beauty fell upon my heart like dew. Now I was a ruler of men, and kings who would be my lovers bent at my feet and were the puppets of my hands. I cast them down and broke them; I saw Sidon go up in flames and filled my soul with vengeance. Hark! It is the footstep of the goddess, the Queen of Heaven sets her kiss upon my brow; she names me Daughter, her Appointed. Knowledge is mine, out of my lips flow prophecies, a spirit guides my feet. I, I hold my own against the Persian, when all else have fled I cast him from his throne. I give his pomp to the tongues of Fire. Oh! how they cry, those mockers of Egypt's gods, as I watch them scorch and perish.
I am lonely. Where is my love? I wend toward the grave and none are born of me. I seek my love. There stands thy love—not far away, but at thy side. Take him, take him, take him!
Thus said the Fire.
Now its voice is the voice of trumpets that blare and echo around the hills. They call, those trumpets call: Where is the captain of our hosts? Where is our Queen? Come forth, O Queen, crowned with wisdom, diademed with power, holding in thine hand the gift of days. No longer would we be left leaderless, we who would march to victory and hold the world in thrall.
The King of Fire is at hand. He opens the gateways of the dark. Behind him march the legions: he comes with splendour, he comes with glory, he comes to take his bride. Unrobe, unrobe! Prepare thyself, O Bride! The King of Fire calls!
I unloosed my garments, I unbound my hair that covered me like to a sable robe.
Art mad?
cried the Greek, Kallikrates, wringing his hands.
