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Calls yet 'twixt Calpe's height, and Abyla
Unto remotest seas.
Asclepiades:
And yet, who by the incense altar linger
To praise the unerring, far-darting, bow-stringer
The Sweetest Singer?
Pilgrims:
From the odorous Mother of Myrrh, Arabia,
Who bids on every altar incense wreathe
From happy spice-land sweet.
Whose Queens in royal weed, from head to feet
Dyed with thy purple pomp, Phœnicia,
The fainting potency of perfume breathe.
From cinnamon, cedar, sandal, cassia;
The while the fateful stars doth soothly scan
Thy spell enforcéd stars, Arabia
The pale rapt Magian.
