Osiris sought that farther border from the fear of swift and stern pursuit.
Osiris sought that farther border out of fear of swift and stern pursuit.
A thousand galleys did comprise Atlantis’ fleet; and so had he no hope to reach that land to which their thoughts had turned if so the king directed men to follow, barge on barge and barque with barque.
Atlantis commanded a vast navy of a thousand ships. He had no chance of reaching his intended destination if the king ordered his fleet to pursue, with vessel after vessel giving chase.
The fleet could overtake through force of oar, for rested twelve while twelve did furious ply the long day through, and when the night had set they also plied, nor lacked a light to so direct their stroke, that distance, too, was gained.
The fleet could catch up by sheer rowing power. Twelve rowers rested while twelve others worked furiously all day long. When night fell, they continued rowing, with lights to guide their strokes, allowing them to close the gap even further.
In that past age, as now, the cage that swung at prow did hold a fearsome bird which shot forth from its eyes a light that mocked the stars. Full half a mile it showed the pathway of the sea. And "farther still! still farther!" was the loud command of him, Aamhotep, when the Nile bore refugees upon its breast. "Still up and up."
In those days, as now, a cage hung from the ship's bow, holding a fierce bird whose eyes shone brighter than the stars. Its gaze lit up half a mile of the sea's path. "Farther! Go farther!" Aamhotep shouted, as the Nile carried refugees on its waters. "Keep going upriver!"
The desert passed, the plains which later hid their city's wealth. For storms of sand have filled the arches broad and hid the dome, the wall of brittle spar, the pride of King Osiris. It lieth deep where sands still drift.
The desert faded away, giving way to plains that would later conceal the city's riches. Sandstorms have since filled the wide arches and buried the dome, along with the fragile crystal wall, once the pride of King Osiris. It now rests deep beneath the ever-shifting sands.
The strength of numbers stemmed the cataract. Philae was reached—a point of rock-set land. "We tarry," spake the king, "for she doth feel the stress of flight—our queen."
By the strength of their numbers they forced their way up the cataract. They reached Philae, a point of land set in rock. "We will stay a while," said the king, "for she feels the strain of flight, our queen."
And so they bode a space where barren rocks mocked hunger. Bode till she had passed—the loved one, virgin wife of him, the king.
And so they stayed a while where barren rocks mocked their hunger. They stayed until she died, the loved one, the virgin wife of the king.
Alas! I see the picture as ’twas drawn for me. Slaves were so stilled at thought of sorrow smiting, that no voice rose in a wail. The night breeze flapped the standards borne at prow of anchored galleys, barques.
Oh, how clearly I see the scene painted before me! The slaves were so paralyzed by the prospect of grief that not a single cry was heard. The night wind gently stirred the flags mounted on the bows of the moored ships and boats.
The galley-slave lay still with eyes fixed on the stars and thought, perchance, beyond was rest from toil.
The prisoner chained to the oar lay motionless, gazing at the stars. Perhaps he dreamed of a place beyond them where he might finally find peace from his endless labor.
She lay—the loved, the beautiful, the blessed, her beauty fading as the rose leaf dies; the film slow creeping o’er her jet black eyes, her hands all listless lying clasped in her lord's. "I go," she murmured. “Go from hence. But thou, beloved, shalt dwell long years upon this ball called Earth. Long years where palms wave moodily above the spot where rests the urn that doth contain my ashes.
She lay there - cherished, stunning, and adored, her beauty fading like a wilting rose. Her jet-black eyes slowly clouded over, her hands resting lifelessly in her husband's grasp. "I'm leaving," she whispered. "Leaving this world. But you, my love, will live many more years on this Earth. Long years where palm trees sway solemnly above the urn that holds my ashes."
“One shall come at last and thou shalt her behold and dream thou lovest; what care I? for in that higher world I shall be crowned queen and still be thine. She is of earth for thee, I for Eternity.
"Someone will come eventually, and you'll see her and imagine you're in love. Why should I care? In the afterlife, I'll be crowned queen and still belong to you. She's meant for your earthly life, while I'm destined for eternity."
“Down near the rapids where the slaves tugged long upon the chain of galley let me sleep—’neath carven shape—to meet the eye of man long centuries hence. Let sleep the semblance. I shall watch the night fold wings above the spot, and smile and keep close vigil over thee, my loved, my lord, when in a casket clasped with golden bands the all shall lie in ashes that thy earth-mind deemest that thou lovest. ’Tis not so; the state and semblance of a queen may live on earth, but I am of the stars!
