Envy

Sages, who guided the pen of old,
Thus the story have framed and told :
As Yusuf in stature and beauty grew,
His father’s heart to himself he drew ;
The old man turned from the rest aside
To his own eye’s apple, his joy and pride ;
And to him such kindness and favour showed,
That the hearts of his brothers with envy glowed.
In the court of the house stood an ancient tree
Whose leafy branches were fair to see ;
In their vesture of green like monks the sprays
Danced in a rapture of joy and praise ;
From the level ground of the court it grew,
And its stately height a long shadow threw ;
Each leaf on the tree was a vocal tongue,
Singing a hymn as the branches swung.
To heaven rose the boughs of the topmost stem,
Whose birds were the angels who rested on them,
When a son to Jacob by God was given ;
From that tree that rivalled the Lote-treei in heaven,
A tender branchlet sprouted anew,
And still with the growth of the infant grew ;
And when the boy came to his manhood he
Beceived a green staff from the honoured tree.
But for Yusuf, first in his father’s eyes,
A staff from the tree were too mean a prize ;
A severed bough were no gift for one
From his own soul’s garden, his darling son.
One night the boy to his father cried :
“ O thou whose wishes are ne’er denied,
To the Lord of Paradise offer thy prayer,
And win me a staff from the garden there,
That whithersoever my feet may stray,
From youth to age it may guide my way.”
Humbly the father bowed down and prayed,
And suit to the Lord for his darling made.
Then Gabriel came from the Lote-tree’s height,
A topaz staff in his hand shone bright,
That never had suffered a wound or flaw
From the axe of Time or from Change’s saw,
Precious in value, but light to wield.
Splendid with hues of its native field.
And a voice was heard : “ Take the staff I bring,
Which shall prop, as a pillar, the throne of a king.”
Thus Yusuf by Heaven was favoured and blest ;
But envy burnt fierce in each brother’s breast.
A hundred wood staves were a lighter load
Bor them than this one which the Lord bestowed.
Bell fancy wrought in each bosom apart,
And each sowed the seed of deep hate in his heart;
He nursed the seedling with tender care,
But shame was the fruit which the tree should bear.