I shall place the diadem
Upon your Proclosian head
And the wreath of the Inner Light
Around your crown;
Twelve Tribal trumpets
Like rows of flaxen stalks
Sprouting forth
From the Arabian millet;
The motet of the Quadregesima Sunday
And the bellow of the Cherubim;
Bringing order to the great nations--
Thrusting others into the jaws
Of Symplegades.