moments then

Foreboding spent, while prospects drear impart

A leaden sadness to his sorrowing heart:

But neither did his well-taught mind forego

Those comforts sweet which from religion flow;

Though bound in cords, enthrall’d in darkness there,

He thus preferr’d to heaven his artless pray’r:

“O thou, the mourner’s friend! enthron’d on high!

God of my Fathers, pitying, now draw nigh!—

O listen to an helpless captive’s call,

And kind regard a youth in fearful thrall!

Forgive my brothers’ undeserved spite—

Put far their guilt from thy most holy sight.

To me, O gracious Father! shortly send

Thy ready help—thy feeble child defend

From causeless hate—and to my Sire restore

Me, sav’d from death by thine Almighty power.”

With pleadings thus the youthful captive pray’d—

And, meanwhile, Reuben from his brethren stray’d—

Kind sympathies their generous power impart,

And breathe soft pity through his anxious heart;

His spirit yearn’d with strong desire to save

His injured brother from the loathsome grave,

Where, doom’d by Envy’s monstrous hate to lie,

He might with ling’ring pain and hunger die.

And as with hasty step he speeds his way,

He firm resolves, when night should shroud the day

In sombrous gloom and friendly stillness—then

To rescue Joseph from the hateful den.

Meanwhile, the sun’s o’ercast with sickly gloom,

And gath’ring clouds presage a coming storm;

The feather’d race for refuge, trembling, fly—

With plaintive wails bespeak the tempest nigh.

While mournful sighs, responsive to the gale,

And murm’rings sad fall pensive down the vale.

Now Heaven’s artilleries their thunders roll,

Reverberating loud from pole to pole;

The lurid glares of light’ning fiercely fly,

And dart they forked lances through the sky,

Commixed the hail, and rain, and darkness drear—

The total wreck of nature seemeth near.

Terrific blasts contend with fierce turmoil,

With frantic wrath doth all creation boil:

The blasted cedars headlong crashing fall,

And chilling fear congeals the hearts of all.

While thus the fitful blasts their wrath engage,

And agitate scar’d Nature with their rage—

Spreading dire consternation o’er the land,

And guilty terror through the shepherd band—

Behold! approaching on th’ adjoining plain,

In search of refuge from the storm, a train

Of Midianitish men—who, passing by,

Were to the grove for shelter led to fly;

Whence Jacob’s sons beneath the wide-spread tree,

Th’ approaching Midianitish merchants see—-

Who then to Egypt’s land their journey made,

In balm, and myrrh, and spicery to trade.

Soon with old Israel’s sons, the merchants rang’d,

Beneath the friendly covert—they exchang’d

Familiar conversation; and while there,

The purpose of their journeying declare.

And now the storm its wrath began t’ abate,

While thus the trav’llers with the shepherds sate,

The lightning’s glare, the thunder’s pealings cease—

The tempest’s ireful strife is hushed to peace.

The cheerful light restored, in lucent smiles

Each budding sunny ray the gloom beguiles,

Resplendent beaming—louring shadows spurns,

And Nature to her wonted rest returns.

Then Judah with his guilty partners spake,

And counsel’d from the pit, the youth to take

In jesuitic self-deceit began,

With cunning, thus to tell his odious plan:

“If Joseph now by hunger death attain,

Or we our hands by blood fraternal stain,

What mighty vantage shall from hence accrue,

Or what of profit to ourselves ensue?

What if his youthful limbs by violence bleed,

And deepest secrecy e’er veil the deed?

‘He is our brother’—offspring of our sire;

‘He is our flesh’—let’s banish fell desire

Of life! He, to these Gentile merchants sold,

No more our Father’s dwelling shall behold—

The doings of to-day shall ne’er disclose,

Nor mar with boding visions our repose!”

The brethren, having told themselves content

With Judah’s counsel, to the cavern went;

Then from the pit the trembling captive take,

And with the Midianites foul contract make—

For cursed pelf their helpless victim sell—

For whom the merchants twenty pieces tell;

Which they, the sordid price of liberty,

Remorseless, take with foul complacency.

Ah! then a piteous spectacle ensued

Which might to tenderness a flint have woo’d;

The guileless suff’rer, loosen’d from his bands,

Most movingly, with supplicating hands,

For mercy sought, from heartless beings, who

Nor pity felt, nor soft relentings knew.

They heeded not the tears which then were seen

Roll down his cheeks like drops of pearly sheen;

The bitter cries, the mournful plaints, which fell

From budding lips that seemed form’d to tell

The tender tale of love, or fear’s alarm,

With winning force and mild subduing charm—

Each vainly fell, like strokes on empty air:

His look of love, his aspect meek and fair,

Could not their fierce and angry wrath assuage,

But served the more to aggravate their rage.

With firm resolve the victim-boy they gave,

To pine in foreign lands, a wretched slave—

Expell’d from tender Sire, depress’d and lone,

To pass a toilful life, unpitied and unknown.

In such base subterfuge they thought to find

A balm to tranquilize the conscious mind,

Which, spite of strongest efforts, oft will dart

Her sharp compunctions through the stricken heart:

From blood they sought to keep their conscience free,

Yet scrupled not, to toil and misery

Their unoffending brother to consign—

The child of innocence and grace benign!

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.