For he is thy Lord, and honour thou him.
O daughter of Tyre, now with presents
The rich of the people salute thy face.
The king’s daughter stands in the palace in all the splendour,
Her clothing is of fabricated gold,
She is led to the king in wrought raiment;
Behind her are the virgins, her companions, brought for thee;
They are conducted with joy and rejoicing,
They enter the palace of the king.
Instead of thy fathers shall be thy sons;