University of Virginia Library

Gorgeous in pride, and satiate full with bliss,
Within his halls sate King Amenophis,
The sacrifice just over: for the steam
Yet curl'd round each gay-chequer'd cedar-beam
And roof-recess, from Amoûn's altar high.
Meanwhile the ram was slain, and cautiously
The red-skinn'd priests o'er Amoûn's golden face
The bearded muzzle of the creature place,
And cautiously the form of Horus bring
And set it fronting that ram-facéd thing,
Beating themselves for Horus' sake, that he
So mask'd alone the holy face must see,
And then go down his journey to the west,
And up the skies again, and find no rest.

For so the story runs, that Horus pray'd
Himself to see God face to face, and laid
Such heart into his prayer, that the Most High
Before the hero pass'd disguisedly,
Veiling his glory 'neath a creature's face.
And Horus look'd, and went about his ways:
Though now he sits before him in the skies,
And sees God face to face without disguise.

Amenophis survey'd the annual rite;
Symbol half-dimm'd through Time's effacing night.
Each priest now put aside his lissom rod,
And knelt before him, and invoked as God.
Then something stirr'd within his vaulted breast,
And prick'd his pride and woke a vague unrest.
He call'd aloud and said

‘Before the King
‘Life's lordly pageant, all her pleasures, bring;
‘That he may view them all, and judge, and try.’

Then first the train of dancing-maids went by:
Each lustrous bosom, to the mid-waist bared,
Fit pillow for the King's own head prepared;
Each virgin form suggesting new delight;
Each suppliant archly for one bridal night.

So they pass'd onwards: and Amenophis sigh'd.
Then thirty Ethiopians, ebon-dyed,
In golden vessels bore red gold heap'd up.
The gleamy harvest overran the cup,
Waste unregarded. Next, an equal train
Brought other stores of parti-colour'd grain
In Ethiopia glean'd and Arya far:—
Carbuncles, redder than the warrior star,
Sapphirus, Amethystus, and the light
Of Adamas, that rivals in his might
The sun, when o'er Syéné zenith high:—
Then Emeralds, to take the wearied eye
And bathe it in a bath of greener green
Than sun-smit tarns from Eira's summit seen.
Save 'mong the treasures of earth's garner-floor,
Where, age on age, the gnomes their jewels store,
None e'er were known, or dreamt in poet's dream,
Like those that now on Egypt's master gleam.

So these pass'd onwards: and Amenophis sigh'd.
Now through the pillar'd corridors and wide
High-lighted hall soft wailings fill'd the space,
And low pulsations moved with even pace,
As though the heart that eased itself in song
Beat 'neath its own voice with a sense of wrong,
Delicate agony; painful delight, and strong.
Now Maneros' and Lityerses' name
Through the high-sorrowing dulcimers oft came,
And Linus young, who withers in his bloom,
And hides each summer in the ocean-tomb,
The yearly darling of the Syrian maid:—
A tale from Libanus to Nile convey'd.
Like wind-swept wheat at that belovéd word
Smote on each harp runs up a shivering chord;
And all the voices blend in one long strain,
That circled snake-like round the pillar'd fane:
—Fair O fair beyond all fairness here,
In thine own season to thine own appear:
O Linus young, who wither'st in thy bloom,
Wake, the Spring summons, in thy salt sea tomb;
The Amathusian calls thee: Linus, come!

As one the bosom of the crowd was moved
Beneath the Linus' song, the lost, the loved:
Eyes large and humid; bosoms big with sighs,
Long sighs, and love, and voiceless ecstasies.
But with a short and broken laugh, the King
Turn'd in his throne, as one half-wakening
From fever'd sleep, and rose and left the hall:
Stopping his ears when past the sight of all,
And moving fast, and sometime looking round,
To know when safe beyond the reach of sound.

But as he saw that giant temple lie
Behind like one great bank against the sky,
He stay'd his stumbling pace across the sands,
Pressing together, palm on palm, his hands,
And wing'd his sight through the deep vault of blue,
And gazed as if the soul could pierce it through,
Mounting through sphere o'er sphere of lucent air:
And then fell flat, and spoke out his despair.

