Like Joseph, son of Jacob, dream’d a dream.
I saw a maiden, robed in purest white,
Sit throned where once, in Solomon’s vanished fane,
Reposed the Ark beneath the Mercy-seat,
Within the Holy of Holies. While I gazed,
Behold, a sudden vista of long light
Opened as into heaven; and, swiftly, a dove
Descended on the maid, yet settled not,
But o’er her head hung brooding! Then a voice
Said softly: “Fear not, Joseph, for thy vow.