No man of us can be disheartened now; Death have we challenged by this trial; Before the hosts of death we dare denial. Swift mother of our arms, do thou, Who gavest us our land and the bright sun, Give us the perfecting of work begun; Only to thee we bow. _Ranoutet._ The troops are in array! _Aahmes._ What am I dreaming? _Ranoutet._ The glamour of the witch-girl is upon you; your eyes are sealed by her kiss. She has breathed the spirit of her dream into you. _Nouferou._ I am the dawn, and I am Egypt. Sleep on, beloved, for our dreams are a reality and the world a shadow. (_The chant continues._) O heart’s blood of remembrance! Long ago This land upheld our ancient fathers, And for this land, your land, our land now gathers One fellowship against the foe. The spears flash! Be they as your mothers’ eyes. The trump sounds! Hearken to your fathers’ cries! March you to battle so![1] ----- Footnote 1: N.B.—This poem is largely quoted from “The Coming of War,” by Lionel Johnson. ----- _Aahmes_ (_starting away while Nouferou clings to him_). Your eyes are demon’s eyes! Your arms are chains about my neck! I am lost! (_He shakes her off._) _Ranoutet._ The spirit of Temptation has awakened in this girl. Through her Hathor has tried your strength of purpose, and it has failed you. Go now to the battle, and pray to the mercy of Hathor that she may use your arm to strike the Hyksos, so that you fail not in this also. _Aahmes_ (_cries_) I am lost! I am lost! (_As he goes voices outside._) Aahmes! mighty Aahmes! _Ranoutet_ (_prays_). May Aahmes go forth like the panther of the South! May Aahmes go forth under the ægis of Hathor in the radiance of her light! May Aahmes not forget Egypt, Egypt the mother of the mighty! May Aahmes remember her in her need, that she may requite him! _Nouferou._ Woe, woe unto Egypt for the pain she has wrought! She has warred against love, and love shall abandon her! Wisdom is very powerful, but she cannot conquer love! Wisdom is immortal, but love will destroy her works! _Ranoutet._ Silence! before the sacrilege of your speech reaches to heaven and awakes the wrath of Hathor, which, shaking the four pillars of the world, would crush you into dust. Love must serve and wisdom rule; but you would put love above all! Your love would have put out the light that shines from the glory of Egypt, and serve the cause of Egypt’s foes! You would have shamed Aahmes to all time that love might rule his soul one little hour! _Nouferou._ I would see Aahmes dead—dead and dishonoured before I’d give him up to you, Ranoutet!