Him forth through halls whose monstrous columns rose
A dwindling height; and on the granite stones
Down the great way was warlike pageantry,
Conquest of cities, nations caught in chains;
And mighty pictures of the chase were there,
Lions and grizzly pards struck down and spoiled.
All these were of the olden time when Egypt
Poured its thick columns over Nubia,
Crossed the Euphrates and the Tigris stream
And beat against the gates of Nineveh.
And this had changed. The soldier moved the loom;
The priestly hand was on the plough; and fleets
Drew the world's commerce to the mouths of Nile.
And where the Theban conquerors had dwelt
A Roman legion held the place of war,
And Roman eagles over-ruled the air.
All this moved strong in Creon till it seemed
A ghost of Pharaoh stalked behind his back.
Across these thoughts of dying empire came
A little rush of music, hardly more
Than a wind making voices in the trees,
But in it was the tremulous thrill of flutes,
And with it came a stir of spoken words.
The noise grew till they came upon the portal
Of a room many-sounded, gay with lights
Of various hues. And therein was the queen,
Who when they entered rose, and angry-eyed
Spoke to the slave:
"Has Egypt grown so poor
There is no other cloth to robe her guest
Than cheerless linen?"
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