| «Blessed be the English and all their ways and works. |
| Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks!» |
| «Amen», quo’ Jobson, «but where I used to lie |
|
| |
| «But a palm-tree in full bearing, bowing down, bowing down, |
| To a surf that drove unsparing at the brown, walled town - |
| Conches in a temple, oil-lamps in a dome - |
| And a low moon out of Africa said: ‘This way home!’» |
| |
| «Blessed be the English and all that they profess. |
| Cursed be the Savages that prance in nakedness!» |
| «Amen», quo’ Jobson, «but where I used to lie |
| Was neither shirt nor pantaloons to catch my brethren by: |
| |
| «But a well-wheel slowly creaking, going round, going round, |
|
| Parrots very busy in the trellised pepper-vine - |
| And a high sun over Asia shouting: ‘Rise and shine!’» |
| |
| «Blessed be the English and everything they own. |
| Cursed be the Infidels that bow to wood and stone!» |
| «Amen», quo’ Jobson, «but where I used to lie |
| Was neither pew nor Gospelleer to save my brethren by: |
| |
| «But a desert stretched and stricken, left and right, left and right, |
| Where the piled mirages thicken under white-hot light - |
| A skull beneath a sand-hill and a viper coiled inside - |
| ‘Run and hide!’» |
| |
| «Blessed be the English and all they make or do. |
| Cursed be the Hereticks who doubt that this is true!» |
| «Amen», quo’ Jobson, «but where I mean to die |
| Is neither rule nor calliper to judge the matter by: |
| |
| «But Himalaya heavenward-heading, sheer and vast, sheer and vast, |
| In a million summits bedding on the last world’s past - |
| A certain sacred mountain where the scented cedars climb, |
| And - the feet of my Beloved hurrying back through Time!» |