Mencheres: A Vision of Old Egypt

Methought I floated on the ancient Nile
'Neath an abrupt and weird craggy pile,
Its flame-hued cliffs caverned with many a tomb,
Haunt of lone winds and birds of dusky plume.
A boat with monks that chaunted floated nigh;
But when they paused, some awful far reply
Came ever from the mountain's heart : one said,
" A voice from old-world priests of ages dead,
Who slumbering in their stupendous fane
Deep in yon mountain's heart are roused again
With a faint consciousness that stirs and dies
To breathe a note of hoary litanies,
Eiewhile they chaunted while impassive
Death
Quenched ever some poor heart's weak flame of faith."
A tone it seemed bereft of life, unblest,
Emptied of thought and joy, vaguely opprest
A moment with the living voice of prayer
They have proved wasted on the lifeless air.
Embers of old hope wake to feel the doom
Of smothered souls in everlasting gloom.

Then changed the scene — for it was dark around :
Methought I lay in silence drear profound
On some hot sand ; the close incumbent air
Reeked faint as from some dismal creature's lair,
Some presence nigh of bird or beast obscene,
Hyena, bat, that loves to lurk unseen.
And yet a dubious glimmer near me lay
Upon the sand, and slow the space to grey
Opened about me till I dim defined
Columnar masses pale gigantic-lined
Rude huge and lofty, with no capital
Or fretted moulding wrought fantastical.
Titanic blocks each horizontal laid
From pier to pier bridging abysmal shade.
And lo ! I saw each giant pillar bulged
With form stupendous as of man, divulged
Standing each speechless vast along the stone.
Each to the full height of his pillar grown —
A colonnade of these on either hand
My twilit nave ; afar they vague expand,
To my rapt vision dwindling infinite.
Phantoms assembling in the halls of Night I
And then I noted nigh a crevice small ;
Through this I deemed that Day into the
Hall
Passed half in awe to melt the shroud of gloom
That broods o'er these in their eternal tomb.
These then in pauses of the living prayer
Wailed that antistrophe of Death's despair !
And still night jealous claims them for her own.
Nor may her shadow free from them be thrown,
But silent like black water it abides
For ever resting down their mighty sides.
Their mummied forms are like their faces pale.
Each in vast crossing hands the crook and flail
Of an Osirian on his bosom broad
Holds folded close, each mitred like the god.

Their presence weighs upon the mortal sense,
Informs with fear the solitude intense,
Voiceless and moveless pale forever there.
In some unguessed unhuman-wise aware.
But calm serene is every countenance,
Unvexed more of any human chance,
Sublime unearthly in its restfulness,
Quiet in Destiny the passionless.
Fond fool ! to dream that hopes or joys or woes
Of ours may rufliie this immense repose !
Can ever these have been of mortal race.
Crushing for pelf or fame with eager face.
Throbbing for pleasure, flushed elate with gain,
Sullen or blank with loss and lit again ?
Yea, these were mortal, even as thyself.
And thou shall be as they, O wildered elf

Blown tossed like sere leaves, little comforted,
Thou shalt be tranquil calm as are the dead !
Even thy vain bubble-turmoil in the flood
Viewed from the still height very grand and good !

Kindred with twilight now my vision grows,
And straight between each pillared phantom shows
Sunk in the darkness a sarcophagus,
Heart of the darkness, solid, ponderous ;
The massy lid of each prodigious shoved
Awry as though the dread inmate had moved.
Then I knew these were Pharaohs of the Sun,
Ramses-Sesostris, Amunoph-Memnon,
Sesortasen, and many a power beside.
Priest-kings imperial, who strode in pride
Over dwarfed continents astonished pale
Making the hearts of all the nations fail —
Then every breath bore rumours of their fame:
What are they now ? the shadow of a name !

Longing to pierce the incrustation dense
Of forty centuries that hides from sense
All rich humanity of these past lives,
Vague embryonic there in me revives
A story from the blithe Ionian
Of one whose time the teller's time foreran
By generations more innumerous
Than lie 'tween Story's hoary sire and us.
So while thereon I muse and peer intent
Distincter gathers every lineament
Out of the twilight, till I seem to hear
Some eerie movement nigh yon shapes of fear
By one of shadowy sarcophagi.
Portentous ranged on either hand that die
From sight afar, dim dwindling infinite :
And then some shadowy form of stately height
And gait emerges to my questioning eyes
From where the night impenetrable lies —
Slow moving as with contemplation fraught.
The kingly head bowed lowly as in thought,
Until it nears me in rapt wonder laid
Upon the sand astonished, not afraid.
Softly it comes companioned of a shade
Thin traced upon the wan sandslope afar,
Pausing so nigh that all its features are
Evident to me, every shapely limb
And all its vesture with the gloaming dim.
It wears aspect of one in manhood's prime
Complexioned in no tender northern clime ;
From all breathes moral intellectual power,
From the grand head's expansive lofty dower,
Howe'er curtailed of close-curled raven hair
Ranging to neck and cheek as natives wear ;
Breathes from his dark and musing eyes that live
Once more and from the full mouth sensitive.
Of finest linen are his raiments woven,
With long straight folds thesubtle fabric cloven,
Both long loose robe and apron girdled close
Of girdle, whose fronting flap is wrought in rows
Of golden asps and lions' heads ; the neck
Bare shapely many a jewel doth bedeck —
Each slim wrist braceleted, his slender feet
Have gold-laced palm-leafed sandals for them meet.
Can then the searching of my thought intent
In that sad mound of human ashes blent,
Mere chaos and oblivion, restore
This Mycerinus as he lived of yore ?
But hark ! a murmur low and musical,
A voice upon my sense appears to fall.

