And in that hour one spoke to Setne: 'Lo,
Thy children, waiting in the court below,
Sit with the dogs and curling cats of Bast.'
And Setne said: 'Bring them, and let them know.'
Then Ta-Buvuë laid her raiment proud
Off, and put on soft linen, like one vowed
To bridal; and her body through the robe
Shone, as the moon shines through a little cloud.
And back she turned to him and poured him wine,
And said: 'These children must not strive with mine.
Make them to sign the scroll, too, and give up
Their part in thee.' And Setne made them sign.
The fine, fine, linen robed her like a mist
Which robeth Ra in pearl and amethyst;
And Setne marvelled gazing; and again
She spoke, and Setne's hand she took and kissed:
'These children, knowing all to me thou art,
Hate me.—Let them be mine to take apart
And do my will upon them.' And he said:
'Do all the abomination of thy heart.'
She slew them then, and from her window fine
Cast them. And far below he heard the whine
Of dogs that tore and curling cats of Bast
Which lapped their blood. And Setne drank his wine.
He said: 'Those children that were slain had birth
By me. O Woman, thou hast made much dearth
About me. Give me that for which I came,
Else have I nothing, nothing, on this earth.'
'Hast thou not me,' she said, 'in place of all?
Come, therefore!' And she led him through the hall
To a fair couch, ebon and ivory;
And down he lay, and spread swift arms withal
To clasp her; and within his arms outspread,
Behold, she withered, withered; and her head
It had no eyes, and downward all her jaw
Dropped, like the jaws of the uncared-for dead.
And Setne strove to rise, but cloud on cloud
Held him: hot wind and hate and laughter loud,
And one that wept for a world's glory gone,
And dust, dust, dust: and Setne shrieked aloud: