And now, as the sun sank on the seventh day, once more the great procession gathered to chant the woes of Isis and tell how the evil was avenged. We went in silence from the temple, and passed through the city ways. First came those who clear the path, then my father Amenemhat in all his priestly robes, and the wand of cedar in his hand. Then, clad in pure linen, I, the neophyte, followed alone; and after me the white-robed priests, holding aloft banners and emblems of the Gods. Next came those who bear the sacred boat, and after them the singers and the mourners; while, stretching as far as the eye could reach, all the people marched, clad in melancholy black because Osiris was no more. We went in silence through the city streets till at length we came to the wall of the temple and passed in. And as my father, the High Priest, entered beneath the gateway of the outer pylon, a sweet-voiced woman singer began to sing the Holy Chant, and thus she sang: “Sing we Osiris dead, Lament the fallen head: The light has left the world, the world is grey. Athwart the starry skies The web of Darkness flies, And Isis weeps Osiris passed away. Your tears, ye stars, ye fires, ye rivers, shed, Weep, children of the Nile, weep for your Lord is dead!” She paused in her most sweet song, and the whole multitude took up the melancholy dirge: “Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’” The chorus ceased, and once again she sang: “Within the court divine The Sevenfold sacred shrine We pass, while echoes of the Temple walls Repeat the long lament The sound of sorrow sent Far up within the imperishable halls, Where, each in the other’s arms, the Sisters weep, Isis and Nephthys, o’er His unawaking sleep.” And then again rolled forth the solemn chorus of a thousand voices: “Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’” It ceased, and sweetly she took up the song: “O dweller in the West, Lover and Lordliest, Thy love, thy Sister Isis, calls thee home! Come from thy chamber dun Thou Master of the Sun, Thy shadowy chamber far below the foam! With weary wings and spent Through all the firmament, Through all the horror-haunted ways of Hell, I seek thee near and far, From star to wandering star, Free with the dead that in Amenti dwell. I search the height, the deep, the lands, the skies, Rise from the dead and live, our Lord Osiris, rise!”