Eternal river ! soul of all the land,
Blue from the blue of heaven where I stand,
I wander through the palms that fringe thy shore
And thee lifegiving bountiful adore !
Thy waters plash
And through the gardens wash
Making a laugh of flowers as they flash.

'Tween intersecting runnels in rich spots
Rise tender riceblades, vividest green plots,
Or purple lupins or the tendrilled pea,
Or misty flax-beds thrilling airily,
With strained shadoof
Yon stooping hind aloof
Fills from the Nile his conduit constantly.

O sweetest shade of yon mimosa groves
Where soft-hued turtles ever coo their loves !
With mild flame-crest the gentle-toned hoopoe
Flits through shy sunlights into open blue,
If air unweaves
Loose clouds of dainty leaves,
Mantles mild sunniness the foliage through.
And all is fair, for thou art with me, child,
Sole budding of my house, dear undefiled,
My love, my hope, blithe like the merry bird,
Shrinking with shadowing of a chilly word !
The meanest thing
The old, the sorrowing.
In thy fresh facelight with rejoicing stirred.

And I grow young again breathing the air
Of early morning ; all the prince's care,
All anxious quest for ever-eluding truth,
For woes of this great people all my ruth,
Melts all from me,
A child I gambol free
By the fresh bubbling springs of life with thee !

Dance on, my maiden, trip it on before,
Babbling strange tales to ne'er an auditor ;
Singing by snatches, for a flower bending,
Blessing lone nooks of woodland in thy wending !
Through shade and sun
Cease, little one, to run,
Now to the carven barge we will be tending.

And there upon the river's broad expanse
We'll watch the myriad-curling ripple glance,
On yon sandbank grey dotterel soft sip
The bright-brown fringe, or crested plover dip
With curtsey quick
At every calling click
Plumed black and white he utters in his trip.

'Tis noon, relentless rules the blaze
Of our Sun-god that ne'er a breeze allays.
Far far away the windless river burning
Through wan sand-levels dimly banked
Of distant yellow hills, but nearer flanked
With palm-girt loam-built. thorps at every turning,
And oft a huge stone temple spread
With obelisk and sphinx and banner red ;
Silent from heat our swarthy sailors towing
The boat becalmed with rope on land ;
Anon some baked wave-mined mass at hand
From yon loam-ridge is loosened in their going,
Falling with sudden splash and thud,
Nor mars mj' soul's luxurious mood
Enhanced of distant water-wheels' long droning.
For dreamy listlessness akin
To hazy light the lulled world swooneth in.
I know the hind in midst of that intoning
Sits in the centre of the wheel
While hemp-slung jars tilt ever and refill,
A yoke of patient circling oxen guiding,
Roofed from the scorching glare
Pjy large leaves of the melons trellised there.
On yon low sandflat motionless abiding,
Behold a crocodile, and nigh
Upon the neighbour bank one may espy
Some ibis white with pink flamingoes resting ;
But when day waneth we shall hear
Clangour of wild geese in the crystal clear.
Their living chain wedgewise the glory breasting.

Westers the great god, now I move
Brooding alone to yon palm-grove.
'Tis evening hour when the palm
Looks loveliest in skiey calm.
It seems to mount unwavering
Awhile for all delights that cling.
Till last yields all the high resolve
In graceful languor to dissolve,
Wanton with crimsoned plume in air,
Dally with moonlight soft and fair.

The Sun sinks — many a soul with him
Now must explore the regions dim.
The flood like molten metal glows,
Taking the tarnish soon that grows
On metal from the furnace poured,
With richest greens and purples floored
Beside, a brief but gorgeous hour —
Now wakes a breeze with welcome power
To speed the ship ; they set the sail,
While I from far well-pleased hail
Tiie terabok and measured chaunt
Of oarsmen sweetly wont to haunt
Old Nile at evening, while the crew
Indolent near their fire strew
The deck : one stirs the lentil meal
Over the flame ; our ship doth steal
Still as a spirit up the glow
Of dusking gold, her form below
And moonlight sail i' the water's husk
Fainter repeated, and the flush
Of her deck-fire with a blush.
They anchor now for night upon the strand.
Beneath a palm upon the visions grand
That occupy my soul I sit and brood,
Scheming to compass all my people's good.
From yon lone waste some dismal jackal bays,
Far dogs bark in the village as there strays
A wight belated ; now while starbeams fleck
The tender grey of water, on my deck
Slumber my sailors : light of heart are they,
Laughing and singing blithely all the day,
In their scant raiment sleeping free from care —
But these are happy — yea, this people are
Light-hearted all — great Heaven ! that is well:
Not bitterest agelong tyranny may quell
These buoyant natures incompressible.

