[154] Rogo Jacob al Criador, · e al lobo fue a fablar; Dijo el lobo: “No lo mando · Allah, que a nabi[*] fuese a matar, En tan estranna tierra · me fueron á cazar, Anme fecho pecado, · i lebanme a lazrar.” MS. [*] _Nabi_, Prophet, Arabic. [155] La mesura del pan · de oro era labrada, E de piedras preciosas · era estrellada, I era de ver toda · con guisa enclabada, Que fazia saber al Rey · la berdad apurada. · · · · · · · · · · · · E firio el Rey en la mesura · e fizola sonar, Pone la á su orella · por oir e guardar; Dijoles, e no quiso · mas dudar, Segun dize la mesura, · berdad puede estar. MS. It is Joseph who is here called king, as he is often in the poem,--once he is called emperor, though the Pharaoh of the period is fully recognized; and this costly measure, made of gold and precious stones, corresponds to the cup of the Hebrew account, and is found, like that, in the sack of Benjamin, where it had been put by Joseph, (after he had secretly revealed himself to Benjamin,) as the means of seizing Benjamin and detaining him in Egypt, with his own consent, but without giving his false brethren the reason for it. [156] Dijo Jusuf: “Ermanos, · perdoneos el Criador, Del tuerto que me tenedes, · perdoneos el Señor, Que para siempre e nunca · se parta el nuestro amor.” Abrasò a cada guno, · e partiòse con dolor. MS. On the first night after the outrage, Jusuf, as he is called in the poem, when travelling along in charge of a negro, passes a cemetery on a hill-side where his mother lies buried. And when the negro heeded not, · that guarded him behind, From off the camel Jusuf sprang, · on which he rode confined, And hastened, with all speed, · his mother’s grave to find, Where he knelt and pardon sought, · to relieve his troubled mind. He cried, “God’s grace be with thee still, · O Lady mother dear! O mother, you would sorrow, · if you looked upon me here; For my neck is bound with chains, · and I live in grief and fear, Like a traitor by my brethren sold, · like a captive to the spear. “They have sold me! they have sold me! · though I never did them harm; They have torn me from my father, · from his strong and living arm, By art and cunning they enticed me, · and by falsehood’s guilty charm, And I go a base-bought captive, · full of sorrow and alarm.” But now the negro looked about, · and knew that he was gone, For no man could be seen, · and the camel came alone; So he turned his sharpened ear, · and caught the wailing tone, Where Jusuf, by his mother’s grave, · lay making heavy moan.