Clarel — Part 3 — Canto 21

Towers twain crown Saba's mountain hight;

And one, with larger outlook bold,Monks frequent climb or day or nightTo peer for Arabs. In the breezeSo the ship's lifted topmen hold 5Watch on the blue and silver seas,To guard against the slim Malay,That perilous imp whose slender proaGreat hulls have rued--as in ill hourThe whale the sword-fish' lank assay. 10

Upon that pile, to catch the dawn,Alert next day see Derwent standWith Clarel. All the mountain-landDisclosed through Kedron far withdrawn,Cloven and shattered, hushed and banned, 15

Seemed poised as in a chaos true,Or throe-lock of transitional earthWhen old forms are annulled, and newRebel, and pangs suspend the birth.That aspect influenced Clarel. Fair 20Derwent's regard played otherwhere--Expectant. Twilight gray took onSuffusion faint of cherry tone.The student marked it; but the priestMarked whence it came: "Turn, turn--the East! 25Oh, look! how like an ember redThe seed of fire, by early handRaked forth from out the ashy bed,Shows yon tinged flake of dawn. See, fannedAs 'twere, by this spice-air that blows, 30The live coal kindles--the fire grows!"And mute, he watched till all the EastWas flame: "Ah, who would not here come,And from dull drowsiness released,Behold morn's rosy martyrdom!" 35It was an unaffected joy,And showed him free from all annoyWithin--such, say, as mutinyOf non-content in random touchThat he perchance had overmuch 40Favored the first night's revelry.For Clarel--though at call indeedHe might not else than turn and feedOn florid dawn--not less, anon,When wonted light of day was won, 45Sober and common light, with thatReturned to him his unelateAnd unalleviated tone;And thoughts, strange thoughts, derived overnight,Touching the Swede's dark undelight, 50Recurred; with sequence how profuseConcerning all the company--The Arnaut, and the man of glee--The Lesbian, and calm grave Druze,

And Belex; yes, and in degree 55Even Rolfe; Vine too. Less he who trimBeside him stood, eludes his doubt--Derwent himself, whose easy skimNever had satisfied throughout.He now, if not deemed less devout 60Through wassail and late hint of him,Was keenlier scanned. Yet part might beEffect of long society,Which still detracts. But in reviewOf one who could such doubt renew, 65Clarel inveighs: Parhelion orbOf faith autumnal, may the dewOf earth's sad tears thy rays absorb?Truth bitter: Derwent bred distrustHeavier than came from Mortmain's thrust 70Into the cloud--profounder farThan Achor's glen with ominous scar.All aliens now being quite aloof,Fain would he put that soul to proof.Yet, fearful lest he might displease, 75His topics broached he by degrees.Needless. For Derwent never shrunk:"Lad, lad, this diffidence forget;Believe, you talk here to no monk:Who's old Duns Scotus? We're well met. 80

Glad that at last your mind you setIn frank communion here with me.Better had this been earlier, though;There lacked not times of privacyHad such been sought. But yes, I know; 85You're young, you're off the poise; and soA link have felt with hearts the sameThough more advanced. I scarce can blame.And yet perhaps one here might pleadThese rather stimulate than feed. 90Nor less let each tongue say its say;Therefrom we truth elicit. Nay,And with the worst, 'tis understood

We broader clergy think it goodNo more to use censorious tone: 95License to all.--We are alone;Speak out, that's right."The student firstCited the din of clashed beliefSo loud in Palestine, and chief 100By Calvary, where are rehearsedWithin the Sepulcher's one faneAll rituals which, ere Luther's reign,Shared the assent of Christendom.Besides: how was it even at home? 105Behind the mellow chancel's railLurked strife intestine. What availThe parlor-chapels liberal?The hearers their own minds elect;The very pews are each a sect; 110No one opinion's steadfast sway:A wide, an elemental fray.As with ships moored in road unsafe,When gales augment and billows chafe,Hull drives 'gainst hull, endangering all 115In crossing cables; while from thrallOf anchor, others, dragged amain,Drift seaward: so the churches strain,Much so the fleets sectarian meetDoubt's equinox. Yes, all was dim; 120He saw no one secure retreat;Of late so much had shaken him.Derwent in grave concern inclined."Part true, alas!" Nor less he claimedReserves of solace, and of kind 125Beyond that in the desert named,When the debate was scarce with menWho owned with him a common ground--True center where they might convene.And yet this solace when unbound 130At best proved vague (so Clarel deemed).He thought, too, that the priest here seemedEmbarrassed on the sudden, nay,He faltered. What could so betray?In single contact, heart to heart, 135With young, fresh, fervid earnestness,Was he surprised into distress--An honest quandary, a smartMore trying e'en than Mortmain's dart,Grieving and graveling, could deal? 140But Derwent rallied, and with zeal:"Shall everything then plain be made?Not that there's any ambuscade:In youth's first heat to think to know!For time 'tis well to bear a cross: 145Yet on some waters here belowPilots there be, if one's at loss."The pupil colored; then restrainedAn apt retort too personal,Content with this: "Pilots retained? 150But in debates which I recallSuch proved but naught. This side that side,They crossing hail through fogs that dwellUpon a limitless deep tide,While their own cutters toll the bell 155Of groping."Derwent bit the lip;Altered again, had fain let slip"Throw all this burden upon HIM;"

But hesitated. Changing trim, 160Considerate then he turned a lookWhich seemed to weigh as in a bookJust how far youth might well be letInto maturity's cabinet.He, as in trial, took this tone: 165"Not but there's here and there a heartWhich shares at whiles strange throbs alone.Such at the freakish sting will start:No umpirage! they cry--we doteTo dream heaven drops a casting vote, 170In these perplexities takes part!"

