THE EGYPTIAN PRINCESS.
There was fear and desolation over Egypt's swarthy land
From the holy city of the Sun to hot Syëne's sand:
The sistrum and the cymbal slept, the dancing women beat
No measure to the pipe and drum, with silver-slippered feet:
For the Daughter of the King must die, the dark magicians said
Before once more the Moon-God Khuns should lift his hornèd head.
And, all those days, the temple-smoke loaded the heavy air
