In mosque or sacred temple, or the chant
Of holy pilgrims, that beguile the road.
I’ll learn what they will tell me of their hymns,
And whence they have this music. Ah, they see me.
Sir, pray withdraw not thus. Step on this terrace;
Hence may you view the sea. Your helpless lot
I pity; and if indeed I have any power
To ease the pains of your captivity,
’Tis but a debt I owe you for the pleasure
Your music wakes within me. Come this way.