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More chambers passed, now weary, I drew apart;
To an airy balcony, of marble lattice-work;
Me a rest-place seemed, with pleasant prospect forth.
There, ín an oriel, sate men of the East;
On purple précious tappets, of those parts:
Whereon Sun shineth in His meridian force;
And bóuntiful Bósom of that Mother-Earth;
Her goodliest fruits, of many kinds, brings forth.
Judged bý their honourable cóuntenance;
Their vesture, ánd broidered rolls of camlet fine;
Wound round, in comely wise, ón their digne heads:
To be some worshipful elders, I them deemed,
Of Great Religious Asia. And óf the Muse,
Was given me to, those Strangers' speech, perceive;
Whose meek and lowly gaze was bent on ground.
He who, in their midst, revered seemed of the rest,

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As one of chief regard, in their discourse;
Sighed, as he pensive spake, with voice demiss:
Whoso, in his intégrity, lifteth up
Pure hands towards Heaven, the same accepted is.
All made response, with bowed-down pious looks:
In ónly Mercy of Heaven, our Confidence is.
So rose they; and óf the humánity óf their hearts;
And nurture, in which excells the Orient.
They all blessed me, each saying, as they before me passed:
Upon thy soul, be Peace!
Pious Sectaries,
Those seekers were, as I might understand;
Of Truth divine. That which they énquired was,
How might they please High Heaven, before their deaths.