Yet, O! my people toiling more than beasts
While your proud lords loll scornful at their feasts,
'Neath your tanned hide there beats a human heart.
Your bleeding feet with writhing lashes smart,
Your backs are mangled, but your spirits bleed
More sorely yet, for at your bitter need
A jeer, a curse, a contumelious lip
Excoriates more cruel than the whip !

I in disguise late roamed amid the clangs
From chisel and mallet of the slaving gangs
Among some toilers tottering 'neath the weight
Of rubble borne from where they excavate.
Whose dusk maimed limbs the rubble doth encrust.
Their overseer as they bear the dust
Clapping his hands to regulate the time
Of their monotonous mechanic chime.
I heard a youth approaching timid say,
" Let yon frail girl fall out, my lord, I pray !
Put upon me her share of work to-day,
She is so faint, sun beats upon her head ! "
( His love she was for whom he dared to plead)
But the man spurned him with a brutal wit.
And soon the girl fell foaming in a fit.
Harnessed by thousands to the wooden sledge.
Those huge blocks quarried with the swollen wedge
These sweating human beasts of burden bore
Along the causeway from the river shore.
Scarce one is left to sow the fallow field,
Strong dykes neglected to the waters yield.
From frugal serfs the hoarded store is reft.
And starved men's corpses to the vultures left j
While to defraud the poor our priests combine
To load God's scales of justice, the Divine,
And sway them as the golden bribes incline !
Yet 'tis a noble pile that doth arise
Soon like my sire's to climb and flout the skies,
Scale with its flashing mount of lucid grey
Of Syenite fair radiant as Day
Von very sanctuary of the Sun,
Who must wax pale when Pharaoh's work is done !
Foodful gold fields of Memphis withering prone
In leaguelong menace of their shadowy frown.

Alas ! my people, on crushed human breasts
Von haughty mount of stone triumphant rests,
It was set up in hearts of your firstborn.
Of wives and daughters outraged and forlorn.
Kneaded with blood of men the lime adheres,
The iron that wrought was tempered in your tears !
And will the Avenger slumber evermore
For all the bitter crying of the poor?
How long may savour of men's evil deeds
Stink in the nostrils till Ra-Amun heeds ?
Be patient, mortal ! for He bides his time ;
The world's deep curse and memory of their crime
Huge stones about the necks of these shall lie
Dragging them low to agelong infamy !
Ah ! were I king — not for the weary state —
But I would snatch my people from such a fate,
Pour balm into their wounds and save my land
P'rom the nigh blaze of Heaven's avenging brand.
Ere plague and famine decimate them quite
And in limp hands lingers no more the might
To ward from glazing eyes the loathly foreign kite!
By day and night the burning longing grows
In me that God will to my soul disclose
No momentary easing of the pain,
Some drug with virtue to consume the bane !

Then my dream changed — on Mencheres the asp
In gold a king doth on his forehead clasp
Bespoke him monarch now : slowly he walked
And with some graceful noble stripling talked;
Bymellowing grain lithe waved and simmering
In the blue morn lay their sweet communing.
Earnest intent the stripling's mobile face
With hearkening, save when a sudden race
Some jerboa commenced with nimble leap
Nigh to their startling feet, or at the sweep
Of shadowing pinions from a falcon nigh ;
Then wandered the chace-lover's eager eye
And thought awhile — then oft King Mencheres
Would pause and shift allusion upon these,
Instinct with heedful sympathy and keen
For all men doting christen great and mean.

Measures accomplished or projected still
For weal of craftsmen, weal of men who till.
For stimulating niggardly dull soil
To liberal crown a less laborious toil,
Arrest a partial handling of the laws
And pluck their prey from ravenous red claws,
Such themes their converse visits as they wend,
Higher illuminating in the end,
Startling the silent heart of mysteries
Where vulgar footfall ne'er profanely pries.
"Too subtle abstruse unhuman such a creed
To serve the people in their hourly need ;
To thee I open, dearest neophyte,
That thou and other few may bear the light
Enkindled here to many a darkling spirit.
How from the sacred lore we all inherit
I culled a germ, that lay as grain may lie
Shut from all use in sepulchres flung by.
Save it and plant and water it alone
Till sprout soft green wings from the jasper stone
And wonder ! for it springs to juiceful food,
Leaguelong gold seas of life for mortal good.
Yea, the old symbol of Osiris I
Took to fecundate and revivify ;
Image of man's ideal life I wrought
For worship as with Deity full-fraught,
Breaking no other gods, yet setting mine
Supreme in every heart and every shrine.
But lo ! we near sweet places cool and dim
Among the acacias ; chaunt, fair youth, the hymn
You know of yours, rest here upon the mint
In flower, while I the marjoram will dint."

Holy yon living Stream
Ever twinborn all-luminous with beam
Of orient Day arising flush
With everlasting youth, lotus and rush
Waking from womb of parent Nile
Crimson beneath the Sun's engendering smile.
Hither let mortal bring
The votive offering !

