the Andes. The obelisks of Luxor may be
unrivalled, the sculptures of Medcenet Habu more exquisite, the colossus
of Memnonion more gigantic, the paintings of the royal tombs more
curious and instructive, but criticism ceases before the multifarious
wonders of the halls and courts of Karnak and the mind is open only to
one general impression of colossal variety.

I well remember the morning I stood before the propylon, or chief
entrance of Karnak. The silver stars were still shining in the cold blue
heaven, that afforded a beautiful relief to the mighty structure, built
of a light yellow stone, and quite unstained by the winds of three
thousand years. The front of this colossal entrance is very much broader
than the front of our cathedral of St. Paul's, and its height exceeds
that of the Trajan column. It is entirely without sculptures, a rare
omission, and doubtless intended, that the unity of the effect should
not be broken. The great door in the centre is sixty-four feet in
height.

Through this you pass into columned courts, which, in any other place,
would command undivided attention, until you at length arrive in front
of a second propylon. Ascending a flight of steps, you enter the great
hall of Karnak. The area of this hall is nearly fifty-eight thousand
square feet, and it has recently been calculated that four such churches
as our St. Martin's-in-the-Fields might stand side by side in this
unrivalled chamber without occupying the whole space. The roof, formed
of single stones, compared with which the masses at Stonehenge would
appear almost bricks, has fallen in; but the one hundred and thirty-four
colossal columns which supported it, and which are considerably above
thirty feet in circumference, still remain, and, with the walls and
propyla, are completely covered with sculptured forms. I shall not
attempt to describe any other part of Karnak. The memory aches with
the effort; there are many buildings attached to it, larger than most
temples; there are an infinite number of gates, and obelisks, and
colossi; but the imagination cannot refrain from calling up some sacred
or heroic procession, moving from Luxor to Karnak, in melodious pomp,
through the great avenue of sphinxes, and ranging themselves in glorious
groups around the gigantic columns of this sublime structure.
What feudal splendour, and what Gothic ceremonies, what tilts and
tournaments, and what ecclesiastic festivals, could rival the vast, the
b