XVIII

From Mount Seir, Duke Iram roveth, Three renewals of the moon: To see Egypt him behoveth, Ere his life be past its noon.

Soul, and mind, at first fell under Flat discomfiture of wonder, With the Nile before him spread, Temple-crowned, and tempest-fed!

Yet a n.o.bler creed he owneth, Than to worship things of s.p.a.ce: One true G.o.d his heart enthroneth Heart that throbs with Esau's race.

XIX

Thus he stood, with calm eyes scorning Idols, priests, and their adorning; Seeing, e'en in nature's show, Him alone, who made it so.

"G.o.d of Abraham, our Father, Earth, and heaven, and all we see, Are but gifts of thine, to gather Us, thy children, back to Thee.

"All the grandeur spread before us, All the miracles shed o'er us, Echoes of the voice above, Tokens of a Father's love."

XX

While of heaven his heart indited, And his dark eyes swept the crowd, Sudden on the maid they lighted, Mild and haughty, meek and proud.

Rapid as the flash of sabre, Strong as giant's toss of caber, Sure as victor's grasp of goal, Came the love-stroke through his soul

Gently she, her eyes recalling, Felt that Heaven had touched their flight, Peeped again, through lashes falling, Blushed, and shrank, and shunned the light

XXI

Ah, what booteth sweet illusion, Fluttering glance, and soft suffusion, Bliss unknown, but felt in sighs, Breast, that shrinks at its own rise?

She, who is the Nile's devoted, Courted with a watery smile; Her betrothal duly noted By the bridesmaid Crocodile!

So she bowed her forehead lowly, Tightened her tiara holy; And, with every sigh suppressed, Clasped her hands on pa.s.sion's breast.

PART II

I

Twice the moon hath waxed and wasted, Lavish of her dew-bright horn; And the wheeling sun hath hasted Fifty days, towards Capricorn.

Thebes, and all the Misric nation, Float upon the inundation; Each man shouts and laughs, before Landing at his own house door.

There the good wife doth return it, Grumbling, as she shows the dish, Chervil, basil, chives, and burnet Feed, instead of seasoning, fish.

II

Palm trees, grouped upon the highland, Here and there make pleasant island; On the bark some wag hath wrote-- "Who would fly, when he can float?"

Udder'd cows are standing--pensive, Not belonging to that ilk; How shall horn, or tail defensive, Keep the water from their milk?

Lo, the black swan, paddling slowly, Pintail ducks, and sheldrakes holy, Nile-goose flaked, and herons gray, Silver-voiced at fall of day!

III

Flood hath swallowed dikes and hedges, Lately by Sesostris planned; Till, like ropes, its matted edges Quiver on the desert sand.

Then each farmer, brisk and mellow, Graspeth by the hand his fellow; And, as one gone labour-proof, Shakes his head at the drowned shadoof

Soon the Nuphar comes, beguiling Sedgy spears, and swords around, Like that cradled infant smiling, Whom, the royal maiden found.

IV

But the time of times foe wonder, Is when ruddy sun goes under; And the dusk throws, half afraid, Silver shuttles of long shade.

Opens then a scene, the fairest Ever burst on human view; Once behold, and thou comparest Nothing in the world thereto.

While the broad flood murmurs glistening To the moon that hangeth listening-- Moon that looketh down the sky, Like an aloe-bloom on high--

V

Sudden conch o'er the wave ringeth!

Ere the date-leaves cease to snake, All, that hath existence, springeth Into broad light, wide-awake.

As at a window of heaven thrown up, All in a dazzling blaze are shown up, Mellowing, ere our eyes avail, To some soft enchanter's tale.

Every skiff a big ship seemeth, Every bush with tall wings clad; Every man his good brain deemeth The only brain that is not mad.

VI

Hark! The pulse of measured rowing, And the silver clarions blowing, From the distant darkness, break Into this illumined lake.

Tis Sesostris, lord of nations, Victor of three continents, Visiting the celebrations, Priests, and pomps, and regiments.

Kings, from Indus, and Araxes, Ister, and the Boreal axes, Horsed his chariot to the waves, Then embarked, his galley-slaves.

VII

Glittering stands the giant royal, Four tall sons are at his back; Twain, with their own corpses loyal, Bridged the flames Pelusiac.

As he pa.s.seth, myriads bless him, Glorious Monarch all confess him, Sternly upright, to condone No injustice, save his own.

He, well-pleased, his sceptre swingeth, While his four sons strike the gong; Till the sparkling water ringeth Joy and laughter, joke and song.

VIII

Ah, but while loud merry-making Sets the lights and shadows shaking, While the mad world casts away Every thought that is not gay,

Hath not earth, our sweet step-mother, Very different scene hard by, Tossing one, and trampling other, Some to laugh, and some to sigh?

Where the fane of Hathor Iowereth, And the black Myrike embowereth, Weepeth one her life gone by; Over young, oh death, to die!