The Nile

Out of the unknown South,     Through the dark lands of drouth,         Far wanders ancient Nile in slumber gliding:     Clear-mirrored in his dream     The deeds that haunt his stream         Flash out and fade like stars in midnight sliding.     Long since, before the life of man         Rose from among the lives that creep,     With Time's own tide began         That still mysterious sleep,         Only to cease when Time shall reach the eternal deep.     From out his vision vast     The early gods have passed,         They waned and perished with the faith that made them;     The long phantasmal line     Of Pharaohs crowned divine         Are dust among the dust that once obeyed them.     Their land is one mute burial mound,         Save when across the drifted years     Some chant of hollow sound,         Some triumph blent with tears,         From Memnon's lips at dawn wakens the desert meres.     O Nile, and can it be     No memory dwells with thee         Of Grecian lore and the sweet Grecian singer?     The legions' iron tramp,     The Goths' wide-wandering camp,         Had these no fame that by thy shore might linger?     Nay, then must all be lost indeed,         Lost too the swift pursuing might     That cleft with passionate speed         Aboukir's tranquil night,         And shattered in mid-swoop the great world-eagle's flight.     Yet have there been on earth     Spirits of starry birth,         Whose splendour rushed to no eternal setting:     They over all endure,     Their course through all is sure,         The dark world's light is still of their begetting.     Though the long past forgotten lies,         Nile! in thy dream remember him,     Whose like no more shall rise         Above our twilight's rim,         Until the immortal dawn shall make all glories dim.     For this man was not great     By gold or kingly state,         Or the bright sword, or knowledge of earth's wonder;     But more than all his race     He saw life face to face,         And heard the still small voice above the thunder.     O river, while thy waters roll         By yonder vast deserted tomb,     There, where so clear a soul         So shone through gathering doom,         Thou and thy land shall keep the tale of lost Khartoum.