Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt, -30 B.C. -- Fiction; Egypt -- History -- 332-30 B.C. -- Fiction
And so it came about that for a space of three months I prepared myself
according to the holy customs. I ate no meat. I was constant in the
sanctuaries, in the study of the secrets of the Great Sacrifice and of
the woe of the Holy Mother. I watched and prayed before the altars. I
lifted up my soul to God; ay, in dreams I communed with the Invisible,
till at length earth and earth’s desires seemed to pass from me. I
longed no more for the glory of this world, my heart hung above it as
an eagle on his outstretched wings, and the voice of the world’s blame
could not stir it, and the vision of its beauty brought no delight. For
above me was the vast vault of heaven, where in unalterable procession
the stars pass on, drawing after them the destinies of men; where the
Holy Ones sit upon their burning thrones, and watch the chariot-wheels
of Fate as they roll from sphere to sphere. O hours of holy
contemplation! who, having once tasted of your joy could wish again to
grovel on the earth? O vile flesh to drag us down! I would that thou
hadst then altogether fallen from me, and left my spirit free to seek
Osiris!
The months of probation passed but too swiftly, and now the holy day
drew near when I was in truth to be united to the universal Mother.
Never hath Night so longed for the promise of the Dawn; never hath the
heart of a lover so passionately desired the sweet coming of his bride,
as I longed to see Thy glorious face, O Isis! Even now that I have been
faithless to Thee, and Thou art far from me, O Divine! my soul goes out
to Thee, and once more I know----But as it is bidden that I should
draw the veil, and speak of things which have not been told since the
beginning of this world, let me pass on and reverently set down the
history of that holy morn.
For seven days the great festival had been celebrated, the suffering of
the Lord Osiris had been commemorated, the grief of the Mother Isis had
been sung and glory had been done to the memory of the coming of the
Divine Child Horus, the Son, the Avenger, the God-begot. All these
things had been carried out according to the ancient rites. The boats
had floated on the sacred lake, the priests had scourged themselves
before the sanctuaries, and the images had been borne through the
streets at night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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