Ancient Egyptian works
THEN the king of Khita-land, With his warriors made a stand, But he durst not risk his hand In battle with our Pharaoh; So his chariots drew away, Unnumbered as the sand, And they stood, three men of war On each car; And gathered all in force Was the flower of his army, for the fight in full array, But advance, he did not dare, Foot or horse.
So in ambush there they lay, Northwest of Kadesh town; And while these were in their lair, Others went forth south of Kadesh, on our midst, their charge was thrown With such weight, our men went down, For they took us unaware, And the legion of Pra-Hormakhu gave way.
But at the western side
Of Arunatha's tide, Near the city's northern wall, our Pharaoh had his place. And they came unto the king, And they told him our disgrace; Then Rameses uprose, like his father, Montu in might, All his weapons took in hand, And his armor did he don, Just like Baal, fit for fight; And the noble pair of horses that carried Pharaoh on, Lo! "Victory of Thebes" was their name, And from out the royal stables of great Miamun they came.
Then the king he lashed each horse, And they quickened up their course, And he dashed into the middle of the hostile, Hittite host, All alone, none other with him, for he counted not the cost. Then he looked behind, and found That the foe were all around, Two thousand and five hundred of their chariots of war; And the flower of the Hittites, and their helpers, in a ring--- Men of Masu, Keshkesh, Pidasa, Malunna, Arathu, Qazauadana, Kadesh, Akerith, Leka and Khilibu--- Cut off the way behind, Retreat he could not find; There were three men on each car, And they gathered all together, and closed upon the king. "Yea, and not one of my princes, of my chief men and my great, Was with me, not a captain, not a knight; For my warriors and chariots had left me to my fate, Not one was there to take his part in fight."
Then spake Pharaoh, and he cried: "Father Ammon, where are you? Shall a sire forget his son? Is there anything without your knowledge I have done? From the judgments of your mouth when have I gone? Have I e'er transgressed your word? Disobeyed, or broke a vow? Is it right, who rules in Egypt, Egypt's lord, Should e'er before the foreign peoples bow, Or own their rod? Whate'er may be the mind of this Hittite herdsman horde, Sure Ammon at should stand higher than the wretch who knows no God? Father Ammon, is it nought That to you I dedicated noble monuments, and filled Your temples with the prisoners of war? That for you a thousand years shall stand the shrines I dared to build? The king, probably, is here identifying himself with Ammon. That to you my palace-substance I have brought, That tribute unto you from afar A whole land comes to pay, That to you ten thousand oxen for sacrifice I fell, And burn upon your altars the sweetest woods that smell; That all your heart required, my hand did ne'er gainsay? I have built for you tall gates and wondrous works beside the Nile, I have raised you mast on mast, For eternity to last, From Elephantin's isle The obelisks for you I have conveyed, It is I who brought alone The everlasting stone, It is I who sent for you, The ships upon the sea, To pour into your coffers the wealth of foreign trade; Is it told that such a thing By any other king, At any other time, was done at all? Let the wretch be put to shame Who refuses your commands, But honor to his name Who to Ammon lifts his hands. To the full of my endeavor, With a willing heart forever, I have acted unto you, And to you, great God, I call; For behold! now, Ammon, I, In the midst of many peoples, all unknown, Unnumbered as the sand, Here I stand, All alone; There is no one at my side, My warriors and chariots afeared, Have deserted me, none heard My voice, when to the cravens I, their king, for succor, cried. But I find that Ammon's grace Is better far to me Than a million fighting men and ten thousand chariots be. Yea, better than ten thousand, be they brother, be they son, When with hearts that beat like one, Together for to help me they are gathered in one place. The might of men is nothing, it is Ammon who is lord, What has happened here to me is according to your word, And I will not now trangress your command; But alone, as here I stand, To you my cry I send, Unto earth's extremest end, Saying, 'Help me, father Ammon, against the Hittite horde."'