Clarel, uncertain, stood at gaze,But Derwent, riving that amaze,Advanced impulsively: "Your hand!No longer will I be restrained. 175Yours is a sect--but never mind:By function we are intertwined,Our common function. Weigh it thus:Clerics we are clerics, my son;Nay, shrink not so incredulous; 180Paternally my sympathies run--Toward you I yearn. Well, now: what joy,What saving calm, what but annoyIn all this hunt without one clew?What lack ye, pray? what would ye do? 185Have Faith, which, even from the myth,Draws something to be useful with:In any form some truths will hold;Employ the present-sanctioned mold.Nay, hear me out; clean breast I make, 190Quite unreserved--and for whose sake?Suppose an instituted creed(Or truth or fable) should indeedTo ashes fall; the spirit exhales,But reinfunds in active forms: 195Verse, popular verse, it charms or warms--Bellies Philosophy's flattened sails--Tinctures the very book, perchance,Which claims arrest of its advance.Why, the true import, deeper use 200Shows first when Reason quite slips noose,And Faith's long dead. Attest that goldWhich Bacon counted down and toldIn one ripe tract, by time unshamed,Wherein from riddle he reclaimed 205The myths of Greece. But go back--well,Reach to the years of first decayOr totter: prithee, lad, but tellHow with the flamens of that day?When brake the sun from morning's tents 210

And walked the hills, and gilded thenceThe fane in porch; the priest in viewBowed--hailed Apollo, as before,Ere change set in; what else to do?Or whither turn, or what adore? 215What but to temporize for him,Stranded upon an interimBetween the ebb and flood? He knew.--You see? Transfer--apply it, you.""Ill know I what you there advise.-- 220Ah, heaven!" and for a moment stood;Then turned: "A rite they solemnizeAn awful rite, and yet how sweetTo humble hearts which sorrows beat.Tell, is that mystic flesh and blood-- 225I shrink to utter it!--Of oldFor medicine they mummy sold--Conjurer's balsam.--God, my God,Sorely Thou triest me the clod!"

Upon the impassioned novice here 230Discreet the kind proficient throwsThe glance of one who still would peerWhere best to take the hedge or close.Ere long: "You'd do the world some good?Well, then: no good man will gainsay 235

That good is good, done any way,In any name, by any brotherhood.How think you there?"From Clarel naught.Derwent went on: "For lamp you yearn-- 240A lantern to benighted thought.Obtain it--whither will you turn?Still lost you'd be in blanks of snow.My fellow-creature, do you knowThat what most satisfies the head 245Least solaces the heart? Less lightThan warmth needs earthly wight.Christ built a hearth:the flame is deadWe'll say, extinct; but lingers yet,Enlodged in stone, the hoarded heat. 250Why not nurse that? Would rive the doorAnd let the sleet in? But, once o'er,This tarrying glow, never to man,Methinks, shall come the like again.What if some camp on crags austere 255The Stoic held ere Gospel cheer?There may the common herd abide,Having dreamed of heaven? Nay, and can you?You shun that; what shall needier do?Think, think!" 260The student, sorely tried,The appeal and implication felt,But comfort none.And Derwent dealtHeaped measure still: "All your ado 265In youth was mine; your swarm I knewOf buzzing doubts. But is it goodSuch gnats to fight? or well to broodIn selfish introverted search,Leaving the poor world in the lurch? 270Not so did Christ. Nor less he knewAnd shared a troubled era too;And shared besides that problem grayWhich is forever and alway:His person our own shadow threw. 275Then heed him, heed his eldership:In all respects did Christ indeedCredit the Jews' crab-apple creedWhereto he yet conformed? or soBut use it, graft it with his slip 280From Paradise? No, no--no, no!Spare fervid speech! But, for the rest,Be not extreme. Midway is best.Herein 'tis never as by NilcFrom waste to garden but a stile. 285Betwixt rejection and belief,Shadings there are--degrees, in brief.But ween you, gentle friend, your way

Of giving to yourself the goadIs obsolete, no more the mode? 290Our comrades--frankly let me say--That Rolfe, good fellow though he be,And Vine, methinks, would you but see,Are much like prints from plates but old.Interpretations so unfold-- 295New finding, happy gloss or key,A decade's now a century.Byron's storm-cloud away has rolled--Joined Werter's; Shelley's drowned; and--why,Perverse were now e'en Hamlet's sigh: 300Perverse?--indecorous indeed!""E'en so? e'en sadly is it so?""Not sad, but veritable, know.But what--how's this!" For here, with speedOf passion, Clarel turned: "Forbear! 305Ah, wherefore not at once nameJob,In whom these Hamlets all conglobe.Own, own with me, and spare to feign,Doubt bleeds, nor Faith is free from pain!"Derwent averted here his facc 310With his own heart he seemed to strive;Then said: "Alas, too deep you dive.But hear me yet for little space:

This shaft you sink shall strike no bloom:The surface, ah, heaven keeps that green; 315Green, sunny: nature's active scene,For man appointed, man's true home."

He ended. Saba's desert lay--Glare rived by gloom. That comment's swayHe felt: "Our privacy is gone; 320Here trips young Anselm to espyArab or pilgrim drawing nigh.Dost hear him? come then, we'll go down.Precede. "At every step and steep, 325While higher came the youthful monk,Lower and lower in Clarel sunkThe freighted heart. It touched this deep:Ah, Nehemiah, alone art true?Secure in reason's wane or loss? 330Thy folly that folly of the crossContemned by reason, yet how dear to you?