The Last Fragment

The Last Fragment

How long ago this was, I cannot tell thee; I lay on the cold stone and rejoiced in my thoughts; they showed me visions of a widow, young, fair, and free, but whose very touch is pollution; and also the vision of a mighty prince, a powerful conqueror, who loved her once so dearly that he could not live without seeing her. Together they would have waited till my ailing body lay to rest within its grave; then, without a pang, without a tear, they would have built their happiness upon my tomb, but I have parted them, I have raised a barrier between them that all the powers of hell cannot tear down!

Then only did I think of thee—thou, the innocent one, thou whose curses would follow me, even within the shadows of death. These fragments of papyrus I found, a sharp splinter of stone lay close to my hand, and with their help and a few drops of my blood I have writ down for thee the true history of my crime.

Perchance Isis, who reads within my breast, who, I know, will one day pardon, will also direct that these fragments fall into thy hands.

Read them, oh, my son! They are written with thy father's dying hand. My eyes grow dim . . . the air grows more hot and oppressive . . . Over my head, I once more hear the early morning chant of the priestesses, the sound of the sistrum and harp . . . the lullaby of Isis. . .

The visions have grown faint . . . now they fade away . . . calmly I await thee, oh, jackal-headed Anubis, to guide me before thy throne, oh, mighty Osiris !