The Luxor Nativity

A full-blown, modern, speculative sage
Is on us, cramm'd with Egypt — with his dream
Of Nile he seeks the folds of Bethlehem,
And writes ' from Luxor ' on the sacred page;
The ' young child ' came from Egypt; yet not so,
As this vain scribe would have it — not the son
Of an old Coptic frieze, but the Holy One
Of Israel, Virgin-born! O shame and woe!
But, O my Church, thou standest ever sure,
Though meteors through thine open portals glow,
Discolouring with strange lights, that come and go,
Thine altars, and thy fonts, and vestments pure —
Flashing their alien tinct on the true grain
Of thy great dogmas — Evermore in vain.