And have they resurrected Tartary
The Terrible? Or out of sand and rock
Lifted the jaguar gates of Antioch?
They who have sacked the starlight and the three
Vaults of a dead Egyptian dynasty? …
There is one precinct, one untampered lock
They shall not finger, one cool agate block
Rooted under the cellars of the sea.
Ask of the Atlantean if he knows
Where strain the leopards of his Emperor;
Where sways the stealthy censer of the Rose;
Who wears the garlands of the Paramour;
And where that lonely purple monarch goes,
Along what garden, through what golden door.