On Egypt sleeping under sky of brassThe twain gazed wistfully from terrace high,And watched the Flood, through Delta rolling nigh,Toward Sais or Bubastis slowly pass.
The Roman felt beneath his thick cuirassLike captive soldier stilling infant's cry,On his triumphant bosom swooning lieHer form voluptuous in his close embrace.
Turning her pallid head between his armsToward him made mad by perfume's conquering charms,She raised her mouth and crystalline, fond eye;
And o'er her bent, the Chieftain did beholdIn her great orbs, starry with dots of gold,Only a boundless sea where galleys fly.