‘O whether Amoûn or Osiris named,
‘Or some dread sound as yet by man unframed,
If once to Horus thou didst bend thine ear,
‘Amenophis, another suppliant, hear!
‘The King of Kings and Lord of Lords below,
‘One only boon I beg thee to bestow.
‘If thou be He that made the earth and skies,
‘To thine own creature come without disguise.
‘Long have I blindly groped around thy throne,
‘But the sense sees not what the heart has known.
‘I strain for thee, I gaze with eager nerves,
‘But my glance backward to my eyeballs curves;
‘To meet thine arms my arms I fling abroad;
‘My arms fold on me, vacant of the God.
‘Upon the dark I paint thy secret face,
‘But night holds nothing in her hollow space.
‘Dost thou not see my tears, not hear my cry?
‘I cannot see nor hear, yet know thee nigh.
‘I feel thee in the dust-wreaths of the plain,
‘And in the rare, quick drops of sacred rain:
‘I seek thee round the corners of the rocks,
‘Or on the riverain pasture of the flocks;
‘And thou art there, but art not there for me:—
‘Take all the world, all else I yield to thee:
‘But I must see the God before I die.’

He spoke. His own voice was the sole reply.
Then a small hand went lightly o'er his head
Softening the deep-brown curls: and Anaïs said,
Anaïs the Ionian slave, the most beloved,
‘O King, for great things art thou greatly moved’?
But he: ‘I would see God before I die.’
Then Anaïs with low voice resignedly:

‘What is it that he says, Amenophis,
‘In this thing only have I set my bliss
‘To see God ere I die? Is not he God?
‘By what more noble foot is Egypt trod?
‘His form as very God's? Is not he Lord,
‘Aye, Lord of Lords, the fear'd one, the adored?
‘I saw him by the golden Horus stand,
‘And he seem'd born for worship and command.
‘Ionia's Gods are fairer far than these,
‘Nor would I aught dispraise the deities:
‘Yet when my trembling eyes first scann'd his face,
‘Lordliest and best meseem'd of human race;
‘And me he chose out from all else, and cried
‘Nothing should part us, Anaïs, ere we died.
‘What word is that, I would see God and die.’

Then the King's form rose up against the sky.
Meanwhile the sun had sunk, and overhead
E'en as they gazed, and ere the words are said,
The whole sky went at once from blue to red,
Like sapphire furnace-fused to carbuncle.
The rosy radiance over Egypt fell;
The hills around and sand-plains caught the flood;
The river ran a burning belt of blood.
Then, North and South, a trembling 'gan to shake
The fiery curtain of the sky, and break
Its crimson foldings: then the blue look'd through,
And all the heaven unflush'd itself anew.
Faint grays and tender azures float afar,
And purple after-glows the horizon bar;
And lo! the tremulous silver of the twilight star.

Both gazed in silence on the arching skies,
And turn'd and look'd within each other's eyes.
‘—What more would'st grasp, what more, Amenophis?
‘What closer perilous Vision ask than this?
‘Is not His presence in the aether far,
‘His eyes and glory in the twilight star?
‘What nearer nearness, man to God, would'st have’?
But he: ‘These things are not the thing I crave.
‘For I would see him plain before I die:
‘Let all the world, and all in it, go by.’

Then with a little tremor in her voice,
‘O King, in your God can I not rejoice!
‘Harsh in their aspect are the Gods of Nile,
‘That call men off from love and joy and smile:
‘Far other those Ionian maidens love,
‘Not alien so from man, so far above.
‘O Delian archer, when thou climb'st the sky,
‘Enough for me to watch thy car go by;
‘To know that Hypereion's form is there,
‘And drink his beauty in the golden air.
‘O Cyprian queen, enough to see thy smile
‘As the light waves lap in on Lesbos' isle;
‘To breathe thee mong the violet beds at dawn,
‘To read thy rosy footsteps on the lawn.
‘—Was it for this, that I was nursed and bred,
‘And train'd fit partner for the royal bed,
‘And taught the name of Love, and tasted thine?
‘O me, I fear a common fate is mine;—
‘Man holds out love to woman first, and then
‘Flies, and she vainly chases him again.
‘Another common fate I also prove:
‘He loves her for himself, she him for love.
‘Art thou so prompt to yield the world and me
‘For some high vision that thou ne'er wilt see?
‘Will sight of God be more to thee than this—
‘Ah, take it! ah, refuse me not thy kiss!
‘Say, shall I tire thee with my baby words?
‘Bear with me: speech some little aid affords.
‘—What was it first, the magic and the power
‘That drew me so to thee? The day, the hour,
‘The minute I remember; and the fear,
‘Thou would'st not look, and know how thou wert dear.
‘I went before thee slowly down the hall,—
‘O might I turn and on thy bosom fall!
‘Before thy feet I spread the rushes green,
‘That thy feet might go where my hands had been:
‘I kiss'd the fringéd curtains of the bed,
‘And where thy neck would be, and where thy head
‘And shook and listen'd and my face conceal'd,
‘And yet was ready at a look to yield.
—I tell thee all, by maiden-shame reproved:
‘Thou never knew'st before how thou wert loved.
‘Now as thou wilt, my sovereign, do with me.
‘A little while love made me equal thee:
‘Now I am nought, and thou the King of men.’

