caught by the worm-bait,--but thy love removes me far from the bird, and I am unable to deliver myself from it; I will carry off my net, and what shall I say to my mother,--when I shall have returned to her?--Every day I come back laden with spoil,--but to-day I have not been able to set my trap,--for thy love makes me its prisoner!" "The goose flies away, alights,--it has greeted the barns with its cry;--the flock of birds increases on the river, but I leave them alone and think only of thy love,--for my heart is bound to thy heart--and I cannot tear myself away from thy beauty." Her mother probably gave her a scolding, but she hardly minds it, and in the retirement of her chamber never wearies of thinking of her brother, and of passionately crying for him: "O my beautiful friend! I yearn to be with thee as thy wife--and that thou shouldest go whither thou wishest with thine arm upon my arm,--for then I will repeat to my heart, which is in thy breast, my supplications.--If my great brother does not come to-night,--I am as those who lie in the tomb--for thou, art thou not health and life,--he who transfers the joys of thy health to my heart which seeks thee?" The hours pass away and he does not come, and already "the voice of the turtle-dove speaks,--it says: 'Behold, the dawn is here, alas! what is to become of me?' Thou, thou art the bird, thou callest me,--and I find my brother in his chamber,--and my heart is rejoiced to see him!--I will never go away again, my hand will remain in thy hand,--and when I wander forth, I will go with thee into the most beautiful places,--happy in that he makes me the foremost of women--and that he does not break my heart." We should like to quote the whole of it, but the text is mutilated, and we are unable to fill in the blanks. It is, nevertheless, one of those products of the Egyptian mind which it would have been easy for us to appreciate from beginning to end, without effort and almost without explanation. The passion in it finds expression in such sincere and simple language as to render rhetorical ornament needless, and one can trace in it, therefore, nothing of the artificial colouring which would limit it to a particular place or time. It translates a universal sentiment into the common language of humanity, and the hieroglyphic groups need only to be put into the corresponding words of any modern tongue to bring home to the reader their full force and intensity. We might compare it with those popular songs which are now being collected in our provinces before the peasantry have forgotten them altogether: the artlessness of some of the expressions, the boldness of the imagery, the awkwardness and somewhat abrupt character of some of the passages, communicate to both that wild charm which we miss in the most perfect specimens of our modern love-poets. END OF VOL. V.