Origini...!
Eu sunt în haos un suflet împietrit,
Dar Soarele ceresc mă face fericit!
Eu sunt în întuneric în care foc s-anină,
Ce mă preface zilnic în rază de lumină!
Curg râuri neschimbate în albiile lor,
Iar lumea merge veșnic spre veșnic viitor,
Și peste tot străbate un ochi dumnezeesc,
Din el răsare iarba și toate câte cresc!
Eu sunt unda de râu și merg acolo unde,
Nici mintea omenească nu poate a pătrunde,
E dus-întorsul vieții spre fiecare zare,
E reânoirea vieții când soarele răsare!
Fii fericit tu omule, căci ai ochi a privi
Frumosul astei lumi, dar
nu poți a strivi,
Imense constelații din care-ai răsărit,
Și haosul din care lumina te-a zidit!
Iubește-ți ziua-n care azi trăiești,
De-ați îngriji grădina mereu să te-ngrijești,
Căci ești Adam cel pus de Dumnezeu,
Iar viața merge veșnic spre veșnic Empireu!
Ioan Miclău-Gepianul
25/05/2018
Invitation to the ARA 42nd
Congress
"Gheorghe Asachi" Technical University, Iasi, Romania, 26-29
August, 2018
You are warmly invited to the ARA 42nd Congress to contribute to strengthen the main role of the
American Romanian Academy of Arts and Sciences (ARA) to impart the results of
the members and collaborators to the academic communities around the world.
ARA,
founded in 1975 in California by a group of intellectuals residing in USA,
provides an open forum for Romanians and friends of Romania to present their
ideas and achievements. Prestigious Romanians, amongst them the philosopher
Mircea Eliade, the Nobel Prize in physiology or medicine, Prof. George Palade
and many other illustrious personalities are Honorary members of ARA.
The ARA 42nd Congress will be hosted by one of the top Romanian universities, the "Gheorghe Asachi" Technical University, Iasi, Romania, 26-29 August,
2018, in the University
Aula and in the University Library,
rated as the most beautiful library of the world, with the main entrance from
the famous Hall of the Lost Footsteps, where one can admire the
works of the painter Sabin Balasa.
Iasi, one of the oldest and most
important settlements in Romania, the political, economic and cultural centre
of the province of Moldavia, features historical monuments, 500-year-old
churches and monasteries, contemporary architecture, many of them listed on the
National Register of Historic Monuments. During the World War I, prior to
Romanian Great Union, Roznovanu Palace (The City Hall), built in the second
half of the 18th century, rebuilt between 1830 and 1833, hosted for two years
the Romanian government.
One
day of the congress sessions will be dedicated to our national poet, the symbol
of the Romanian spirituality, by sessions held in Ipotesti / Botosani in
conjunction with a visit to the Eminescu Memorial Museum.
The
Congress will honor the 90th anniversary of Acad. Prof Corduneanu by a Math
Session and a Colloquium on One Century
of Education in the Romanian Universities.
The
meeting is held under the Romania at the Greater Centennial
Anniversary name to mark the memorable 1918 event, which put the Great
Romania on the world map, an accomplished dream of generations, which remains
an actual dream still now, due to the history hazard after the II World War.
The
program will comprise sessions covering humanistic and scientific interests of
the membership and participants.
Please
submit by June 20, 2018 abstracts
for contributions to ARA 42nd Congress, and papers to the ARA Journal (new series) Arts and Humanities
vol. 35.1. and by June 30, 2018
to the ARA Journal (new series) Science
and Engineering Section vol. 35.2. The papers for the ARA Journal, ISSN registered, are peer reviewed.
Please visit the following links on 42nd ARA Congress
and useful detailed info could be found
also on the next pages (if you visited the site before, in order to see
the updates on your desktop, please press CTRL + F5 on your browser to clear cache):
- VENUE AND ACCOMMODATION for the location address and hotel choices
Please help
distribute this announcement to colleagues, friends and to students, who might
be interested to attend.
An award will
be offered for each best oral and poster student presentation.
Please join us,
42nd
ARA Congress Chair 42nd
ARA Congress Co-Chair
Prof. Dr. Ileana Costea Dr.
Oana Leonte
USEFUL DETAILED INFORMATION
Abstracts Due: June 20, 2018 extended
from June 5, 2018
ARA Journal (new series) Arts & Humanities Papers Due: June 20, 2018 extended from June 5, 2018
ARA Journal (new series) Science & Engineering Papers Due: June 30, 2018 extended from June 10, 2018
Students Travel Grants:
June 15, 2018
Submission Site Opens:
ARA 42nd Congress: May 15, 2018
ARA Journal:
May 20, 2018
Exhibit Deadline: June 29, 2018
Sponsor Deadline: June 29, 2018
Student Early bird Ends: June 29,
2018
Registration Deadline: July 25,
2018
a) The
Abstracts for Oral Talks and Posters to be published in the ARA 42nd Congress Abstracts
Volume:
Please see attached template. Text must be in one-column layout,
maximum 2 pages.
b) The Author
Guide for ARA Journal can be found at:
Download the template
and follow the instructions. The text must be in two-columns layout, maximum 8
pages. The ARA Journal paper
can be a review of a field with references or an original work, not priory
published. ARA Journal has an ISSN and each paper, a DOI number.
After writing your
paper, please convert it to PDF. Submissiona are accepted only in PDF format.
A biographical note (300-500 words, in Times New
Roman, 10 pt, single-space) and a portrait picture of the
author/presenter are required to accompany each submission.
d) For the submission to ARA 42nd Congress Abstracts
of Oral Talks & Posters and for the ARA
Journal (New series) Arts and Humanities or Science and Engineering Sections papers,
go to:
Log In and click on New
Submission (on the right side of the ARA Journal section). Then follow the
5 steps to upload the paper only in PDF format.
Submission deadlines:
- ARA 42nd Congress and ARA Journal (New series) Arts and Humanities: June
20, 2018
- ARA Journal (New series) Science and
Engineering: June
30, 2018
Contact for any questions:
Standard registration is $150. Other registration fees are: $75
ARA Emeritus members, $35 students (Early Birds by June 29, 2018) or $50
student standard registration after June 29, 2018). Other events are optional
and include Welcome Reception on August 26th, 2018 ($5),
Dinner on Monday August 27th, 2018 ($20) and ARA Banquet on August
28th, 2018 ($40).
11A
Carol I Boulevard, 700506, Iasi, Romania
Iasi, one of the oldest and most
important settlements in Romania, the political, economic and cultural centre
of the province of Moldavia, features historical monuments, 500-year-old
churches and monasteries, contemporary architecture, many of them listed on the
National Register of Historic Monuments, between them the Three Hierarchs
Monastery with its notable architecture, part of the tentative list of UNESCO
World Heritage Site, or the neo-Gothic Palace of Culture, built on the old
ruins of the medieval Princely Court of Moldavia.
ACCOMMODATION
Hotel: An agreement has been reached with Hotel Moldova (3 stars hotel and 1st class restaurant, http://www.hotelmoldovaiasi.ro/index-eng.htm ), for which is recommended. It is placed in the
very downtown, at 5 minutes walk distance from the main tourist attractions:
Palace of Culture, Palas Mall, Three Hierarchs Church, St. Nicholas Church etc.
For
reservation at http://www.hotelmoldovaiasi.ro/rezervari-eng.htm, please use Promo
Code ARA Congress
in the space for your name. We have negotiated some unbeatable prices:
195
LEI (42 EURO) for a single room and
250
LEI (54 EURO) for a double room (breakfast included)
with various
free options (Wi-Fi access, guarded parking, a with free access to the World
Class swimming pool and fitness club, www.worldclass.ro), located on the hotel ground floor.
Last day to book rooms at discount price: August 5th,
2018, or until the block sells
out. Reservations attempted after August 5th, 2018 will be accepted on a
for space and rate availability basis.
More than 20 hotels, very pleasant and in
safe locations, offering a very good price/quality ratio are available in IASI
on Booking.com.
Please help distribute the announcement (http://ara42congress.tuiasi.ro/index.html) to colleagues, friends and students,
who might be interested to participate.
An award will be offered for each oral and poster best student
presentation.
LOCAL CONTACT: Prof. Alexandru Salceanu Email: asalcean@tuiasi.ro;
Phone (also WhatsApp): +40-721-571-325
CLAREL
BY HERMAN MELVILLE
Part
1: Jerusalem
Upon the morrow's early morn
Clarel is up, and seeks the Urn.
Advancing towards the fane's old arch
Of entrance—curved in sculptured stone,
Dim and defaced, he saw thereon 5
From rural Bethany the march
Of Christ into another gate—
The golden and triumphal one,
Upon Palm Morn. For porch to shrine
On such a site, how fortunate 10
That adaptation of design.
Well might it please.
He entered then.
Strangers were there, of each degree,
From Asian shores, with island men, 15
Mild guests of the Epiphany.
As when to win the Paschal joy
And Nisan's festal month renew, The
Nazarenes to temple drew,
Even Joseph, Mary, and the BOY, 20
Whose hand the mother's held; so here
To later rites and altars dear,
Domestic in devotion's flame
Husbands with wives and children came.
But he, the student, under dome 25
Pauses; he stands before the Tomb.
Through open door he sees the wicks
Alight within, where six and six
For Christ's apostles, night and day,
Lamps, olden lamps do burn. In smoke 30
Befogged they shed no vivid ray,
But heat the cell and seem to choke.
He marked, and revery took flight:
"These burn not like those aspects bright
Of starry watchers when they kept 35
Vigil at napkined feet and head
Of Him their Lord.—Nay, is He fled?
Or tranced lies, tranced nor unbewept
With Dorian gods? or, fresh and clear,
A charm diffused throughout the sphere, 40
Streams in the ray through yonder dome?
Not hearsed He is. But hath ghost home
Dispersed in soil, in sea, in air?
False Pantheism, false though fair!"
