Dark was the night and still, Osiris sailed. One star alone peeped out from somber clouds.
The night was pitch black and eerily quiet as Osiris sailed on. A single star peeked through the gloomy clouds above.
"A star of destiny we follow; guarding eye of god," spake she, the virgin wife of him, Osiris. For thus he swore, that but as sister she, until the land was reached which yet his kingdom in the future days might be, was this young bride, the beauteous one whose name has died to history.
"We follow a guiding star, watched over by the eye of God," said the virgin wife of Osiris. He had sworn that she would remain only his sister until they reached the land that would one day become his kingdom. This beautiful young bride's name has been lost to history.
Not she the "goddess" did become, but one who lived and died and lived again and left no trace, no name save in the hearts of them who loved her.
She didn't become a "goddess," but rather a mortal who experienced life, death, and rebirth, leaving no physical mark or name behind—only memories in the hearts of those who cherished her.
"Aye, the star! perchance the eye of god we follow," spake the all-appointed king, the banished prince—the father of a line so kingly that the world did speak with awe the names of sons and of descendants all adown the line of Egypt's monarchs.
"Yes, the star! Perhaps it's the eye of God we're following," said the destined king, the exiled prince—the father of a lineage so regal that the world spoke in awe of the names of his sons and descendants throughout the line of Egypt's monarchs.
This was he who drew his barques, who pitched his tents upon the shore where Philae stands, ye call. And near the spot the men of origin from out the clouds—the first created man forms abode nor yet attempted war.
This was the one who sailed his ships and set up camp on the shore where Philae now stands. Nearby, the first humans appeared as if from the heavens—these early people settled there, living peacefully before war was even conceived.
Great trunks of cypress shut the sun from faces dark, and eyes that blazed with feeling looked with awe—with pity, too, upon the son of him who for a beauteous face cast off the bloom of kingly tree. Yet kingly blood will bubble in the fount and raise itself in any land. No clime can make it sluggish, bow to taint nor sink to level of the lowly born.
Towering cypress trees blocked the sun from somber faces. Eyes burning with emotion looked on in awe and pity at the son of the man who had forsaken his royal lineage for a beautiful face. Yet noble blood will always rise to the surface, no matter where it flows. No environment can dampen its vigor, corrupt its essence, or reduce it to the status of common folk.
Aamhotep? He was a prince who set to war a fleet at his command. All men then bowed in honor to the high born one who drew first breath in chambers of the king. For old Osiris claimed, as soul to soul, a sister, born in wedlock, passing fair and born in that same hour as he.
Aamhotep? He was a prince who sent a fleet to war at his command. All men then bowed in honor to this high-born man, who first drew breath in the chambers of the king. For old Osiris claimed a sister as his kindred soul. She was born in wedlock, very beautiful, and born in the same hour as he was.
And when Osiris—king the first—did wed, the sister also laid her snowy hand in that of consort—brother of the queen who lived a life of sweet content and died with blessings on her lips, and swore the king, her lord, that he would never wed, but keep her line unsullied, centered in the son first born to them—Osiris—named as then the custom was for father—that old king who did break his oath and wed, alas! the pagan woman—she of that lost race who won contempt for deeds so foully done that all looked with alarm when men of her strange land drew nigh.
And when Osiris, the first king of that name, married, his sister also placed her snow-white hand in the hand of her husband, the brother of the queen. The queen lived a life of sweet contentment and died with blessings on her lips. She made the king, her lord, swear that he would never marry again. He would keep her line pure, centered in the son first born to them. That son was Osiris, named for his father, as the custom then was. But that old king broke his oath and married, alas, the pagan woman. She was of that lost race who earned contempt for deeds so foully done that everyone looked on in alarm when men of her strange land came near.
Aamhotep? brave and true and tender he. A maid he wed with eyes of that rare hue, in that young age of earth, the eyes which catch their color from the sky. And she a waif of ocean cast ashore in shattered barque, a royal barge emblazoned; brave with many a spear, and head of bear, and claw of wolf, the banner token of the North.
