Clarel — Part 4 — Canto 19

"Good echoes, echo it! Ho, chant,'Tis penalty we sinners want:By all means, penalty!"What manThus struck in here so consonant? 5

They turn them, and a stranger scan.As through the rigging of some portWhere cheek by jowl the ships resort--The sea-beat hulls of briny oak--Peereth the May-day's jocund sun; 10So through his inlaced wrinkles brokeA nature bright, a beaming one.

"Hidalgos, pardon! Strolling hereThese fine old villa-sites to see,I caught that good word penalty, 15And could not otherwise than cheer.Pray now, here be two, four, six, eight--Ten legs; I'll add one more, by leave,And eke an arm."In hobbling state 20He came among them, with one sleeveLoose flying, and one wooden limb,A leg. All eyes the cripple skim;Each rises, and his seat would give:But Derwent in advance: "Why, Don-- 25My good Don Hannibal, I mean;Senor Don Hannibal RohonDel Aquaviva--a good e'en!""Ha, thou, is't thou?" the other cried,And peered and stared not unamazed; 30

Then flung his one arm round him wide:Then at arm's length: "St. James be praised,With all the calendar!""But, tell:What wind wafts here Don Hannibal? 35When last I left thee at 'The Cock'In Fleet Street, thou wert like a rockFor England--bent on anchoring there.""Oh, too much agitation; yes,Too proletarian it proved. 40I've stumped about since; no redress;Norway's too cold; Egypt's all glare;And everywhere that I removed

This cursed Progress still would greet.Ah where (thought I) in Old World view 45Some blest asylum from the New!At last I steamed for Joppa's seat,Resolved on Asia for retreat.Asia for me, Asia will do.But just where to pitch tent--invest-- 50Ah, that's the point; I'm still in quest,Don Derwent.--Look, the sun falls low;But lower the funds in MexicoWhereto he's sinking.""Gentlemen: " 55Said Derwent, turning on them then;"I introduce and do commendTo ye Don Hannibal Rohon;He is my estimable friendAnd well beloved. Great fame he's won 60In war. Those limbs--""St. James defend!"Here cried Don Hannibal; "stop! stop!Pulled down is Montezuma's hall!--Hidalgos, I am, as ye see, 65Just a poor cripple--that is all;A cripple, yet contrive to hopFar off from Mexic liberty,Thank God! I lost these limbs for that;And would that they were mine again, 70And all were back to former state--I, Mexico, and poor Old Spain.And for Don Derwent here, my friend--You know his way. And so I end,Poor penitent American: 75Oh, 'tis the sorriest thing! In meA reformado reformed ye see.

Ungar, a very Indian hereToo serious far to take a jest,Or rather, who no sense possessed 80Of humor; he, for aye austere,

Took much in earnest; and a lightOf attestation over-brightShot from his eyes, though part suppressed."But penalties, these penalties, " 85Here cried the crippled one again;"Proceed, hidalgo; name you theseSame capital good penalties:They're needed.""Hold, let me explain," 90Cried Derwent: "We, as meek as worms--Oh, far from taking any piqueAs if the kind but formed a clique--Have late been hearing in round termsThe sore disparagement of man, 95Don Hannibal." "You think I'll ban?Disparage him with all my heart!What villain takes the rascal's part?Advance the argument.""But stay: 100'Tis too much odds now; it won't do,Such reinforcement come. Nay, nay,I of the Old World, all aloneMaintaining hope and ground for cheer'Gainst ye, the offspring of the New? 105Ah, what reverses time can own!"So Derwent light. But earnest here,

Ungar: "Old World? if age's testBe this--advanced experience,Then, in the truer moral sense, 110Ours is the Old World. You, at best,In dreams of your advanced Reform,Adopt the cast skin of our worm.""Hey, hey!" exclaimed Don Hannibal;"Not cast yet quite; the snake is sick-- 115Would wriggle out. 'Tis pitiful!But brave times for the empiric.--You spake now of Reform. For me,Among reformers in true wayThere's one--the imp of Semele; 120

Ay, and brave Raleigh too, we'll say.Wine and the weed! blest innovations,How welcome to the weary nations!But what's in this Democracy?Eternal hacking! Woe is me, 125She lopped these limbs, Democracy.""Ah, now, Don Hannibal RohonDel Aquaviva!" Derwent cried;"I knew it: two upon a side!"But Ungar, earnest in his plea-- 130Intent, nor caring to have done;And turning where suggestion ledAt tangent: "Ay, DemocracyLops, lops; but where's her planted bed?The future, what is that to her 135Who vaunts she's no inheritor?'Tis in her mouth, not in her heart.The Past she spurns, though 'tis the pastFrom which she gets her saving part--That Good which lets her Evil last. 140Behold her whom the panders crown,Harlot on horseback, riding downThe very Ephesians who acclaimThis great Diana of ill fame!Arch strumpet of an impious age, 145Upstart from ranker villanage,'Tis well she must restriction tasteNor lay the world's broad manor waste:Asia shall stop her at the least,That old inertness of the East. 155She's limited; lacking the freeAnd genial catholicityWhich in Christ's pristine scheme unfurledGrace to the city and the world.""By Cotopaxi, a brave vent!" 160(And here he took a pinch of snuff,Flapping the spill offwith loose cuff)"Good, excellenza--excellent!But, pardon me," in altered tone;

"I'm sorry, but I must away;" 165And, setting crutch, he footing won;"We're just arrived in cloister there,Our little party; and they stayMy coming for the convent-fare.Adieu: we'll meet anon--we'll meet, 170Don Derwent. Nay, now, never stir;Not I would such a group unseat;But happy the good rein and spurThat brought thee where once more we greet.Good e'en, Don Derwent--not good-by; 175And, cavaliers, the evil eyeKeep far from ye!" He limped away,Rolling a wild ranchero lay:"House your cattle and stall your steed:Stand by, stand byforthegreatstampede!" 180