Here, on the lowest of the steps, one of her maidens put into her hand
a sacred knife or sickle, which, as Otāré informed us had a blade of
gold, and a handle of opal. The woman then retired, and we saw her stand
erect for a moment in the full blaze of the mellow sunlight, with her
golden hair falling about her in a kind of glory, and stretch out her
arms towards the sun in a superb attitude of adoration. Then, with a
slow and swan-like movement, she entered the water, and wading among the
lilies, cut the sacred blossom, and held it aloft in triumph, while the
music swelled to a mighty pæan of thanksgiving and praise.

After that she went on board the barge, which had been waiting for her,
and was rowed around the border of the lake not far from the shore, so
that the onlookers might see the loveliness of the flower, and even
smell its perfume. The barge was not unlike an ancient galley in shape,
but ornately curved like the proa of a South Sea Islander. The rowers
were concealed underneath the deck, but the crimson oars kept time to
the music of their voices, and the spectators joined in the song as the
vessel glided onwards.

As for the priestess, she lay reclining under a golden canopy on the
poop, with her face half turned towards the people, and holding the
sacred lily in her hand, whilst two of her maidens fanned her with
brilliant plumes,

"And made their bends adorning."

Ever since she had come out of the temple I had scarcely taken my eyes
off her, and now that I could see the marvellous beauty of her
countenance, I was absolutely fascinated. Never shall I forget these