Near the rapids where slaves once toiled at galley chains, let me rest beneath a carved statue, to be seen by future generations. Let my likeness sleep there. I'll watch as night envelops the place, smiling and keeping close watch over you, my beloved, my lord. When all that you believe you love lies as ashes in a golden-banded casket, remember: it's not so. A queen's image may endure on Earth, but my true self belongs to the stars!
“I go to keep the watch of one who wanders from her earthly home to claim her heritage, in courts of ether built, where One holds sway in mind and love and all the senses. There shall come a day, far distant, when thou, too, shalt claim thy heritage—that of a throne less than the builded pile where One, whose face we may not see, abideth.
“I go now to keep watch as one who leaves her earthly home to claim her heritage, in courts built of ether, where One holds sway over mind and love and all the senses. A day will come, far distant, when you too will claim your heritage. It will be a throne lesser than the great built dwelling where One, whose face we may not see, abides.
“Down where the cataract doth lull the sense of vastness and of loneliness thou, too, shalt rest—thy mortal part—thine ashes by my urn, for Earth hath, too, her heritage and claims her children. Brittle toys they seem beside the splendor drawn from Light and Life, from whom the soul descendeth.
In the depths where the waterfall soothes the feeling of immensity and isolation, you too will find rest—your mortal remains, your ashes beside my urn. Earth also has its legacy and lays claim to its children. These seem like fragile playthings compared to the magnificence derived from Light and Life, from which the soul originates.
“Let my husk—the mortal part—be born upon the barge thou calledst ours in that day we two were wed. That barge a gift from him—my father in the island home.
Let my body—the mortal shell—be carried on the boat you called ours on our wedding day. That boat was a gift from him—my father in our island homeland.
“Down, down the river sweepeth. I shall be no more of earth. Mourn not. The stars at night shall speak to thee of me, and He—the One whom lesser gods would thrust from out the temple home, holds safely.
The river flows swiftly downstream. My time on this earth is ending. Don't grieve for me. At night, the stars will remind you of me, and the true God—whom lesser deities try to banish from His rightful place—keeps me safe.
“Mourn never thou for me, oh Lord, so loved the day seems night when from my side thou strayest!
Never mourn for me, my love. When you're away, even the brightest day feels dark as night.
“One shall come at last who in thy arms shall lie and down the line of history be absolved from sin, but her thou lovest never, for the tie of soul to soul is held between us, born on heights where Nature readeth Law at first, breathed from the lips of Majesty, the king God of the gods.”
“One will come at last who will lie in your arms and, down the line of history, be absolved of sin. But you will never love her, for the tie of soul to soul holds between us. It was born on the heights where Nature first reads Law, breathed from the lips of Majesty, the king God of the gods.”
She passed. A fitting splendor marked the day they piled the wood, the spice on carven throne, and over all was cast a moulten mass which caught the flames that leaped unto the clouds and bore the soul from husk, they then believed.
She died. A grand spectacle marked the day of her funeral pyre. They stacked wood and spices on an ornate throne, covering it all with molten metal. As flames engulfed the structure, reaching skyward, they believed her soul had left its earthly shell.
Her ashes in the urn of golden metal stands far down amid the rocks that circle round the spot. A carving of her face, divine in love and youth, still holdeth semblance of the one who died—young Albirothisis, child of old Amsolabis—that grandest minister, who ruled the king though meek in mien and seeming ruled by him.
Her ashes rest in a golden urn, nestled among the rocks surrounding the area. A carved likeness of her face, still radiating love and youth, bears a striking resemblance to the deceased—young Albirothisis, daughter of old Amsolabis. He was the greatest minister, who, despite his humble demeanor and apparent subservience, truly governed the king.
No history gives her name, yet shall it live on page of alien people side by side with his—Osiris, King of Egypt first.
No history gives her name, yet it shall live on the pages of foreign peoples, side by side with his: Osiris, first King of Egypt.
The spot where she had died Osiris sought to shield from vulgar purpose. Thus they digged a channel deep, made island of that spot where first their feet in Egypt rested. "Barren be the spot, and lone" he spake, "where I bereft did mourn in this strange land the one I loved."
