Bel, the prince, the king of kings.
"Bring him the fresh-slain flesh, roast it with fire, with the savour of salt,
Pour him the strength of wine, chalice and goblet, trodden for him alone:
Raise him the song of songs, cry out in praises, cry out and supplicate
That he may drink delight, tasting our off'ring, hearing our evening song:
Bel, the prince, the king of kings.
"So, in the gentle night, when he is resting, peace descendeth on earth;
High in the firmament, where his steps led him, gleam the tracks of his way:
Where the day felt his touch, there the night also breaketh forth into stars,
These are the flowers of heaven, garlands of blossoms, growing to weave his crown: