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Of him Syene dark, and Meröe drink,
The savage Blemyæ crowd about his brink:
Th' unbridled Garamant, and Girrha's child,
Strong beast-destroyer in the mountains wild,
Whose cavern dwelling ebon boughs adorn,
And ivory tusks, from vanquished monsters torn.
They too—the tribe whose well protected hair
With ordered shafts is set around—are there.
But why and when do those strange waters rise?
No melting ice upon their bosom lies,
No helpful showers the mountain ridge supplies:
When other streams with wintry rains increase,
Then rests the Nile within his banks in peace:
When they in turn scarce trickle through the sand,
Then swells the Nile, and spreads o'er all the land.
As though what summer reft from every river,
'Twere Nature's use collected to deliver
Into one Nile—that all the world might seem
Amerced to furnish forth the mighty stream.
And so, when Sirius arms the solar blaze,
And heaven is burning with the potent rays,
When the dried earth is shrunk in every vein,
And feebly strives some moisture to retain,
The Nile, reversing all, beholds his winter reign.