So he; and slack and aimless went, 45
Nor might untwine the ravelment
Of doubts perplexed. For easement there
Halting awhile in pillared shade,
A friar he marked, in robe of blue
And round Greek cap of sable hue: 50
Poor men he led; much haste he made,
Nor sequence kept, but dragged them so
Hither and thither, to and fro,
To random places. Might it be
That Clarel, who recoil did here, 55
Shared but that shock of novelty
Which makes some Protestants unglad
First viewing the mysterious cheer
In Peter's fane? Beheld he had,
In Rome beneath the Lateran wall, 60
The Scala Santa—watched the knees
Of those ascending devotees,
Who, absolution so to reap,
Breathe a low prayer at every step.
Nay, 'twas no novelty at all. 65
Nor was it that his nature shrunk
But from the curtness of the monk:
Another influence made swerve
And touched him in profounder nerve.
He turned, and passing on enthralled, 70
Won a still chapel; and one spake
The name. Brief Scripture, here recalled,
The context less obscure may make:
'Tis writ that in a garden's bound
Our Lord was urned. On that green ground 75
He reappeared, by Mary claimed.
The place, or place alleged, is shown—
Arbors congealed to vaults of stone—
The Apparition's chapel named.
This was the spot where now, in frame 80
Hard to depict, the student came—
The spot where in the dawning gray,
His pallor with night's tears bedewed,
Restored the Second Adam stood—
Not as in Eden stood the First 85
All ruddy. Yet, in leaves immersed
And twilight of imperfect day,
Christ seemed the gardener unto her
Misjudging, who in womanhood
Had sought him late in sepulchre 90
Embowered, nor found.
Here, votive here—
Here by the shrine that Clarel won—
A wreath shed odors. Scarce that cheer
Warmed some poor Greeks recumbent thrown, 95
Sore from late journeying far and near,
To hallowed haunts without the town;
So wearied, that no more they kneeled,
But over night here laid them down,
Matrons and children, yet unhealed 100
Of ache. And each face was a book
Of disappointment. "Why weep'st thou?
Whom seekest?"—words, which chanceful now
Recalled by Clarel, he applied
To these before him; and he took, 105
In way but little modified,
Part to himself; then stood in dream
Of all which yet might hap to them.
He saw them spent, provided ill—
Pale, huddled in the pilgrim fleet, 110
Back voyaging now to homes afar.
Midnight, and rising tempests beat—
Such as St. Paul knew—furious war,
To meet which, slender is the skill.
The lamp that burnt upon the prow 115
In wonted shrine, extinct is now—
Drowned out with Heaven's last feeble star.
Panic ensues; their course is turned;
Toward Tyre they drive—Tyre undiscerned:
A coast of wrecks which warping bleach 120
On wrecks of piers where eagles screech.
How hopeful from their isles serene
They sailed, and on such tender quest;
Then, after toils that came between,
They reembarked; and, tho' distressed, 125
Grieved not, for Zion had been seen;
Each wearing next the heart for charm
Some priestly scrip in leaf of palm.
But these, ah, these in Dawn's pale reign
Asleep upon beach Tyrian! 130
Or is it sleep? no, rest—that rest
Which naught shall ruffle or molest.
In gliding turn of dreams which mate
He saw from forth Damascus' gate
Tall Islam in her Mahmal go— 135
Elected camel, king of all,
In mystic housings draped in flow,
Silk fringed, with many a silver ball,
Worked ciphers on the Koran's car
And Sultan's cloth. He hears the jar 140
Of janizaries armed, a throng
Which drum barbaric, shout and gong
Invest. And camels—robe and shawl
Of riders which they bear along—
Each sheik a pagod on his tower, 145
Crosslegged and dusky. Therewithal,
In affluence of the opal hour,
Curveting troops of Moslem peers
And flash of scimeters and spears
In groves of grassgreen pennons fair, 150
(Like Feiran's palms in fanning air,)
Wherefrom the crescent silvery soars.
Then crowds pell-mell, a concourse wild,
Convergings from Levantine shores;
On foot, on donkeys; litters rare— 155
Whole families; twin panniers piled;
Rich men and beggars—all beguiled
To cheerful trust in Allah's care;
Allah, toward whose prophet's urn
And Holy City, fond they turn 160
As forth in pilgrimage they fare.
But long the way. And when they note,
Ere yet they pass wide suburbs green,
Some camp in field, nor far remote,
Inviting, pastoral in scene; 165
Some child shall leap, and trill in glee
"Mecca, 'tis Mecca, mother—see!"
Then first she thinks upon the waste
Whither the Simoom maketh haste;
Where baskets of the white ribbed dead 170
Sift the fine sand, while dim ahead
In long, long line, their way to tell,
The bones of camels bleaching dwell,
With skeletons but part interred—
Relics of men which friendless fell; 175
Whose own hands, in last office, scooped
Over their limbs the sand, but drooped:
Worse than the desert of the Word,
El Tih, the great, the terrible.
Ere town and tomb shall greet the eye 180
Many shall fall, nor few shall die
Which, punctual at set of sun,
Spread the worn prayer cloth on the sand,
Turning them toward the Mecca stone,
Their shadows ominously thrown 185
Oblique against the mummy land.
These pass; they fade. What next comes near?
The tawny peasants—human wave
Which rolls over India year by year,
India, the spawning place and grave. 190
The turbaned billow floods the plains,
Rolling toward Brahma's rarer fanes—
His Compostel or brown Loret
Where sin absolved, may grief forget.
But numbers, plague struck, faint and sore, 195
Drop livid on the flowery shore—
Arrested, with the locusts sleep,
Or pass to muster where no man may peep.
That vision waned. And, far afloat,
From eras gone he caught the sound 200
Of hordes from China's furthest moat,
Crossing the Himalayan mound,
To kneel at shrine or relic so
Of Buddha, the Mongolian Fo
Or Indian Saviour. What profound 205
Impulsion makes these tribes to range?
Stable in time's incessant change
Now first he marks, now awed he heeds
The inter-sympathy of creeds,
Alien or hostile tho' they seem— 210
Exalted thought or groveling dream.
The worn Greek matrons mark him there:
Ah, young, our lassitude dost share?
Home do thy pilgrim reveries stray?
Art thou too, weary of the way?— 215
Yes, sympathies of Eve awake;
Yet do but err. For how might break
Upon those simple natures true,
The complex passion? might they view
The apprehension tempest tossed, 220
The spirit in gulf of dizzying fable lost?
Clarel is up, and seeks the Urn.
Advancing towards the fane's old arch
Of entrance—curved in sculptured stone,
Dim and defaced, he saw thereon 5
From rural Bethany the march
Of Christ into another gate—
The golden and triumphal one,
Upon Palm Morn. For porch to shrine
On such a site, how fortunate 10
That adaptation of design.
Well might it please.
He entered then.
Strangers were there, of each degree,
From Asian shores, with island men, 15
Mild guests of the Epiphany.
As when to win the Paschal joy
And Nisan's festal month renew, The
Nazarenes to temple drew,
Even Joseph, Mary, and the BOY, 20
Whose hand the mother's held; so here
To later rites and altars dear,
Domestic in devotion's flame
Husbands with wives and children came.
But he, the student, under dome 25
Pauses; he stands before the Tomb.
Through open door he sees the wicks
Alight within, where six and six
For Christ's apostles, night and day,
Lamps, olden lamps do burn. In smoke 30
Befogged they shed no vivid ray,
But heat the cell and seem to choke.
He marked, and revery took flight:
"These burn not like those aspects bright
Of starry watchers when they kept 35
Vigil at napkined feet and head
Of Him their Lord.—Nay, is He fled?
Or tranced lies, tranced nor unbewept
With Dorian gods? or, fresh and clear,
A charm diffused throughout the sphere, 40
Streams in the ray through yonder dome?
Not hearsed He is. But hath ghost home
Dispersed in soil, in sea, in air?
False Pantheism, false though fair!"
So he; and slack and aimless went, 45
Nor might untwine the ravelment
Of doubts perplexed. For easement there
Halting awhile in pillared shade,
A friar he marked, in robe of blue
And round Greek cap of sable hue: 50
Poor men he led; much haste he made,
Nor sequence kept, but dragged them so
Hither and thither, to and fro,
To random places. Might it be
That Clarel, who recoil did here, 55
Shared but that shock of novelty
Which makes some Protestants unglad
First viewing the mysterious cheer
In Peter's fane? Beheld he had,
In Rome beneath the Lateran wall, 60
The Scala Santa—watched the knees
Of those ascending devotees,
Who, absolution so to reap,
Breathe a low prayer at every step.
Nay, 'twas no novelty at all. 65
Nor was it that his nature shrunk
But from the curtness of the monk:
Another influence made swerve
And touched him in profounder nerve.
He turned, and passing on enthralled, 70
Won a still chapel; and one spake
The name. Brief Scripture, here recalled,
The context less obscure may make:
'Tis writ that in a garden's bound
Our Lord was urned. On that green ground 75
He reappeared, by Mary claimed.
The place, or place alleged, is shown—
Arbors congealed to vaults of stone—
The Apparition's chapel named.
This was the spot where now, in frame 80
Hard to depict, the student came—
The spot where in the dawning gray,
His pallor with night's tears bedewed,
Restored the Second Adam stood—
Not as in Eden stood the First 85
All ruddy. Yet, in leaves immersed
And twilight of imperfect day,
Christ seemed the gardener unto her
Misjudging, who in womanhood
Had sought him late in sepulchre 90
Embowered, nor found.
Here, votive here—
Here by the shrine that Clarel won—
A wreath shed odors. Scarce that cheer
Warmed some poor Greeks recumbent thrown, 95
Sore from late journeying far and near,
To hallowed haunts without the town;
So wearied, that no more they kneeled,
But over night here laid them down,
Matrons and children, yet unhealed 100
Of ache. And each face was a book
Of disappointment. "Why weep'st thou?
Whom seekest?"—words, which chanceful now
Recalled by Clarel, he applied
To these before him; and he took, 105
In way but little modified,
Part to himself; then stood in dream
Of all which yet might hap to them.
He saw them spent, provided ill—
Pale, huddled in the pilgrim fleet, 110
Back voyaging now to homes afar.
