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Senlin, A Biography: Part 01: His Dark Origins - 06

Rustling among his odds and ends of knowledge

Suddenly, to his wonder, Senlin finds

How Cleopatra and Senebtisi

Were dug by many hands from ancient tombs.

Cloth after scented cloth the sage unwinds:

Delicious to see our futile modern sunlight

Dance like a harlot among these Dogs and Dooms!

First, the huge pyramid, with rock on rock

Bloodily piled to heaven; and under this

A gilded cavern, bat festooned;

And here in rows on rows, with gods about them,

Cloudily lustrous, dim, the sacred coffins,

Silver starred and crimson mooned.

What holy secret shall we now uncover?

Inside the outer coffin is a second;

Inside the second, smaller, lies a third.

This one is carved, and like a human body;

And painted over with fish and bull and bird.

Here are men walking stiffly in procession,

Blowing horns or lifting spears.

Where do they march to? Where do they come from?

Soft whine of horns is in our ears.

Inside, the third, a fourth . . . and this the artist,

A priest, perhaps, did most to make resemble

The flesh of her who lies within.

The brown eyes widely stare at the bat-hung ceiling.

The hair is black, The mouth is thin.

Princess! Secret of life! We come to praise you!

The torch is lowered, this coffin too we open,

And the dark air is drunk with musk and myrrh.

Here are the thousand white and scented wrappings,

The gilded mask, and jeweled eyes, of her.

And now the body itself, brown, gaunt, and ugly,

And the hollow scull, in which the brains are withered,

Lie bare before us. Princess, is this all?

Something there was we asked that is not answered.

Soft bats, in rows, hang on the lustered wall.

And all we hear is a whisper sound of music,

Of brass horns dustily raised and briefly blown,

And a cry of grief; and men in a stiff procession

Marching away and softly gone.