Canto 24 (In the south wall, where low…)

In the south wall, where low it creeps Crossing the hollow down between Moriah and Zion, by dust-heaps Of rubbish in a lonely scene, A little door there is, and mean— Such as a stable may befit; 'Tis locked, nor do they open it Except when days of drought begin, To let the water-donkeys in From Rogel. 'Tis in site the gate Of Scripture named the dung-gate—that Also (the legends this instill) Through which from over Kedron's rill— In fear of rescue should they try The way less roundabout and shy—

By torch the tipstaves Jesus led, And so thro' back-street hustling sped To Pilate. Odor bad it has This gate in story, and alas, In fact as well, and is in fine Like ancient Rome's port Esquiline Wherefrom the scum was cast.—

Next day Ascending Zion's rear, without The wall, the saint and Clarel stay Their feet, being hailed, and by a shout From one who nigh the small gate stood: "Ho, ho there, worthy pilgrims, ho!

Acquainted in this neighborhood? What city's this? town beautiful Of David? I'm a stranger, know. 'Tis heavy prices here must rule; Choice house-lot now, what were it worth? How goes the market?" and more mirth. Down there into the place unclean They peer, they see the man therein, An iron-gray, short, rugged one, Round shouldered, and of knotty bone; A hammer swinging in his hand, And pouch at side, by the ill door. Him had they chanced upon before Or rather at a distance seen Upon the hills, with curious mien And eyes that—scarce in pious dream Or sad humility, 'twould seem— Still earthward bent, would pry and pore. Perceiving that he shocked the twain, His head he wagged, and called again, "What city's this? town beautiful " No more they heard; but to annul The cry, here Clarel quick as thought Turned with the saint and refuge sought Passing an angle of the wall. When now at slower pace they went Clarel observed the sinless one Turning his Bible-leaves content; And presently he paused: "Dear son, The Scripture is fulfilled this day; Note what these Lamentations say; The doom the prophet doth rehearse In chapter second, fifteenth verse: 'All that pass by clap their hands At thee; they hiss, and wag the head, Saying, Is this the city'—read, Thyself here read it where it stands." Inquisitive he quick obeyed, Then dull relapsed, and nothing said,

Tho' more he mused, still laboring there Upward, by arid gullies bare:— What object sensible to touch Or quoted fact may faith rely on, If faith confideth overmuch That here's a monument in Zion: Its substance ebbs—see, day and night The sands subsiding from the height; In time, absorbed, these grains may help To form new sea-bed, slug and kelp. "The gate," cried Nehemiah, "the gate Of David!" Wending thro' the strait, And marking that, in common drought, 'Twas yellow waste within as out, The student mused: The desert, see, It parts not here, but silently, Even like a leopard by our side, It seems to enter in with us— At home amid men's homes would glide. But hark! that wail how dolorous: So grieve the souls in endless dearth; Yet sounds it human—of the earth!