On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess, by Rupert Brooke

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On the Death of Smet-Smet, the Hippopotamus-Goddess
Song of a Tribe of the Ancient Egyptians
by Rupert Brooke (1887-1915)

(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,

And we bowed before Her;

She smiled again

And bade us adore Her.

She solaced our woe

And soothed our sighing;

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 loathed and mocked and reviled of all nations; that was our pride.
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.

She solaced our woe

And soothed our sighing;

And what shall we do

Now God is dying?

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