Clarel — Part 2 — Canto 11

Tho' frequent in the Arabian wasteThe pilgrim, up ere dawn of day,Inhale thy wafted musk, Cathay;And Adam's primal joy may taste,Beholding all the pomp of night 5Bee'd thick with stars in swarms how bright;And so, rides on alert and braced--Tho' brisk at morn the pilgrim start,Ere long he'll know in weary hourSmall love of deserts, if their power 10Make to retreat upon the heartTheir own forsakenness.Darwin quotesFrom Shelley, that forever floatsOver all desert places known, 15Mysterious doubt--an awful one.He quotes, adopts it. Is it true?Let instinct vouch; let poetryScience and instinct here agree,For truth requires strong retinue. 20

Waste places are where yet is givenA charm, a beauty from the heavenAbove them, and clear air divine--Translucent a-ther opaline;And some in evening's early dew 25Put on illusion of a guiseWhich Tantalus might tantalizeAfresh; ironical unrolledLike Western counties all in grainRipe for the sickleman and wain; 30Or, tawnier than the Guinea gold,More like a lion's skin unfold:Attest the desert opening outDirect from Cairo by the GateOf Victors, whence the annual rout 35To Mecca bound, precipitateTheir turbaned frenzy.--Sands immenseImpart the oceanic sense:The flying grit like scud is made: 40Pillars of sand which whirl aboutOr are along in colonnade,True kin be to the water-spout.Yonder on the horizon, redWith storm, see there the caravan 45Straggling long-drawn, dispirited;Mark how it labors like a fleetDismasted, which the cross-winds fanIn crippled disaster of retreatFrom battle.-- 50Sinai had renown

Ere thence was rolled the thundered Law;Ever a terror wrapped its crown;Never did shepherd dare to drawToo nigh (Josephus saith) for awe 55Of one, some ghost or god austere--Hermit unknown, dread mountaineer.--

When comes the sun up over NileIn cloudlessness, what cloud is castO'er Lybia? Thou shadow vast 60Of Cheops' indissoluble pile,Typ'st thou the imperishable PastIn empire posthumous and reaching swayProjected far across to time's remotest day?But curb.--Such deserts in air-zone 65

Or object lend suggestive tone,Redeeming them.For Judah here--Let Erebus her rival own:'Tis horror absolutc severe, 70Dead, livid, honey-combed, dumb, fell--A caked depopulated hell;Yet so created, judged by sense,And visaged in significanceOf settled anger terrible. 75Profoundly cloven through the sceneWinds Kedron--word (the scholar saith)Importing anguish hard on death.And aptly may such named ravineConduct unto Lot's mortal Sea 80In cleavage from GethsemaneWhere it begins.But why does manRegard religiously this tractCadayerous and under ban 85Of blastment? Nay, recall the factThat in the pagan era oldWhen bolts, deemed Jove's, tore up the mound,Great stones the simple peasant rolledAnd built a wall about the gap 90Deemed hallowed by the thunder-clap.So here: men here adore this groundWhich doom hath smitten. 'Tis a landDireful yet holy--blest tho' banned.

But to pure hearts it yields no fear; 95And John, he found wild honey here.