# Clarel/Part 2/Canto 7
## 7. Guide and Guard

Descending by the mountain side When crags give way to pastures wide, And lower opening, ever new, Glades, meadows, hamlets meet the view Which from above did coyly hide-- 5 And with re-kindled breasts of spring The robins thro' the orchard wing; Excellent then--as there bestowed-- And true in charm the downward road. Quite other spells an influence throw 10 Down going, down, to Jericho.  Here first on path so evil-starred Their guide they scan, and prize the guard.
 The guide, a Druze of Lebanon, Was rumored for an Emir's son, 15 Or offspring of a lord undone In Ibrahim's time. Abrupt reverse The princes in the East may know: Lawgivers are outlaws at a blow, And Crcesus dwindles in the purse. 20 Exiled, cut off, in friendless state, The Druze maintained an air sedate; Without the sacrifice of pride, Sagacious still he earned his bread, E'en managed to maintain the head, 25 Yes, lead men still, if but as guide To pilgrims.  Here his dress to mark: A simple woolen cloak, with dark Vertical stripes; a vest to suit; 30 White turban like snow-wreath: a boot
Exempt from spur; a sash of fair White linen, long-fringed at the ends: The garb of Lebanon. His mare In keeping showed: the saddle plain: 35 Head-stall untasseled, slender rein. But nature made her rich amends For art's default: full eye of flame Tempered in softness, which became Womanly sometimes, in desire 40 To be caressed; ears fine to know Least intimation, catch a hint As tinder takes the spark from flint And steel. Veil-like her clear attire Of silvery hair, with speckled show 45 Of grayish spots, and ample flow Of milky mane. Much like a child The Druze she'd follow, more than mild. Not less, at need, what power she'd don, Clothed with the thunderbolt would run 50 As conseious of the Emir's son She bore; nor knew the hireling's lash, Red rowel, or rebuke as rash. Courteous her treatment. But deem not This tokened a luxurious lot: 55 Her diet spare; sole stable, earth; Beneath the burning sun she'd lie
With mane disheveled, whence her eye Would flash across the fiery dearth, As watching for that other queen, 60 Her mate, a beauteous Palmyrene, The pride of Tadmore's tented scene.  Athwart the pommel-cloth coarse-spun A long pipe lay, and longer gun, With serviceable yataghan. 65 But prized above these arms of yore, A new revolver bright he bore Tucked in the belt, and oft would scan. Accoutered thus, thro' desert-blight Whose lord is the Amalekite, 70
And proffering or peace or war, The swart Druze rode his silvery Zar.
 Behind him, jogging two and two, Came troopers six of tawny hue, Bewrinkled veterans, and grave 75 As Carmel's prophets of the cave: Old Arab Bethlehemites, with guns And spears of grandsires old. Weird ones, Their robes like palls funereal hung Down from the shoulder, one fold flung 80 In mufflement about the head, And kept there by a fillet's braid.
 Over this venerable troop Went Belex doughty in command, Erst of the Sultan's saucy troop 85 Which into death he did disband-- Politic Mahmoud--when that clan By fair pretence, in festive way, He trapped within the Artmedan-- Of old, Byzantium's circus gay. 90 But Belex a sultana saved-- His senior, though by love enslaved, Who fed upon the stripling's May-- Long since, for now his beard was gray; Tho' goodly yet the features fine, 95 Firm chin, true lip, nose aquiline-- Type of the pure Osmanli breed. But ah, equipments gone to seed-- Ah, shabby fate! his vesture's cloth Hinted theJew bazaar and moth: 100 The saddle, too, a cast-offone, An Aga's erst, and late was sown With seed-pearl in the seat; but now All that, with tag-work, all was gone-- The tag-work of wee bells in row 105 That made a small, snug, dulcet din About the housings Damascene.
But mark the bay: his twenty years Still showed him pawing with his peers. Pure desert air, doled diet pure, 110 Sleek tendance, brave result insure. Ample his chest; small head, large eye-- How interrogative with soul-- Responsive too, his master by: Trim hoof, and pace in strong control. 115  Thy birth-day well they keep, thou Don, And well thy birth-day ode they sing; Nor ill they named thee Solomon, Prolific sire. Long live the king.