Midnight, and rising tempests beat—
Such as St. Paul knew—furious war,
To meet which, slender is the skill.
The lamp that burnt upon the prow 115
In wonted shrine, extinct is now—
Drowned out with Heaven's last feeble star.
Panic ensues; their course is turned;
Toward Tyre they drive—Tyre undiscerned:
A coast of wrecks which warping bleach 120
On wrecks of piers where eagles screech.
How hopeful from their isles serene
They sailed, and on such tender quest;
Then, after toils that came between,
They reembarked; and, tho' distressed, 125
Grieved not, for Zion had been seen;
Each wearing next the heart for charm
Some priestly scrip in leaf of palm.
But these, ah, these in Dawn's pale reign
Asleep upon beach Tyrian! 130
Or is it sleep? no, rest—that rest
Which naught shall ruffle or molest.
In gliding turn of dreams which mate
He saw from forth Damascus' gate
Tall Islam in her Mahmal go— 135
Elected camel, king of all,
In mystic housings draped in flow,
Silk fringed, with many a silver ball,
Worked ciphers on the Koran's car
And Sultan's cloth. He hears the jar 140
Of janizaries armed, a throng
Which drum barbaric, shout and gong
Invest. And camels—robe and shawl
Of riders which they bear along—
Each sheik a pagod on his tower, 145
Crosslegged and dusky. Therewithal,
In affluence of the opal hour,
Curveting troops of Moslem peers
And flash of scimeters and spears
In groves of grassgreen pennons fair, 150
(Like Feiran's palms in fanning air,)
Wherefrom the crescent silvery soars.
Then crowds pell-mell, a concourse wild,
Convergings from Levantine shores;
On foot, on donkeys; litters rare— 155
Whole families; twin panniers piled;
Rich men and beggars—all beguiled
To cheerful trust in Allah's care;
Allah, toward whose prophet's urn
And Holy City, fond they turn 160
As forth in pilgrimage they fare.
But long the way. And when they note,
Ere yet they pass wide suburbs green,
Some camp in field, nor far remote,
Inviting, pastoral in scene; 165
Some child shall leap, and trill in glee
"Mecca, 'tis Mecca, mother—see!"
Then first she thinks upon the waste
Whither the Simoom maketh haste;
Where baskets of the white ribbed dead 170
Sift the fine sand, while dim ahead
In long, long line, their way to tell,
The bones of camels bleaching dwell,
With skeletons but part interred—
Relics of men which friendless fell; 175
Whose own hands, in last office, scooped
Over their limbs the sand, but drooped:
Worse than the desert of the Word,
El Tih, the great, the terrible.
Ere town and tomb shall greet the eye 180
Many shall fall, nor few shall die
Which, punctual at set of sun,
Spread the worn prayer cloth on the sand,
Turning them toward the Mecca stone,
Their shadows ominously thrown 185
Oblique against the mummy land.
These pass; they fade. What next comes near?
The tawny peasants—human wave
Which rolls over India year by year,
India, the spawning place and grave. 190
The turbaned billow floods the plains,
Rolling toward Brahma's rarer fanes—
His Compostel or brown Loret
Where sin absolved, may grief forget.
But numbers, plague struck, faint and sore, 195
Drop livid on the flowery shore—
Arrested, with the locusts sleep,
Or pass to muster where no man may peep.
That vision waned. And, far afloat,
From eras gone he caught the sound 200
Of hordes from China's furthest moat,
Crossing the Himalayan mound,
To kneel at shrine or relic so
Of Buddha, the Mongolian Fo
Or Indian Saviour. What profound 205
Impulsion makes these tribes to range?
Stable in time's incessant change
Now first he marks, now awed he heeds
The inter-sympathy of creeds,
Alien or hostile tho' they seem— 210
Exalted thought or groveling dream.
The worn Greek matrons mark him there:
Ah, young, our lassitude dost share?
Home do thy pilgrim reveries stray?
Art thou too, weary of the way?— 215
Yes, sympathies of Eve awake;
Yet do but err. For how might break
Upon those simple natures true,
The complex passion? might they view
The apprehension tempest tossed, 220
The spirit in gulf of dizzying fable lost?
That Rama whom
the Indian sung--
A god he was, but knew it not;
Hence vainly puzzled at the wrong
Misplacing him in human lot.
Curtailment of his right he bare 5
Rather than wrangle; but no less
Was taunted for his tameness there.
A fugitive without redress,
He never the Holy Spirit grieved,
Nor the divine in him bereaved, 10
Though what that was he might not guess.
Live they who, like to Rama, led
Unspotted from the world aside,
Like Rama are discredited--
Like him, in outlawry abide? 15
May life and fable so agree?--
The innocent if lawless elf,
Etherial in virginity,
Retains the conseiousness of self.
Though black frost nip, though white frost chill, 20
Nor white frost nor the black may kill
The patient root, the vernal sense
Surviving hard experience
As grass the winter. Even that curse
Which is the wormwood mixed with gall-- 25
Better dependent on the worse--
Divine upon the animal--
That can not make such natures fall.
Though yielding easy rein, indeed,
To impulse which the fibers breed, 30
Nor quarreling with indolence;
Shall these the cup of grief dispense
Deliberate to any heart?
Not craft they know, nor envy's smart.
Theirs be the thoughts that dive and skim, 35
Theirs the spiced tears that overbrim,
And theirs the dimple and the lightsome whim.
Such natures, and but such, have got
Familiar with strange things that dwell
Repressed in mortals; and they tell 40
Of riddles in the prosiest lot.
Mince ye some matter for faith's sake
And heaven's good name? 'Tis these shall make
Revolt there, and the gloss disclaim.
They con the page kept down with those 45
Which Adam's secret frame disclose,
And Eve's; nor dare dissent from truth
Although disreputable, sooth.
The riches in them be a store
Unmerchantable in the ore. 50
No matter: "'Tis an open mine:
Dig; find ye gold, why, make it thine.
The shrewder knack hast thou, the gift:
Smelt then, and mold, and good go with thy thrift."
Was ever earth-born wight like this? 55
Ay--in the verse, may be, he is.
A god he was, but knew it not;
Hence vainly puzzled at the wrong
Misplacing him in human lot.
Curtailment of his right he bare 5
Rather than wrangle; but no less
Was taunted for his tameness there.
A fugitive without redress,
He never the Holy Spirit grieved,
Nor the divine in him bereaved, 10
Though what that was he might not guess.
Live they who, like to Rama, led
Unspotted from the world aside,
Like Rama are discredited--
Like him, in outlawry abide? 15
May life and fable so agree?--
The innocent if lawless elf,
Etherial in virginity,
Retains the conseiousness of self.
Though black frost nip, though white frost chill, 20
Nor white frost nor the black may kill
The patient root, the vernal sense
Surviving hard experience
As grass the winter. Even that curse
Which is the wormwood mixed with gall-- 25
Better dependent on the worse--
Divine upon the animal--
That can not make such natures fall.
Though yielding easy rein, indeed,
To impulse which the fibers breed, 30
Nor quarreling with indolence;
Shall these the cup of grief dispense
Deliberate to any heart?
Not craft they know, nor envy's smart.
Theirs be the thoughts that dive and skim, 35
Theirs the spiced tears that overbrim,
And theirs the dimple and the lightsome whim.
Such natures, and but such, have got
Familiar with strange things that dwell
Repressed in mortals; and they tell 40
Of riddles in the prosiest lot.
Mince ye some matter for faith's sake
And heaven's good name? 'Tis these shall make
Revolt there, and the gloss disclaim.
They con the page kept down with those 45
Which Adam's secret frame disclose,
And Eve's; nor dare dissent from truth
Although disreputable, sooth.
The riches in them be a store
Unmerchantable in the ore. 50
No matter: "'Tis an open mine:
Dig; find ye gold, why, make it thine.
The shrewder knack hast thou, the gift:
Smelt then, and mold, and good go with thy thrift."
Was ever earth-born wight like this? 55
Ay--in the verse, may be, he is.
In
northern clime how tender show
The meads beneath heaven's humid Bow
When showers draw off and dew-drops cling
To sunset's skirt, and robins sing
Though night be near. So did the light 5
Of love redeem in Ruth the trace
Of grief, though scarce might it efface.
From wider rambles which excite
The thought, or study's lone repose,
Daily did Clarel win the close. 10
With interest feminine and true
The matron watched that love which grew;
She hailed it, since a hope was there
Made brighter for the grief's degree:
How shines the gull ye watch in air 15
White, white, against the cloud at sea.
Clarel, bereft while still but young,
Mother or sister had not known;
To him now first in life was shown,
In Agar's frank demeanor kind, 20
What charm to woman may belong
When by a natural bent inclined
To goodness in domestic play:
On earth no better thing than this--
It canonizes very clay: 25
Madonna, hence thy worship is.
But Ruth: since Love had signed with Fate
The bond, and the first kiss had sealed,
Both for her own and Agar's state
Much of her exile-grief seemed healed: 30
New vistas opened; and if still
Forebodings might not be forgot
As to her sire's eventual lot,
Yet hope, which is of youth, could thrill.
That frame to foster and defend, 35
Clarel, when in her presence, strove
The unrest to hide which still could blend
With all the endearings of their love.
Ruth part divined the lurking care,
But more the curb, and motive too: 40
It made him but love's richer heir;
So much the more attachment grew.
She could not think but all would prove
Subject in end to mighty Love.
That cloud which in the present reigned, 45
By flushful hope's aurora stained,
At times redeemed itself in hues
Of shell, and humming-bird, and flower.
Could heaven two loyal hearts abuse?
The death-moth, let him keep his bower.
The meads beneath heaven's humid Bow
When showers draw off and dew-drops cling
To sunset's skirt, and robins sing
Though night be near. So did the light 5
Of love redeem in Ruth the trace
Of grief, though scarce might it efface.
From wider rambles which excite
The thought, or study's lone repose,
Daily did Clarel win the close. 10
With interest feminine and true
The matron watched that love which grew;
She hailed it, since a hope was there
Made brighter for the grief's degree:
How shines the gull ye watch in air 15
White, white, against the cloud at sea.