Engendering the land
By quickening the river's loamy sand,
Whose eldest-born Leviathan
All reptiles follow and the lizard clan ;
Emblemed in hawk of fervid eyes
And fire suppressed that in the plumage lies,
Lordly dominion, stately wings that sweep
.'\s native to it all the sunny steep.
Hither let mortal bring
The votive offering !

Offspring himself of Light
That puts all chaos of the soul to flight.
Life culminates in human flower,
Her fair world-stem maturing into power
Of man's all-glassing consciousness.
Yielding to each a form and comeliness.
Hither let mortal bring
The votive offering !

Yea, with one flame Divine
High and mean things evolved in order shine,
Pain, wrong, but embryos of good.
Even our dwarf Virtue sapling of a wood
To crown with fruits of unforehoded grace
Worlds of intelligence of kinglier race.
Hither let mortal bring
The votive offering !

Some interval of years appeared to pass,
And then my vision showed as in a glass
Mencheres little aged, but sad and changed.
As slowly now and moodily he ranged
With echoing foot the shadowed peristyle
Of that vast inner court within the pile
Of his great palace, every massy column
Carved to a giant god of aspect solemn.
An aged priest stern grave and dignified
World wise of aspect pacing him beside.

" My hope is out — it is decreed in Heaven,
I said, that I shall train this child to leaven
The people with my doctrine when I go,
For she had felt the godlike thirst to know,
And knowing with her woman's heart and tact
She might have vivified my dream to fact :
In all men's soul the worship would have stirred
And germinated ; now yuur evil herd
Of priesthood scenting peril roots it out
With snout obscene, or in the arid drought
Of dead parched superstition-ridden mind
No soil congenial the seed can find.
Now she is gone, my darling ! stricken down.
And since that hour I loathe my barren crown.
For what am I to struggle on with God
Since He withstands me in the way I trod ?
I thought to serve Him who will not be served ;
All my life's bleeding travail but deserved
An early death — so spake the oracle.
Though Egypt from my father's cruel rule
Yet halts and bleeds, lies faint upon her face,
Who am I with my yearning to embrace
My stricken brethren and to make them strong
With strength that doth to sons of God belong?
Have not the gods themselves decreed the dole,
Yea, degradation of the flesh and soul ;
Yea, wantonness of great men in their wrong
And slaves to writhe as writhes the viper thong?"
Then spake the priestly noble old
Shammar :
" Vain, vain, my liege, with Deity you war !
Do men know good from evil ? only youth
May dream possession of sufficing truth.
The mushroom dreaded as a baneful food
Proves oft a wholesome nutriment and good ;
We snatch by night some healing medicine,
And lo ! 'tis poison that we pour so keen
For yon beloved sleeper ailing there.
Or 'tis a potion fraught with virtues rare
Mayhap for one, yet worse than impotent
In such disease for such a temperament.
And shall the Maker not be sovereign?
Though men be crippled in their souls and slain.
Few daring to affirm the bitter woe
Wrought for their welfare whom it ground so low.
Whose weal soe'er may sprout and germinate
From the hot blood and tears of such a fate —
So is it — would thy plummet dangle still,
Or wilt thou chain the inexorable Will?
Sooth spake the oracle, the gods decree
These groans of Egypt and her infamy !

" Nay what are good and evil ? With a man
Did God take counsel when He framed His plan
That we pronounce it frustrate overthrown
When in her march calm Nature spurns our own ?
Even as an elder things at random piled
By hindering helping of a little child.
Who frustrates His design ? Some living men
."Vre miserable slaves — what spirit then
Lived in the tyrant dancing on the slave ?
Nay, some are born to sorrow or to rave,
Some to be wise or happy till the grave,
And what beyond ? The secret cold He locks
And all our turbulent guessing quiet mock.s.
Ours but to bow and to accept the lore
In holy roll and in traditions hoar.
Thothmes beguiled thee, whose were glosses vain
On simple phrase and insolent disdain
Of other reverend teachers, in the guise
Of holy truth insinuating lies,
Inventions of his own presumptuous wit :
Now in Amenti hath he answered it ! "

"Bootless on such a theme discourse hath grown,"
Replied the King, " it profits full to own . . .
. . . Me hath God used, now leaves me in the hollow ;
Vain where He goes mine eyes may strain to follow !

