The World’s Tragedy

78 THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. Of one’s soul the grisly ape ! Get ye forth to Aggereth Riding in her golden car Yoked to ox and ass that prance In their evil Hinnom-dance ! I am writhing with my death Born of the infernal Star. ALEXANDER Nay, our lady, we are come To thy worship — high and holy ; From our heaven-wide halidom To the manger dark and lowly We have brought taraxacum, Mandrake, amrit, myrrh and moly ; Many a royal gift of gree From the land of Danae, From the coral-breeding sea, From the steppes of Tartary ! GOVINDA I have brought a treasure-chest Full of gold, red gold galore,