Canto 17 (Disturbed by topics canvassed late…)

Disturbed by topics canvassed late, Clarel, from dreams of like debate, Started, and heard strange muffled sounds, Outgivings of wild mountain bounds. He rose, stood gazing toward the hight— Bethinking him that thereaway Behind it o'er the desert lay The walls that sheltered Ruth that night— When Rolfe drew near. With motion slight, Scarce conseious of the thing he did, Partly aside the student slid; Then, quick as thought, would fain atone. Whence came that shrinking start unbid? But from desire to be alone? Or skim or sound him, was Rolfe one Whom honest heart would care to shun? By spirit immature or dim Was nothing to be learned from him? How frank seemed Rolfe. Yet Vine could lure Despite reserve which overture Withstood—e'en Clarel's—late repealed, Finding that heart a fountain sealed.

But Rolfe: however it might be— Whether in friendly fair advance

Checked by that start of dissonance, Or whether rapt in revery Beyond—apart he moved, and leant Down peering from the battlement Upon its shadow. Then and there Clarel first noted in his air A gleam of oneness more than Vine's— The irrelation of a weed Detached from vast Sargasso's mead And drifting where the clear sea shines. But Clarel turned him; and anew His thoughts regained their prior clew; When, lo, a fog, and all was changed. Crept vapors from the Sea of Salt, Overspread the plain, nor there made halt, But blurred the heaven. As one estranged Who watches, watches from the shore, Till the white speck is seen no more, The ship that bears his plighted maid, Then turns and sighs as fears invade; See here the student, repossessed By thoughts of Ruth, with eyes late pressed Whither lay Salem, close and wynd— The mist before him, mist behind, While intercepting memories ran

Of chant and bier Armenian.