O Ashtoreth! thou also hast loved! I call thee.
At this moment, Helena took something from her bosom, and, throwing a few grains of incense on the coals, held it in the thick white smoke which arose. Afterwards she advanced to the fountain and dipped it thrice, singing all the time that strange melody.
HELENA.
This amber heart I place in the rising odors,
So that thy virtues may pass into it;
Thrice do I dip it in lustrous water in which thou hast beheld thine image;
For thus will it draw the magic from thy breast,
On my lover’s neck will I place it—on his beating heart will it rest,
And it will save him when red runs the blood of battle.
CHORUS.