Cleopatra - H. Rider Haggard (free children's ebooks pdf .txt) 📗
- Author: H. Rider Haggard
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“Sing we Osiris dead, Lament the fallen head: The light has left the world, the world is grey. Athwart the starry skies The web of Darkness flies, And Isis weeps Osiris passed away. Your tears, ye stars, ye fires, ye rivers, shed, Weep, children of the Nile, weep for your Lord is dead!”
She paused in her most sweet song, and the whole multitude took up the melancholy dirge:
“Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’”
The chorus ceased, and once again she sang:
“Within the court divine The Sevenfold sacred shrine We pass, while echoes of the Temple walls Repeat the long lament The sound of sorrow sent Far up within the imperishable halls, Where, each in the other’s arms, the Sisters weep, Isis and Nephthys, o’er His unawaking sleep.”
And then again rolled forth the solemn chorus of a thousand voices:
“Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’”
It ceased, and sweetly she took up the song:
“O dweller in the West, Lover and Lordliest, Thy love, thy Sister Isis, calls thee home! Come from thy chamber dun Thou Master of the Sun, Thy shadowy chamber far below the foam! With weary wings and spent Through all the firmament, Through all the horror-haunted ways of Hell, I seek thee near and far, From star to wandering star, Free with the dead that in Amenti dwell. I search the height, the deep, the lands, the skies, Rise from the dead and live, our Lord Osiris, rise!”
“Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’”
Now in a strain more high and glad the singer sang:
“He wakes—from forth the prison We sing Osiris risen, We sing the child that Nout conceived and bare. Thine own love, Isis, waits The Warden of the Gates, She breathes the breath of Life on breast and hair, And in her breast and breath Behold! he waketh, Behold! at length he riseth out of rest; Touched with her holy hands, The Lord of all the Lands, He stirs, he rises from her breath, her breast! But thou, fell Typhon, fly, The judgment day drawn nigh, Fleet on thy track as flame speeds Horus from the sky.”
“Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’”
Once more, as we bowed before the Holy, she sang, and sent the full breath of her glad music ringing up the everlasting walls till the silence quivered with her round notes of melody, and the hearts of those who hearkened stirred strangely in the breast. And thus, as we walked, she sang the song of Osiris risen, the song of Hope, the song of Victory:
“Sing we the Trinity, Sing we the Holy Three, Sing we, and praise we and worship the Throne, Throne that our Lord hath set— There peace and truth are met There in the Halls of the Holy alone! There in the shadowings Faint of the folded wings, There shall we dwell and rejoice in our rest, We that thy servants are! Horus drive ill afar! Far in the folds of the dark of the West!”
Again, as her notes died away, thundered forth the chorus of all the voices:
“Softly we tread, our measured footsteps falling Within the Sanctuary Sevenfold; Soft on the Dead that liveth are we calling: ‘Return, Osiris, from thy Kingdom cold! Return to them that worship thee of old!’”
The chanting ceased, and as the sun sank the High Priest raised the statue of the living God and held it before the multitude that was now gathered in the court of the temple. Then, with a mighty and joyful shout of:
“Osiris our hope! Osiris! Osiris!”
the people tore their black wrappings from their dress, revealing the white robes they wore beneath, and, as one man, they bowed before the God, and the feast was ended.
But for me the ceremony was only begun, for to-night was the night of my initiation. Leaving the inner court I bathed myself, and, clad in pure linen, passed, as it is ordained, into an inner, but not the inmost, sanctuary, and laid the accustomed offerings on the altar. Then, lifting my hands to heaven, I remained for many hours in contemplation, striving, by holy thoughts and prayer, to gather up my strength against the mighty moment of my trial.
The hours sped slowly in the silence of the temple, till at length the door opened and my father Amenemhat, the High Priest, came in, clad in white, and leading by the hand the Priest of Isis. For, having been married, he did not himself enter into the mysteries of the Holy Mother.
I rose to my feet and stood humbly before them.
“Art thou ready?” said the priest, lifting the lamp he held so that its light fell upon my face. “O thou chosen one, art thou ready to see the glory of the Goddess face to face?”
“I am ready,” I answered.
