Xiii

"We, who keep thy feasts and fastings, We, who live on thy off-castings, Here in low obeisance crave Rich abundance of thy wave.

"Seven years now, for some transgression, Some neglect, or outrage vile, Vainly hath our poor procession Offered life, and soul to Nile.

"Seven years now of promise fickle, Niggard ooze, and paltry trickle, Freshet sprinkling scanty dole, Where the roaring flood should roll.