The Mother’s Tragedy

THE FATAL FORCE 33 AMENHATEP. Beware the fatal magic of her heart! For she is great and evil, and her voice Howls blasphemy against yet living gods. Thou knowest not the story of thy birth, The truth. PACHAD Then speak the truth, if so a priest May tune his tongue to anything but lies. AMENHATEP. Sixteen strange seasons mingle gold and grey Since in this very temple she, the Queen, Spake, and threw open to our reverent gaze A ‘royal womb made pregnant with that seed Of which thou art the harvest. She spake thus: ‘Princes, and people of the Egyptian land, And broken priests of broken deities Discrowned this hour, look up, behold your god! For I am pregnant with my own son’s child, The fruit of my desire’s desire. Most pure, The single spirit of my godhead yearned From death to reap dominion, and from birth To pluck the blossom of its fruitful love, And be the sun to ripen and the rain To water it. My soul became the bride To its own body, and my body leapt With passion from mine own Imperial loins Begotten, and made strong from my own soul To answer it. I hail thee, son of mine, _ Cc