אפשר לתקן

There are opinions among Hazal that Yosef nearly sinned with Potiphar’s wife before ultimately resisting the temptation:

אמר רב חנא בר ביזנא א”ר שמעון חסידא יוסף שקידש שם שמים בסתר הוסיפו עליו אות אחת משמו של הקב”ה …

Rav Ḥana bar Bizna says that Rabbi Shimon Ḥasida says: Joseph, who sanctified the name of Heaven in private, had one letter of the name of the Holy One, Blessed be He, the letter heh, added to his name. …

יוסף מאי היא דכתיב (בראשית לט, יא) ויהי כהיום הזה ויבא הביתה לעשות מלאכתו א”ר יוחנן מלמד ששניהם לדבר עבירה נתכוונו

The Gemara explains: What is the situation where Joseph sanctified G-d’s name in private? As it is written: “And it came to pass on a certain day, when he went into the house to do his work” (Genesis 39:11). Rabbi Yoḥanan says: This teaches that both Joseph and Potiphar’s wife stayed in the house, as they intended to perform a matter of sin.

ויבא הביתה לעשות מלאכתו רב ושמואל חד אמר לעשות מלאכתו ממש וחד אמר לעשות צרכיו נכנס

With regard to the phrase “when he went into the house to do his work,” Rav and Shmuel engage in a dispute with regard to its meaning. One says: It means that he went into the house to do his work, literally. And one says: He entered the house in order to fulfill his sexual needs with her.1

Rav Levi ibn Habib (Maharalbah) and Rav Zvi Hirsch Hajes explain that Hazal were not denigrating Yosef by acknowledging the strength of his temptation, but on the contrary, praising him for having ultimately triumphed over it:

מהרלב”ח

עוד אני אומר שדרשה כזאת איננה כנגד מעלת הצדיק כיון שהוא דבר במחשבה ולא יצא לפועל אף על פי שתהיה לאיזו סבה שתהיה. ויש לנו דמחשבה רעה אינו הקדוש ברוך הוא מצרפה למעשה בישראל זולתי בעבודה זרה. ולכן אין זה חסרון בצדיק. דכל הגדול מחבירו יצרו גדול ממנו. אדרבה הוא לו מעלה כיון שלבסוף ניצול מהעבירה. ואין כוונת הפסוק להודיענו מחשבת אלו הצדיקים. אבל הכונה להודיענו שנצולו ושהקב”ה הרחיק מהם העבירה ההיא.2

מהר”ץ חיות

והנה הרב הרלב”ח כתב … וכן ביוסף כבר היתה מחשבתו לרעה, ובא לעשות מלאכתו ממש3 ובכל זאת כבש את יצרו, ולא חטא וזה מעלה יותר עצומה, דאם לא התעורר אצלו היצר מפני שינוי מצבם, ועבד שפל אינו נותן עיניו באשת אדוניו, אזי לא היתה פעולתו של יוסף ראוי להתפארות כל כך, אבל עתה דכבר התגבר עליו היצר, ובכל זאת היה אדון ושליט על מעשיו, וזה דבר גדול אשר בחרו חז”ל לשבח מעשה יוסף הצדיק, כי כבר היה הכל מוכן לרעה, וכמה גדול כחו על ידי יגיעותיו אשר טרח לכבוש את יצרו, דהרי כבר היה כאן מחשבה רעה, רק אצל ישראל אין מצטרפין מחשבה רעה למעשה, … והיא ספור נפלא להגדיל מעלתן של צדיקים, כי לא יאונה להם כל עון, …4

In a famous and provocative passage in his autobiography, Rav Yaakov Emden relates that he personally experienced “a miracle similar to that of Joseph the righteous and (even) slightly more so”:

A miracle also occurred to me, especially relevant to matters spiritual. (It was) a miracle similar to that of Joseph the righteous and (even) slightly more so. I was a young man, tender in years, in the full strength of my passion. I had been separated from my wife for a long time and greatly desired a woman. A very pretty unmarried young girl who was my cousin happened to meet me there and was alone with me. She brazenly demonstrated great love to me, came close to me and almost kissed me. Even when I was lying in my bed, she came to cover me well on the couch, in a close loving manner. Truthfully, had I hearkened to the advice of my instinct she would not have denied my desire at all. Several times it (indeed) almost happened, as a fire (consumes) the chaff. Frequently there was no one in the house with me but her. They (i.e. the members of her family) were also not accustomed to come for they stayed in the store on the marketplace, occupied with their livelihood all day. Had G-d not given me great strength, the excellency of dignity and the excellency of power (Gen. 49:3), to overcome my fiery instinct which once almost forced me to do its bidding, (and) were it not for the grace of G-d which was great upon me, (I would have been unable) to withstand this very powerful temptation, greater than all temptations. I was a man at the prime of my strength and passion. There was a very pleasant beautiful woman before me who demonstrated for me all manner of love and closeness many times. She was related to me, unmarried, a tender child and recently widowed. She may have been ritually pure or would have ritually purified herself had I requested it. If I had wanted to fulfill my passionate desire for her, I was absolutely certain that she would not reveal my secret. I controlled my instinct, conquered my passion and determined to kill it. My heart was hollow and I did not … Blessed be the L-rd who gives strength to the weary for I was saved from this flaming fire.5

It is difficult to understand R. Emden’s apparent utter flouting of the laws of יחוד – which exist precisely to forestall the sin that he acknowledges “almost happened”. Indeed, Yosef as well seems to have engaged in יחוד, a problem raised by Rav Moshe Sofer (Hasam Sofer), who suggests that it was indeed this infraction that led Potiphar to believe his wife’s calumniation of the man whom he had erstwhile believed to be of impeccable character:

תמיה רבה על אותו הצדיק איך נכנס ביחוד עם אשה בשעה שאין אנשי הבית שם וכמדומה לי שאלולי כן לא האמין פוטיפר לאשתו על יוסף המוחזק בעיניו לצדיק, אלא שראה מבגדו שבידה שעל כל פנים נתיחד עמה שלא כדת, ועל כן האמין עליו גם הכל, ומכל מקום צ”ע עליו.6

I discussed these sources in a talk I gave several days ago on repentance and the struggle against temptation, and previously in my parashah lectures for this past פרשת וישב, on the topic of יחוד. The cognate column:

In parashas Vayeishev, the Torah relates: “Then there was an opportune day when he [Joseph] entered the house to do his work – no man of the household staff being there in the house – that she [Potiphar’s wife] caught hold of him by his garment, saying, “Lie with me!” Some of our Sages maintain that Joseph actually came dangerously close to sinning, and only vanquished his evil inclination at the very last moment. (Sotah 36b, Bereishis Rabah 87:7) The Biblical text seems to emphasize that the confrontation was triggered by the fact that they were completely alone, and the halachah indeed prohibits such seclusion (yichud), for precisely this reason. The Chasam Sofer actually raises the question of how the righteous Joseph could have violated the prohibition of yichud, and he goes so far as to suggest that this apparent infraction was what allowed Potiphar to believe his wife’s accusation of Joseph, whose reputation had been heretofore impeccable. Potiphar saw that Joseph had at the very least improperly secluded himself with his wife, and he therefore believed the full accusation against him. (Drashos Chasam Sofer, Chanukah [5]564. His justification of Joseph’s conduct is beyond the scope of this column.)

Since the prohibition of yichud is motivated by a concern for improper interaction between the secluded individuals, there are a variety of leniencies in circumstances where they are unlikely to act improperly, particularly where they are afraid of being interrupted and discovered. A comprehensive discussion of these exceptions and their precise scope and details is beyond the scope of this column, but a couple of basic examples follow:

  • A married woman whose husband is in the same city as her is beyond suspicion, since she is presumptively afraid of her husband. Many authorities understand this to mean that she is afraid of his discovery of her infidelity. (Shulchan Aruch EH 22:8; Pischei Teshuvah ibid. s.k. 7; Shut. Igros Moshe EH 4:65:7; Shut. Tzitz Eliezer 6:40:4-6)
  • Yichud does not apply in a house whose door is open to a public domain. (SA ibid. 9, PT ibid. 8, TE ibid. 11-12, IM ibid. 2,4-5,9)

In my talk on resisting temptation, I also discussed the tale of the portrait of Moshe Rabbeinu (which I have previously discussed in a lecture for פרשת בהעלותך, on the character of the master of all prophets):

