That no man loveth him;
May well know other,
But few men will know him.
And, to make trebly sure:
Three false sisters: "Perhaps," "May be," "I dare say."
Three timid brothers: "Hush!" "Stop!" "Listen!"
[269]. "Lord Rameses of Egypt sighed."
The most ancient poem I know of consists of such a sigh. It comes from an Egyptian tomb, was composed about 5000 years ago, and might have been written by some melancholy soul at his sick-room window yesterday afternoon. For, after all, these ancients whose mummies are now a mere wonder for the curious, all lived, as Raleigh says, "in the same newness of time which we call 'old time.'"
"Death is before me to-day
Like the recovery of a sick man,