Far as the sight can reach, beneath as clear

And blue a heaven as ever blest this sphere,

Gardens and pillared streets and porphyry domes

And high-built temples, fit to be the homes

Of mighty gods, and pyramids whose hour

Outlasts all time, above the waters tower!

Then, too, the scenes of pomp and joy that make

One theatre of this vast peopled lake,

Where all that Love, Religion, Commerce gives

Of life and motion, ever moves and lives,

Here, up in the steps of temples, from the wave

Ascending, in procession slow and grave,

Priests in white garments go, with sacred wands

And silver cymbals gleaming in their hands:

While there, rich barks—fresh from those sunny tracts

Far off, beyond the sounding cataracts—

Glide with their precious lading to the sea,

Plumes of bright birds, rhinoceros' ivory,

Gems from the isle of Meroë, and those grains

Of gold, washed down by Abyssinian rains.

Here, where the waters wind into a bay

Shadowy and cool, some pilgrims on their way

To Saïs or Bubastus, among beds

Of lotos flowers that close above their heads,

Push their light barks, and hid as in a bower

Sing, talk, or sleep away the sultry hour,

While haply, not far off, beneath a bank

Of blossoming acacias, many a prank

Is played in the cool current by a train

Of laughing nymphs, lovely as she whose chain

Around two conquerors of the world was cast;

But, for a third too feeble, broke at last.