"The truth that I proclaimed was too sublime,
Too pure, refined for dwellers in the slime.
I deemed that they would clutch the saving rope
I lowered within the chasm where they grope.
Too feeble alas ! dazed and distraught they play
With this their only hope of life and day !
Not worshipping my Truth, but with her dress
Investing their old idols' nakedness.
Not less than erst their misery I feel.
But more a myriadfold than when to heal
I fondly hoped ; ah ! vainly shall you fling
To glut the bottomless pit of suffering
Treasures untold of life and heart and mind,
A myriad sage lovers of their kind ! —
Traitors administering make void my dream
Even to mere earthly uses of my scheme —

" Yet 'twas no Wizard's water that of eld
These eyes farseeing with rapt gaze beheld
Over the weary sand, far far away
Where earth's hot waste dies into Heaven's grey-
No mocking mirage as I dare to trust.
But a true lake where mortal pilgrims must
One day repose — but ever 'tis removed
As we approach, the longed-for haven proved
How distant still ; no nearer now we seem
Than when we started in the morning beam
Brimful of faith that we must needs attain
The goal ere yet life's day be on the wane !
But now 'tis waning, still there looms around
The old parched waste, the solitude prof(jund.
Our weary caravan yet toiling through
Intolerable sand and blinding blue.
While ever and anon beside the track
Some vulture shadows with a blot of black
The pallid wilderness, revealing why
So fleshless yon bleached human members lie.
My sun will soon be low, and every time
He issues fresh firom gates of night sublime,
He notes one more hath fallen to the rear,
A still white shape forgetting hope and fear I
But I, with eyes for ever steadfastly
Set on the far goal counting it so nigh,
Chafed at the baitings of our caravan
By springs that bubble, under palms that fan ;
For such there are, oases in the waste ;
Chided my fellows who would lingering taste :
' These are impure, ye should be pressing on! '
But lo ! we are not near and sinks the sun !
My night is near, I cannot even see
That lake which in the morning shone for me ;
Weary and disappointed I have missed
Soft bubbling water and soft airs that kissed ;
Under cool shade of palm and tamarind
They found their blessing — mine I cannot find !

' Yet subtle in mewere inlets of all pleasure,
Subtler than wont, but never mine the leisure
For toying in my youth ; yet latterly,
Grow-n doubtful more and more if ever I
May share that triumph of posterity.
And more and more oppressed with smothering sense
Of my fool's prudence, baffling impotence.
Often I muse if wisdom bid me scout
The gods' rich gifts till they be wearied out !
Who dowered me with all capacity.
And with firee hand rained largesse from on high,
While I trod sullen upon all their wealth.
Deaf to my strong-beseeching youth and health,
Torturing brain with unavailing thought,
Wringing my heart with alien pangs for nought.
Aloof from sympathy, that spirit's gold,
BatHed, alone, and prematurely old. . . ."
Cold Shammar slern rejoinder made nor spared :
"Therefore the gods (the oracle declared)
Even because thou hast, a mortal, dared
To cherish lawless visions for thy kind,
To flout the pleasant toys wherewith they blind
Creatures to heaven-appointed misery'.
Challenging their inscrutable decree.
Lifting a rash rebellious look on high
To their inviolable serenity ;
For this their lightning smites thee from above !
Or shall a man lay claim to more of love.
Justice more equal than the fateful gods?
For this they visit with avenging rods ! ""

Then broke indignant answer like a flood :
" What irks to them man's evil or his good
If but their altars want no savoury food
Of innocent human or dumb victims' breath?
For all these are insatiate of death.
Insatiate of suffering like their priests
Quaffing men's tears for wine at all their feasts !
Therefore of gods I cr}' that there be none,
We startle at our proper shadows thrown ;
For we are in the hand of sightless Fate
That moulds with nought of consciousness our state ! "

SHAMMAR

"Rash king I my pupil whom I trained in youth.
Striving to leaven with venerable truth,
Truth no invention of my feeble wit,
But such as Heaven through us delivers it !
Rejoicing once I saw thee fired with zeal
Cruel confusions of the realm to heal
By strenuous vindication of the true
Faith sorely hurt by Chefren and Chufu.
Ah ! still the temples moulder and the shrine
Lies desolate, and still the people pine —
For all the treasure thou, king-priest profane,
Hast dared from consecrated use distrain.
While thou dost own thy fond presumptuous creed
Like a weak staff" hath broken in thy need !
A king, a priest — nay, frown not, I will speak
Even if thou swift vengeance on me wreak —
A king and priest, from thee the sacrilege !
Thou to destroy thine order's privilege !
Ambition tempts thy proper caste to lower .-
When didst thou brook a rivalr)' in power?—
Even for high-flown schemes benevolent,
How to the land may happiness be lent
When thou hast dealt us priests thine impious blow,
Sole Heaven-elected channels of its flow?
Yet I and all our order cordial
In with your aims beneficent will fall
If but from now you promise to redress
Wrongs of the foithful and their dire distress.
Come ! make your peace with Heaven's incensed powers !
So when they see your rebel spirit cowers,
Who knows ? the oracle may even reverse
The doom decreed and your untimely curse.""

"Enough," the King replied; "you have not hid
Your counsel from me and I have not chid.
But, friend, there is almighty Destiny
Over thine oracle, the gods, and me !
Strong are thy gods — no more I will molest ;
Mine now be pleasure, silken ease and rest I"

"Yea better," spake the priest, "supine to lie
Than your late haughty front's hostility.
I count the slave of sense but as a beast,
Yet venial his error if at least
With zeal he guards our mysteries Divine
From prying question, kneeling at the shrine
Of his forefathers, vassal of the gods.
Even though he rule his proper slave with rods."

