Here are cakes for thy body, Cool water for thy throat, Sweet breezes for thy nostrils, And thou art satisfied. Here by the river, Drink and bathe thy limbs; Or cast thy net, and surely It shall be filled with fish. The holy cow of Hapi Shall give thee of her milk, The ale of gods triumphant Shall be thy daily draught. White linen is thy tunic, Thy sandals shine with gold, Victorious thy weapons That Death come not again. Take wings to climb the zenith, Or rest in fields of peace; By day the Sun shall keep thee, By night the rising Star. |