Osiris sought to protect the place of her death from common use. They dug a deep channel, turning the spot where they first set foot in Egypt into an island. "Let this place be desolate and isolated," he declared, "where I, bereaved, mourned my beloved in this foreign land."
And down the graceful river moved the fleet and builded grandly where the cataract marked the sacred spot—the tomb of one who passed—nor wife nor maid of him—Osiris. Yet so dear he held her memory that the years fled by and left him aging ere he held his hand to maiden, speaking: "Come to me as bride."
And the fleet moved down the graceful river and built grandly where the cataract marked the sacred spot. That was the tomb of her who had died neither wife nor maiden to Osiris. Yet he held her memory so dear that the years fled by and left him aging before he held out his hand to a maiden, saying: "Come to me as bride."
The sand still drifts and, underneath, the urns with ashes of a king and queen hold court. Deliverance is at hand and all the world shall drink the history of the king who mourned a score of years for one they named his queen.
The sands of time continue to shift, and beneath them, the urns containing the ashes of a king and queen remain. Relief is coming, and everyone will soon learn the story of the king who spent twenty years grieving for the woman known as his queen.
Philae asketh thou? Aye, such of old bore mark in that dim day of numbers. Yet no wall doth stand, but farther down are palace walls of marble buried deep in sand. And one hath shown an architrave of white, embossed marble writ with figures of the gods they worshipped in Atlantis.
Do you ask about Philae? Yes, long ago it bore its mark, in that dim day of numbers. Yet no wall stands there now. But farther down are palace walls of marble, buried deep in sand. And one of them has shown an architrave of white embossed marble, inscribed with figures of the gods they worshipped in Atlantis.
Thus it is the past leaps out, a ghost of olden time, of time remote. Of time that held the arts, as thou today dost know, with added numbers wrought in gold. That wealth of stone, of metal made from brass and stone fine ground and other matter, held at bay old Time and lieth yet up-bearing arch.
The past emerges like a ghost from long ago, from an era that cherished the arts as we do today, but with even greater splendor. Those ancient structures, crafted from stone, brass, and finely ground materials, have defied time itself. They still stand, their arches intact, a testament to bygone craftsmanship.
A statue wrought to life is also of that metal. Statue made to show the features beautiful of him—Osiris—never found as mummy. False the world hath breathed! Osiris lieth in his rock-bound tomb below Abydos; thus ye speak the name; his hands outspread to bless his followers, his loved wife beside him, wrought in stone.
A lifelike statue is also made of that metal. It was made to show the beautiful features of Osiris, who has never been found as a mummy. The world has spoken falsely! Osiris lies in his rock-bound tomb below Abydos, as you say the name. His hands are spread out to bless his followers, and his beloved wife is beside him, carved in stone.
False the word that husk of him doth meet the eye embalmed and seen in walls of glass! Ah, no! such is not nor has been. Osiris’ tomb is hid from prying eye. His generals stand at portal, sword in hand, to guard the sacred dead! Three sculptured forms shall meet the eye of man—Osiris, Aamhotep, Usertsen, wrought so well that later art seems crude.
False is the word that his husk can be seen, embalmed, within walls of glass! Ah, no! That is not so, and never has been. Osiris's tomb is hidden from prying eyes. His generals stand at the doorway, sword in hand, to guard the sacred dead! Three sculpted forms will meet the eye of man: Osiris, Aamhotep, and Usertsen. They are made so well that later art seems crude.
A casket wrought of cypress bound with gold held once the ashes. Egypt's art to hold the husk was later yet employed, for in Atlantis ashes but remained of forms once loved. Yea, the spot which holds is near to man; is bound by rock and sand. Yet priceless store still lies where camels browse and other creatures stamp in angry mood, and toiling man seeks rest from burning sun.
A gold-trimmed cypress box once contained the ashes. Egypt later used its craftsmanship to preserve remains, but in Atlantis, only ashes remained of once-cherished forms. Indeed, the burial site is close to humanity, surrounded by rock and sand. Yet valuable treasures still lie where camels graze and other animals stomp in irritation, while weary workers seek shelter from the scorching sun.
The temples raised by skill are ruins now, but here an arch, a pillar shattered there, shows still the wondrous colors. Cleft the marble base, and sculptured leaf is broken, yet there lies a wondrous store for man who dreams, and dreams above, and seeks to shape a history from the blocks that teach of peoples once so versed in arts that other ways seem baubles set by gems.