Clarel, bereft while still but young,
Mother or sister had not known;
To him now first in life was shown,
In Agar's frank demeanor kind, 20
What charm to woman may belong
When by a natural bent inclined
To goodness in domestic play:
On earth no better thing than this--
It canonizes very clay: 25
Madonna, hence thy worship is.
But Ruth: since Love had signed with Fate
The bond, and the first kiss had sealed,
Both for her own and Agar's state
Much of her exile-grief seemed healed: 30
New vistas opened; and if still
Forebodings might not be forgot
As to her sire's eventual lot,
Yet hope, which is of youth, could thrill.
That frame to foster and defend, 35
Clarel, when in her presence, strove
The unrest to hide which still could blend
With all the endearings of their love.
Ruth part divined the lurking care,
But more the curb, and motive too: 40
It made him but love's richer heir;
So much the more attachment grew.
She could not think but all would prove
Subject in end to mighty Love.
That cloud which in the present reigned, 45
By flushful hope's aurora stained,
At times redeemed itself in hues
Of shell, and humming-bird, and flower.
Could heaven two loyal hearts abuse?
The death-moth, let him keep his bower.
"Patcher of the rotten cloth,
Pickler of the wing o' the moth,
Toaster of bread stale in date,
Tinker of the rusty plate,
Botcher of a crumbling tomb, 5
Pounder with the holy hammer,
Gaffer-gammer, gaffer-gammer--
Rome!
The broker take your trumpery pix,
Paten and chalice! Turn ye--lo, 10
Here's bread, here's wine. In Mexico
Earthquakes lay flat your crucifix:
All, all's geology, I trow.
Away to your PopeJoan--go!"
As he the robed one decorous went, 15
From copse that doggerel was sent
And after-cry. Half screened from view
'Twas Margoth, who, reclined at lunch,
Had overheard, nor spared to munch,
And thence his contumely threw. 20
Rolfe, rising, had replied thereto,
And with some heat, but Derwent's hand
Caught at his skirt: "Nay, of what use?
But wind, foul wind."--Here fell a truce,
Which Margoth could but understand; 25
Wiping his mouth he hied away.
The student who apart though near
Had heard the Frank with tingling cheer,
Awaited now the after-play
Of comment; and it followed: "Own," 30
Said Rolfe, "he took no shallow tone,
That new St. Dominick. Who'll repay?
Wilt thou?" to Derwent turning.--"No,
Not l! But had our Scot been near
To meet your Papal nuncio! 35
Fight fire with fire. But for me here,
You must have marked I did abstain.--
Odd, odd: this man who'd make our age
To Hildebrand's an appanage--
So able too--lit by our light-- 40
Curious, he should so requite!
And, yes, lurked somewhat in his strain--"
"And in his falling on the knee?"
"Those supple hinges I let be."
"Is the man false?" 45
"No, hardly that.
'Tis difficult to tell. But see:
Doubt late was an aristocrat;
But now the barbers' clerks do swell
In cast clothes of the infidel; 50
The more then one can now believe,
The more one's differenced, perceive,
From ribald commonplace. Here Rome
Comes in. This intellectual man--
Half monk, half tribune, partisan-- 55
Who, as he hints--'tis troublesome
To analyze, and thankless too:
Much better be a dove, and coo
Softly. Come then, I'll e'en agree
His manner has a certain lure, 60
Disinterested, earnest, pure
And liberal. 'Tis such as he
Win over men."
"There's Rome, her camp
Of tried instruction. She can stamp, 65
On the recruit that's framed aright,
The bearing of a Bayard knight
Ecclesiastic. I applaud
Her swordsmen of the priestly sword
Wielded in spiritual fight." 70
"Indeed? take care! Rome lacks not charm
For fervid souls. Arm ye, forearm!
For syrens has she too,--her race
Of sainted virgin ones, with grace
Beyond the grace of Grecian calm, 75
For this is chill, but that how warm."
"A frank concession." "To be sure!
Since Rome may never me allure
By her enticing arts; since all
The bias of the days that be 80
Away leans from Authority,
And most when hierarchical;
So that the future of the Pope
Is cast in no fair horoseope;
In brief, since Rome must still decay; 85
Less care I to disown or hide
Aught that she has of merit rare:
Her legends--some are sweet as May;
Ungarnered wealth no doubt is there,
(Too long ignored by Luther's pride) 90
But which perchance in days divine
(Era, whereof I read the sign)
When much that sours the sects is gone,
Like Dorian myths the bards shall own--
Yes, prove the poet's second mine." 95
"All that," said Rolfe, "is very fine;
But Rome subsists, she lives to-day,
She re-affirms herself, her sway
Seductive draws rich minds away;
Some pastures, too, yield many a rover: 100
Sheep, sheep and shepherd running over.
"Such sheep and shepherds, let them go;
They are not legion: and you know
What draws. Little imports it all
Overbalanced by that tidal fall 105
Of Rome in Southern Europe. Come."
"If the tide fall or here or there,
Be sure 'tis rolling in elsewhere."
"So oceanic then is Rome?"
"Nay, but there's ample sea-verge left: 110
A hemisphere invites.--When reft
From Afric, and the East its home,
The church shot out through wild and wood--
Germany, Gaul and Britain, Spain--
Colonized, Latinized, and made good 115
Her loss, and more resolved to reign."
"Centuries, centuries long ago!
What's that to us? I am surprised.
Rome's guns are spiked; and they'll stay so.
The world is now too civilized 120
For Rome. Your noble Western soil--
What! that be given up for spoil
To--to--"
"There is an Unforeseen.
Fate never gives a guarantee 125
That she'll abstain from aught. And men
Get tired at last of being free--
Whether in states--in states or creeds.
For what's the sequel? Verily,
Laws scribbled by law-breakers, creeds 130
Scrawled by the freethinkers, and deeds
Shameful and shameless. Men get sick
Under that curse of Frederick
The cynical: For punishment
This rebel province I present 135
To the philosophers. But, how?
Whole nations now philosophize,
And do their own undoing now.--
Who's gained by all the sacrifice
Of Europe's revolutions? who? 140
The Protestant? the Liberal?
I do not think it--not at all:
Rome and the Atheist have gained:
These two shall fight it out--these two;
Protestantism being retained 145
For base of operations sly
By Atheism."
Without reply
Derwent low whistled--twitched a spray
That overhung: "What tree is this?" 150
"The tree of knowledge, I dare say;
But you don't eat."--"That's not amiss,"
The good man laughed; but, changing, "O,
That a New-Worlder should talk so!"
"'Tis the New World that mannered me, 155
Yes, gave me this vile liberty
To reverence naught, not even herself."
"How say you? you're the queerest elf!
But here's a thought I still pursuc
A thought I dreamed each thinker knew: 160
No more can men be what they've been;
All's altered--earth's another scene."
"Man's heart is what it used to be."
"I don't know that."
"But Rome does, though: 165
And hence her stout persistency.
What mean her re-adopted modes
Even in the enemy's abodes?
Their place old emblems reassume.
She bides--content to let but blow 170
Among the sects that peak and pine,
Incursions of her taking bloom."
"The censer's musk?--'Tis not the vine,
Vine evangelic, branching out
In fruitful latitude benign, 175
With all her bounty roundabout--
Each cluster, shaded or in sun,
Still varying from each other one,
But all true members, all with wine
Derived from Christ their stem and stock; 180
'Tis scarce that vine which doth unlock
The fragrance that you hint of. No,
The Latin plant don't flourish so;
Of sad distemper 'tis the seat;
Pry close, and startled you shall meet 185
Parasite-bugs--black swarming ones."
"The monks?"--"You jest: thinned out, those drones
Considerate uncommitted eyes
Charged with things manifold and wise,
Rolfe turned upon good Derwent here; 190
Then changed: "Fall back we must. Yon mule
With pannier: Come, in stream we'll cool
The wine ere quaffing.--Muleteer!"
Pickler of the wing o' the moth,
Toaster of bread stale in date,
Tinker of the rusty plate,
Botcher of a crumbling tomb, 5
Pounder with the holy hammer,
Gaffer-gammer, gaffer-gammer--
Rome!
The broker take your trumpery pix,
Paten and chalice! Turn ye--lo, 10
Here's bread, here's wine. In Mexico
Earthquakes lay flat your crucifix:
All, all's geology, I trow.
Away to your PopeJoan--go!"
As he the robed one decorous went, 15
From copse that doggerel was sent
And after-cry. Half screened from view
'Twas Margoth, who, reclined at lunch,
Had overheard, nor spared to munch,
And thence his contumely threw. 20
Rolfe, rising, had replied thereto,
And with some heat, but Derwent's hand
Caught at his skirt: "Nay, of what use?
But wind, foul wind."--Here fell a truce,
Which Margoth could but understand; 25
Wiping his mouth he hied away.
The student who apart though near
Had heard the Frank with tingling cheer,
Awaited now the after-play
Of comment; and it followed: "Own," 30
Said Rolfe, "he took no shallow tone,
That new St. Dominick. Who'll repay?
Wilt thou?" to Derwent turning.--"No,
Not l! But had our Scot been near
To meet your Papal nuncio! 35
Fight fire with fire. But for me here,
You must have marked I did abstain.--
Odd, odd: this man who'd make our age
To Hildebrand's an appanage--
So able too--lit by our light-- 40
Curious, he should so requite!
And, yes, lurked somewhat in his strain--"
"And in his falling on the knee?"
"Those supple hinges I let be."
"Is the man false?" 45
"No, hardly that.
'Tis difficult to tell. But see:
Doubt late was an aristocrat;
But now the barbers' clerks do swell
In cast clothes of the infidel; 50
The more then one can now believe,
The more one's differenced, perceive,
From ribald commonplace. Here Rome
Comes in. This intellectual man--
Half monk, half tribune, partisan-- 55
Who, as he hints--'tis troublesome
To analyze, and thankless too:
Much better be a dove, and coo
Softly. Come then, I'll e'en agree
His manner has a certain lure, 60
Disinterested, earnest, pure
And liberal. 'Tis such as he
Win over men."
