Clarel — Part 1 — Canto 18

Like sails convened when calms delayOff the twin forelands on fair day,So, on Damascus' plain beholdMid groves and gardens, girdling ones,White fleets of sprinkled villas, rolled 5In the green ocean of her environs.There when no minaret receivesThe sun that gilds yet St. Sophia,Which loath and later it bereaves,The peace fulfills the heart's desire. 10In orchards mellowed by eve's rayThe prophet's son in turban green,Mild, with a patriarchal mien,Gathers his fruity spoil. In playOf hide-and-seek where alleys be, 15

The branching Eden brooks ye seePeeping, and fresh as on the dayWhen haply Abram's steward went--Mild Eliezer, musing, say--By those same banks, to join the tent 20In Canaan pitched. From Hermon strayCool airs that in a dream of snowsTemper the ardor of the rose;While yet to moderate and reachA tone beyond our human speech, 25How steals from cloisters of the grovesThe ave of the vesper-doves.Such notes, translated into hues,Thy wall, Angelico, suffuse,Whose tender pigments melt from view-- 30Die down, die out, as sunsets do.But rustling trees aloft enticeTo many a house-top, old and young:Aerial people! see them throng;And the moon comes up from Paradise. 35

But in Jerusalem--not thereLoungers at eve to roof repairSo frequent. Haply two or threeSmall quiet groups far offyou see,Or some all uncompanioned one 40

(Like ship-boy at mast-head alone)Watching the star-rise. SilentlySo Clarel stands, his vaulted roomOpening upon a terrace free,Lifted above each minor dome 45On grade beneath. Glides, glides awayThe twilight of the Wailing Day.The apostate's story fresh in mind,Fain Clarel here had mused thereon,But more upon Ruth's lot, so twined 50With clinging ill. But every thoughtOf Ruth was strangely underrunBy Celio's image. Celio--sought

Vainly in body--now appearedAs in the spiritual part, 55Haunting the air, and in the heart.Back to his charnber Clarel veered,Seeking that alms which unrest cravesOf slumber alms withheld from him;For midnight, rending all her graves, 60Showed in a vision far and dimStill Celio and in pallid stressFainting amid contending pressOf shadowy fiends and cherubim.Later, anew he sought the roof; 65And started, for not far aloof,He caught some dubious object dark,Huddled and hooded, bowed, and setUnder the breast-high parapet,And glimmering with a dusky spark. 70It moved, it murmured. In deep prayer'Twas Abdon under talith. RareThat scarf of supplication--old,Of India stuff, with braid of goldIn cipher. Did the Black Jew keep 75The saying--Prayer is more than sleep?Islam says that. The Hebrew rose,And, kindled by the starry sky,In broidered text that mystic flowsThe talith gleams. Divested then 80He turned, not knowing Clarel nigh,And would have passed him all unseen.But Clarel spake. It roused annoy--An EasternJew in rapt employSpied by the Gentile. But a word 85Dispelled distrust, good-will restored."Stay with me," Clarel said; "go not.A shadow, but I scarce know what--It haunts me. Is it presage?--Hark!That piercing cry from out the dark!" 90"'Tis for some parted spirit--gone,Just gone. The custom of the town

That cry is; yea, the watcher's breathInstant upon the stroke of death.""Anew! 'Tis like a tongue of flame 95Shot from the fissure;" and stood still:"Can fate the boding thus fulfill?First ever I, first to disclaimSuch premonitions.--Thrillest yetI 'Tis over, but we might have met?-- 100- Hark, hark; again the cry is sped;For him it is--found now--nay, fled!"