Aamhotep, courageous, honest, and gentle. He married a young woman with eyes of an uncommon color, rarely seen in those early days of Earth—eyes that mirrored the sky's hue. She was a castaway from the sea, washed ashore in a wrecked ship, once a majestic royal vessel. The ship was adorned with emblems: numerous spears, bear heads, and wolf claws—symbols of the North's banner.
And lashed to swivel-bench of slave, wrapped close in robe of fleece with gems, the infant lay in arm all stiff in death's fell bonds!—An arm that, hung with jewels, showed in wondrous shape and texture pure the blood of kings, mayhap, froze in the inert veins.
Lashed to a slave's swivel bench, wrapped close in a fleece robe set with gems, the infant lay in an arm that was stiff in death's cruel bonds! It was an arm hung with jewels. In its wondrous shape and pure texture it showed the blood of kings, perhaps, frozen in the lifeless veins.
One gem on that white, burdened arm alone was worth a monarch's crown—one massive emerald that shone, and still doth shine if but the light of day could strike it fair, but hid in mummy's breast it lies.
A single jewel on that pale, weighed-down arm was worth more than a king's crown—a huge emerald that gleamed, and would still shine if sunlight could reach it. But it remains hidden, buried in the mummy's chest.
The child of sea, as sacred thing, esteemed was held in royal nursery. Her youth the childhood of her kind who drank of pleasure and content. No daughters blessed the home of king Osiris. Sons but three to him were early born. And she, the winsome, flax-haired maid, blue eyed, a thing of lands where ice prevailed and storms blew fierce with cruel sting, was held as treasure. Sacred she as gift from gods indeed.
The sea-born child was treasured in the royal nursery, a sacred being. Her youth embodied the carefree childhood of her people, filled with joy and contentment. King Osiris had no daughters, only three sons born early in his reign. This charming maiden, with her flaxen hair and blue eyes, hailed from icy lands where fierce storms raged. She was cherished like a precious gift, truly blessed by the gods.
And young Aamhotep in his early youth did love and long to wed her. The king but smiled: "In infancy," he spake, "I wed in thought, and by the law of Custom, the son of her—mine other—sister—half—and this strange god-sent creature born 'mid elements I ne’er beheld. Blessed be thy union, O my sister's son, with this loved, radiant one."
And young Aamhotep, in his early youth, loved her and longed to marry her. The king only smiled. "In their infancy," he said, "I joined them in thought, by the law of Custom: the son of her who is my sister and my other half, and this strange creature sent by the gods, born amid elements I never saw. Blessed be your union, O my sister's son, with this beloved, radiant one."
And blessed indeed was that strange tie—the child of frost and snow, the castaway of elements, and he, the child of fire, the son of forty lords in line so plainly marked none could dispute his claim.
Truly remarkable was their unique bond—she, born of winter's chill, abandoned by nature itself, and he, forged in flames, heir to forty generations of undisputed nobility.
And in their union winter met with summer's fierce and fervid glow, and unto other souls in line they gave their fire, their pride, their calmness and their grace—all that the sons of kings might claim. And loved was Aamhotep of that young prince and kinsman, Osiris. Nor enmity was there, the twain between, so long as breath did animate each body.
In their union, the calm of winter merged with summer's intense heat. They passed on their passion, dignity, composure, and elegance to their descendants—qualities befitting royal heirs. Aamhotep was beloved by the young prince and relative, Osiris. No hostility existed between the two as long as they both lived.
Usertsen second was in naval fleet. A minister of state, his sire, well wed and well endowed with golden grains, and slaves and stately home. His children like the buds about the rose. Twelve sons, three daughters clustered 'round the knee of one who seemed a bride as yet when he, the elder son, Usertsen, gave voice and claimed the robe a mother's hand alone might weave.
Usertsen was second in command of the naval fleet. His father was a minister of state, well married and well endowed with golden grain, slaves, and a stately home. His children were like the buds around a rose. Twelve sons and three daughters clustered around the knee of a woman who still seemed a bride when he, the elder son, Usertsen, first cried out at birth and claimed the robe that only a mother's hand could weave.
