26. The Prodigal
In adolescence thrilled by hope
Which fain would verify the gleam
And find if destiny concur, How dwells upon life's horoseope Youth, always an astrologer, Forecasting happiness the dream!
Slumber interred them; but not all, For so it chanced that Clarel's cell Was shared by one who did repel The poppy. 'Twas a prodigal, Yet pilgrim too in casual way, And seen within the grots that day, But only seen, no more than that. In years he might be Clarel's mate. Not talkative, he half reclined In revery of dreamful kind; Or might the fable, the romance Be tempered by experience? For ruling under spell serene, A light precocity is seen. That mobile face, voluptuous air No Northern origin declare, But Southern--where the nations bright, The costumed nations, circled be In garland round a tideless sea Eternal in its fresh delight. Nor less he owned the common day; His avocation naught, in sooth-- A toy of Mammon; but the ray And fair aureola of youth
Deific makes the prosiest clay. From revery now by Clarel won He brief his story entered on: A native of the banks of Rhone He traveled for a Lyons house Which dealt in bales luxurious; Detained by chance at Jaffa gray, Rather than let ripe hours decay, He'd run o'er, in a freak of fun, Green Sharon to Jerusalem, And thence, not far, to Bethlehem. Thy silvery voice, irreverent one! 'Twas musical; and Clarel said: "Greatly I err, or thou art he Who singing along the hill-side sped At fall of night." "And heard you me? 'Twas sentimental, to be sure: A little Spanish overture, A Tombez air, which months ago A young Peruvian let flow. Locked friends we were; he's gone home now." To Clarel 'twas a novel style And novel nature; and awhile Mutely he dwelt upon him here. Earnest to know how the most drear
Solemnity of Judah's glade
Affect might such a mind, he said
Something to purpose; but he shied. One essay more; whereat he cried: "Amigo! favored lads there are, Born under such a lucky star, They weigh not things too curious, see, Albeit conforming to their time And usages thereof, and clime: Well, mine's that happy family." The student faltered--felt annoy: Absorbed in problems ill-defined, Am I too curious in my mind;
And, baffled in the vain employ, Foregoing many an easy joy? That thought he hurried from; and so Unmindful in perturbed estate Of that light intimation late, He said: "On hills of dead Judaoa Wherever one may faring go, He dreams--Fit place to set the bier Of Jacob, brought from Egypt's mead: Here's Atad's threshing-floor." "Indeed? " Scarce audible was that in tone; Nor Clarel heard it, but went on: "'Tis Jephthah's daughter holds the hight; She, she's the muse here.--But, I pray, Confess toJudah's mournful sway." He held his peace. "You grant the blight?" "No Boulevards." "Do other lands Show equal ravage you've beheld?" "Oh, yes," and eyed his emerald In ring. "But here a God commands, A judgment dooms: you that gainsay?" Up looked he quick, then turned away, And with a shrug that gave mute sign That here the theme he would decline. But Clarel urged. As in despair The other turned--invoked the air: "Was it in such talk, Don Rovenna, We dealt in Seville, I and you? No! chat of love-wile and duenna And saya-manto in Peru. Ah, good Limeno, dear amigo, What times were ours, the holidays flew; Life, life a revel and clear allegro; But home thou'rt gone; pity, but true!" At burst so lyrical, yet given Not all without some mock in leaven, Once more did Clarel puzzled sit; But rallying in spite of it,
Continued: "Surely now, 'tis clear
That in the aspect of Judaea--" "My friend, it is just naught to me! Why, why so pertinacious be? Refrain!" Here, turning light away, As quitting so the theme: "How gay Damascus! orchard of a town: Not yet she's heard the tidings though." "Tidings?" "Tidings of long ago: Isaiah's dark burden, malison: Of course, to be perpetual fate: Bat, serpent, screech-owl, and all that. But truth is, grace and pleasure there, In Abana and Pharpar's streams (O shady haunts! O sherbert-air!) So twine the place in odorous dreams, How may she think to mope and moan, The news not yet being got to town That she's a ruin! Oh, 'tis pity, For she, she is earth's senior city!-- Pray, who was he, that man of state Whose footman at Elisha's gate Loud rapped? The name has slipped. Howe'er, That Damascene maintained it well: 'We've better streams than Israel,