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With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine; And mooned Ashtaroth,

Heaven's queen and mother both,

Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;

The Libyck Hammon shrinks his horn,

In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn.

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His burning idol all of blackest hue;

In vain with cymbals' ring

They call the grisly king,

In dismal dance about the furnace blue :

The brutish Gods of Nile as fast,

Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.

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