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Updated: May 17, 2025
Along the banks of the sacred Nile, Iris no longer wandering weeps, searching for the dead Osiris. The shadow of Typhon's scowl falls no more upon the waves. The sun rises as of yore, and his golden beams still smite the lips of Memnon, but Memnon is as voiceless as the Sphinx.
The old man said this with so much emphasis, that Nebenchiari could not help smiling and saying: "Have they treated you so very badly then, old man?" "Pestilence and Khamsin!" blustered the old man. "There's not a more good-for-nothing Typhon's brood on the face of the earth than these Persians. I only wonder they're not all red-haired and leprous.
Thrusting her hand deep into the chest, she drew forth a casket of dark metal that the people deemed unholy, a casket made of "Typhon's Bone," for so they call grey iron. She pressed a secret spring. It opened, and feeling within she found a smaller casket.
And so, old man as I am, with a sad heart I left my home and my grandchildren to go forth into this foreign Typhon's land. Ah, the little lad was too sharp! As I was kissing him, he said: 'Stay with us, grandfather.
Hurler of thunderbolts unfaltering, the most high Zeus, for that thy chosen hour recurrent hath sent me with a song set to the music of the subtle lute for a witness to the greatest of all games and when friends have good hap the good are glad forthwith at the sweet tidings now therefore, O son of Kronos, unto whom Ætna belongeth, the wind-beaten burden that crusheth fierce Typhon's hundred heads, receive thou this band of triumph for an Olympian victory won by the Graces' aid, a most enduring light of far-prevailing valorous deeds.
Now, it so happened that these children had seen what Typhon's accomplices had done with the body, and they accordingly told her by what mouth of the Nile it had been conveyed to the sea.
And so, old man as I am, with a sad heart I left my home and my grandchildren to go forth into this foreign Typhon's land. Ah, the little lad was too sharp! As I was kissing him, he said: 'Stay with us, grandfather.
Along the banks of the sacred Nile, Isis no longer wandering weeps, searching for the dead Osiris. The shadow of Typhon's scowl falls no more upon the waves. The sun rises as of yore, and his golden beams still smite the lips of Memnon, but Memnon is as voiceless as the Sphinx.
And so, old man as I am, with a sad heart I left my home and my grandchildren to go forth into this foreign Typhon's land. Ah, the little lad was too sharp! As I was kissing him, he said: 'Stay with us, grandfather.
The old man said this with so much emphasis, that Nebenchiari could not help smiling and saying: "Have they treated you so very badly then, old man?" "Pestilence and Khamsin!" blustered the old man. "There's not a more good-for-nothing Typhon's brood on the face of the earth than these Persians. I only wonder they're not all red-haired and leprous.
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