"There's Rome, her camp
Of tried instruction. She can stamp, 65
On the recruit that's framed aright,
The bearing of a Bayard knight
Ecclesiastic. I applaud
Her swordsmen of the priestly sword
Wielded in spiritual fight." 70
"Indeed? take care! Rome lacks not charm
For fervid souls. Arm ye, forearm!
For syrens has she too,--her race
Of sainted virgin ones, with grace
Beyond the grace of Grecian calm, 75
For this is chill, but that how warm."
"A frank concession." "To be sure!
Since Rome may never me allure
By her enticing arts; since all
The bias of the days that be 80
Away leans from Authority,
And most when hierarchical;
So that the future of the Pope
Is cast in no fair horoseope;
In brief, since Rome must still decay; 85
Less care I to disown or hide
Aught that she has of merit rare:
Her legends--some are sweet as May;
Ungarnered wealth no doubt is there,
(Too long ignored by Luther's pride) 90
But which perchance in days divine
(Era, whereof I read the sign)
When much that sours the sects is gone,
Like Dorian myths the bards shall own--
Yes, prove the poet's second mine." 95
"All that," said Rolfe, "is very fine;
But Rome subsists, she lives to-day,
She re-affirms herself, her sway
Seductive draws rich minds away;
Some pastures, too, yield many a rover: 100
Sheep, sheep and shepherd running over.
"Such sheep and shepherds, let them go;
They are not legion: and you know
What draws. Little imports it all
Overbalanced by that tidal fall 105
Of Rome in Southern Europe. Come."
"If the tide fall or here or there,
Be sure 'tis rolling in elsewhere."
"So oceanic then is Rome?"
"Nay, but there's ample sea-verge left: 110
A hemisphere invites.--When reft
From Afric, and the East its home,
The church shot out through wild and wood--
Germany, Gaul and Britain, Spain--
Colonized, Latinized, and made good 115
Her loss, and more resolved to reign."
"Centuries, centuries long ago!
What's that to us? I am surprised.
Rome's guns are spiked; and they'll stay so.
The world is now too civilized 120
For Rome. Your noble Western soil--
What! that be given up for spoil
To--to--"
"There is an Unforeseen.
Fate never gives a guarantee 125
That she'll abstain from aught. And men
Get tired at last of being free--
Whether in states--in states or creeds.
For what's the sequel? Verily,
Laws scribbled by law-breakers, creeds 130
Scrawled by the freethinkers, and deeds
Shameful and shameless. Men get sick
Under that curse of Frederick
The cynical: For punishment
This rebel province I present 135
To the philosophers. But, how?
Whole nations now philosophize,
And do their own undoing now.--
Who's gained by all the sacrifice
Of Europe's revolutions? who? 140
The Protestant? the Liberal?
I do not think it--not at all:
Rome and the Atheist have gained:
These two shall fight it out--these two;
Protestantism being retained 145
For base of operations sly
By Atheism."
Without reply
Derwent low whistled--twitched a spray
That overhung: "What tree is this?" 150
"The tree of knowledge, I dare say;
But you don't eat."--"That's not amiss,"
The good man laughed; but, changing, "O,
That a New-Worlder should talk so!"
"'Tis the New World that mannered me, 155
Yes, gave me this vile liberty
To reverence naught, not even herself."
"How say you? you're the queerest elf!
But here's a thought I still pursuc
A thought I dreamed each thinker knew: 160
No more can men be what they've been;
All's altered--earth's another scene."
"Man's heart is what it used to be."
"I don't know that."
"But Rome does, though: 165
And hence her stout persistency.
What mean her re-adopted modes
Even in the enemy's abodes?
Their place old emblems reassume.
She bides--content to let but blow 170
Among the sects that peak and pine,
Incursions of her taking bloom."
"The censer's musk?--'Tis not the vine,
Vine evangelic, branching out
In fruitful latitude benign, 175
With all her bounty roundabout--
Each cluster, shaded or in sun,
Still varying from each other one,
But all true members, all with wine
Derived from Christ their stem and stock; 180
'Tis scarce that vine which doth unlock
The fragrance that you hint of. No,
The Latin plant don't flourish so;
Of sad distemper 'tis the seat;
Pry close, and startled you shall meet 185
Parasite-bugs--black swarming ones."
"The monks?"--"You jest: thinned out, those drones
Considerate uncommitted eyes
Charged with things manifold and wise,
Rolfe turned upon good Derwent here; 190
Then changed: "Fall back we must. Yon mule
With pannier: Come, in stream we'll cool
The wine ere quaffing.--Muleteer!"
But ere
those Sinbads had begun
Their Orient Decameron,
Rolfe rose, to view the further hall.
Here showed, set up against the wall,
Heroic traditionary arms, 5
Protecting tutelary charms
(Like Godfrey's sword and Baldwin's spur
In treasury of the Sepulcher,
Wherewith they knighthood yet confer,
The monks or their Superior) 10
Sanctified heirlooms of old time;
With trophies of the Paynim clime;
These last with tarnish on the gilt,
And jewels vanished from the hilt.
Upon one serpent-curving blade 15
Love-motto beamed from Antar's rhyme
In Arabic. A second said
(A scimiter the Turk had made,
And likely, it had clove a skull)
IN NAME OF GOD THE MERCIFUL! 20
A third was given suspended place,
And as in salutation waved,
And in old Greek was finely graved
With this: HAIL, MARY, FULL OF GRACE!
'Tis a rare sheaf of arms be here, 25
Thought Rolfe: "Who's this?" and turned to peer
At one who had but late come in,
(A stranger) and, avoiding din
Made by each distant reveler,
Anchored beside him. His sea-gear 30
Announced a pilgrim-timoneer.
The weird and weather-beaten face,
Bearded and pitted, and fine vexed
With wrinkles of cabala text,
Did yet reveal a twinge-like trace 35
Of some late trial undergone:
Nor less a beauty grave pertained
To him, part such as is ordained
l'o Eld, for each age hath its own,
And even scars may share the tone. 40
Bald was his head as any bell--
Quite bald, except a silvery round
Of small curled bud-like locks which bound
His temples as with asphodel.
Such he, who in nigh nook disturbed 45
Upon his mat by late uncurbed
Light revel, came with air subdued,
And by the clustered arms here stood
Regarding them with dullish eye
Of some old reminiscence sad. 50
On him Rolfe gazed: "And do ye sigh?
Hardly they seem to cheer ye: why?"
He pursed the mouth and shook the head.
"But speak!" "'Tis but an old bewailing."
"No matter, tell." "'Twere unavailing." 55
"Come, now."
"Since you entreat of me
'Tis long ago--I'm aged, see:
From Egypt sailing--hurrying too--
For spite the sky there, always blue, 60
And blue daubed seas so bland, the pest
Was breaking out--the people quailing
In houses hushed; from Egypt sailing,
In ship, I say, which shunned the pest,
Cargo half-stored, and--and--alack! 65
One passenger of visage black,
But whom a white robe did invest
And linen turban, like the rest--
A Moor he was, with but a chest;--
A fugitive poor Wahabee-- 70
So ran his story--who by me
Was smuggled aboard; and ah, a crew
That did their wrangles still renew,
Jabbing the poignard in the fray,
And mutinous withal;--I say, 75
From Egypt bound for Venice sailing--
On Friday--well might heart forebode!
In this same craft from Cadiz hailing,
Christened by friar 'The Peace of God, '
(She laden now with rusted cannon 80
Which long beneath the Crescent's pennon
On beach had laid, condemned and dead,
Beneath a rampart, and from bed
Were shipped off to be sold and smelted
And into new artillery melted) 85
I say that to The Peace of God
(Your iron the salt seas corrode)
I say there fell to her unblest
A hap more baleful than the pest.
Yea, from the first I knew a fear, 90
So strangely did the needle veer.
A gale came up, with frequent din
Of cracking thunder out and in:
Corposants on yard-arms did burn,
Red lightning forked upon the stern: 95
The needle like an imp did spin.
Three gulls continual plied in wake,
Which wriggled like a wounded snake,
For I, the wretched timoneer,
By fitful stars yet tried to steer 100
'Neath shortened sail. The needle flew
(The glass thick blurred with damp and dew),
And flew the ship we knew not where.
Meantime the mutinous bad crew
Got at the casks and drowned despair, 105
Carousing, fighting. What to do?
To all the saints I put up prayer,
Seeing against the gloomy shades
Breakers in ghastly palisades.
Nevertheless she took the rocks; 110
And dinning through the grinds and shocks,
(Attend the solving of the riddle)
I heard the clattering of blades
Shaken within the Moor's strong box
In cabin underneath the needle. 115
How screamed those three birds round the mast
Slant going over. The keel was broken
And heaved aboard us for death-token.
To quit the wreck I was the last,
Yet I sole wight that 'scaped the sea." 120
"But he, the Moor?"
"O, sorcery!
For him no heaven is, no atoner.
He proved an armorer, theJonah!
And dealt in blades that poisoned were, 125
A black lieutenant of Lucifer.
I heard in Algiers, as befell
Afterward, his crimes of hell.
I'm far from superstitious, see;
But arms in sheaf, somehow they trouble me." 130
"Ha, trouble, trouble? what's that, pray?
I've heard of it; bad thing, they say;
"Bug there, lady bug, plumped in your wine?
Only rose-leaves flutter by mine!"
The gracioso man, 'twas he, 135
Flagon in hand, held tiltingly.
How peered at him that timoneer,
With what a changed, still, merman-cheer,
As much he could, but would not say:
So murmuring naught, he moved away. 140
"Old, old," the Lesbian dropped; "old--dry:
Remainder biscuit; and alas,
But recent 'scaped from luckless pass."
"Indeed? relate."--"O, bY-and-bY."
But Rolfe would have it then. And so 145
The incident narrated was
Forthwith.
Re-cast, it thus may flow:
The shipmen of the Cyclades
Being Greeks, even of St. Saba's creed, 150
Are frequent pilgrims. From the seas
Greek convents welcome them, and feed.
