Canto 15 ("Lo, shoot the spikes above the…)

"Lo, shoot the spikes above the hill: Now expectation grows and grows; Yet vain the pageant, idle still:

When one would get at Nature's will— To be put off by purfled shows! "He breaks. Behold, thou orb supreme, 'Tis Olivet which thou ascendest— The hill and legendary chapel; Yet how indifferent thy beam! Awe nor reverence pretendest: Dome and summit dost but dapple With gliding touch, a tinging gleam: Knowest thou the Christ? believest in the dream?" 'Twas Celio—seated there, as late, Upon the mound. But now the gate, Flung open, welcomes in the day,

And lets out Clarel with the guide; These from the wall had hailed the ray; And Celio heard them there aside, And turning, rose. Was it to greet? But ere they might accost or meet, From minaret in grounds hard by Of Omar, the muezzin's cry— Tardy, for Mustapha was old, And age a laggard is—was rolled, Announcing Islam's early hour Of orison. Along the walls And that deep gulf over which these tower— Far down toward Rogel, hark, it calls! Can Siloa hear it, yet her wave So listless lap the hollow cave? Is Zion deaf? But, promptly still, Each turban at that summons shrill, Which should have called ere perfect light, Bowed—hands on chest, or arms upright; While over all those fields of loss Where now the Crescent rides the Cross, Sole at the marble mast-head stands The Islam herald, his two hands Upon the rail, and sightless eyes Turned upward reverent toward the skies. And none who share not this defect The rules to function here elect; Since, raised upon the lifted perch What leave for prying eyes to search Into the privacies that lurk In courts domestic of the Turk, Whose tenements in every town Guard well against the street alone. But what's evoked in Clarel's mien— What look, responsive look is seen In Celio, as together there They pause? Can these a climax share? Mutual in approach may glide Minds which from poles adverse have come, Belief and unbelief? may doom Of doubt make such to coincide— Upon one frontier brought to dwell Arrested by the Ezan high In summons as from out the sky To matins of the infidel? The God alleged, here in abode Ignored with such impunity, Scarce true is writ a jealous God. Think ye such thoughts? If so it be, Yet these may eyes transmit and give? Mere eyes? so quick, so sensitive? Howbeit Celio knew his mate: Again, as down in Gihon late, He hovered with his overture— An overture that scorned debate. But inexperienced, shy, unsure— Challenged abrupt, or yea or nay, Again did Clarel hesitate; When quick the proud one with a look Which might recoil of heart betray, And which the other scarce might brook In recollection, turned away. Ah, student, ill thy sort have sped: The instant proffer—it is fled! When, some days after, for redress Repentant Clarel sought access,

He learned the name, with this alone— From convent Celio was gone, Nor knew they whither. Here in press To Clarel came a dreamy token: What speck is that so far away That wanes and wanes in waxing day? Is it the sail ye fain had spoken Last night when surges parted ye? But on, it is a boundless sea.