Canto 42 (Some of the strangers late arrived…)

Some of the strangers late arrived Tarried with Abdon at the inn; And, ere long, having viewed the town Would travel further, and pass on To Siddim, and the Dead Sea win And Saba. And would Clarel go? 'Twas but for days. They would return By Bethlehem, and there soiourn

Awhile, regaining Zion so. But Clarel undetermined stood, And kept his vacillating mood, Though learning, as it happed, that Vine And Rolfe would join the journeying band. Loath was he here to disentwine Himself from Ruth. Nor less Lot's land, And sea, andJudah's utmost drought Fain would he view, and mark their tone: And prove if, unredeemed byJohn, John's wilderness augmented doubt. As chanced, while wavering in mind, And threading a hushed lane or wynd Quick warning shout he heard behind And clattering hoofs. He hugged the wall, Then turned; in that brief interval The dust came on him, powdery light, From one who like a javelin flew Spectral with dust, and all his plight Charged with the desert and its hue; A courier, and he bent his flight— (As Clarel afterward recalled) Whither lay Agar's close inwalled. The clank of arms, the clink of shoe, The cry admonitory too, Smote him, and yet he scarce knew why; But when, some hours having flitted by, Nearing the precincts of the Jew His host, he did Nehemiah see Waiting in arch, and with a look Which some announcement's shadow took, His heart stood still—Fate's herald, he? "What is it? what?"—The saint delayed.— "Ruth?"—"Nathan;" and the news conveyed. The threat, oft hurled, as oft reviled By one too proud to give it heed, The menace of stern foemen wild, No menace now was, but a deed: Burned was the roof on Sharon's plain; And timbers charred showed clotted stain:

But, spirited away, each corse Unsepulchered remained, or worse.

Ah, Ruth—woe, Agar! Ill breeds ill; The widow with no future free, Without resource perhaps, or skill To steer upon grief's misty sea. To grieve with them and lend his aid, Straight to the house see Clarel fare, The house of mourning—sadder made For that the mourned one lay not there— But found it barred. He, waiting so, Doubtful to knock or call them—lo, The rabbi issues, while behind The door shuts to. The meeting eyes Reciprocate a quick surprise, Then alter; and the secret mind The rabbi bears to Clarel shows In dark superior look he throws: Censorious conseiousness of power: Death—and it is the Levite's hour. No word he speaks, but turns and goes. The student lingered. He was told By one without, a neighbor old, That neverJewish modes relent:

Sealed long would be the tenement To all but Hebrews—of which race Kneeled comforters by sorrow's side. So both were cared for. Clogged in pace He turned away. How pass the tide Of Ruth's seclusion? Might he gain Relief from dull inaction's pain? Yes, join he would those pilgrims now Which on the morrow would depart For Siddim, by way of Jericho. But first of all, he letters sent, Brief, yet dictated by the heart— Announced his plan's constrained intent Reluctant; and consigned a ring For pledge of love and Ruth's remembering.