From The Witch of Atlas

BUT her choice sport was, in the hours of sleep,   
  To glide adown old Nilus, when he threads   
Egypt and Ethiopia, from the steep   
  Of utmost Axumé, until he spreads,   
Like a calm flock of silver-fleecéd sheep,           
  His waters on the plain; and crested heads   
Of cities and proud temples gleam amid,   
And many a vapor-belted pyramid.   
 
By Maeris and the Mareotid lakes,   
  Strewn with faint blooms like bridal-chamber floors;           
Where naked boys bridling tame water-snakes,   
  Or charioteering ghastly alligators,   
Had left on the sweet waters mighty wakes   
  Of those huge forms;—within the brazen doors   
Of the great Labyrinth slept both boy and beast,           
Tired with the pomp of their Osirian feast.   
 
And where within the surface of the river   
  The shadows of the massy temples lie,   
And never are erased, but tremble ever   
  Like things which every cloud can doom to die,           
Through lotus-paven canals, and wheresoever   
  The works of man pierced that serenest sky   
With tombs, and towers, and fanes, ’t was her delight   
To wander in the shadow of the night.

[Extract]