The Nile

Out of the unknown South,

Through the dark lands of drouth,

Far wanders ancient Nile in slumber gliding:

Clear-mirrored in his dream

The deeds that haunt his stream

Flash out and fade like stars in midnight sliding.

Long since, before the life of man

Rose from among the lives that creep,

With Time's own tide began

That still mysterious sleep,

Only to cease when Time shall reach the eternal deep.

From out his vision vast

The early gods have passed,

They waned and perished with the faith that made them;

The long phantasmal line

Of Pharaohs crowned divine

Are dust among the dust that once obeyed them.

Their land is one mute burial mound,

Save when across the drifted years

Some chant of hollow sound,

Some triumph blent with tears,

From Memnon's lips at dawn wakens the desert meres.

O Nile, and can it be

No memory dwells with thee

Of Grecian lore and the sweet Grecian singer?

The legions’ iron tramp,

The Goths’ wide-wandering camp,

Had these no fame that by thy shore might linger?

Nay, then must all be lost indeed,

Lost too the swift pursuing might

That cleft with passionate speed

Aboukir's tranquil night,

And shattered in mid-swoop the great world-eagle's flight.

Yet have there been on earth

Spirits of starry birth,

Whose splendour rushed to no eternal setting:

They over all endure,

Their course through all is sure,

The dark world's light is still of their begetting.

Though the long past forgotten lies,

Nile! in thy dream remember him,

Whose like no more shall rise

Above our twilight's rim,

Until the immortal dawn shall make all glories dim.

For this man was not great

By gold or kingly state,

Or the bright sword, or knowledge of earth's wonder;

But more than all his race

He saw life face to face,

And heard the still small voice above the thunder.

O river, while thy waters roll

By yonder vast deserted tomb,

There, where so clear a soul

So shone through gathering doom,

Thou and thy land shall keep the tale of lost Khartoum.