And seem to meditate or pray.
And these red drops of frankincense
Betoken man's intelligence.
Hail, Lord of Wisdom, Prince of Day!

MELCHIOR

I am the dark man, Melchior,
And I shall live but little more
Since I am old and feebly move.
My kingdom is a burnt-up land
Half buried by the drifting sand,
So hot Apollo shines above.
What could I bring but simple myrrh
White blossom of the cordial fire?
Hail, Prince of Souls, and Lord of Love!

CHORUS OF ANGELS

O Prince of souls and Lord of Love,
O'er thee the purple-breasted dove
Shall watch with open silver wings,
Thou King of Kings.
Suaviole o flos Virginum,
Apparuit Rex Gentium.
. . .
"Who art thou, little King of Kings?"
His wondering mother sings.