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(From Ruins of Many Lands) HAIL! Egypt! land of ancient pomp and pride, | |
Where Beauty walks by hoary Ruins side; | |
Where Plenty reigns, and still the seasons smile, | |
And rollsrich gift of God!exhaustless Nile. | |
Land of the pyramid and temple lone! | 5 |
Whose fame, a star, on earths dark midnight shone; | |
Bright seat of wisdom, graced with arts and arms, | |
Ere Rome was built, or smiled fair Athens charms; | |
What owes the past, the living world to thee? | |
All that refines, sublimes humanity. | 10 |
The tall papyrus whispering seems to say, | |
Here rose the letters Cadmus bore away. | |
The Greek to thee his Jove and Bacchus owes, | |
With many a tale that charms, and thought that glows. | |
In thy famed schools the Samian learnt his lore, | 15 |
That souls, though wandering, live forevermore; | |
The giant structures piled on Gizehs plain | |
Speak of the sages watching heavens bright train, | |
Who first years, months divided, traced afar | |
The comets course, and named each glittering star. * * * * * | 20 |
Worshipped of old, whence flows the Niles proud wave? | |
From what far spring, green vale, or sunless cave? | |
Vainly its fountains curious pilgrims seek; | |
The solveless mystery ages fail to break. | |
Sure on the spring some god hath set his seal, | 25 |
Sworn the bright waters never to reveal: | |
But if mid Ethiop wilds, or Lunar steeps, | |
Her secret charge the jealous Naiad keeps, | |
Sleeking her locks unseen in that bright well, | |
And planting flowers where only sylphs may dwell, | 30 |
What boots it? bounding from his cradling-place, | |
Young Nile comes forth, to run his giant race, | |
Pours down Sennar, and washes Nubias wild, | |
Fresh, full, and free, as when first Nature smiled; | |
Foams oer the granite ridge by Souans shore, | 35 |
With flashing billow, and with sullen roar; | |
Still sees the temple crown his palmy banks, | |
And hoary Sphinxes sleep, in long-drawn ranks. | |
What though no more the priest on Isis calls, | |
Or grand processions sweep from Memphis walls, | 40 |
Praying the flood to rise oer bower and field, | |
Still swell the waves, and wonted blessings yield; | |
And sweet the stream to travellers thirsty lip, | |
As when the Egyptian deemed it heaven to sip; | |
And green the flags, and fair the lotus-flower, | 45 |
As when that babe, within his bulrush-bower, | |
The embryo leader, Fames immortal heir, | |
Smiled on the royal maids who found him there. | |
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