It must bide there before 'tis found again!"-- Some fool's dull joke repeated: good man, he, Unversed in deep text comment, never dreamed What time its Abyssinian mountain roots Swollen by fresh torrents mixed in Nubian lands, And thundered down from rocky ledge to ledge; How sacred Nilus flooding bank and plain Transformed old Egypt to a shining sea: And slaves in swarthy crowds, despised as dirt, Paddled upon the water scattering corn, While swam to their sad eyes a raking glance Of temple sphinxes, palms, and pyramids, Faint sacrificial fire with dismal cries; And small hard masters, armed with blooded thongs, Jocose and fierce, scourged out their utmost toil. Long ages ere man heard this promised hope, THE FIRST SHALL BE THE LAST, THE LAST THE FIRST. But the dear child his vacant prattle heard In wonder, and believed it lore profound: And ever after, when in solemn church, (The very church I have before me now!) Or household prayer, these words were touched upon, Pert visions would intrude of gabbling fowls Mid splashing water, sedge, and lily stars. In wending home, he filled her lap with flowers; And she, ere yet the house was reached, unloosed His guarding hand, ran forward, glinted through The porch, and with a joyous outcry lit The room, where sat in converse or at books Her parents: then, as she an hour before Had seen those mirrored marvels of the lake All trembling merge to one confused turmoil Of beauty broken into shattered light, When o'er its surface swept the hungry fowls, So blurred with shifting catches, so involved Through eagerness, her babbled narrative To the kind mother, who, embracing her, Felt satisfied her child had been well pleased. Then the great father, he would lightly lift To knee his darling girl; with fingers cup The tiny chin, and kiss the rosebud mouth; And gently his large tawny hand would stroke That woven sunshine glowing down her back, Which changed to deepest auburn glossed with gold, Calling her tricksy names. But, when at length Appeared the calm inevitable nurse, He laughed; and she in screaming laughter flew By stalwart arm thrust high above his head Immeshed in wild flowers emptied from her lap, Which shaking off, he brought the screamer down, And gaily swung her into willing arms. She talked these childhood memories while we strolled Among the scenes which bred them; for she loved To dwell on things which some regard as slight: But in her presence, told by her own self, With clear apt words and satisfying voice; The violet poise of her most graceful head Flung forth in lighted gesture to reveal The very fact; her hovering white hand Almost in music warbling with her words, And bounding all the tenderest care to please;-- Now, one by one, these aits of memory glow In hallowed splendour, and have made less dark A life I feel not altogether vain.