fastened round his waist, whilst he bends the bow firmly with his hands. Above his head flies the hawk, the bird of Ra, ensign of the protection of the god. In another bas-relief, he is pausing for a moment, and checking his steeds. Semem-kheftu-ef is running by his side like a dog.
These are only two illustrations out of the multitude carved with spirit and fidelity upon the interior of the great temple hewn in the sandstone rock at Abu-simbel, in Nubia, which, even in its present condition, excites a wonder that is akin to awe. In front of the entrance stand four colossal statues of the king seated on his throne, each of which is 66 feet in height. The face is grandly represented; a calm, haughty repose marks the features, and the placid, if not scornful, smile so characteristic of the king rests upon his lips—accustomed to speak in accents of command from early childhood and on to extreme old age. Close by is a smaller temple erected by queen Nefertari, the loved wife of his early manhood, in honour of her lord. Within its walls we may see family groups sculptured—the king in the prime of
