Demon hippo, British Museum
The young man Rupert Brooke who was to write 'The Soldier' (If I should die, think only this of me: / That there's some corner of a foreign field / That is for ever England...) also turned his pen to whimsy in this poem about ancient Egypt...
| On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess | |
SONG OF A TRIBE OF THE ANCIENT EGYPTIANS
(The Priests within the Temple) SHE was wrinkled and huge and hideous? She was our Mother. | |||||||||||||
| She was lustful and lewd?—but a God; we had none other. | |||||||||||||
| In the day She was hidden and dumb, but at nightfall moaned in the shade; | |||||||||||||
| We shuddered and gave Her Her will in the darkness; we were afraid. | |||||||||||||
(The People without)
She sent us pain, | 5 | ||||||||||||
| And we bowed before Her; | |||||||||||||
| She smiled again | |||||||||||||
| And bade us adore Her. | |||||||||||||
| She solaced our woe | |||||||||||||
| And soothed our sighing; | 10 | ||||||||||||
| And what shall we do | |||||||||||||
| Now God is dying? | |||||||||||||
(The Priests within)
She was hungry and ate our children;—how should we stay Her? | |||||||||||||
| She took our young men and our maidens;—ours to obey Her. | |||||||||||||
| We were loathèd and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride. | 15 | ||||||||||||
| She fed us, protected us, loved us, and killed us; now She has died. | |||||||||||||
(The People without)
She was so strong; | |||||||||||||
| But death is stronger. | |||||||||||||
| She ruled us long; | |||||||||||||
| But Time is longer. | 20 | ||||||||||||
| She solaced our woe | |||||||||||||
| And soothed our sighing; | |||||||||||||
| And what shall we do | |||||||||||||
| Now God is dying? |
 |
| Tawaret, benign hippo goddess, British Museum |