Bitterly smiled the younger man, but here
Some chamberlain obsequious drew near :
Who bowing low announced a peasant sought
His cause before the monarch might be brought
This very day — " ' How else may justice come
Between the tax-collector of our nome
And my poor self ?' Your majesty's command
That never any barrier should stand
To bar a prayer like this from your august "
" Nay, you are right," he answered ; "yet I must
To-day refuse it ; tell him that we hunt :
Lady Nitocre with me in the punt
Among the flags upon our royal pool
Hunts the wildfowl."

" But is the man a fool,"
Shammar broke forth, "appealing to the
ICing?
Vex royal leisure for so mean a thing !
Is this the seemly usage now at court ?
Bid him to our conclave anon resort."

But little relished Mencheres the tone
Nor look that flitted faintly and was gone.
" Stay," quietly he spoke with ire repressed?
" We do recall decision we expressed :
Tell him to wait us at the outer gale
Toward the sundown : there in royal state
We shall attend as erst : if any need
Justice among our people, let him plead I "

Then even Shammar quailed before his look,
Yet with a grieved wise air the head he shook :
"You make yourself too common: men despise
A king who dangles ever in their eyes."
" Lord Shammar," stern rejoined the sovereign,
' ' Enough : do you remember that we reign !
I leave your gods and all your craft to you,
But by Ra-Amun sorely shall ye rue
Setting at nought my sovereign decree
Shielding the poor from your rapacity ! "

Later Nitocre, wife to Amasis
The minister, with many a wile and kiss
Strove to dissuade from his resolve her lover,
With her ripe gorgeous beauty hanging over
Him fired with her abundant mellow breast
And supple shapely shoulder bare of vest ;
Yet nor large eyes that languished, nor superb
Head of night-locks with lissome snaky curb

(A coil fire-eyed of seagreen emerald).
Nor splendid arms that winding soft enthralled.
Prevailed upon him to relinquish base
The kingly task which called him to his place
That day at least — a place how nobly filled
Before alas ! the nobler man was killed
In him the dreamer, little apt for strife
In slow undazzling processes of life,
Impatient with a march circuitous
Oft turning face from where the ideal glows.

He banquets in the alabaster hall
Echoing slaves' obsequious footfall,
On ivory throne contorted limbs support.
From Syria pale, from Ethiopia swart ;
He quafis from jewelled beaker fair of shape
Sweet purple foam of Mareotic grape,
Feasting on viands rare, viol and lyre.
Pipe dance and song, feeding the sense with fire.

Yet soon he wearies of the rich repast
(Fools' vapid laughter palls upon the taste),
Where crowned with lotus many a courtier
Who lives by letting out some flyblown wits,
Buftbon they pay for sport with dainty bits ;
Who for some shining baubles they may dole
To feline malice prostitutes a soul,
To spiteful drivel and beslavering,
Incense men deem most grateful to a king ;
Whose grovelling they suffer, yet disdain
More than pet monkeys with a ribbon chain.

Therefore he leaves the empty revel now.
Fillet of violet about the brow :
More dainty and effeminate his mien,
Still fair with lingering youth behold him lean
Upon some comrade of repulsive brow,
Of visage lewd, coarse-built and rude and low.

" Yet lingers one sweet drop within the cup
Of life : shall senseless deserts drink it up
Even as the rest ? some youth remains to bless.
Some relish of the sense, and comeliness.
Long- prisoned joy may hesitate to fly,
Yet craves brief wanton in the summer-sky
Ere night be fallen — therefore softly pushes
My light papyrus boat among the rushes,
I flinging true the whirring wooden arm
Mid wheeling wildfowl rising in alarm.
Some blessed sense of living glows diffused
Through muscles, nerves and organs long disused.
Now first I learn, a fullgrown man at school
Among young boys who well may count me fool,
Now first I learn exulting to inhale
Deep draughts of healthful airs that never fail
Lavish to flood the sunny infinite,
Now first my dulled sense revels in the light,
Riding and curbing the incarnate wind
My fleetfoot steed, with quivering spear to find
And beard and charge the tusked bristling boar
Roused from his moist lair by the reedy shore.
Buffeting breasting royal-rolling Nile,
Jubilant, scornful of the crocodile !

" Relish is ever keener from restraint ;
And since the glow of passion smoulders faint
No more within my heart, but finds free vent.
The illuminating blaze will ne'er be pent
In one poor spot like any common fire ;
Since mirrors of a vast and fierce desire
Prove cold clear marbles of the intellect,
While thought's chaste halls — how cool till now ! — reflect
Fuel and fan one terrible red flame.
And yet shall Reason bearded fail to tame
Or govern rebel Passion's lawlessness ?
Inured to reigning shall she fail no less
Than one long shut from all her right Divine ?
But if she govern, then I do but twine
Festoons of blossom round some massive piers
Of one grand palace all the spirit rears.
Still, dove-eyed queen, sweet Sympathy may here
Drop the gem priceless of her sacred tear.
Still Love retain her own most holy fear
Of hurting any whatsoe'er the greed.
Still upon alien benefit sweet feed ;
Which lovely gods who cherishes at home
Doth never wrong how far soe'er he roam,
And though he learn by sharp experience
The All is more than our circumference."