A valiant man was Usertsen. Born a power who brought to Egypt battle lore, and caused the Nile to broaden at command and by the work of slaves full forty score.
Usertsen was a valiant man. He was born a power, and he brought the lore of battle to Egypt. At his command, and by the work of a full forty score of slaves, he made the Nile broader.
He later waged upon the land called Assyria bitter war; drove from its plains the kindred, people of that queen who, being queen, brought deep disgrace upon the fairest name Atlantis knew, the bravest king, the kindest heart that ever beat in monarch's breast. Still others of that fleeing band did win great names among the tribes who sought the state of war.
Later he waged bitter war on the land called Assyria. He drove from its plains the kin and people of that queen who, as queen, brought deep disgrace on the fairest name Atlantis knew. That was the bravest king, with the kindest heart that ever beat in a monarch's breast. Still others of that fleeing band, the exiles from Atlantis, won great names among the tribes who sought a state of war.
Great names through skill as artisans or builders did they win. One indeed had planned the building of the king's own palace in far Atlantis—a pile of marble, golden, fluted harp in fountain set adorned. The columns of that palace were like the palm and palm indeed in seeming. Notched marble at the base, but upwards, broader grown, took color from the native tree in jasper, a stone from land afar in merchant galleys brought unto Atlantis.
They earned their renown through exceptional craftsmanship and architectural prowess. One notable figure had designed the king's palace in distant Atlantis—a magnificent structure of marble, adorned with golden accents and a fountain shaped like a fluted harp. The palace's columns mimicked palm trees in appearance. At their base, the columns were made of notched marble, but as they rose, they broadened and took on the colors of palm trees, crafted from jasper—a stone imported from far-off lands by merchant ships to Atlantis.
The dome created by his skill showed Moon and Stars—the Pleiades, Orion, Mars the worshipped one, and other sparks of ether there shone down. And in the center of one mighty dome in temple old, well builded, rose and always rose the sun in waves of rare sardonyx; sun of gold and other burnished metal casting out such sheen that Sun indeed it seemed.
The dome he crafted displayed the Moon and Stars—including the Pleiades, Orion, and Mars, the revered planet. Other celestial bodies twinkled above. At the heart of an ancient, well-constructed temple, beneath a grand dome, the sun perpetually rose. Formed from waves of precious sardonyx, gold, and other polished metals, it radiated such brilliance that it truly resembled the actual Sun.
Great garlands twined about the columns’ base; the grape with beryl splendor, riper yet, the dusky marble. Leaves of jade in spar mocked nature. All so well was wrought, the leaves did seem to wave at touch of wind across the sea. The selfsame sea that sweeps above and not at base of columns on this day!
Great garlands twined around the base of the columns. The grapes had the splendor of beryl, and the riper ones were of dusky marble. Leaves of jade set in spar imitated nature. All was so well made that the leaves seemed to wave at the touch of wind across the sea. That same sea sweeps above the columns today, not at their base!
The selfsame sea that bore the barques that night; the barques assembling far to sea, as Day, new born, cast her first faint line across the glistening waves in one great fleet, defying stern pursuit.
The same sea that carried the ships that night; the vessels gathering far offshore, as the newborn day cast its first faint light across the shimmering waves in one great fleet, boldly defying pursuit.
From northern point of Atlantis floated they. Some from the south, some west, and all intent on one great purpose—fleeing from their homes to build a nation unto him, the rightful heir to that stern, dotard king who was thrust from out the palace of his birth to taste humiliation.
They sailed from the northern point of Atlantis. Some came from the south, some from the west, and all were set on one great purpose. They were fleeing their homes to build a nation for him, the rightful heir of that stern, senile king. That heir was driven out of the palace of his birth to taste humiliation.
To taste humiliation! he, the son of kingly line! and she, the foreign queen, the early slave of one who sold her to a throne, brought forth another son to him—the lord she loathed. Behold! the wailing cry of that young child—"usurper, hated thing" the people called—filled loud the ears of that old, dotard sire when island kingdom melted, palace sunk to deeps and she—the loved, the won by loss of soul, sunk down in waves' embrace.
