Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PENRHYN'S PILGRIMAGE: CANTO SECOND: 6. EGYPT, by ARTHUR PETERSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PENRHYN'S PILGRIMAGE: CANTO SECOND: 6. EGYPT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Egypt, upon thine ancient shore, / to-day, a pilgrim late, I stand
Last Line: Repelled the mamaluke's fiery lance.
Subject(s): Egypt


1

Egypt, upon thine ancient shore,
To-day, a pilgrim late, I stand;
Across my foot-prints drifts the sand;
The silent desert lies before.

I turn my back upon the sea,
That sea by Moses crossed of old,
And, through the land of the Pharaohs rolled,
I halt where Memphis used to be.

O memorable hour when first,
Gazing from Cairo's citadel,
The shapes which fancy knew so well
Upon my outward vision burst!

Nile, pyramids, and sphinx I saw,
Transfigured by a sunset rare;
Almost I breathed that Egypt's air
Where Ramses' royal word was law!

2

Land of the ibis, from the hour
Of boyhood have I dreamed of thee;
And now, with waking eyes, I see
The evidences of thy power!

I tread where mighty Memphis stood --
Lo, those tomb-temples of the past
Whose shapes, pyramidal and vast,
Have weathered Time's relentless flood!

I tread where mighty Memphis stood --
Lo, on the arid desert's brinks,
Inscrutable, sits the Great Sphinx,
Like necromancer in his hood!

And where that city met the eye,
Named for the sun's resplendent disk,
Still points the lofty obelisk,
With silent finger, toward the sky!

3

Imperial Egypt that hast been,
Thou risest from the buried past,
And livest before me as thou wast,
In peaceful or in warlike scene.

I see, upon the banks of Nile,
Thy kings to great Osiris pray,
Or, like the graven Ramses, slay
The lion and the crocodile.

I see thy sacerdotal trains
Long avenues of sphinxes pace,
While throngs surround each temple-place,
Incense amid, and music's strains.

I see, in helmet and cuirass,
With shield on arm, and spear in hand,
Thy troops, in battle, charge or stand,
Or, conquerors proud, before me pass.

4

Thou pile of Cheops, up whose side,
Despoiled by many a vandal hand,
I climb, or on whose top I stand,
And gaze upon the desert wide;

Or through whose corridors to deep
Chambers, where dwells perpetual night,
Save when the turbaned Bedouin's light
Illumes them for a time, I creep;

What art thou, astronomic sign,
Or kingly tomb, or store-house vast,
Or monument, in Egypt's past,
Of metric system held divine?

We know not; we who, in this day,
Or wise savant, or traveler tanned,
View from thy peak the Libyan land,
Or round thy giant bases stray.

5

We know not; but methinks thou art,
For so the elder poets sing,
The mausoleum of a king:
Here lay proud Cheops' mortal part.

I see, in dreams, the work begun,
Completed is the builder's plan,
Granite is brought from far Asswan,
The structure grows from sun to sun;

I see the dusky toilers swarm
Like ants upon the desert sand,
Huge stones defy the workman's hand,
The derrick lends its mighty arm.

High o'er that chamber under-ground
Rose, year by year, the royal tomb;
And centuries after, in this room,
Mamoun a painted mummy found.

6

And thou, whose mutilated face
Still gazes toward the sacred Nile,
Gray sphinx, beneath what Pharaoh's smile
Was brought forth thy colossal grace?

Speak: who approved thy dual form,
Man-headed, with the lion's frame,
And sought to build, for Egypt's fame,
A shape outliving time and storm?

Who carved thee from the solid rock,
And placed the temple at thy feet,
Here where the sand and valley meet,
On this plateau of limestone block?

No answer: "Cephron," ventures one
Sagacious, skilled in Egypt's lore;
"Nay," cries another, " long before
Cephron this monument was done!"

7

Where now I stand Cambyses stood,
And marveled at this image hoar,
And Alexander, fresh from war,
Viewed from this spot the Nile's calm flood.

Here, with sweet Egypt by his side,
Came Caesar, master of the world,
And bent his head divine, where curled,
At Rome, the wreath of laurel wide.

Here came Mamoun, with Arab band,
And pierced the sacred pyramid
Wherein great Cheops' bones were hid,
But found no treasure for his hand.

And here that dark-haired youth of France,
Napoleon, whose immortal name
Stands next to his of Rome in fame,
Repelled the Mamaluke's fiery lance.





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