“That is his voice, I reckon, my Lady—yes, I thought so—and the new carol which he has been teaching the choir.”
O'er the hill and o'er the vale
Come three kings together,
Caring nought for snow and hail,
Cold, and wind, and weather;
Now on Persia's sandy plains,
Now where Tigris swells with rains,
They their camels tether.
Now through Syrian lands they go,
Now through Moab, faint and slow,