Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,
Wherein [thou ridest with Hecat’], and befriend 135
Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end
Of all thy dues be done, and none left out
Ere the blabbing eastern scout,
[The nice Morn] on the Indian steep,
[From her cabined loop-hole peep], 140
And to the tell-tale Sun [descry]
Our concealed solemnity.
Come, knit hands, and beat the ground