To taste humiliation! He, the son of a kingly line! And she, the old king's foreign queen, once the slave of a man who sold her to a throne, bore another son to him, the lord she loathed. Behold! The wailing cry of that young child, whom the people called "usurper, hated thing," rang loud in the ears of that old, senile father when the island kingdom melted away. The palace sank to the depths, and she, the loved one, won at the cost of his soul, sank down into the waves' embrace.
The luster of her braided hair befouled with slime! Her white hands grasping sand! Her jewels mocking eyes of monstrous things that soon would batten on the beauteous dead!
Her once-shining braided hair was now tarnished with muck. Her pale hands clutched at sand. Her jewels glinted like the eyes of hideous creatures that would soon feast on her beautiful corpse.
The sea doth sparkle, sun-smote, as I tell the tale.
The sea sparkles, struck by sunlight, as I share this story.
I turned from picture of the hastening barques. The barques of men who stern, intent, had but one object to complete; thought not of home; thought not of ease nor luxury which fed the sense. They thought alone of him, their prince bereft, and minds leaped out to future years and drank of joy, of freedom and of power for him who soon would challenge all the world, they spake.
I turned from the image of the hurrying ships. The vessels carried men who, determined and focused, had only one goal in mind. They didn't think of home, comfort, or indulgence. Their thoughts were solely on their prince in exile. Their minds raced ahead to future years, filled with visions of joy, freedom, and power for the one who would soon challenge the world, they said.
The women of that land were brave, as well. They hushed the cry of peevish child with words so stern that in the future years it still remembered. "Hush! hush, my child! ’tis well; we journey from oppression. He, our king, sits yonder in his galley, and our thoughts are pleasant poems, for they ring to tunes of other kingdoms over which he reigns."
The women of that country were just as courageous. They silenced fussy children with such firm words that even years later, those children would remember. "Quiet now! It's alright; we're escaping tyranny. Our king sails in his ship nearby, and our minds are filled with hopeful visions of the other lands he rules."
And even the slaves smiled slowly, worn with toil, for haste had sore impelled.
Even the exhausted slaves managed faint smiles, as the urgent work had pushed them to their limits.
"Our king is young and beautiful," they sang.
"Our leader is young and attractive," they proclaimed.
“Our king is brave. We journey to that land which soon shall know his power as king.”
“Our king is brave. We are journeying to the land that will soon know his power as king.”
Osiris, father, in his island palace spake all lightly as the eyes of her, the temptress, sought his face—the subtle woman with ten thousand wiles: "He hath departed! stole he out at night and seeks, perchance, a land afar. And others go; his friends, his allies. The son of her, our sister loved, our chancellors; the priests who prayed, condemned or yet abode content to listen to the music's plaint nor exercise their minds with matters grave.
Osiris, in his island palace, spoke casually as the temptress's eyes searched his face—the cunning woman with countless tricks up her sleeve. "He's gone! Sneaked out at night, probably looking for some distant land. And others are leaving too; his friends, his allies. Our beloved sister's son, our advisors, the priests who prayed, judged, or simply sat content to listen to mournful music rather than trouble themselves with serious matters."
"Depart they like the rovers of the sea! I call not back these rebels of my line. 'The world is wide,' they speak—the sages who from far appear through stress of elements. Ah! well! I seek no wider world than is contained within the walls of this, thy chamber, sweet. Let them depart!"
"Let them go, like sailors off to sea! I won't call back these rebellious descendants of mine. 'The world is vast,' they say—those wise ones who emerge from distant lands, battling the elements. Well, so be it! I don't need a world any bigger than this room of yours, my dear. Let them leave!"
And so his galleys idly swung to play of chains. The slaves slept deeply or deeply quaffed the malted draught or juice of grape, and lovers met and mated, aired their woes; the old died, young were born and Life and Time and atoms of the air all moved to Law.
His ships rocked gently, their chains clinking. The slaves slept soundly or drank deeply of beer or wine. Lovers met and coupled, sharing their troubles. The elderly passed away, babies were born, and all of existence - Life, Time, and even the air itself - moved according to natural laws.
