Song from 'Paracelsus'

Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes   Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smear'd with dull nard an Indian wipes   From out her hair: such balsam falls   Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old   Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud Which breaks to dust when once unroll'd;   Or shredded perfume, like a cloud   From closet long to quiet vow'd, With moth'd and dropping arras hung, Mouldering her lute and books among, As when a queen, long dead, was young.