Agath, with hardy messmates ten,
To Saba, and on foot, had fared
From Joppa. Duly in the Glen 155
His prayers he said; but rashly dared
Afar to range without the wall.
Upon him fell a robber-brood,
Some Ammonites. Choking his call,
They beat and stripped him, drawing blood, 160
And left him prone. His mates made search
With friars, and ere night found him so,
And bore him moaning back to porch
Of Saba's refuge. Cure proved slow;
The end his messmates might not wait; 165
Therefore they left him unto love
And charity--within that gate
Not lacking. Mended now in main,
Or convalescent, he would fain
Back unto Joppa make remove 170
With the first charitable train.
His story told, the teller turned
And seemed like one who instant yearned
To rid him of intrusive sigh:
"Yon happier pilgrim, by-the-by-- 175
I like him: his vocation, pray?
Purveyor he? like me, purvey?"
"Ay--for the conseience: he's our priest."
"Priest? he's a grape, judicious onc
Keeps on the right side of the sun. 180
But here's a song I heard at feast."
Their Orient Decameron,
Rolfe rose, to view the further hall.
Here showed, set up against the wall,
Heroic traditionary arms, 5
Protecting tutelary charms
(Like Godfrey's sword and Baldwin's spur
In treasury of the Sepulcher,
Wherewith they knighthood yet confer,
The monks or their Superior) 10
Sanctified heirlooms of old time;
With trophies of the Paynim clime;
These last with tarnish on the gilt,
And jewels vanished from the hilt.
Upon one serpent-curving blade 15
Love-motto beamed from Antar's rhyme
In Arabic. A second said
(A scimiter the Turk had made,
And likely, it had clove a skull)
IN NAME OF GOD THE MERCIFUL! 20
A third was given suspended place,
And as in salutation waved,
And in old Greek was finely graved
With this: HAIL, MARY, FULL OF GRACE!
'Tis a rare sheaf of arms be here, 25
Thought Rolfe: "Who's this?" and turned to peer
At one who had but late come in,
(A stranger) and, avoiding din
Made by each distant reveler,
Anchored beside him. His sea-gear 30
Announced a pilgrim-timoneer.
The weird and weather-beaten face,
Bearded and pitted, and fine vexed
With wrinkles of cabala text,
Did yet reveal a twinge-like trace 35
Of some late trial undergone:
Nor less a beauty grave pertained
To him, part such as is ordained
l'o Eld, for each age hath its own,
And even scars may share the tone. 40
Bald was his head as any bell--
Quite bald, except a silvery round
Of small curled bud-like locks which bound
His temples as with asphodel.
Such he, who in nigh nook disturbed 45
Upon his mat by late uncurbed
Light revel, came with air subdued,
And by the clustered arms here stood
Regarding them with dullish eye
Of some old reminiscence sad. 50
On him Rolfe gazed: "And do ye sigh?
Hardly they seem to cheer ye: why?"
He pursed the mouth and shook the head.
"But speak!" "'Tis but an old bewailing."
"No matter, tell." "'Twere unavailing." 55
"Come, now."
"Since you entreat of me
'Tis long ago--I'm aged, see:
From Egypt sailing--hurrying too--
For spite the sky there, always blue, 60
And blue daubed seas so bland, the pest
Was breaking out--the people quailing
In houses hushed; from Egypt sailing,
In ship, I say, which shunned the pest,
Cargo half-stored, and--and--alack! 65
One passenger of visage black,
But whom a white robe did invest
And linen turban, like the rest--
A Moor he was, with but a chest;--
A fugitive poor Wahabee-- 70
So ran his story--who by me
Was smuggled aboard; and ah, a crew
That did their wrangles still renew,
Jabbing the poignard in the fray,
And mutinous withal;--I say, 75
From Egypt bound for Venice sailing--
On Friday--well might heart forebode!
In this same craft from Cadiz hailing,
Christened by friar 'The Peace of God, '
(She laden now with rusted cannon 80
Which long beneath the Crescent's pennon
On beach had laid, condemned and dead,
Beneath a rampart, and from bed
Were shipped off to be sold and smelted
And into new artillery melted) 85
I say that to The Peace of God
(Your iron the salt seas corrode)
I say there fell to her unblest
A hap more baleful than the pest.
Yea, from the first I knew a fear, 90
So strangely did the needle veer.
A gale came up, with frequent din
Of cracking thunder out and in:
Corposants on yard-arms did burn,
Red lightning forked upon the stern: 95
The needle like an imp did spin.
Three gulls continual plied in wake,
Which wriggled like a wounded snake,
For I, the wretched timoneer,
By fitful stars yet tried to steer 100
'Neath shortened sail. The needle flew
(The glass thick blurred with damp and dew),
And flew the ship we knew not where.
Meantime the mutinous bad crew
Got at the casks and drowned despair, 105
Carousing, fighting. What to do?
To all the saints I put up prayer,
Seeing against the gloomy shades
Breakers in ghastly palisades.
Nevertheless she took the rocks; 110
And dinning through the grinds and shocks,
(Attend the solving of the riddle)
I heard the clattering of blades
Shaken within the Moor's strong box
In cabin underneath the needle. 115
How screamed those three birds round the mast
Slant going over. The keel was broken
And heaved aboard us for death-token.
To quit the wreck I was the last,
Yet I sole wight that 'scaped the sea." 120
"But he, the Moor?"
"O, sorcery!
For him no heaven is, no atoner.
He proved an armorer, theJonah!
And dealt in blades that poisoned were, 125
A black lieutenant of Lucifer.
I heard in Algiers, as befell
Afterward, his crimes of hell.
I'm far from superstitious, see;
But arms in sheaf, somehow they trouble me." 130
"Ha, trouble, trouble? what's that, pray?
I've heard of it; bad thing, they say;
"Bug there, lady bug, plumped in your wine?
Only rose-leaves flutter by mine!"
The gracioso man, 'twas he, 135
Flagon in hand, held tiltingly.
How peered at him that timoneer,
With what a changed, still, merman-cheer,
As much he could, but would not say:
So murmuring naught, he moved away. 140
"Old, old," the Lesbian dropped; "old--dry:
Remainder biscuit; and alas,
But recent 'scaped from luckless pass."
"Indeed? relate."--"O, bY-and-bY."
But Rolfe would have it then. And so 145
The incident narrated was
Forthwith.
Re-cast, it thus may flow:
The shipmen of the Cyclades
Being Greeks, even of St. Saba's creed, 150
Are frequent pilgrims. From the seas
Greek convents welcome them, and feed.
Agath, with hardy messmates ten,
To Saba, and on foot, had fared
From Joppa. Duly in the Glen 155
His prayers he said; but rashly dared
Afar to range without the wall.
Upon him fell a robber-brood,
Some Ammonites. Choking his call,
They beat and stripped him, drawing blood, 160
And left him prone. His mates made search
With friars, and ere night found him so,
And bore him moaning back to porch
Of Saba's refuge. Cure proved slow;
The end his messmates might not wait; 165
Therefore they left him unto love
And charity--within that gate
Not lacking. Mended now in main,
Or convalescent, he would fain
Back unto Joppa make remove 170
With the first charitable train.
His story told, the teller turned
And seemed like one who instant yearned
To rid him of intrusive sigh:
"Yon happier pilgrim, by-the-by-- 175
I like him: his vocation, pray?
Purveyor he? like me, purvey?"
"Ay--for the conseience: he's our priest."
"Priest? he's a grape, judicious onc
Keeps on the right side of the sun. 180
But here's a song I heard at feast."
"The
chalice tall of beaten gold
Is hung with bells about:
The flamen serves in temple old,
And weirdly are the tinklings rolled
When he pours libation out. 5
O Cybele, dread Cybele,
Thy turrets nod, thy terrors be!
"But service done, and vestment doffed,
With cronies in a row
Behind night's violet velvet soft, 10
The chalice drained he rings aloft
To another tune, I trow.
O Cybele, fine Cybele,
Jolly thy bins and belfries be!"
With action timing well the song, 15
His flagon flourished up in air,
The varlet of the isle so flung
His mad-cap intimation--there
Comic on Rolfe his eye retaining
In mirth how full of roguish feigning. 20
Ought I protest? (thought Rolfe) the man
Nor malice has, nor faith: why ban
This heart though of religion scant,
A true child of the lax Levant,
That polyglot and loose-laced mother? 25
In such variety he's lived
Where creeds dovetail into each other;
Such influences he's received:
Thrown among all--Medes, Elamites,
Egyptians, Jews and proselytes, 30
Strangers from Rome, and men of Crete--
And parts of Lybia round Cyrenc
Arabians, and the throngs ye meet
On Smyrna's quays, and all between
Stamboul and Fez:--thrown among these, 35
A caterer to revelries,
He's caught the tints of many a scene,
And so become a harlequin
Gay patchwork of all levities.
Holding to now, swearing by here, 40
His course conducting by no keen
Observance of the stellar sphere--
He coasteth under sail latteen:
Then let him laugh, enjoy his dinner,
He's an excusable poor sinner. 45
'Twas Rolfe. But Clarel, what thought he?
For he too heard the Lesbian's song
There by the casement where he hung:
In heart of Saba's mystery
This mocker light!-- 50
But now in waltz
The Pantaloon here Rolfe assaults;
Then, keeping arm around his waist,
Sees Rolfe's reciprocally placed;
'Tis side-by-side entwined in ease 55
Of Chang and Eng the Siamese
When leaning mutually embraced;
And so these improvised twin brothers
Dance forward and salute the others,
The Lesbian flourishing for sign 60
His wine-cup, though it lacked the wine.
They sit. With random scraps of song
He whips the tandem hours along,
Or moments, rather; in the end
Calling on Derwent to unbend 65
In lyric.
"I?" said Derwent, "I?
Well, if you like, I'll even give
A trifle in recitative--
A something--nothing--anything-- 70
Since little does it signify
In festive free contributing:
"To Hafiz in grape-arbor comes
Didymus, with book he thumbs:
My lord Hafiz, priest of bowers-- 75
Flowers in such a world as ours?
