And one can forget in the chapel of
Hathor, on whose wall little Horus is born, and in the grey hounds'
chapel beside it. One can forget, for one walks in beauty.
Lovely are the doorways in Philae, enticing are the shallow steps that
lead one onward and upward; gracious the yellow towers that seem to
smile a quiet welcome. And there is one chamber that is simply a place
of magic - the hall of the flowers.
It is this chamber which always makes me think of Philae as a lovely
temple of dreams, this silent, retired chamber, where some fabled
princess might well have been touched to a long, long sleep of
enchantment, and lain for years upon years among the magical flowers -
the lotus, and the palm, and the papyrus.
In my youth it made upon me an indelible impression. Through
intervening years, filled with many new impressions, many wanderings,
many visions of beauty in other lands, that retired, painted chamber
had not faded from my mind - or shall I say from my heart? There had
seemed to me within it something that was ineffable, as in a lyric of
Shelley's there is something that is ineffable, or in certain pictures
of Boecklin, such as "The Villa by the Sea." And when at last, almost
afraid and hesitating, I came into it once more, I found in it again
the strange spell of old enchantment.
