  Now it behoves me (or behooves) To give a retrospect that proves What foresight can achieve, The kind of thing that (by the way) Men in our cold agnostic day Must come from Africa to say, From England to believe. Blood had, while yet we were in town, Said with his intellectual frown: “Suppose a Rhino knocks you down And walks upon you like a mat, Think of the public irritation, If with an incident like that, We cannot give an illustration.” Seeing we should be at a loss To reproduce the scene, We bought a stuffed rhinocerous, A Kodak, and a screen. We fixed a picture. William pressed A button, and I did the rest. To those Carnivora that make An ordinary Person quake We did not give a care. Illustration: Our three travellers easing away from tent as a lion takes down an African. The Lion never will attack A White, if he can get a Black. And there were such a lot of these We could afford with perfect ease To spare one here and there. It made us more compact—and then— It’s right to spare one’s fellow men. Of far more consequence to us, And much more worthy to detain us, The very creature that we feared (I mean the white Rhinoceros, “Siste Viator Africanus”) In all its majesty appeared. This large, but peevish pachyderm (To use a scientific term), Though commonly herbivorous, Is eminently dangerous. It may be just the creature’s play; But people who have felt it say That when he prods you with his horn You wish you never had been born. As I was dozing in the sun, Without a cartridge to my gun, Upon a sultry day, Absorbed in somnolescent bliss, Just such an animal as this Came charging where I lay. My only refuge was to fly, But flight is not for me! Blood happened to be standing by, He darted up a tree And shouted, “Do your best to try And fix him with the Human Eye.” Besides, I found my foot was caught In twisted roots that held it taut. Between a person and a beast (But for the Human Eye at least) The issue must be clear. The tension on my nerves increased, And yet I felt no fear. Nay, do not praise me—not at all— Courage is merely physical, And several people I could name Would probably have done the same. I kept my glance extremely firm, I saw the wretched creature squirm; A look of terror over-spread Its features, and it dropped down dead. At least, I thought it did, And foolishly withdrew my gaze, When (finding it was rid Of those mysterious piercing rays) It came to life again. It jumped into the air, and came With all its might upon my frame. (Observe the posture of the hoof. The wire and black support that look So artificial in the proof Will be deleted in the book.) It did it thirty separate times; When, luckily for all these rhymes, Blood shot the brute—that is to say, Blood shot, and then it ran away. Illustration: Stuffed rhinoceros trampling a man in front of a tropical backdrop. |
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