Sits listening to Magi of the air,
Or ocean lapping on eternal sands.
'Tis as a star should to a flower turn,
And yet remember heaven.
[Approaches curtains and kneels]
Fare thee well!
O thou whose body is a living urn
Full of distill�d sweets from every mead
Where Love hath set a flower! Whose soul compacts
All earth's divinity, and leaves profane