He was hailed with exultant
acclaim.
"Hail, mighty Pharaoh! who smites with his glance and annihilates with
his spear. He overthrew companies alone, and with his lions he routed
armies. His enemies crumbled before him like men of clay, for he
breathed hot coals in his wrath and flames in his vengeance." And the
enthusiasm that inspired the eulogy was sincere. Meneptah was none the
less loved because Memphis understood him. The Pharaoh was the apple
of her eye and she worshiped him stubbornly.
Now he was returning from a bloodless campaign--one that neither
required nor brought forth any generalship--but it was a victory and
had been personally conducted by Meneptah, so Memphis was preparing to
fall into paroxysms of delight, little short of hysteria.
An hour after sunrise on the day of the Pharaoh's coming a gorgeous
regatta assembled off the wharves of Memphis. It was a flotilla of the
rank and wealth of the capital, with that of On, Bubastis, Busiris, and
even Mendes and Tanis. The boats were high-riding, graceful and
finished at head and stern with sheaves of carved lotus. Hull and
superstructure were painted in gorgeous colors with a preponderance of
ivory and gold. Masts, rigging and oars were wrapped with lotus, roses
and mimosa.
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