Triumph And Deathless Peace, The Bugle-Call And Silence - These Are The
Notes Of Karnak.
VIII
LUXOR
Upon the wall of the great court of Amenhotep III.
In the temple of
Luxor there is a delicious dancing procession in honor of Rameses II.
It is very funny and very happy; full of the joy of life - a sort of
radiant cake-walk of old Egyptian days. How supple are these dancers!
They seem to have no bones. One after another they come in line upon
the mighty wall, and each one bends backward to the knees of the one
who follows. As I stood and looked at them for the first time, almost
I heard the twitter of flutes, the rustic wail of the African hautboy,
the monotonous boom of the derabukkeh, cries of a far-off gaiety such
as one often hears from the Nile by night. But these cries came down
the long avenues of the centuries; this gaiety was distant in the
vasty halls of the long-dead years. Never can I think of Luxor without
thinking of those happy dancers, without thinking of the life that
goes in the sun on dancing feet.
There are a few places in the world that one associates with
happiness, that one remembers always with a smile, a little thrill at
the heart that whispers "There joy is." Of these few places Luxor is
one - Luxor the home of sunshine, the suave abode of light, of warmth,
of the sweet days of gold and sheeny, golden sunsets, of silver,
shimmering nights through which the songs of the boatmen of the Nile
go floating to the courts and the tombs of Thebes. The roses bloom in
Luxor under the mighty palms. Always surely beneath the palms there
are the roses. And the lateen-sails come up the Nile, looking like
white-winged promises of future golden days. And at dawn one wakes
with hope and hears the songs of the dawn; and at noon one dreams of
the happiness to come; and at sunset one is swept away on the gold
into the heart of the golden world; and at night one looks at the
stars, and each star is a twinkling hope. Soft are the airs of Luxor;
there is no harshness in the wind that stirs the leaves of the palms.
And the land is steeped in light. From Luxor one goes with regret. One
returns to it with joy on dancing feet.
One day I sat in the temple, in the huge court with the great double
row of columns that stands on the banks of the Nile and looks so
splendid from it. The pale brown of the stone became almost yellow in
the sunshine. From the river, hidden from me stole up the songs of the
boatmen. Nearer at hand I heard pigeons cooing, cooing in the sun, as
if almost too glad, and seeking to manifest their gladness. Behind me,
through the columns, peeped some houses of the village:
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