XXVII.
BY PARAPET.
Well may ye gaze! What's good to see
Better than Adam's humanity
When genial lodged! Such spell is given,
It lured the staid grandees of heaven,
Though biased in their souls divine
Much to one side—the feminine.—
He is the pleasantest small fellow!”
It was the early-rising priest,
Who up there in the morning mellow
Had followed Clarel: “Not the least
Of pleasures here which I have known
Is meeting with that laxer one.
We talked below; but all the while
My thoughts were wandering away,
Though never once mine eyes did stray,
He did so pleasingly beguile
To keep them fixed upon his form:
Such harmony pervades his warm
Soft outline.—Why now, what a scare
Of incredulity you speak
From eyes! But it was some such fair
Young sinner in the time antique
Suggested to the happy Greek
His form of Bacchus—the sweet shape!
Young Bacchus, mind ye, not the old:
The Egyptian ere he crushed the grape.—
But—how? and home-sick are you? Come,
What's in your thoughts, pray? Wherefore mum?”
So Derwent; though but ill he sped,
Clarel declining to be led
Or cheered. Nor less in covert way
That talk might have an after-sway
Beyond the revery which ran
Half-heeded now or dim: This man—
May Christian true such temper wish?
His happiness seems paganish.