Canto 21 (On Salem's surface undermined…)

On Salem's surface undermined, Lo, present alley, lane or wynd Obscure, which pilgrims seldom gain Or tread, who wonted guides retain. Humble the pilots native there: Following humbly need ye fare: Afoot; for never camels pass— Camels, which elsewhere in the town, Stalk through the street and brush the gown; Nor steed, nor mule, nor smaller ass. Some by-paths, flanked by wall and wall, Affect like glens. Dismantled, torn, Disastrous houses, ripe for fall— Haggard as Horeb, or the rock Named Hermit, antler of Cape Horn— Shelter, in chamber grimed, or hall, The bearded goat-herd's bearded flock; Or quite abandoned, sold to fear, Yawn, and like plundered tombs appear. Here, if alone, strive all ye can, Needs must ye start at meeting man. Yet man here harbors, even hc Harbors like lizard in dry well, Or stowaway in hull at sea Down by the keelson; criminal, Or penitent, or wretch undone, Or anchorite, or kinless one,

Or wight cast offby kin; or soul Which anguished from the hunter stole— Like Emim Bey the Mamaluke. He—armed, and, happily, mounted well— Leaped the inhuman citadel In Cairo; fled—yea, bleeding, broke Through shouting lanes his breathless way Into the desert; nor at bay Even there might stand; but, fox-like, on, And ran to earth in Zion's town; Here maimed, disfigured, crouched in den, And crouching died—securest then. With these be hearts in each degree Of craze, whereto some creed is key; Which, mastered by the awful myth, Find here, on native soil, the pith; And leaving a shrewd world behind— To trances open-eyed resigned— As visionaries of the Word Walk like somnambulists abroad.