A Greek of Syria perhaps or some other stranger?

From Clea in The Alexandria Quartet by Lawrence Durrell

One of Their Gods
by Gerald Durrell

Moving through the marketplace of Seleukeia
Towards the hour of dusk there came one
A tall, rare and perfectly fashioned youth
With the rapt joy of absolute incorruptibility
Written in his glance; and whose dark
Perfumed head of hair uncombed attracted
The curious glances of the passers-by.
They paused to ask each other who he was,
A Greek of Syria perhaps or some other stranger?
But a few who saw a little deeper drew aside,
Thoughtfully, to follow him with their eyes,
To watch him gliding through the dark arcades,
Through the shadow-light of evening silently
Going towards those quarters of the town
Which only wake at night in shameless orgies
And pitiless debaucheries of flesh and mind.
And these few who knew wondered which of Them he was
And for what terrible sensualities he hunted
Through the crooked streets of Seleukeia
A shadow-visitant from those divine and hallowed
Mansions where They dwell.

Free translation from C.P. Cavafy