Crossing the Nile to the western bank, one came into radically different surroundings. Here lay the City of the Dead. This was quite unlike any cemetery of modern times. Here were temples, tombs of kings and queens, tombs of the wealthy and the prosperous citizens, and the symbolic lake of the dead. Here were the unpretentious tombs of the masses. Nor was this all. We have seen that the Egyptian felt it necessary to supply his dead with all the necessities of life, such as food, furniture, and ornaments. Here, then, were the shops where such things might be obtained. Here were the embalmers, the makers of linen used by them; here lived the priests who said prayers over each finger and toe of the deceased and made the body ready for its everlasting home. On the west bank of the river lay a city in itself very different from the living one across the water. Funeral processions constantly wended their way to this City of the Dead; wails and lamentations often mingled in the air with songs of the priests at their devotions. At sunset the gates admitting to this portion of Thebes were locked and guarded against bands of robbers who laid in wait for the riches enclosed in the tombs. The tombs reached out to the rocky range of hills on the west and were with difficulty protected.
Ancient Thebes extended some miles in each direction and covered considerable territory. Little today remains to mark its early splendor. The ruins at Karnak, the ancient mounds of Luxor, topped by a squalid Arab village, some tombs opened, some still hidden by the sands, are left. Much excavating has been done in this so-called "Valley of the Kings." Strabo and other early writers left some description of the original city, but aside from such records, little is left today to indicate the glories of that Thebes which was for hundreds of years the pride of Egyptian kings.
Ramses.
Seti I. was followed by his son, the famous Ramses II., or Ramses the Great. Recent historians claim that this king has been given undue prominence, and that he was outranked by several Egyptian monarchs, including his own father. While this is probably true, it would seem that this pharaoh was as popular as any king who ruled in Egypt. He was young and handsome when he ascended the throne, and possessed a power of winning people to himself. That he was filled with self-pride, no one can deny. He attached his name, as we have seen, to every temple and monument where it was possible, and scattered statues of himself broadcast. Yet the only poem that suggests the epic in all Egyptian literature is the one known as "Pentuar's Poem," in which his bravery at the battle of Kadesh was sung.
Ramses had penetrated into Asia to bring the revolting tribes back to submission. During this particular battle, he became separated from his body guard and suddenly found himself facing 2,500 charioteers alone. His personal bravery on that occasion was splendid; his soldiers pressed on to him quickly, but his daring was seen by them and greatly admired. The poem of Pentuar was written to celebrate the king's courage in this crisis.
Pentuar's Poem.[2]
"Then the King stood forth, and, radiant with courage,
He looked like the Sun-god armed and eager for battle.
The noble steeds that bore him into the struggle—
'Victory to Thebes' was the name of one, and the other
Was called 'contented Nura'—were foaled in the stables
Of him we call 'the elect,' 'the beloved of Amon,'
'Lord of truth,' the chosen vicar of Ra.
Up sprang the king and threw himself on the foe,
The swaying ranks of the contemptible Cheta.
He stood alone—alone, and no man with him.
As thus the king stood forth all eyes were upon him,
And soon he was enmeshed by men and horses,
And by the enemy's chariots, two thousand five hundred,
The foe behind hemmed him in, and enclosed him.
Dense the array of the contemptible Cheta,
Dense the swarm of warriors out of Arad,
Dense the Mysian host, the Pisidian legions.
Every chariot carried three bold warriors,
All his foes, and all allied like brothers.
"'Not a prince is with me, not a captain,
Not an archer, none to guide my horses!
Fled the riders! fled my troops and horse—
By my side not one is now left standing.'
'Great father Amon, I have known thee well,
And can the father thus forget his son?
Have I in any deed forgotten Thee?
Have I done aught without Thy high behest,
Or moved or staid against Thy sovereign will?
Great am I—mighty are the Egyptian kings—
But in the sight of Thy commanding might,
Small as the chieftain of a wandering tribe.
Immortal Lord, crush Thou this unclean people;
Break Thou their necks, annihilate the heathen.
And I—have I not brought Thee many victims,
And filled Thy temple with the captive folk?
And for Thy presence built a dwelling place
That shall endure for countless years to come?
Thy garners overflow with gifts from me.
"'I offer Thee the world to swell Thy glory,
And thirty thousand mighty steers have shed
Their smoking blood on fragrant cedar piles.
Tall gateways, flag-decked masts, I raised to Thee,
And obelisks from Abu I have brought,
And built Thee temples of eternal stone.
For Thee my ships have brought across the sea
The tribute of the nations. This I did—
When were such things done in former time?
For dark the fate of him who would rebel
Against Thee; though Thy sway is just and mild.
My father, Amon—as an earthly son
His earthly father—so I call on Thee.
Look down from heaven on me, beset by foes,
By heathen foes, the folk that know Thee not.
The nations have combined against Thy son;
I stand alone—alone, and no man with me.
My foot and horse are fled, I called aloud
And no one heard—in vain I called to them.
And yet I say: the sheltering care of Amon
Is better succor than a million men,
Or than ten thousand knights, or than a thousand
Brothers and sons though gathered into one.
And yet I say: the bulwarks raised by men
However strong, compared to Thy great works
Are but vain shadows, and no human aid
Avails against the foe—but thy strong hand.
The counsel of Thy lips shall guide my way;
I have obeyed whenever Thou hast ruled;
I call on Thee—and, with my fame, Thy glory
Shall fill the world, from farthest east to west.'