Horatio Nicholls
Worton David
Lawrence Wright Music Co., London

Neath Eastern Skies, Where Temples rise;
Over that fair mystic land,
Monarch he reigns O'er his domains;
King, yet a slave to love's command.
As the crimson sunset dies,
To one who's far away he cries:

Sheba, Queen of all,
Sheba, hear my call,
Across the plain I come to you,
Your love to claim till life is through,
Kings kneel at your throne,
Still you're mine alone,
For in my heart none reigns above
Queen of Sheba, Queen of Love.

Mid perfumes rare Sweet maidens there
Dance till the break of the dawn,
Bright eyes glow That thrilled him so,
Now leave him lonely and forlorn.
Round him whirls that glitt'ring throng,
Still in his heart there's just one song: