 | The Voyage of Ithobal |  |
163
THE SEVENTH AND LAST DAY
165
Ithobal, braving dread and doubt
Hath sailed all Africa about:
The thirty-seventh moon doth bring
The Tyrian crews to Egypt's King.
Hath sailed all Africa about:
The thirty-seventh moon doth bring
The Tyrian crews to Egypt's King.
May the King live for ever! Ithobal
A little longer prays the Royal ear
That he may tell the wondrous finishing
Of this great travel: how thy ships came home,
Most Mighty! to the land which sent them forth.
A little longer prays the Royal ear
That he may tell the wondrous finishing
Of this great travel: how thy ships came home,
Most Mighty! to the land which sent them forth.
Twenty-six moons had waxed and waned. 'Twas Bul,
The third month, when we left Enzaddi's mouth,
And once more followed wheresoever led
That ceaseless coast. Too long it were to name
Journey by journey, changeful stage by stage,
What lands, what seas, unfolded from the void
Their new-shewn pictures; what strange chances fell;
What sudden perils. Each day was a scroll
With cares laborious and hard toils unsealed,
Whereon the high Gods wrote that which they would.
Yet with our vessels fresh-accoutred, gear
Made good, sails mended, meal and meat in store,
And those companion breasts tempered to brass
By hardships and a hundred rescuings,
Safe wended we, and fearless, all those leagues
From the great river's mouth. Rose the Red Point,
Past tall Zeudana's bluff; across a bay
Where seven black rocks stand up, we spy a nook
Cup-shaped, the crater of some fiery mount,
Which burned itself to stillness ages gone.
Where flame, and rage, and ravage, had been fierce,
We lay embosomed, under white cliffs laced
With tender film of ferns, and delicate buds,
Purple, or gold, or rose, of climbing plants,
Whereon birds, small as bees, sucked honey-blooms
With long-curved bills: themselves finer than flowers,
So painted and so gemmed. Thus, where had boiled
The molten rock, and sulphurous fumes had belched,
The sea lay tranquil as in mother's lap,
Whom the babe sucks asleep: so doth the Deep
Shift its large humours. Also, King! I saw
A marvel here. Who hath before us known
A shellfish slay a man? The shore folk use
In companies, or one by one, to search
The coral-banks for food; at low tide these
Are live with lowly creatures of the deep,
Sea-flowers, sea-worms, sea-slugs, and cuttle-fish;
At flood the waves wash all. There is a shell
Twin-valved, prodigious, white, with fluted lips,
Russet outside, hides in the bladder-weed;
Clam-like, the body of it fleshy, strong,
The cup a cubit broad. This thing lurks there
With opened edge waiting what meat the spray
Will waft it: fed or handled, it doth close
With grip of iron jaw. We saw a wretch
Lie drowned upon the reef, one black foot caught
In the toothed shell; the hapless carcass cast
Limp on the rocks, like a brown sea-weed blade.
He, wading to his shallop, planted step
On the clam's shell, and this, grasping him hard
Had chained him till the slow sea rose and choked.
Later I spake with those wise in the ways
Of coast and current; people of the beach
Who taught us we were come to where the shore,
Not longer trending northward, turns and leads
Straight towards the setting sun; seven hundred leagues
Some did suppose, or five, or six, some said.
Yet, if we chanced the fortune of good airs,
And struck across, well-watered and well-stored,
Rowing by night and day when fair winds failed,
Either on high sea we should founder, lost;
Or, by bold venture 'scape a two moons' toil,
Skirting Biafra and deep-bayed Benin.
Which, sooth! we did; first coming happily,
At seven-score leagues, to a long island laid
Over against Aranga—'tis a stream
Runs from the inner hills. And yet anew
We pushed forth hazarding, and crossed sea-wastes,
Which in the hurricane heave mountainous,
But now slept blue and smooth. Nearing that coast
The blue waxed grey and brown; the white foam foul—
Long ere the topmost distant peak was eyed—
With flooding forth of some great stream that sent
The rains of half her Libya to the main
By many a mouth. With the land-water blew
The land-wind, and the muddied waves lapped low
Across the face of Benin all the way
To Eko Island.
The third month, when we left Enzaddi's mouth,
And once more followed wheresoever led
That ceaseless coast. Too long it were to name
Journey by journey, changeful stage by stage,
What lands, what seas, unfolded from the void
Their new-shewn pictures; what strange chances fell;
What sudden perils. Each day was a scroll
166
Whereon the high Gods wrote that which they would.