Who is the god of all these flowers?--
"Signior Didymus, who knows?
None the less I take repose--
Believe, and worship here with wine 80
In vaulted chapel of the vine
Before the altar of the rose.
"Ah, who sits here? a sailor meek?"
It was that sea-appareled Greek.
"Gray brother, here, partake our wine." 85
He shook his head, yes, did decline.
"Or quaff or sing," cried Derwent then,
"For learn, we be hilarious men.
Pray, now, you seamen know to sing."
"I'm old," he breathed.--"So's many a tree, 90
Yet green the leaves and dance in glee."
The Arnaut made the scabbard ring:
"Sing, man, and here's the chorus--sing!"
"Sing, sing!" the Islesman, "bear the bell;
Sing, and the other songs excel." 95
"Ay, sing," cried Rolfe, "here now's a sample;
'Tis virtue teaches by example:
'Jars of honey,
Wine-skin, dates, and macaroni:
Falling back upon the senses-- 100
O, the wrong--
Need take up with recompenses:
Song, a song!"
They sang about him till he said:
"Sing, sirs, I cannot: this I'll do, 105
Repeat a thing Methodius made,
Good chaplain of The Apostles' crew:
"Priest in ship with saintly bow,
War-ship named from Paul and Peter
Grandly carved on castled prow; 110
Gliding by the grouped Canaries
Under liquid light of Mary's
Mellow star of eventide;
Lulled by tinklings at the side,
I, along the taffrail leaning, 115
Yielding to the ship's careening,
Shared that peace the upland owns
Where the palm--the palm and pine
Meeting on the frontier line
Seal a truce between the zones. 120
This be ever! (mused I lowly)
Dear repose is this and holy;
Like the Gospel it is gracious
And prevailing.--There, audacious--
Boom! the signal-gun it jarred me, 125
Flash and boom together marred me,
And I thought of horrid war;
But never moved grand Paul and Peter,
Never blenched Our Lady's star!"
Is hung with bells about:
The flamen serves in temple old,
And weirdly are the tinklings rolled
When he pours libation out. 5
O Cybele, dread Cybele,
Thy turrets nod, thy terrors be!
"But service done, and vestment doffed,
With cronies in a row
Behind night's violet velvet soft, 10
The chalice drained he rings aloft
To another tune, I trow.
O Cybele, fine Cybele,
Jolly thy bins and belfries be!"
With action timing well the song, 15
His flagon flourished up in air,
The varlet of the isle so flung
His mad-cap intimation--there
Comic on Rolfe his eye retaining
In mirth how full of roguish feigning. 20
Ought I protest? (thought Rolfe) the man
Nor malice has, nor faith: why ban
This heart though of religion scant,
A true child of the lax Levant,
That polyglot and loose-laced mother? 25
In such variety he's lived
Where creeds dovetail into each other;
Such influences he's received:
Thrown among all--Medes, Elamites,
Egyptians, Jews and proselytes, 30
Strangers from Rome, and men of Crete--
And parts of Lybia round Cyrenc
Arabians, and the throngs ye meet
On Smyrna's quays, and all between
Stamboul and Fez:--thrown among these, 35
A caterer to revelries,
He's caught the tints of many a scene,
And so become a harlequin
Gay patchwork of all levities.
Holding to now, swearing by here, 40
His course conducting by no keen
Observance of the stellar sphere--
He coasteth under sail latteen:
Then let him laugh, enjoy his dinner,
He's an excusable poor sinner. 45
'Twas Rolfe. But Clarel, what thought he?
For he too heard the Lesbian's song
There by the casement where he hung:
In heart of Saba's mystery
This mocker light!-- 50
But now in waltz
The Pantaloon here Rolfe assaults;
Then, keeping arm around his waist,
Sees Rolfe's reciprocally placed;
'Tis side-by-side entwined in ease 55
Of Chang and Eng the Siamese
When leaning mutually embraced;
And so these improvised twin brothers
Dance forward and salute the others,
The Lesbian flourishing for sign 60
His wine-cup, though it lacked the wine.
They sit. With random scraps of song
He whips the tandem hours along,
Or moments, rather; in the end
Calling on Derwent to unbend 65
In lyric.
"I?" said Derwent, "I?
Well, if you like, I'll even give
A trifle in recitative--
A something--nothing--anything-- 70
Since little does it signify
In festive free contributing:
"To Hafiz in grape-arbor comes
Didymus, with book he thumbs:
My lord Hafiz, priest of bowers-- 75
Flowers in such a world as ours?
Who is the god of all these flowers?--
"Signior Didymus, who knows?
None the less I take repose--
Believe, and worship here with wine 80
In vaulted chapel of the vine
Before the altar of the rose.
"Ah, who sits here? a sailor meek?"
It was that sea-appareled Greek.
"Gray brother, here, partake our wine." 85
He shook his head, yes, did decline.
"Or quaff or sing," cried Derwent then,
"For learn, we be hilarious men.
Pray, now, you seamen know to sing."
"I'm old," he breathed.--"So's many a tree, 90
Yet green the leaves and dance in glee."
The Arnaut made the scabbard ring:
"Sing, man, and here's the chorus--sing!"
"Sing, sing!" the Islesman, "bear the bell;
Sing, and the other songs excel." 95
"Ay, sing," cried Rolfe, "here now's a sample;
'Tis virtue teaches by example:
'Jars of honey,
Wine-skin, dates, and macaroni:
Falling back upon the senses-- 100
O, the wrong--
Need take up with recompenses:
Song, a song!"
They sang about him till he said:
"Sing, sirs, I cannot: this I'll do, 105
Repeat a thing Methodius made,
Good chaplain of The Apostles' crew:
"Priest in ship with saintly bow,
War-ship named from Paul and Peter
Grandly carved on castled prow; 110
Gliding by the grouped Canaries
Under liquid light of Mary's
Mellow star of eventide;
Lulled by tinklings at the side,
I, along the taffrail leaning, 115
Yielding to the ship's careening,
Shared that peace the upland owns
Where the palm--the palm and pine
Meeting on the frontier line
Seal a truce between the zones. 120
This be ever! (mused I lowly)
Dear repose is this and holy;
Like the Gospel it is gracious
And prevailing.--There, audacious--
Boom! the signal-gun it jarred me, 125
Flash and boom together marred me,
And I thought of horrid war;
But never moved grand Paul and Peter,
Never blenched Our Lady's star!"
"Over
the river
In gloaming, ah, still do ye plain?
Dovc dove in the mangroves,
How dear is thy pain!
"Sorrow--but fondled; 5
Reproaches that never upbraid
Spite the passion, the yearning
Of love unrepaid.
"Teach me, oh! teach me
Thy cadence, that Inez may thrill 10
With the bliss of the sadness,
And love have his will!"
Through twilight of mild evening pale,
As now returning slow they farc
In dubious keeping with the dale 15
And legends, floating came that air
From one invisible in shade,
Singing and lightly sauntering on
Toward the cloisters. Pause they made;
But he a lateral way had won: 20
Viewless he passed, as might a wave
Rippling, which doth a frigate lave
At anchor in the midnight road.
Clarel a fleeting thought bestowed:
Unkenned! to thee what thoughts belong-- 25
Announced by such a tropic song.
In gloaming, ah, still do ye plain?
Dovc dove in the mangroves,
How dear is thy pain!
"Sorrow--but fondled; 5
Reproaches that never upbraid
Spite the passion, the yearning
Of love unrepaid.
"Teach me, oh! teach me
Thy cadence, that Inez may thrill 10
With the bliss of the sadness,
And love have his will!"
Through twilight of mild evening pale,
As now returning slow they farc
In dubious keeping with the dale 15
And legends, floating came that air
From one invisible in shade,
Singing and lightly sauntering on
Toward the cloisters. Pause they made;
But he a lateral way had won: 20
Viewless he passed, as might a wave
Rippling, which doth a frigate lave
At anchor in the midnight road.
Clarel a fleeting thought bestowed:
Unkenned! to thee what thoughts belong-- 25
Announced by such a tropic song.
BUT ON
THE THIRD DAY CHRIST AROSE;
And, in the town He knew, the rite
Commemorative eager goes
Before the hour. Upon the night
Between the week's last day and first, 5
No more the Stabat is dispersed
Or Tenebrae. And when the day,
The Easter, falls in calendar
The same to Latin and the array
Of all schismatics from afar-- 10
Armenians, Greeks from many a shore--
Syrians, Copts--profusely pour
The hymns: 'tis like the choric gush
Of torrents Alpine when they rush
To swell the anthem of the spring. 15
That year was now. Throughout the fane,
Floor, and arcades in double ring
About the gala of THE TOMB,
Blazing with lights, behung with bloom--
What child-like thousands roll the strain, 20
The hallelujah after pain,
Which in all tongues of Christendom
Still through the ages has rehearsed
That Best, the outcome of the Worst.
Nor blame them who by lavish rite 25
Thus greet the pale victorious Son,
Since Nature times the same delight,
And rises with the Emerging One;
Her passion-week, her winter mood
She slips, with crape from off the Rood. 30
In soft rich shadow under dome,
With gems and robes repletely fine,
The priests like birds Brazilian shine:
And moving tapers charm the sight,
Enkindling the curled incense-fume: 35
A dancing ray, Auroral light.
Burn on the hours, and meet the day.
The morn invites; the suburbs call
The concourse to come forth--this way!
Out from the gate by Stephen's wall, 40
They issue, dot the hills, and stray
In bands, like sheep among the rocks;
And the Good Shepherd in the heaven,
To whom the charge of these is given,
The Christ, ah! counts He there His flocks? 45
But they, at each suburban shrine,
Grateful adore that Friend benign;
Though chapel now and cross divine
Too frequent show neglected; nay,
For charities of early rains 50
Rim them about with vernal stains,
Forerunners of maturer May,
When those red flowers, which so can please,
(Christ's-Blood-Drops named--anemones),
Spot Ephraim and the mountain-way. 55
But heart bereft is unrepaid
Though Thammuz' spring in Thammuz' glade
Invite; then how inJoel's glen?