[A] delightful account that I once saw in writing. When Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, the nations heard, they trembled, etc. (Exodus 15:14). They were particularly curious about Moses, the man through whom all these marvelous deeds had transpired. So much so, that an Arabian king sent a gifted artist to the Israelite encampment with orders to paint a portrait of the Israelite leader, and to return with it to Arabia. The artist went, painted the portrait, and brought it to the king. The king then sent to his physiognomists, and ordered them to prepare an analysis of Moses’ character, virtues, and strengths based upon his facial features as reflected in the portrait. The physiognomists complied with the king’s order and reported as follows: “If we are to render judgment solely on the basis of the facial features in the portrait, we must report, O King, that, – despite his distinguished reputation – he is entirely wicked, arrogant, greedy, capricious, indeed suffused with every known vice. Upon hearing the analysis, the king was livid. “You are sporting with me,” he cried out. “From every corner of the globe I have heard just the opposite regarding this great man.” The physiognomists and the artist were seized with fright; they responded to the king pusillanimously, each accusing the other of incompetence. The artist claimed that the portrait was executed with precision; it was the physiognomists who had erred in their interpretation of the portrait. The physiognomists, in turn, blamed the artist, claiming that the portrait of Moses was obviously inaccurate. The king, determined to resolve the matter, set out in his chariot on a state visit – accompanied by his troops – to the Israelite camp. Upon sighting Moses, the man of G-d, from the distance, he took out the portrait, gazed at it and Moses, and knew at once that the artist’s depiction had been executed with precision. The king was astounded. He entered the tent of Moses, bowed down before him, and related the entire story to him. He concluded his remarks as follows: “Before I gazed upon your face, O man of G-d, I suspected that the artist had been incompetent, for my physiognomists are without peer. Now that I have established that the portrait is accurate, I can only conclude that the physiognomists are at fault; they have deceived me. Their wisdom comes to naught. I have been supporting them even as they misled me with their nonsense.”

Moses, the man of G-d, replied: “Not so. Indeed, the artist and the physiognomists are exceedingly competent and wise. Know that if I were naturally virtuous, I would be no more deserving of praise than is a block of wood. For it too has no human faults. I am not ashamed to admit, however, that I am naturally inclined to all the vices listed by the physiognomists, and then some. With great effort and determination, I overcame my inclinations until their very opposites became second nature to me. This is how I earned the glory that I now enjoy in heaven above and on earth below.”7

  1. סוטה לו: []
  2. שו”ת מהרלב”ח סימן קכ”ו ד”ה עוד אני אומר []
  3. רש”י בסוטה פירש ד “מלאכ[תו] ממש” היינו מלאכתו, ולא תשמיש. אולם בבראשית רבה אמר ר”ש בר נחמן “לעשות מלאכתו ודאי”, ומבואר שכוונתו לתשמיש.‏ []
  4. מבוא התלמוד, פרק כ’ ד”ה והנה הרב רלב”ח []
  5. Megilas Sefer, translation of R. Dr. Jacob J. Schacter, cited by Dr. Marc B. Shapiro, R. Yair Hayyim Bachrach as a Writer of Romance?, A Non-Jewish Song Made Holy, Love (and More) Before and After Marriage, and Memoirs that Maybe Tell Too Much, the Seforim blog, Fri., May 27, 2016. The original Hebrew text (along with a censored version) are available there as well, as well as here. []
  6. דרשות חת”ם סופר [כרך א’] חנוכה תקס”ד. ועיין שם מה שתירץ, ועיין שו”ת ציץ אליעזר חלק ח’ סימן י”ד אות ז’ וחלק י”ב סימן ס”ז אות ב’. ובעצם קושית החת”ם סופר, עיין ר’ מנשה ישראל רייזמן, שיעורים בפרשת השבוע, יום ו’ פרשת וישב כ’ כסלו תשע”ה, עמודים יב-יג.‏ []
  7. תפארת ישראל סוף מסכת קידושין, תורגם ב Shnayer Z. Leiman, R. Israel Lipschutz: The Portrait of Moses, in Tradition, 24(4), Summer 1989. []

There Is No Friend Like A Sister

Consider the remarkable, even uncanny, inverse structural similarity between the grim, yet moving, Medrashic Tale of Two Sisters and Christina Rossetti’s dark, wonderful and quite extraordinary Goblin Market:

אמרו: מעשה בשתי אחיות, שהיו דומות זו לזו והייתה האחת נשואה בעיר אחרת, בקש בעלה של אחת מהן לקנאות לה ולהשקותה מים המרים בירושלים, הלכה לאותה העיר שהייתה אחותה נשואה שם.

