And I--have I not brought Thee many victims,
And filled Thy temple with the captive folk?
And for thy presence built a dwelling place
That shall endure for countless years to come?
Thy garners overflow with gifts from me.
I offered Thee the world to swell Thy glory,
And thirty thousand mighty steers have shed
Their smoking blood on fragrant cedar piles.
Tall gateways, flag-decked masts, I raised to Thee,
And obelisks from Abu I have brought,
And built Thee temples of eternal stone.
For Thee my ships have brought across the sea
The tribute of the nations. This I did--
When were such things done in the former time?

For dark the fate of him who would rebel
Against Thee: though Thy sway is just and mild.
My father, Amon--as an earthly son
His earthly father--so I call on Thee.
Look down from heaven on me, beset by foes,
By heathen foes--the folk that know Thee not.
The nations have combined against Thy son;
I stand alone--alone, and no man with me.
My foot and horse are fled, I called aloud
And no one heard--in vain I called to them.
And yet I say: the sheltering care of Amon
Is better succor than a million men,
Or than ten thousand knights, or than a thousand
Brothers and sons though gathered into one.
And yet I say: the bulwarks raised by men