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,
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?