However strong, compared to Thy great works
Are but vain shadows, and no human aid
Avails against the foe--but Thy strong hand.
The counsel of Thy lips shall guide my way;
I have obeyed whenever Thou hast ruled;
I call on Thee--and, with my fame, Thy glory
Shall fill the world, from farthest east to west."

Yea, his cry rang forth even far as Hermonthis,
And Amon himself appeared at his call; and gave him
His hand and shouted in triumph, saying to the Pharaoh:
"Help is at hand, O Rameses. I will uphold thee--
I thy father am he who now is thy succor,
Bearing thee in my hands. For stronger and readier
I than a hundred thousand mortal retainers;
I am the Lord of victory loving valor?
I rejoice in the brave and give them good counsel,
And he whom I counsel certainly shall not miscarry."

Then like Menth, with his right he scattered the arrows,
And with his left he swung his deadly weapon,
Felling the foe--as his foes are felled by Baal.
The chariots were broken and the drivers scattered,
Then was the foe overthrown before his horses.
None found a hand to fight: they could not shoot
Nor dared they hurl the spear but fled at his coming
Headlong into the river."

[I have availed myself of the help of Prof. Lushington's translation
in "Records of the past," edited by Dr. S. Birch. Translator.]

A silence as of the grave reigned in the vast hall, Rameses fixed his
eyes on the poet, as though he would engrave his features on his very
soul, and compare them with those of another which had dwelt there
unforgotten since the day of Kadesh. Beyond a doubt his preserver stood
before him.

Seized by a sudden impulse, he interrupted the poet in the midst of his
stirring song, and cried out to the assembled guests:

"Pay honor to this man! for the Divinity chose to appear under his form
to save your king when he 'alone, and no man with him,' struggled with a
thousand."

"Hail to Pentaur!" rang through the hall from the vast assembly, and
Nefert rose and gave the poet the bunch of flowers she had been wearing
on her bosom.

The king nodded approval, and looked enquiringly at his daughter;
Bent-Anat's eyes met his with a glance of intelligence, and with all the
simplicity of an impulsive child, she took from her head the wreath that
had decorated her beautiful hair, went up to Pentaur, and crowned