The grand temples built by skilled hands now lie in ruins. Yet even in their decay, scattered arches and broken pillars reveal traces of their former splendor. Though marble foundations are split and carved details crumble, these remnants offer a treasure trove for those who dare to imagine. Dreamers who ponder these fragments can piece together the story of civilizations so advanced in their craftsmanship that modern achievements pale in comparison.
Great vases wrought of many-colored glass lie far beneath the bed of hungry Nile, with histories writ in colors. Foreign form speaks loud … of craft which mocks at any plan to imitate. Broad braids tell calmly that a smith may beat, entwine, and weave his vase at will, but bubbles blown from forms, or cords in shape, may not this day hold wine or lotus. With the strength of gold, thus ancient vase was wove.
Colorful glass vases lie deep under the Nile's riverbed, their stories etched in vibrant hues. Their exotic designs speak volumes of craftsmanship that defies imitation. Wide bands reveal a smith's ability to shape, intertwine, and mold his vase as desired. Yet, vessels formed like bubbles or cords cannot hold wine or lotus today. This ancient vase was crafted with the durability of gold.
A quaintly fashioned volume bound with gems and made from jasper, block on block, so thin the words of other page show through, doth lie within Osiris’ tomb.
A uniquely crafted book, adorned with jewels and made of thin jasper slabs, rests in Osiris' tomb. Its pages are so delicate that the text from one side is visible through the other.
On this is told the history of the flight. Shows kingly emblem. Stars tell point of date, if so the men versed well in star-lore read. Ah, man in husk of flesh, think not that Earth hath seen the all old Egypt's bosom holds, for thou shalt read in language of the past a history which doth make thee seem a child.
In this jasper volume the history of the flight is told. It shows the kingly emblem. The stars tell the date, if men well versed in star-lore read them so. Ah, man in a husk of flesh, do not think that Earth has seen all that old Egypt's bosom holds. For you will read, in the language of the past, a history that will make you seem a child.
Atlantis thou hast sunk, but Earth doth hold today the records of thy greatness and thy power.
Atlantis may have vanished beneath the waves, but Earth still holds evidence of its grandeur and might.
Aye, where Thebes stood the camel still may browse, but parchment hid in golden case is still intact, and wall that carven image shows of him—Osiris—still doth stand enwrapped in sands which clog the well-wrought lines depicting flight and subsequent events.
Yes, the ancient city of Thebes may now be a grazing ground for camels, but the parchment preserved in its golden container remains untouched. The wall, with its carved image of Osiris, still stands, half-buried in sand that obscures its intricate carvings depicting the flight and events that followed.
Aye, there is writ a volume on the arts by one named Ad-em. Such the name they spake; none knew his origin. A mother dying at his birth, the victim of some bold marauder; such the state of country at that age.
Indeed, there exists a book on the arts by someone named Ad-em. That's the name they spoke; no one knew where he came from. His mother died giving birth to him, killed by a daring raider—such was the state of the country in those times.
I know no more. And yet God's image, sometimes sore defaced, did linger in his brain power to extent that carven lines were wonder of all ages. And his tales thus told in stone were listened to with wonder by the king who held in bonds a thousand versed in story-telling art.
I know no more. And yet God's image, though sometimes badly defaced, lingered in his mind so strongly that his carved lines were the wonder of all ages. And the king, who kept bound to him a thousand people skilled in the art of storytelling, listened with wonder to the tales he told in stone.
In line of other digging lies this lair of wonders—objects hid by depth of sand none yet have sought to "shovel." At the base of one great crag another store is hid far out from water's reach; and this shall tell the story of the Norsemen as it was told by mighty Norse invader to the old Atlantians.
In line with other digging lies this lair of wonders, objects hidden by a depth of sand that no one has yet tried to "shovel." At the base of one great crag another store is hidden, far beyond the water's reach. This one will tell the story of the Norsemen as a mighty Norse invader told it to the old Atlantians.
The histories of today shall lie ’neath buried earth in centuries to come, and there shall moulder to the prying eye of them who follow, but the stone shall give its secret to the world when volumes frail shall crumble. Speak I thus in prophecy.
The histories of today will lie under buried earth in centuries to come. There they will moulder away before the prying eyes of those who follow. But the stone will give its secret to the world when frail books have crumbled. I speak this as prophecy.