Was not this the divinity of the fight?
Was not this his preserver?
Was he again deluded by a resemblance, or was he in a dream?
The guests gazed in silence at the spellbound king, and at the poet; at last Rameses bowed his head, Pentaur rose to his feet, and the bright color flew to his face as close to him he perceived Bent-Anat.
"You fought at Kadesh ?" asked the king.

"As thou sayest," replied Pentaur.
"You are well spoken of as a poet," said Rameses, "and we desire to hear the wonderful tale of my preservation celebrated in song.

If you will attempt it, let a lute be brought and sing." The poet bowed.

"My gifts are modest," he said, "but I will endeavor to sing of the glorious deed, in the presence of the hero who achieved it, with the aid of the Gods." Rameses gave a signal, and Ameni caused a large golden harp to be brought in for his disciple.

Pentaur lightly touched the strings, leaned his head against the top of the tall bow of the harp, for some time lest in meditation; then he drew himself up boldly, and struck the chords, bringing out a strong and warlike music in broad heroic rhythm.
Then he began the narrative: how Rameses had pitched his camp before Kadesh, how he ordered his troops, and how he had taken the field against the Cheta, and their Asiatic allies.