Yet with our vessels fresh-accoutred, gear
Made good, sails mended, meal and meat in store,
And those companion breasts tempered to brass
By hardships and a hundred rescuings,
Safe wended we, and fearless, all those leagues
From the great river's mouth. Rose the Red Point,
Past tall Zeudana's bluff; across a bay
Where seven black rocks stand up, we spy a nook
Cup-shaped, the crater of some fiery mount,
Which burned itself to stillness ages gone.
Where flame, and rage, and ravage, had been fierce,
We lay embosomed, under white cliffs laced
With tender film of ferns, and delicate buds,
Purple, or gold, or rose, of climbing plants,
Whereon birds, small as bees, sucked honey-blooms
With long-curved bills: themselves finer than flowers,
So painted and so gemmed. Thus, where had boiled
The molten rock, and sulphurous fumes had belched,
167
Whom the babe sucks asleep: so doth the Deep
Shift its large humours. Also, King! I saw
A marvel here. Who hath before us known
A shellfish slay a man? The shore folk use
In companies, or one by one, to search
The coral-banks for food; at low tide these
Are live with lowly creatures of the deep,
Sea-flowers, sea-worms, sea-slugs, and cuttle-fish;
At flood the waves wash all. There is a shell
Twin-valved, prodigious, white, with fluted lips,
Russet outside, hides in the bladder-weed;
Clam-like, the body of it fleshy, strong,
The cup a cubit broad. This thing lurks there
With opened edge waiting what meat the spray
Will waft it: fed or handled, it doth close
With grip of iron jaw. We saw a wretch
Lie drowned upon the reef, one black foot caught
In the toothed shell; the hapless carcass cast
Limp on the rocks, like a brown sea-weed blade.
He, wading to his shallop, planted step
On the clam's shell, and this, grasping him hard
Had chained him till the slow sea rose and choked.
168
Of coast and current; people of the beach
Who taught us we were come to where the shore,
Not longer trending northward, turns and leads
Straight towards the setting sun; seven hundred leagues
Some did suppose, or five, or six, some said.
Yet, if we chanced the fortune of good airs,
And struck across, well-watered and well-stored,
Rowing by night and day when fair winds failed,
Either on high sea we should founder, lost;
Or, by bold venture 'scape a two moons' toil,
Skirting Biafra and deep-bayed Benin.
Which, sooth! we did; first coming happily,
At seven-score leagues, to a long island laid
Over against Aranga—'tis a stream
Runs from the inner hills. And yet anew
We pushed forth hazarding, and crossed sea-wastes,
Which in the hurricane heave mountainous,
But now slept blue and smooth. Nearing that coast
The blue waxed grey and brown; the white foam foul—
Long ere the topmost distant peak was eyed—
With flooding forth of some great stream that sent
169
By many a mouth. With the land-water blew
The land-wind, and the muddied waves lapped low
Across the face of Benin all the way
To Eko Island.
Yet one marvel more
I had foregone, Great Pharaoh! to recount.
Behold these hides which my slaves lay at foot
Of thy Royal seat,—skins brown and dun—we stripped
The shaggy coverings from the strangest beast
Thy servant's eyes have seen. Nigh to that stream—
Zaire or Enzaddi—opens in the land
A deep laguna, fenced afar with hills,
And fed by water-ways, which wind and creep
Through forests dark with giant trees, and hung
From glade to glade with curtains of grey moss
And snake-like climbing vines. In its dense shades,
Lord of the gloom, there dwells a monstrous ape,
Ugly and dreadful, in his strength most fierce,
But man-like, fashioned wholly as a man,
A wide flat face, small ears, a hairy crown,
Nostrils of blackamoor, and human ways:
Short-legged with mighty loins and arms that reach
To touch his shin as he doth walk erect.
For walk he doth, with woodland staff in palm,
Most like a savage forester; the hand
Short-thumbed, but framed to skilful purposes,
Hath a so stubborn grip that he can grasp
The python's throat and squeeze its life away
Spite of its writhing coils; or break a jaw
Of bounding leopard. In the tree he builds
A nest of boughs; there keeps his sylvan home
His one ill-favoured wife, children, and store
Of forest fruit. Yet though the creature eats
No food save roots and berries, not a beast
So mad, so dangerous. The lion shrinks
To cover, seeing on its hunting-path
This “Man of the Woods” approach, rough staff in hand,
And huge arms aching for some foe to slay.
The twain who wore these coats my comrades met
Where no tree gave them refuge, so they fought
Two against ten, and ere they yielded breath,
Cracked the neckbone of one, and ripped up one
Among my hunters, dying savagely
With cries like wounded men.
I had foregone, Great Pharaoh! to recount.
Behold these hides which my slaves lay at foot
Of thy Royal seat,—skins brown and dun—we stripped
The shaggy coverings from the strangest beast
Thy servant's eyes have seen. Nigh to that stream—
Zaire or Enzaddi—opens in the land
A deep laguna, fenced afar with hills,
And fed by water-ways, which wind and creep
Through forests dark with giant trees, and hung
From glade to glade with curtains of grey moss
And snake-like climbing vines. In its dense shades,
Lord of the gloom, there dwells a monstrous ape,
Ugly and dreadful, in his strength most fierce,
But man-like, fashioned wholly as a man,
A wide flat face, small ears, a hairy crown,
Nostrils of blackamoor, and human ways:
170
To touch his shin as he doth walk erect.
For walk he doth, with woodland staff in palm,
Most like a savage forester; the hand
Short-thumbed, but framed to skilful purposes,
Hath a so stubborn grip that he can grasp
The python's throat and squeeze its life away
Spite of its writhing coils; or break a jaw
Of bounding leopard. In the tree he builds
A nest of boughs; there keeps his sylvan home
His one ill-favoured wife, children, and store
Of forest fruit. Yet though the creature eats
No food save roots and berries, not a beast
So mad, so dangerous. The lion shrinks
To cover, seeing on its hunting-path
This “Man of the Woods” approach, rough staff in hand,
And huge arms aching for some foe to slay.
The twain who wore these coats my comrades met
Where no tree gave them refuge, so they fought
Two against ten, and ere they yielded breath,
Cracked the neckbone of one, and ripped up one
Among my hunters, dying savagely
With cries like wounded men.
171
At Eko Isle
Once more we saw the gem of Ishtar gleam
Above the marge, the North Star. Speeding thence,
Through fair and foul we pass Whydah's lagoon;
Cast anchor in a river flowing down
From Ningo Hill. Here are a savage folk,
Dahoms and Ashantees, eating men's flesh;
Filling the drink-bowls of their gods with blood;
Cities of skulls and slaughter. Joyfully
We parted from the cruel land; set course
For Accra, for Amkwana; rock and bay
Of hot Secondi, and the Three Point cape.
Next the Assini stream with spacious lakes
Behind its sands. Then ever westward came
Long rampart of red cliffs, Yawoda crag—
Striped rose and white like a flamingo's wing—
Jutting to sea. Here is the Ivory coast,
Abode of elephants; at Nano town,
Which hath its huts on bank of Berebi,
Door-posts and lintels were of milky tusks,
And tusks lay heaped in sheds, and tusks did mark
One man's field from another's; these I deemed
Were spoils of elephants which die of age.
One lordly brute of the vast herds we spied
Might sack and scatter Nano. Still our coast
Went westward till we make the Cape of Palms
—
Tree-capped, tied to the shore by thread of sand:
Behind its groves a river good for rest.
A strange lure cheated us in nearing. Grey
The mist lay round the cape; in its faint veil
The rocks and reefs, the banks and beaches, hung,
With trees and towns and hills in the still air.
It was the lying light, the mirage; such
Mocks thirsty desert men, drawn from their path
By vision of fair water, shadowing palms
And men and temples. I had deemed all true
Till Nesta said, “Have heed, Master! of this
At entering; 'tis a trick of fiends who dwell
In storm-clouds and the evil weather.”
Once more we saw the gem of Ishtar gleam
Above the marge, the North Star. Speeding thence,
Through fair and foul we pass Whydah's lagoon;
Cast anchor in a river flowing down
From Ningo Hill. Here are a savage folk,
Dahoms and Ashantees, eating men's flesh;
Filling the drink-bowls of their gods with blood;
Cities of skulls and slaughter. Joyfully
We parted from the cruel land; set course
For Accra, for Amkwana; rock and bay
Of hot Secondi, and the Three Point cape.
Next the Assini stream with spacious lakes
Behind its sands. Then ever westward came
Long rampart of red cliffs, Yawoda crag—
Striped rose and white like a flamingo's wing—
Jutting to sea. Here is the Ivory coast,
Abode of elephants; at Nano town,
Which hath its huts on bank of Berebi,
Door-posts and lintels were of milky tusks,
And tusks lay heaped in sheds, and tusks did mark
One man's field from another's; these I deemed
Were spoils of elephants which die of age.
