there what she was, she will not see there what she has become."

My Hathor of Denderah, the sad-eyed dweller on the column in the first
hall, had she a mirror, would surely hang it, as Lais hung hers, at the
foot of the pedestal of the Egyptian Aphrodite; had she a veil, would
surely cover the face that, solitary among the cruel evidences of
Christian ferocity, silently says to the gloomy courts, to the shining
desert and the Nile:

"Once I was worshipped, but I am worshipped no longer."




VII

KARNAK

Buildings have personalities. Some fascinate as beautiful women
fascinate; some charm as a child may charm, naively, simply, but
irresistibly. Some, like conquerors, men of blood and iron, without
bowels of mercy, pitiless and determined, strike awe to the soul,
mingled with the almost gasping admiration that power wakes in man. Some
bring a sense of heavenly peace to the heart. Some, like certain temples
of the Greeks, by their immense dignity, speak to the nature almost as
music speaks, and change anxiety to trust. Some tug at the hidden chords
of romance and rouse a trembling response. Some seem to be mingling
their tears with the tears of the dead; some their laughter with the
laughter of the living. The traveller, sailing up the Nile, holds
intercourse with many of these different personalities. He is sad,