What if dyed shawl and bodice gay
Make bright the black dell? what if they 60
In distance clear diminished be
To seeming cherries dropped on pall
Borne graveward under laden tree?
The cheer, so human, might not call
The maiden up; Christ is arisen: 65
But Ruth, may Ruth so burst the prison?
The rite supreme being ended now,
Their confluence here the nations part:
Homeward the tides of pilgrims flow,
By contrast making the walled town 70
Like a depopulated mart;
More like some kirk on week-day lone,
On whose void benches broodeth still
The brown light from November hill.
But though the freshet quite be gone-- 75
Sluggish, life's wonted stream flows on.
And, in the town He knew, the rite
Commemorative eager goes
Before the hour. Upon the night
Between the week's last day and first, 5
No more the Stabat is dispersed
Or Tenebrae. And when the day,
The Easter, falls in calendar
The same to Latin and the array
Of all schismatics from afar-- 10
Armenians, Greeks from many a shore--
Syrians, Copts--profusely pour
The hymns: 'tis like the choric gush
Of torrents Alpine when they rush
To swell the anthem of the spring. 15
That year was now. Throughout the fane,
Floor, and arcades in double ring
About the gala of THE TOMB,
Blazing with lights, behung with bloom--
What child-like thousands roll the strain, 20
The hallelujah after pain,
Which in all tongues of Christendom
Still through the ages has rehearsed
That Best, the outcome of the Worst.
Nor blame them who by lavish rite 25
Thus greet the pale victorious Son,
Since Nature times the same delight,
And rises with the Emerging One;
Her passion-week, her winter mood
She slips, with crape from off the Rood. 30
In soft rich shadow under dome,
With gems and robes repletely fine,
The priests like birds Brazilian shine:
And moving tapers charm the sight,
Enkindling the curled incense-fume: 35
A dancing ray, Auroral light.
Burn on the hours, and meet the day.
The morn invites; the suburbs call
The concourse to come forth--this way!
Out from the gate by Stephen's wall, 40
They issue, dot the hills, and stray
In bands, like sheep among the rocks;
And the Good Shepherd in the heaven,
To whom the charge of these is given,
The Christ, ah! counts He there His flocks? 45
But they, at each suburban shrine,
Grateful adore that Friend benign;
Though chapel now and cross divine
Too frequent show neglected; nay,
For charities of early rains 50
Rim them about with vernal stains,
Forerunners of maturer May,
When those red flowers, which so can please,
(Christ's-Blood-Drops named--anemones),
Spot Ephraim and the mountain-way. 55
But heart bereft is unrepaid
Though Thammuz' spring in Thammuz' glade
Invite; then how inJoel's glen?
What if dyed shawl and bodice gay
Make bright the black dell? what if they 60
In distance clear diminished be
To seeming cherries dropped on pall
Borne graveward under laden tree?
The cheer, so human, might not call
The maiden up; Christ is arisen: 65
But Ruth, may Ruth so burst the prison?
The rite supreme being ended now,
Their confluence here the nations part:
Homeward the tides of pilgrims flow,
By contrast making the walled town 70
Like a depopulated mart;
More like some kirk on week-day lone,
On whose void benches broodeth still
The brown light from November hill.
But though the freshet quite be gone-- 75
Sluggish, life's wonted stream flows on.
Some
leading thoroughfares of man
In wood-path, track, or trail began;
Though threading heart of proudest town,
They follow in controlling grade
A hint or dictate, nature's own, 5
By man, as by the brute, obeyed.
Within Jerusalem a lane,
Narrow, nor less an artery main
(Though little knoweth it of din),
In part suggests such origin. 10
The restoration or repair,
Successive through long ages there,
Of city upon city tumbled,
Might scarce divert that thoroughfare,
Whose hill abideth yet unhumbled 15
Above the valley-side it meets.
Pronounce its name, this natural street's:
The Via Crucis--even the way
Tradition claims to be the one
Trod on that Friday far away 20
By Him our pure exemplar shown.
'Tis Whitsun-tide. From paths without,
Through Stephen's gatc by many a vein
Convergent brought within this lane,
Ere sun-down shut the loiterer out-- 25
As 'twere a frieze, behold the train!
Bowed water-carriers; Jews with staves;
Infirm gray monks; over-loaded slaves;
Turk soldiers--young, with home-sick eyes;
A Bey, bereaved through luxuries; 30
Strangers and exiles; Moslem dames
Long-veiled in monumental white,
Dumb from the mounds which memory claims;
A half-starved vagrant Edomite;
Sore-footed Arab girls, which toil 35
Depressed under heap of garden-spoil;
The patient ass with panniered urn;
Sour camels humped by heaven and man,
Whose languid necks through habit turn
For easc for ease they hardly gain. 40
In varied forms of fate they wend--
Or man or animal, 'tis one:
Cross-bearers all, alike they tend
And follow, slowly follow on.
But, lagging after, who is he 45
Called early every hope to test,
And now, at close of rarer quest,
Finds so much more the heavier tree?
From slopes whence even Echo's gone,
Wending, he murmurs in low tone: 50
"They wire the world--far under sea
They talk; but never comes to me
A message from beneath the stone."
Dusked Olivet he leaves behind,
And, taking now a slender wynd, 55
Vanishes in the obscurer town.
In wood-path, track, or trail began;
Though threading heart of proudest town,
They follow in controlling grade
A hint or dictate, nature's own, 5
By man, as by the brute, obeyed.
Within Jerusalem a lane,
Narrow, nor less an artery main
(Though little knoweth it of din),
In part suggests such origin. 10
The restoration or repair,
Successive through long ages there,
Of city upon city tumbled,
Might scarce divert that thoroughfare,
Whose hill abideth yet unhumbled 15
Above the valley-side it meets.
Pronounce its name, this natural street's:
The Via Crucis--even the way
Tradition claims to be the one
Trod on that Friday far away 20
By Him our pure exemplar shown.
'Tis Whitsun-tide. From paths without,
Through Stephen's gatc by many a vein
Convergent brought within this lane,
Ere sun-down shut the loiterer out-- 25
As 'twere a frieze, behold the train!
Bowed water-carriers; Jews with staves;
Infirm gray monks; over-loaded slaves;
Turk soldiers--young, with home-sick eyes;
A Bey, bereaved through luxuries; 30
Strangers and exiles; Moslem dames
Long-veiled in monumental white,
Dumb from the mounds which memory claims;
A half-starved vagrant Edomite;
Sore-footed Arab girls, which toil 35
Depressed under heap of garden-spoil;
The patient ass with panniered urn;
Sour camels humped by heaven and man,
Whose languid necks through habit turn
For easc for ease they hardly gain. 40
In varied forms of fate they wend--
Or man or animal, 'tis one:
Cross-bearers all, alike they tend
And follow, slowly follow on.
But, lagging after, who is he 45
Called early every hope to test,
And now, at close of rarer quest,
Finds so much more the heavier tree?
From slopes whence even Echo's gone,
Wending, he murmurs in low tone: 50
"They wire the world--far under sea
They talk; but never comes to me
A message from beneath the stone."
Dusked Olivet he leaves behind,
And, taking now a slender wynd, 55
Vanishes in the obscurer town.
If Luther's day expand to Darwin's year,
Shall that exclude the hope foreclose the fear?
Unmoved by all the claims our times avow,
The ancient Sphinx still keeps the porch of shade;
And comes Despair, whom not her calm may cow, 5
And coldly on that adamantine brow
Scrawls undeterred his bitter pasquinade.
But Faith (who from the scrawl indignant turns)
With blood warm oozing from her wounded trust,
Inseribes even on her shards of broken urns 10
The sign o' the cross--the spirit above the dvst!
Yea, ape and angel, strife and old debate--
The harps of heaven and dreary gongs of hell;
Science the feud can only aggravate--
No umpire she betwixt the chimes and knell: 15
The running battle of the star and clod
Shall run forever--if there be no God.
Degrees we know, unknown in days before;
The light is greater, hence the shadow more;
And tantalized and apprehensive Man 20
Appealing--Wherefore ripen us to pain?
Seems there the spokesman of dumb Nature's train.
But through such strange illusions have they passed
Who in life's pilgrimage have baffled striven--
Even death may prove unreal at the last, 25
And stoics be astounded into heaven.
Then keep thy heart, though yet but ill-resigned--
Clarel, thy heart, the issues there but mind;
That like the crocus budding through the snow--
That like a swimmer rising from the deep-- 30
That like a burning secret which doth go
Even from the bosom that would hoard and keep;
Emerge thou mayst from the last whelming sea,
And prove that death but routs life into victory.
Shall that exclude the hope foreclose the fear?
Unmoved by all the claims our times avow,
The ancient Sphinx still keeps the porch of shade;
And comes Despair, whom not her calm may cow, 5
And coldly on that adamantine brow
Scrawls undeterred his bitter pasquinade.
But Faith (who from the scrawl indignant turns)
With blood warm oozing from her wounded trust,
Inseribes even on her shards of broken urns 10
The sign o' the cross--the spirit above the dvst!
Yea, ape and angel, strife and old debate--
The harps of heaven and dreary gongs of hell;
Science the feud can only aggravate--
No umpire she betwixt the chimes and knell: 15
The running battle of the star and clod
Shall run forever--if there be no God.
Degrees we know, unknown in days before;
The light is greater, hence the shadow more;
And tantalized and apprehensive Man 20
Appealing--Wherefore ripen us to pain?
Seems there the spokesman of dumb Nature's train.
But through such strange illusions have they passed
Who in life's pilgrimage have baffled striven--
Even death may prove unreal at the last, 25
And stoics be astounded into heaven.
Then keep thy heart, though yet but ill-resigned--
Clarel, thy heart, the issues there but mind;
That like the crocus budding through the snow--
That like a swimmer rising from the deep-- 30
That like a burning secret which doth go
Even from the bosom that would hoard and keep;
Emerge thou mayst from the last whelming sea,
And prove that death but routs life into victory.
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