One lordly brute of the vast herds we spied
Might sack and scatter Nano. Still our coast
172
Tree-capped, tied to the shore by thread of sand:
Behind its groves a river good for rest.
A strange lure cheated us in nearing. Grey
The mist lay round the cape; in its faint veil
The rocks and reefs, the banks and beaches, hung,
With trees and towns and hills in the still air.
It was the lying light, the mirage; such
Mocks thirsty desert men, drawn from their path
By vision of fair water, shadowing palms
And men and temples. I had deemed all true
Till Nesta said, “Have heed, Master! of this
At entering; 'tis a trick of fiends who dwell
In storm-clouds and the evil weather.”
Now
Once more the Ram and Dove upon our prows
Looked homeward; once more northerly we steer.
By Monkey Island, and by Wappi Head,
Wended we well to Butu, and a stream,
Pobâmo named, next Tembo, and some isles
Green with bananas; so by many a stage
We sight a promontory, forest-clad
With great hills piercing heaven; 'tis the mount
Of lions. Northward of the dark green ridge
Opens a stream, and I must enter there
For that the Silver Dove hath sprung a leak.
Yestereve and all night by some ill-hap
Came in the sea, and soaked our grain, and swamped
The forward hold, till half my oarsmen baled,
And half were rowing. In the stream we find
A shelving shore, and beached. 'Sooth! strange to see!
It is a sword-fish that hath wrought us this,
Nigh ruining our venture. Yea! a fish
Six cubits long that hath for nose a beak
Bony, shaped like a sword, sharp like a sword
And hard as tempered steel; strong fins and tail
That in its times of anger and attack
Drive it like arrow through the waves. It hates
The whale; mistook us for its enemy;
And dealt us deadly thrust. The blade had gone
Through half a cubit of fir plank and oak—
Loosening a beam end—where the sea poured in.
The fish had broken off; his sword stood out
A span clear in the hold.
Once more the Ram and Dove upon our prows
Looked homeward; once more northerly we steer.
By Monkey Island, and by Wappi Head,
Wended we well to Butu, and a stream,
Pobâmo named, next Tembo, and some isles
Green with bananas; so by many a stage
173
With great hills piercing heaven; 'tis the mount
Of lions. Northward of the dark green ridge
Opens a stream, and I must enter there
For that the Silver Dove hath sprung a leak.
Yestereve and all night by some ill-hap
Came in the sea, and soaked our grain, and swamped
The forward hold, till half my oarsmen baled,
And half were rowing. In the stream we find
A shelving shore, and beached. 'Sooth! strange to see!
It is a sword-fish that hath wrought us this,
Nigh ruining our venture. Yea! a fish
Six cubits long that hath for nose a beak
Bony, shaped like a sword, sharp like a sword
And hard as tempered steel; strong fins and tail
That in its times of anger and attack
Drive it like arrow through the waves. It hates
The whale; mistook us for its enemy;
And dealt us deadly thrust. The blade had gone
Through half a cubit of fir plank and oak—
Loosening a beam end—where the sea poured in.
The fish had broken off; his sword stood out
A span clear in the hold.
174
By Matakong—
A lovely isle with sloping lawns and groves—
We pass to Pongo, and the channel made
By safe Arango. Next was Bulamà
And Jeba river; then long stretch of sands
To Kisamanze and the Gambia,
By Dakar and Goree to a green cape —
Slopes from the sea-shore towards two rounded paps
O'er-looking isle and bay. Here came thy ships
Westermost, Mighty Pharaoh! of their road:
Nothing lay west of us except a main
Known only to the Sun, which dippeth there
Under the World. And thence to Senegal
And her white headland, and red Bojador,
Eastward the shore now bends. Cape Juby lifts
A green hill, and a stream flows to the sea
Beneath white banks. Onward by Mogador
We mark huge Atlas rear his snowy neck
To hold the sky aloft: this side and that
The lean grey hills peer over to the brine
To gaze on voyagers whose ships are come
From other hills so far: from other shores
Which watch the Day spring from another East.
Then as I stood upon my steering deck
Eyeing the bare crags pass, and new peaks spring
Out of the blue, Nesta was by my side,
And took my hand whispering: “Master! I saw
Good omen at the dawn. Kneeling to pray,
When the first gold lit on Astarte's bird
Which is upon our stem, I marked her stretch
Her silver wings to all their glittering length,
And arch her shining neck, and utter low
The love-note of a Dove; I think she hears
Some home sounds in the air, or seeth that
Which promiseth us rest.” Even as she spake,
What mark I? On the left two pointed hills,
Facing them, seven low tops; and in their front
A black cliff rising from the rippled blue,
Which suddenly is narrowed so that land,
To left as well as right, hangs in the sky,
A violet film: a film which gathers form,
Deepens to green and purple, and then grows
A huge rock, like a couching lion, set
Over against the cliff. I know! I know!