" For subtleties I lack the competence :
I blush not bluntly praising life of sense ! "
Rejoined the other, *' what inspiring wine !
Fervid the Sun — thy languid steps incline
Toward yon labyrinth of trellised vine ! "
There many a green nook tenderly he woo'd
And won to wait upon the softer mood.
Shaping themselves to bowers of delight.
Entwined with odorous roses pink and white.
There as they lie with all their being sweet
Unstrung, aware how in the lucid heat
Silken -winged elves with aimless fleeting'
float,
Aware that from the oar of the light boat
Some drops have laden with a gemmy freight
Yon oily lily leaves that scintillate
Level on the water, on them listless lying
Steals music, blooming to fruition, dying —
And lo ! yon spaces, where the vine-leaves fringed
Caught mild green fire and tenderly impinged
Upon the blue laving in azure light,
Fill silently with forms of suavest white —
Although no kid may wander there to bite.

Lo ! they emerge but coyly from the screen,
One by one gleaming on the sylvan scene.
Beautiful maids and youths the vines enclose
Ilued like some petal of the faint blush-rose ;
While amber lights luxuriously lie
O'er undulations of warm ivory,
Stealing at leisure into every charm ;
And now they dance full many a rounded arm,
With slender flexile hand aurora-tipped,
On lovesick air waves like long flowers dipped
In a Spring zephyr's gentle fantasy ;
Their rich white flesh dimpling deliciously.
Or smoothing to a stainless milk-expanse,
As bend voluptuous motions of the dance.
Some toss the timbrel or the castanet,
Wooing young limbs to lovelier flowing yet.
Waxing and waning of each tender limb.
Shoulder and bosom, waist and ankle slim.
Rarest of shading noteth unto sense,
Noteth faint heave and tender subsidence ;
About their necks cascades of golden flow,
Their dewy eyes melt languid as they go :
And some are clothed with linen fabric fine,
Leaving the fancy little to divine,
Yet so enhancing all the charms that shine
Through as it clings into the silken skin,
Or falling free with mistlike lingering
From some bowed body, faint and saturate
With warmth and sweetness of its happier state.
Lo ! when dusk evening falls these fair green alleys
Hung with soft lamps ring through with mirthful sallies.
And furious hot nameless orgies haste
That he impressing days with nights may taste,
Despite the gods, in overflowing measure
(Doubling their poor six years) long stinted pleasure ;
For after this the mummy at the feast
Reminds, man ceaseth even as the beast.

Then all was silent : in a chamber next
I saw the monarch, and no longer vexed
Angry' and miserable seemed his mien ;
Upon that youth now grown to man did lean
The king, pale, near the dying, yet serene.

" Now help me to the embrasure — leave me so —
Nay, lights I need not, let the afterglow
Glimmer upon the sacred bull of gold
That doth the body of my darling hold.
So lies she as a blest Osirian.
In Him divine ideal only can
Live here or yonder a poor child of man.
How often through the long nights have I stayed
Beside her mourning, pondering, and prayed !
With censers breathing odorous incense.
Cinnamon, cassia, myrrh, frankincense,
Winged talisman of Thummim on my breast
Alive with jewels' firehearted unrest,
Sardonyx, emerald and chrysoprase.
And carbuncle that feeds the night with rays —
How often fi-om this window watched the stars.
Seeking what sinister conjunction mars
My destiny ; with cabalistic sign,
Pentacle, muttered charm, and vapours fine
From mystic tripod, nightly summoned nigh
Spirits to open out the mystery !
But I possessed a wondrous healing gift ;
This, and half-earnest wonders wrought, uplift.
With veritable knowledge me to heights
Of awe and worship ; from the proud delights
Of such thou knowest howoft I loathing turned
To where my youth's pure aspiration burned
Mourning above that altar overturned !

" Now am I free to seek thee, love, at last !
Expand like yon burnt gums into the vast,
To seek thee, and thy mother whom I loved.
From whom my soul's affection never roved.
When by this life and others I shall learn
Wisdom, a kinglier man I may return
To earth — I know not — but 'tis something, friend,
To look life in the face before the end,
Praying our silent, our mysterious guide
To tell his name, though never he replied
To one ; yet so at least we are not led
Mere soulless things, clothed and amused and fed.
And though some scheme we fondly fostered fail,
Though ramparts of the evil we assail
Be deaf to summons of our trumpet blast.
Yea, though we stift" and mangled at the last
Lie by the scarce-breached wall, 'tis not in vain ;
No bold, no high intentions but sustain
The sacred cause, the spirit of the host
Whose cause is God's, and never can be lost !
Shall we, mere infants, petulant conclude
That our wise Father leads not home to good
If He desert the path we count direct.
We with true heart but fumbling intellect ?

