University of Virginia Library

Slumber interred them; but not all,
For so it chanced that Clarel's cell
Was shared by one who did repel
The poppy. 'Twas a prodigal,
Yet pilgrim too in casual way,
And seen within the grots that day,
But only seen, no more than that.
In years he might be Clarel's mate.
Not talkative, he half reclined
In revery of dreamful kind;
Or might the fable, the romance
Be tempered by experience?
For ruling under spell serene,
A light precocity is seen.
That mobile face, voluptuous air
No Northern origin declare,
But Southern—where the nations bright,
The costumed nations, circled be
In garland round a tideless sea
Eternal in its fresh delight.
Nor less he owned the common day;
His avocation naught, in sooth—
A toy of Mammon; but the ray
And fair aureola of youth
Deific makes the prosiest clay.
From revery now by Clarel won
He brief his story entered on:
A native of the banks of Rhone
He traveled for a Lyon's house
Which dealt in bales luxurious;
Detained by chance at Jaffa gray,
Rather than let ripe hours decay,
He'd run o'er, in a freak of fun,
Green Sharon to Jerusalem,
And thence, not far, to Bethlehem.

Thy silvery voice, irreverent one!
'Twas musical; and Clarel said:
“Greatly I err, or thou art he
Who singing along the hill-side sped
At fall of night.”
“And heard you me?
'Twas sentimental, to be sure:
A little Spanish overture,
A Tombez air, which months ago
A young Peruvian let flow.
Locked friends we were; he's gone home now.”

To Clarel 'twas a novel style
And novel nature; and awhile
Mutely he dwelt upon him here.
Earnest to know how the most drear
Solemnity of Judah's glade
Affect might such a mind, he said
Something to purpose; but he shied.
One essay more; whereat he cried:
“Amigo! favored lads there are,
Born under such a lucky star,
They weigh not things too curious, see,
Albeit conforming to their time
And usages thereof, and clime:
Well, mine's that happy family.”

The student faltered—felt annoy:
Absorbed in problems ill-defined,
Am I too curious in my mind;
And, baffled in the vain employ,
Foregoing many an easy joy?
That thought he hurried from; and so
Unmindful in perturbed estate
Of that light intimation late,
He said: “On hills of dead Judæa
Wherever one may faring go,
He dreams—Fit place to set the bier
Of Jacob, brought from Egypt's mead:
Here's Atad's threshing-floor.”
“Indeed?”
Scarce audible was that in tone;
Nor Clarel heard it, but went on:
“'Tis Jephthah's daughter holds the hight;
She, she's the muse here.—But, I pray,
Confess to Judah's mournful sway.”
He held his peace. “You grant the blight?”
“No Boulevards.” “Do other lands
Show equal ravage you've beheld?”
“Oh, yes,” and eyed his emerald
In ring. “But here a God commands,
A judgment dooms: you that gainsay?”
Up looked he quick, then turned away,
And with a shrug that gave mute sign
That here the theme he would decline.
But Clarel urged. As in despair
The other turned—invoked the air:
“Was it in such talk, Don Rovenna,
We dealt in Seville, I and you?
No! chat of love-wile and duenna
And saya-manto in Peru.
Ah, good Limeno, dear amigo,
What times were ours, the holidays flew;
Life, life a revel and clear allegro;
But home thou'rt gone; pity, but true!”

At burst so lyrical, yet given
Not all without some mock in leaven,
Once more did Clarel puzzled sit;
But rallying in spite of it,
Continued: “Surely now, 'tis clear
That in the aspect of Judæa—”

“My friend, it is just naught to me!
Why, why so pertinacious be?
Refrain!” Here, turning light away,
As quitting so the theme: “How gay
Damascus! orchard of a town:
Not yet she's heard the tidings though.”
“Tidings?”
“Tidings of long ago:
Isaiah's dark burden, malison:
Of course, to be perpetual fate:
Bat, serpent, screech-owl, and all that.
But truth is, grace and pleasure there,
In Abana and Pharpar's streams
(O shady haunts! O sherbert-air!)
So twine the place in odorous dreams,
How may she think to mope and moan,
The news not yet being got to town
That she's a ruin! Oh, 'tis pity,
For she, she is earth's senior city!—
Pray, who was he, that man of state
Whose footman at Elisha's gate
Loud rapped? The name has slipped. Howe'er,
That Damascene maintained it well:
‘We've better streams than Israel,
Yea, fairer waters.’” Weetless here
Clarel betrayed half cleric tone:
“Naaman, you mean. Poor leper one,
'Twas Jordan healed him.”
“As you please.”
And hereupon the Lyonese—
(Capricious, or inferring late
That he had yielded up his state
To priggish inroad) gave mute sign
'Twere well to end.
“But Palestine,”
Insisted Clarel, “do you not
Concede some strangeness to her lot?”

“Amigo, how you persecute!
You all but tempt one to refute
These stale megrims. You of the West,
What devil has your hearts possessed,
You can't enjoy?—Ah, dear Rovenna,
With talk of donna and duenna,
You came too from that hemisphere,
But freighted with quite other cheer:
No pedant, no!” Then, changing free,
Laughed with a light audacity:
“Well, me for one, dame Judah here
Don't much depress: she's not austere—
Nature has lodged her in good zone—
The true wine-zone of Noah: the Cape
Yields no such bounty of the grape.
Hence took King Herod festal tone;
Else why the tavern-cluster gilt
Hang out before that fane he built,
The second temple?” Catching thus
A buoyant frolic impetus,
He bowled along: “Herewith agrees
The ducat of the Maccabees,
Graved with the vine. Methinks I see
The spies from Eshcol, full of glee
Trip back to camp with clusters swung
From jolting pole on shoulders hung:
‘Cheer up, 'twill do; it needs befit;
Lo ye, behold the fruit of it!’
And, tell me, does not Solomon's harp
(Oh, that it should have taken warp
In end!) confirm the festa? Hear:
‘Thy white neck is like ivory;
I feed among thy lilies, dear:
Stay me with flagons, comfort me
With apples; thee would I enclose!
Thy twin breasts are as two young roes.”