אמרה לה אחותה: מה ראית לבא בכאן?

אמרה לה: בעלי רוצה להשקות אותי מים המרים, ואני טמאה.

אמרה לה אחותה: אני הולכת תחתיך ושותה.

אמרה לה: לכי ועשי כן.

מה עשתה?

לבשה בגדי אחותה והלכה ושתתה מים המרים, ונמצאת טהורה. חזרה לביתה יצאה אחותה שזנתה לקראתה, חבקו ונשקו זו לזו.

כיון שנשקו זו לזו, הריחה במים המרים מיד מתה, לקיים מה שנאמר (קהלת ח): אין אדם שליט ברוח לכלוא את הרוח ואין שלטון ביום המות ואין משלחת במלחמה ולא ימלט רשע את בעליו.1

Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry:
‘Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries,
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches,
Swart-headed mulberries,
Wild free-born cranberries,
Crab-apples, dewberries,
Pine-apples, blackberries,
Apricots, strawberries;—
All ripe together
In summer weather,—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly;
Come buy, come buy:
Our grapes fresh from the vine,
Pomegranates full and fine,
Dates and sharp bullaces,
Rare pears and greengages,
Damsons and bilberries,
Taste them and try:
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries,
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye;
Come buy, come buy.’

Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes:
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather,
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
‘Lie close,’ Laura said,
Pricking up her golden head:
‘We must not look at goblin men,
We must not buy their fruits:
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots?’
‘Come buy,’ call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
‘Oh,’ cried Lizzie, ‘Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men.’
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
Covered close lest they should look;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook:
‘Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket,
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes.’
‘No,’ said Lizzie, ‘No, no, no;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us.’
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran:
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man.
One had a cat’s face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat’s pace,
One crawled like a snail,
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry,
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together:
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather.

Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.

Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men,
With their shrill repeated cry,
‘Come buy, come buy.’
When they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss,
Leering at each other,
Brother with queer brother;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother.
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town);
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her:
‘Come buy, come buy,’ was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money:
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey,
The cat-faced purr’d,
The rat-faced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried ‘Pretty Goblin’ still for ‘Pretty Polly;’—
One whistled like a bird.

But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste:
‘Good folk, I have no coin;
To take were to purloin:
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either,
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather.’
‘You have much gold upon your head,’
They answered all together:
‘Buy from us with a golden curl.’
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flowed that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She sucked until her lips were sore;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one kernel stone,
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.

Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings:
‘Dear, you should not stay so late,
Twilight is not good for maidens;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight,
Took their gifts both choice and many,
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more, but dwindled and grew grey;
Then fell with the first snow,
While to this day no grass will grow
Where she lies low:
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so.’
‘Nay, hush,’ said Laura:
‘Nay, hush, my sister:
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more:’ and kissed her:
‘Have done with sorrow;
I’ll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap,
Pellucid grapes without one seed:
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink,
And sugar-sweet their sap.’

Golden head by golden head,
Like two pigeons in one nest
Folded in each other’s wings,
They lay down in their curtained bed:
Like two blossoms on one stem,
Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow,
Like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gazed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly,
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their rest:
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one nest.

Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie:
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat,
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, whipped up cream,
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed;
Talked as modest maidens should:
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream,
One content, one sick in part;
One warbling for the mere bright day’s delight,
One longing for the night.

At length slow evening came:
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
They drew the gurgling water from its deep;
Lizzie plucked purple and rich golden flags,
Then turning homeward said: ‘The sunset flushes
Those furthest loftiest crags;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags,
No wilful squirrel wags,
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.’
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.

And said the hour was early still
The dew not fall’n, the wind not chill:
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
‘Come buy, come buy,’
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words:
Not for all her watching
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing, whisking, tumbling, hobbling;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen,
In groups or single,
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.

Till Lizzie urged, ‘O Laura, come;
I hear the fruit-call but I dare not look:
You should not loiter longer at this brook:
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each glowworm winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?’

Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
‘Come buy our fruits, come buy.’
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind?
Her tree of life drooped from the root:
She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache;
But peering thro’ the dimness, nought discerning,
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way;
So crept to bed, and lay
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.

Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry:
‘Come buy, come buy;’—
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen:
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and grey;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth turn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.

One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot,
But there came none;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run:
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees,
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.

She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook:
But sat down listless in the chimney-nook
And would not eat.

Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister’s cankerous care
Yet not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins’ cry:
‘Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy:’—
Beside the brook, along the glen,
She heard the tramp of goblin men,
The voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear;
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her,
But feared to pay too dear.
She thought of Jeanie in her grave,
Who should have been a bride;
But who for joys brides hope to have
Fell sick and died
In her gay prime,
In earliest Winter time
With the first glazing rime,
With the first snow-fall of crisp Winter time.

Till Laura dwindling
Seemed knocking at Death’s door:
Then Lizzie weighed no more
Better and worse;
But put a silver penny in her purse,
Kissed Laura, crossed the heath with clumps of furze
At twilight, halted by the brook:
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.

Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping:
Came towards her hobbling,
Flying, running, leaping,
Puffing and blowing,
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling,
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like,
Snail-paced in a hurry,
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry,
Chattering like magpies,
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes,—
Hugged her and kissed her:
Squeezed and caressed her:
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates:
‘Look at our apples
Russet and dun,
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches,
Citrons and dates,
Grapes for the asking,
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun,
Plums on their twigs;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs.’—

‘Good folk,’ said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie:
‘Give me much and many:’—
Held out her apron,
Tossed them her penny.
‘Nay, take a seat with us,
Honour and eat with us,’
They answered grinning:
‘Our feast is but beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry:
Such fruits as these
No man can carry;
Half their bloom would fly,
Half their dew would dry,
Half their flavour would pass by.
Sit down and feast with us,
Be welcome guest with us,
Cheer you and rest with us.’—
‘Thank you,’ said Lizzie: ‘But one waits
At home alone for me:
So without further parleying,
If you will not sell me any
Of your fruits though much and many,
Give me back my silver penny
I tossed you for a fee.’—
They began to scratch their pates,
No longer wagging, purring,
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud,
Cross-grained, uncivil;
Their tones waxed loud,
Their looks were evil.
Lashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
Elbowed and jostled her,
Clawed with their nails,
Barking, mewing, hissing, mocking,
Tore her gown and soiled her stocking,
Twitched her hair out by the roots,
Stamped upon her tender feet,
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.

White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,—
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously,—
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea,
Sending up a golden fire,—
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee,—
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.

One may lead a horse to water,
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her,
Bullied and besought her,
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her,
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in:
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of her chin,
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people,
Worn out by her resistance,
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
Not leaving root or stone or shoot;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.

In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro’ the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse,—
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse:
But not one goblin skurried after,
Nor was she pricked by fear;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with haste
And inward laughter.

She cried ‘Laura,’ up the garden,
‘Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me:
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.’

Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair:
‘Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted,
Undone in mine undoing,
And ruined in my ruin,
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden?’—
She clung about her sister,
Kissed and kissed and kissed her:
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain,
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.

Her lips began to scorch,
That juice was wormwood to her tongue,
She loathed the feast:
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed,
Or like the mane of horses in their flight,
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun,
Or like a caged thing freed,
Or like a flying flag when armies run.

Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
And overbore its lesser flame;
She gorged on bitterness without a name:
Ah! fool, to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care!
Sense failed in the mortal strife:
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down,
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about,
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea,
She fell at last;
Pleasure past and anguish past,
Is it death or is it life?

Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her,
Counted her pulse’s flagging stir,
Felt for her breath,
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face
With tears and fanning leaves:
But when the first birds chirped about their eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves,
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream,
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of grey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.

Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time:
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood;
(Men sell not such in any town:)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote:
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
‘For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down,
To strengthen whilst one stands.’2

  1. במדבר רבה, פרשה ט’ פיסקא ט’ – קשר []
  2. Christina Rosetti, Goblin Market, from Goblin Market, The Prince’s Progress, and Other Poems, available from Project Gutenberg. []