" All creatures serve, for all must serve, the Lord ;
Rocks, winds, all living things fulfil'his word.
Shall we, who may with free and full consen
Of all our being follow Him, content
Ourselves with yielding passive like the clod,
Or frantic darting with the hook of God
Sunk in our jaws, hither and thither, fools !
Spent with erratic effort, from our pools
Doth not the mighty Angler draw us forth,
Despite weak plaints and mad rebellious froth ?
The high gods offer their alternative,
To march erect before them as they drive
Bland and serene their high triumphal car ;
Or ignominious as captives are.
Chained to their chariot-wheels, be dragged in dust
A hissing and a scorn ; for all we must
Enhance the royal progress of their state.
Or moody slaves, or conquerors elate.

" For me I knew it, acted as I knew ;
Yet have I failed and fallen as others do !
My nature was a swiftly- running troop
Where if the leader but a moment droop
Or stumble, all the blindly-rushing throng
Trample and crush him hurrying along.
If with me gracious Reason bore the sway
Pertaining to her from an early day.
Passions and fancies of all face and hue.
Portentous multitude, were growing too,
A glory to the spirit's court, and sent
On many a mission wise beneficent ;
Yet these but waited their occasion sly.
Waited their sovereign's averted eye,
Her wavering amid their fierce turmoil
To pluck her from the throne and to despoil.
Alas ! ye know the rest. I fondly thought,
Though traitor passions overbold and haught
Waxed in my very presence, I could tame
Them by a word when my occasion came ;
But when my righteous ardours in my face
Fate flung, and mocking blew me to my place,
At length my joints were loosened, I grew weak,
And let the clamorous tongues unchided speak,
Till when at length I frowned they overbore me,
And swarming round me stunned, the rebels tore me.
Of doing good to man my heart despaired,
While lulled of sense less day by day I cared ;
And men wept on, but duller grew mine ears ;
I shut me from the importunate sound of tears.
Muffled in roses, drowning with guitar
Sobs that would ruffle sweet indolence and jar.
I failed — and may my failure prove your warning !
Ne'er now may dawn for me another morning :
Yet in my failure I am comforted
To know that not myself the legions led.
The legions of God's children, but while I
Defeated with my poor division lie.
He waves the army on to victory.

"Yea, setting steadfastly my waning face
Toward the mysterious future of the race,
Ere mine eyes fail for ever they descry
Far-off arisen a kinglier Man than I,
One with a stronger purpose and more pure.
Who, though the world assail him, shall endure;
One with a clearer vision, wider scope,
A faith more dauntless, a diviner hope ! . . .

" Yet ah, my child, my wife, if ye had lived
Mayhap my loftier purpose might have thrived.
Could one from his ideal grovelling fall
If near him, ever beckoning recall
By their sweet faith untroubled simple pure,
Stood heavenly souls himself had helped mature
Through former years, with anxious nurturing
On all of high and holy love may bring ?
Nay, but I thank the Gods for taking them.
What adamantine barrier may stem
Passion's o'erswollen infernal torrent-rush
Whelming and desolating in the crush
Reason, love, duty, all remorselessly ?
Such was the fate predestinate for me,
Doomed from a child with strange and premature
Flame of the sense nought may avail to cure
Or quench, though smothered ; many a chance-like wind
Unaware fanning smouldering embers blind —
Yea, this curst hand, thy fondling tears bedewed,
In thy true heart's dear life-lilood were imbued !
And thou, blest child, whom envious Heavens claim,
Might blush to-day naming thy father's name !

" Scarce in the dusk I see the pyramid
That you will place my senseless shape amid —
Less than the twain, you well observe it less —
For till of late I yielded unto stress
Of mere barbaric custom never, till
My heart grew sick and weary, and my fill
Of ease and pleasure I began to take. . . .
Only, sweet youth, I charge thee for my sake,
See that to lower me they only take
The hale and strong, and many, ne'er a boy.
Even in their very deaths our kings destroy
Many a life more worthy than their own.
Crushed under some huge carcase-coffer of stone.
Do you who love me and have understood
Strive as you may to fan the spark of good
I may have kindled ; my successor waits
Impatient, and alas ! I fear me hates
The righteous cause. I leave it to the fates. . . .

"Yea. verily, the truth I uttered shall
From their long lethargy the nations call,
At first, like voices one who dreams may hear,
Strange alien sense from sleep the words may wear.
Yet in Heaven's hour, not mine, they shall put on
No vague fool's meaning, but their very own ;
Yea, and a fuller than myself have known ;
Working insensibly through ages' course
With alien agencies' calm patient force.
Until at last dull slumbers give and break,
And to clear vision all the peoples wake !
By wrong and suffering and failure
The dread World-Soul in darkness doth mature
Immeasurable ends, and calm contrives,
Tracing eftacing myriad single lives ;
The child devours absorbs the sire and thrives

More consummate— the infinite content
Flows aye with tentative experiment.
Behold the large moon, a sun's ghost, displayed
O'er the new palm-girt huts and dykes I made —
Over far flats, dim hills, and cereals,
Temples and tombs, the Nile and his canals ;
In the elf-gleam commingling strangely lie
Great and mean, living, dead, as in the eye
Of all-transcending still Eternity ! "

These the last words King Mencheres outspoke :
Soon after I believe that I awoke.