(Goes to window.)
O prison of a city
Which I have hated! Little evil lanes,
Filthy with dogs and lepers and blind men
Made eyeless by the flies. O nest of vipers,
Within few moments I shall pass from you.
Once an Egyptian told me that at death
The soul has power to will its resting-place:
So do I will that I be far from here,
At Sidon on a hilltop near the sea,
Looking at Kittim at a sun-setting,
When all the peaks rise up like crowns of gods
And flame with the gods’ thoughts. And past those peaks,
Beyond, in the imagined, never seen,
Behind its reef of rocks, and beautiful
With marble and with wonders and with waters,
Is Mura, where my lover was a King.
But hark, they come. I would go forth to Sidon.
To Sidon, or to Kittim, or to Mura,
Some place of the sea-princes near the sea.
I would go forth to Sidon or to Mura,
To Mura, or to Sidon, or to Kittim—-
(She sings.)
The April moon is in the sky,
Last night I heard the wild geese cry.
Oh, ho!
The brooks are bright on Lebanon,
The rain has come, the snows are gone.
Oh, ho!
The north wind faints and soon the south
Will blow the spice smell in the mouth.
Oh, ho!
Then shall my bird the ship take wing
And sail the green seas with the King,
And find, maybe, a finer thing
Than any here.
Oh, ho!
Enter Pharmas and Ashobal.
Pharmas.
Madam, King Jehu and his men are come:
They ask to see you at the window yonder.