But thrice three years did pass ere sunk the island home. Egypt already had become a power in war, for certain mighty tribes adhered to young Osiris’ rule ere sunk Atlantis. This the old king learned and knew the power his son had gained.
Nine years passed before the island home sank. By then, Egypt had already become a military power, as several powerful tribes had pledged allegiance to young Osiris before Atlantis fell. The old king learned of this and recognized the strength his son had amassed.
A city sprung as though from magic touch beside the Nile and to it came "barbarians," in that day, and others learned from the misty west, and from the plains which then did teem with life and energy.
A city sprang up beside the Nile as if by a magic touch. To it came those called "barbarians" in that day, and learned men from the misty west and from the plains, which then teemed with life and energy.
And thus the court of young Osiris bore a dignity, a power and Fame already marked it. Known was it to people of the North. Aye, thrice three years, ye call the circles which the sun doth breed, had passed when Nature rent the spot within the bosom of the southern sea and forth belched baleful motion, terror, scourge, and all engulfed went forth the souls from form.
The young Osiris's court had already gained significant prestige, power, and renown. Its reputation had spread even to the northern lands. Nine years had passed when a violent eruption tore open the earth beneath the southern sea. This cataclysmic event unleashed destruction and terror, claiming countless lives in its wake.
This they in Egypt read through stress and flames which lit the sky. From planet's vortex vast a tale of horror sprang. "They go, alas! We live," they spake. "The world doth spell but happiness for us, and ours, at last."
In Egypt they read this through the turmoil and the flames that lit the sky. From the planet's vast vortex a tale of horror sprang. "They perish, alas! We live," they said. "The world spells nothing but happiness for us and ours, at last."
Ah, Philae, thou art but an island spot upon the sluggish or yet swifter stream, yet in the past, all dim to history lost, thou wast the birthplace of mine ancient sires, who sleep ’neath sand that drifts and drifts to tune of desert winds, and jackal's screams, and shadows chase across the spot where feet of emperors trod all stately!
Oh, Philae, you're just a small island in the slow-moving river, yet in the distant past, lost to history, you were the birthplace of my ancient ancestors. They now rest beneath shifting sands, accompanied by desert winds and jackal cries, while shadows dance across the ground once graced by the stately footsteps of emperors.
Philae was rent from shore by slaves who cut the rock, cut sod and made a channel where no water ran before. In carven casket midst the mouldering specks of husk shall be revealed thy history ere this hand that pens is stilled, and Earth may read what once the sun hath witnessed; message old, dug from the earth, and written by the hand of him who held the scepter first to Egypt known, Osiris—king!
Slaves carved Philae from the shore, cutting through rock and soil to create a new waterway. Your history will be unveiled from an ornate chest among ancient remnants before this writer's hand falls silent. The world may learn what the sun once saw: an ancient message, unearthed and penned by Egypt's first known ruler, King Osiris himself!
Aye, was Egypt peopled when prince Osiris sought her shore. Peopled by the descendants of a race of men who collected knowledge by the mind alone. No graven language held, save marks to warn. This race did pre-exist Atlantian age; full 5000 years before the fishermen did reach Atlantis’ shore. I give thee not the number of the years exact, because no measure for the state of day or week or years exists, and thus no records may appear.
Yes, Egypt was already inhabited when Prince Osiris arrived on its shores. The inhabitants were descendants of a people who gained knowledge through mental abilities alone. They had no written language, only marks used as warnings. This civilization predated the Atlantian era by a full 5,000 years, existing long before fishermen reached Atlantis' coast. I can't provide an exact number of years, as there was no system for measuring days, weeks, or years at that time, so no precise records exist.
Yet that great race, impelled by store of thought, held well a line of sages, if ye will, who read the law from memory as ’twas held for many years. Made records of events through will and mind and stored them in the brains of chosen ones.
That advanced civilization, driven by a wealth of knowledge, maintained a lineage of wise individuals who memorized and preserved their laws for generations. They documented historical events through sheer determination and intellect, entrusting this information to the minds of selected individuals.
