For dark the fate of him who would rebel Against Thee: though Thy sway is just and mild. My father, Amon--as an earthly son His earthly father--so I call on Thee. Look down from heaven on me, beset by foes, By heathen foes--the folk that know Thee not. The nations have combined against Thy son; I stand alone--alone, and no man with me. My foot and horse are fled, I called aloud And no one heard--in vain I called to them. And yet I say: the sheltering care of Amon Is better succor than a million men, Or than ten thousand knights, or than a thousand Brothers and sons though gathered into one. And yet I say: the bulwarks raised by men However strong, compared to Thy great works Are but vain shadows, and no human aid Avails against the foe--but Thy strong hand. The counsel of Thy lips shall guide my way; I have obeyed whenever Thou hast ruled; I call on Thee--and, with my fame, Thy glory Shall fill the world, from farthest east to west." Yea, his cry rang forth even far as Hermonthis, And Amon himself appeared at his call; and gave him His hand and shouted in triumph, saying to the Pharaoh: "Help is at hand, O Rameses. I will uphold thee-- I thy father am he who now is thy succor, Bearing thee in my hands. For stronger and readier I than a hundred thousand mortal retainers; I am the Lord of victory loving valor? I rejoice in the brave and give them good counsel, And he whom I counsel certainly shall not miscarry." Then like Menth, with his right he scattered the arrows, And with his left he swung his deadly weapon, Felling the foe--as his foes are felled by Baal. The chariots were broken and the drivers scattered, Then was the foe overthrown before his horses. None found a hand to fight: they could not shoot Nor dared they hurl the spear but fled at his coming Headlong into the river." [I have availed myself of the help of Prof. Lushington's translation in "Records of the past," edited by Dr. S. Birch. Translator.] A silence as of the grave reigned in the vast hall, Rameses fixed his eyes on the poet, as though he would engrave his features on his very soul, and compare them with those of another which had dwelt there unforgotten since the day of Kadesh. Beyond a doubt his preserver stood before him. Seized by a sudden impulse, he interrupted the poet in the midst of his stirring song, and cried out to the assembled guests: "Pay honor to this man! for the Divinity chose to appear under his form to save your king when he 'alone, and no man with him,' struggled with a thousand."