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 Must it be always dark like this?—I cannot see thy face!

I am dying! Hold me, Pharaoh! in thy kind and strong embrace!

List! let them sometimes bear me where the golden sunbeams lie,

Farewell! Farewell! I know thou wilt! 'Tis easy now to die!"

And ever when the Star of Kneph has brought the summer round,

And the Nile rises fast and full along the thirsty ground,

They bear her from her rock-hewn tomb to where the Sun's broad light

May linger on the close-bound eyes were once so glad and bright;

And strew palm-clusters on her breast while gray-haired singers tell

Of the high Egyptian Lady, who loved the Sun so well.