Joseph’s Dream.

Joseph was one night sleeping in the sight of Jacob,
In whose sight he was dearer than his own eyes;
His head rested on his pillow in sweet sleep,
And a soft smile played about his pleasant ruby lips;
But that soft smile on that candied lip
Filled with agitation the soul of Jacob.
And when Joseph awoke like his fortune,
And opened his moist sleepy eyes, Jacob said:
“O thou whose sweetness shameth the sweetness of sugar,
What was the meaning of that honied smile?”
And Joseph replied:—“I saw in my dream
The sun and the moon and eleven brilliant constellations,
Who with one accord joined to magnify me.”

His father commands him not to reveal what he had seen in his dream to his brothers. It could only augment their envy and hatred. But he will not be advised: he tells it to one, who tells it to another, till all know it; as says the Poet,

Thou hast heard that every secret which passeth beyond two,
In a little time becometh a throng on the tongue of everybody.
The wise man hath said:—“Those two are the two lips;
To pass aught beyond them is not well advised.
Many a secret which hath escaped from the two lips
Hath raised a blood-feud between brave spirits.”
Well said the thoughtful utterer of sage maxims,
“Let him who would keep his head in safety keep his secret!
When thou hast freed the wild bird from the bars of its cage,
Thou wilt never be able to bind its foot with thine hand again.”

When the brothers had heard the dream they not unnaturally burst out into indignant exclamations.

What! doth he desire that we, clear from his darkness,
Should fall down to the ground and worship before him!
And not we alone, but father and mother also!
This self-glorification must not be so valued:
We are our father’s trafficers—not he;
We are our father’s well-wishers—not he;
Whilst it is day, we keep his flocks in the field;
When it is night, we are the guardians of his dwelling;
If he have enemies we are the strength of his arm;
In the circle of his friends we are its shining jewel!
Come, let us find a cure for this matter;
In every way possible let us compass his ruin;
The thorn which sprouteth up to bring with it mischief,
It is better to root out ere it become a tree.