And clouds of incense fill the heavy air,
And shouts of homage echo thro’ the street.
Or yet, again, she stretches forth the hand,
And men are done to death at her desire;
The smoke of burning cities dims the land,
And limbs are torn or shrivelled in the fire.
Once more the scene is shifted, and the gleam
Of eastern suns about her brow is curled;
Once more she roams a maiden by the stream,
Despised of men, the Magdalen of the world.