~ by Stevie Smith
The lions who ate the Christians
on the sands of the arena
By indulging native appetites
played what has now been seen a
Not entirely negligible part
In consolidating at the very start
The position of the Early Christian Church.
Initiatory rites are always bloody
And the lions, it appears
From contemporary art, made a study
Of dyeing Coliseum sands a ruddy
Liturgically sacrificial hue
And if the Christians felt a little blue–
Well people being eaten often do.
Theirs was the death and theirs the crown undying,
A state of things which must be satisfying.
My point upon this which has been obscured
Is that it was the lions who procured
By chewing up blood gristle flesh and bone
The martyrdoms on which the Church has grown.
I only write this poem because
I thought it rather looked
As if the part the lions played
was being overlooked.
By lions’ jaws great benefits
and blessings were begotten
And so our debt to Lionhood
must never be forgotten.
After reading though this and many other whimsies by Florence Margaret Smith, I feel Ogden Nash must certainly have read every word of hers. Her Latin title translates as “There be lions.”