“Behold thee,” he said again, in solemn tones, “it is no small thing. If thou wilt carry out this thy last desire, understand, royal Harmachis, that now this very night thou must die for a while in the flesh, what time thy soul shall look on spiritual things. And if thou diest and any evil shall be found within thy heart, when thou comest at last into that awful presence, woe unto thee, Harmachis, for the breath of life shall no more enter in at the gateway of thy mouth, thy body shall utterly perish, and what shall befall thy other parts, if I know, I may not say.[*] Art thou prepared to be taken to the breast of Her who Was and Is and Shall Be, and in all things to do Her holy will; for Her, while she shall so command, to put away the thought of earthly woman; and to labour always for Her glory till at the end thy life is gathered to Her eternal life?”
[*] According to the Egyptian religion the being Man is composed of four parts: the body, the double or astral shape (/ka/), the soul (/bi/), and the spark of life sprung from the Godhead (/khou/).— Editor.
“I am,” I answered; “lead on.”
“It is well,” said the priest. “Noble Amenemhat, we go hence alone.”
“Farewell, my son,” said my father; “be firm and triumph over things spiritual as thou shalt triumph over things earthly. He who would truly rule the world must first be lifted up above the world. He must be at one with God, for thus only shall he learn the secrets of the Divine. But beware! The Gods demand much of those who dare to enter the circle of their Divinity. If they go back therefrom, they shall be judged of a sharper law, and scourged with a heavier rod, for as their glory is, so shall their shame be. Therefore, make thy heart strong, royal Harmachis! And when thou speedest down the ways of Night and enterest the Holies, remember that from him to whom great gifts have been given shall gifts be required again. And now—if, indeed, thy mind be fixed—go whither it is not as yet given me to follow thee. Farewell!”
For a moment as my heart weighed these heavy words, I wavered, as well as I might. But I was filled with longing to be gathered to the company of the Divine ones, and I knew that I had no evil in me, and desired to do only the thing that is just. Therefore, having with so much labour drawn the bowstring to my ear, I was fain to let fly the shaft. “Lead on,” I cried with a loud voice; “lead on, thou holy Priest! I follow thee!”
And we went forth.
OF THE INITIATION OF HARMACHIS; OF HIS VISIONS; OF HIS PASSING TO THE CITY THAT IS IN THE PLACE OF DEATH; AND OF THE DECLARATIONS OF ISIS, THE MESSENGER
In silence we passed into the Shrine of Isis. It was dark and bare— only the feeble light from the lamp gleamed faintly upon the sculptured walls, where, in a hundred effigies, the Holy Mother suckled the Holy Child.
The priest closed the doors and bolted them. “Once again,” he said, “art thou ready, Harmachis?”
“Once again,” I answered, “I am ready.”
He spoke no more; but, having lifted up his hands in prayer, led me to the centre of the Holy, and with a swift motion put out the lamp.
“Look before thee, Harmachis!” he cried; and his voice sounded hollow in the solemn place.
I gazed and saw nothing. But from the niche that is high in the wall, where is hid that sacred symbol of the Goddess on which few may look, there came a sound as of the rattling rods of the sistrum.[*] And as I listened, awestruck, behold! I saw the outline of the symbol drawn as with fire upon the blackness of the air. It hung above my head, and rattled while it hung. And, as it turned, I clearly saw the face of the Mother Isis that is graven on the one side, and signifies unending Birth, and the face of her holy sister, Nephthys, that is graven on the other, and signifies the ending of all birth in Death.
[*] A musical instrument peculiarly sacred to Isis of which the shape and rods had a mystic significance.—Editor.
Slowly it turned and swung as though some mystic dancer trod the air above me, and shook it in her hand. But at length the light went out, and the rattling ceased.
Then of a sudden the end of the chamber became luminous, and in that white light I beheld picture after picture. I saw the ancient Nile rolling through deserts to the sea. There were no men upon its banks, nor any signs of man, nor any temples to the Gods. Only wild birds moved on Sihor’s lonely face, and monstrous brutes plunged and wallowed in his waters. The sun sank in majesty behind the Libyan Desert and stained the waters red; the mountains towered up towards the silent sky; but in mountain, desert, and river there was no sign of human life. Then I knew that I saw the world as it had been before man was, and a terror of its loneliness entered my soul.
The picture passed and another rose up in its place. Once again I saw the banks of Sihor, and on them crowded wild-faced creatures, partaking of the nature of the ape more than of the nature of mankind. They fought and slew each other. The wild birds sprang up in affright as the fire leapt from reed huts given by foemen’s hands to flame and pillage. They stole and rent and murdered, dashing out the brains of children with axes of stone. And, though no voice told me, I knew that I saw man as he was tens of thousands of years ago, when first he marched across the earth.
Yet another picture. Again I beheld the banks of Sihor; but on them fair cities
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