Not in the waste beyond the swamp and sand,
The fever-haunted forest and lagoon,
Mysterious Kôr, thy fanes forsaken stand,
With lonely towers beneath the lonely Moon!
Not there doth Ayesha linger,—rune by rune
Spelling the scriptures of a people banned,—
The world is disenchanted! oversoon
Shall Europe send her spies through all the land!
Nay, not in Kôr, but in whatever spot,
In fields, or towns, or by the insatiate sea,