She bow'd her face, and knelt to him again.
Then, where behind the head a little space
Lay white below her dark hair's braided grace,
He kiss'd her, parting with his hand the braid.
And by her hand he led the slender maid,
Smoothing her odorous tresses oft and oft,
While Love came wafted on the perfume soft,
And brought her where the palace, long and vast,
Lay like a hill-side gainst the horizon cast.

But when the night was well advanced, the two
Rose from their couch, and to the casement drew.
Then Anaïs look'd forth on the landscape fair,
And Sirius quivering in the crystal air;
And said ‘I cannot fathom thy desire,
‘But feel it smouldering in the heart like fire.
‘Then lest it lay thee waste in ashes, take
‘Some counsel of the wise this heat to slake.’
And he: ‘O Love, O ever wise and true,
‘There is nought else but this for me to do.
‘And I have heard Paapis, priest of On,
‘Dying, bequeath'd such wisdom to his son,
‘That he, if any, can set forth the road
‘Which brings a man in presence of the God.
‘So be it, then, to-morrow, as thou say'st.’
With that, he slept his last untroubled rest.
For with the morrow to the palace came
The dark-hair'd sage of more than mortal fame,
Such signs and wonders at his hand were wrought:
Yet to see God his power availéd nought.
And evil counsel gave he to the King.

‘O master, much about the Gods men sing,
‘That they are great and strong and just and wise:—
‘And I should hold them foolish who despise
‘Such speech: for they are strong, and just, and great:
‘Yet are they also jealous and irate.
‘All prayers but of the loyal they refuse,
‘Who do them service in the mode they choose.
‘Now in this land where once the Faith was one,
‘A monstrous thing and horrible is done.
‘For there be some who mock the blesséd Gods,
‘And those who minister in their abodes,
‘And say that Amoûn, far beyond our ken,
‘Dwells not in temples made by hands of men,
‘And little cares for sacrifice or priest.
‘Also they reck not where the soul deceased
‘Passes, or ask if it exist again;
‘For These things to the God alone pertain.
‘Also to shepherd life and flocks they lean.
‘Now, though the men are sordid, poor, and mean,
‘Nay, cursed by God's own finger, for the most
‘With leprosy are smitten, white as frost,
‘Yet do the poorer sort their counsels hear;
‘And so the crowd grows stronger, year by year.
‘These therefore, if the God thou would'st behold,
‘Drive from the land, Amenophis; be bold;
‘For on the side of God the war will be.’

Then with a sudden hiss from throat to knee
Amenophis rent his robe, and o'er his head
Flung ashes from the altar top, and said:
‘Son of Paapis, now the sign I know
‘Seen yesternight: if it be this or no,
‘(I will recount it), say; for thou art wise.
‘I was in dreams where Rhampsinitus lies,
‘And from the chamber of his coffin went
‘A downward slope of shining stone, that bent
‘Its way to central earth, where Isis great
‘In the dim realm of death, Amenthes, sate.
‘Like Rhampsinitus, there I diced: yet not
‘Like him, for her game gain'd the alternate lot;
‘And when mine fell, a Syrian robed in snow
‘Snatch'd all the lucky dice, and foil'd the throw.
‘And Isis frown'd and said, The toil is vain.
‘Then on the tables fell a crimson rain;
‘And as the vision fled, I heard, The toil is vain.
‘—But now I know the vainness of the toil.
‘First will I sweep and cleanse the holy soil
‘Of these profane, the scum of Hyksôs' brood,
‘Fit leaders of the leprous multitude.
‘Then, having purified the land from ill,
‘Thou shalt entreat for me Osiris' will,
‘That I may know what sacrifices best
‘Will bend the God to grant me my behest,
‘That I may see his glory, even I.’

‘So be it,’ the magician made reply:
‘But for the men are many, and their creed
‘Allures both them who have, and them who need,
‘And that their chieftain, nursed up as a boy
‘In all our wisdom, now to our annoy
‘Ungrateful turns the magic lore he gain'd,
‘A royal slave within thy halls maintain'd,
‘Best to begin with hallow'd guile, and then
‘Smite the base throng, their leaders being slain,
‘Defeated in their atheist palmistry.
‘For by the skill that Hermés lodged in me
‘Here in thy presence will I show them fools,
‘And Amoûn only he that is and rules.
‘This done, they will be readily thy prey.’
So spake he, and departed on his way.