For now its rampires, palaces, and shrines,
Lit up by morning’s golden glances stood;
A pillared labyrinth, through which there winds
With ceaseless flow a various multitude.
Nobles and merchants swiftly roll along,
On radiant cars by Thracian coursers drawn.
IV.
And hoary priests, in robes of purest white,
Lead slowly up the pomp of sacrifice
To stately fanes, where wreaths of incense light