(Egyptian Folk-Song) Grim Is The Face That Looks Into The Night Over The Stretch Of Sands; A Sullen Rock In A Sea Of White-- A Ghostly Shadow In Ghostly Light, Peering And Moaning It Stands. "Oh, Is It The King That Rides This Way-- Oh, Is It The King That Rides So Free? I Have Looked For The King This Many A Day, But The Years That Mock Me Will Not Say Why Tarrieth He!" 'T Is Not Your King That Shall Ride To-Night, But A Child That Is Fast Asleep; And The Horse He Shall Ride Is The Dream-Horse White-- Aha, He Shall Speed Through The Ghostly Light Where The Ghostly Shadows Creep! "My Eyes Are Dull And My Face Is Sere, Yet Unto The Word He Gave I Cling, For He Was A Pharaoh That Set Me Here-- And, Lo! I Have Waited This Many A Year For Him--My King!" Oh, Past Thy Face My Darling Shall Ride Swift As The Burning Winds That Bear The Sand Clouds Over The Desert Wide-- Swift To The Verdure And Palms Beside The Wells Off There! "And Is It The Mighty King I Shall See Come Riding Into The Night? Oh, Is It The King Come Back To Me-- Proudly And Fiercely Rideth He, With Centuries Dight!" I Know No King But My Dark-Eyed Dear That Shall Ride The Dream-Horse White; But See! He Wakes At My Bosom Here, While The Dream-Horse Frettingly Lingers Near To Speed With My Babe To-Night! And Out Of The Desert Darkness Peers A Ghostly, Ghastly, Shadowy Thing Like A Spirit Come Out Of The Mouldering Years, And Ever That Waiting Spectre Hears The Coming King!