Old men taught younger. At an early age, called ten, the boy was learned in all secret thoughts and thus his training was a source of help and safety to the country. Great circles did uprear upon the sands which bordered on the Nile at overflow—the time, they argued, when the thoughts of men flowed freest.
Elders educated the youth. By age ten, boys were versed in all esoteric knowledge, making their training a valuable asset for national security. They constructed large circles on the banks of the Nile during its flooding season, believing this to be the time when human thoughts flowed most freely.
Thus they read the law—"all nature at its flood."
So they read the law: "all nature at its flood."
Aye, men in circles sat and pondered long. Brought from the ether streams of knowledge, which may be drawn by all if well is understood the law. This law perfected they, and so they spake "Another word hath come to me."
People gathered in groups and thought deeply. They tapped into universal sources of wisdom, accessible to anyone who grasps the underlying principles. They refined their understanding of these principles and declared, "I've received a new insight."
The sages numbered many hundreds. Tribes of sturdy men held sway upon the steppes where desert sands now drift, not sea then as contended. But all verdure clothed and fruit in clusters grew by every pool and blossoms sprung, amid the grass so long and green that waved as waves the sea.
Hundreds of wise elders inhabited the land. Strong tribes ruled over the grasslands that have since become desert sands, not the sea as some claim. The landscape was lush and green, with fruit-bearing trees clustered around every water source. Flowers bloomed amidst tall, swaying grass that rippled like ocean waves.
Yea, many learned the method—to contain the secrets of a nation—Secrets held as life is held, all dearly; told to none save in the council talk. The youths appointed to this sacred task were held in bonds from birth, nor spake to women more. Nor yet to men save on the sacred themes. But learning, teaching, made the sum of life to these.
Many mastered the art of safeguarding national secrets—information as precious as life itself, shared only in confidential meetings. The young people chosen for this vital role were bound by duty from birth, forbidden to speak with women and conversing with men solely about sanctioned topics. For these individuals, learning and teaching these secrets became their life's purpose.
Thus was the history of the comet handed down the line till men who learned to build, not dig their homes, had caught the history and emblazoned on stone, or skin, in crevice of the rock it lay fair hidden when my sires from Atlantis came.
In this way the history of the comet was handed down the line. At last men who had learned to build their homes, not dig them, took up the history and blazoned it on stone or skin. It lay well hidden in a crevice of the rock when my forefathers came from Atlantis.
I tell the tale as told to me. I read it not. The records lost to all save in tradition as some hint in history gave. Yea, world of disintegration. Comet, to thee, is but a ball of ether, yet the central core, solidified and casting out of gasses sometimes loses in shock the central force of rock and thus it falls to earth.
I tell the tale as it was told to me. I did not read it. The records are lost to all, except in tradition, as some hint in history has given. Yes, that comet was a world of disintegration. To you, a comet is only a ball of ether. Yet its central core, made solid and casting out gases, sometimes loses the central force of its rock in a shock. And so it falls to earth.
The "world" which made destruction on the steppes was but a comet force drawn in the vortex of an older globe, akin to Moon but greater in its bulk. It fell not all on Earth, else it were here no more as Earth, but mass of molten strata. For, to vortex drawn, it made a wall far out of man's research, yet such exists.
The "world" that brought destruction on the steppes was only a comet force, drawn into the vortex of an older globe, like the Moon but greater in bulk. It did not all fall on Earth. Otherwise Earth would no longer be here as Earth, but would be a mass of molten layers. For, drawn into the vortex, it made a wall far beyond the reach of man's research. Yet such a wall exists.
"The nether world," ye speak. Aye, so it be; beneath this world of thine is massed a shapeless, formless mass or matter-dead. The drift, the flux, the substance of no name, which sways at times in vapor of the ether bulk, yet all unseen so far and far it lies.
You speak of "the nether world." Indeed, it exists; beneath our world lies a shapeless, formless mass of lifeless matter. This unnamed substance drifts and flows, occasionally swaying as ethereal vapor, yet remains unseen due to its vast distance from us.