Here is the Ocean-Gate! Here is the Strait,
Twice before seen, where goes the Middle Sea
Unto the Setting Sun and the Unknown—
No more unknown. Ithobal's ships have sailed
Around all Africa. Our task is done!
These are the Pillars! this the Midland Sea!
The road to Tyre is yonder! Every wave
Is homely. Yonder, sure, Old Nilus pours
Into this sea the Waters of a World,
Whose secret is his own, and thine and mine.
A lovely isle with sloping lawns and groves—
We pass to Pongo, and the channel made
By safe Arango. Next was Bulamà
And Jeba river; then long stretch of sands
To Kisamanze and the Gambia,
By Dakar and Goree to a green cape —
Slopes from the sea-shore towards two rounded paps
O'er-looking isle and bay. Here came thy ships
Westermost, Mighty Pharaoh! of their road:
Nothing lay west of us except a main
Known only to the Sun, which dippeth there
Under the World. And thence to Senegal
And her white headland, and red Bojador,
Eastward the shore now bends. Cape Juby lifts
A green hill, and a stream flows to the sea
Beneath white banks. Onward by Mogador
We mark huge Atlas rear his snowy neck
To hold the sky aloft: this side and that
The lean grey hills peer over to the brine
To gaze on voyagers whose ships are come
From other hills so far: from other shores
Which watch the Day spring from another East.
175
Eyeing the bare crags pass, and new peaks spring
Out of the blue, Nesta was by my side,
And took my hand whispering: “Master! I saw
Good omen at the dawn. Kneeling to pray,
When the first gold lit on Astarte's bird
Which is upon our stem, I marked her stretch
Her silver wings to all their glittering length,
And arch her shining neck, and utter low
The love-note of a Dove; I think she hears
Some home sounds in the air, or seeth that
Which promiseth us rest.” Even as she spake,
What mark I? On the left two pointed hills,
Facing them, seven low tops; and in their front
A black cliff rising from the rippled blue,
Which suddenly is narrowed so that land,
To left as well as right, hangs in the sky,
A violet film: a film which gathers form,
Deepens to green and purple, and then grows
A huge rock, like a couching lion, set
Over against the cliff. I know! I know!
Here is the Ocean-Gate! Here is the Strait,
Twice before seen, where goes the Middle Sea
Unto the Setting Sun and the Unknown—
176
Around all Africa. Our task is done!
These are the Pillars! this the Midland Sea!
The road to Tyre is yonder! Every wave
Is homely. Yonder, sure, Old Nilus pours
Into this sea the Waters of a World,
Whose secret is his own, and thine and mine.
Great Lord! no need to tell thee how we came
By coasts familiar, and by well-tried paths,
Quit of our quest. Thirty-five moons had waned
Since we sailed forth of Suph. My two brave ships
Kept the sea safe. The third, if the Gods pleased,
Deep ballasted with gold, was back with thee.
Out of my sixteen-score of gallant souls
There lacked some five-score, lost by land or sea,
In battle slain, or torn by prowling beasts,
Or dead by evil airs; and one I slew,
The traitor Nimroud. Of our native aids
The most are lusty, well-contented, free,
Glad to be part of this high enterprise,
And see the great new world. But most I bless
The holy Gods above and my fair Star,
Because I carry back, unharmed, serene,
Radiant with joy at this our victory
And thine, O King of Kings! her who was Life
And Soul, and Guide, and Good of all we did:
My Lady Nesta of the noble heart.
By coasts familiar, and by well-tried paths,
Quit of our quest. Thirty-five moons had waned
Since we sailed forth of Suph. My two brave ships
Kept the sea safe. The third, if the Gods pleased,
Deep ballasted with gold, was back with thee.
Out of my sixteen-score of gallant souls
There lacked some five-score, lost by land or sea,
In battle slain, or torn by prowling beasts,
Or dead by evil airs; and one I slew,
The traitor Nimroud. Of our native aids
The most are lusty, well-contented, free,
Glad to be part of this high enterprise,
And see the great new world. But most I bless
The holy Gods above and my fair Star,
Because I carry back, unharmed, serene,
Radiant with joy at this our victory
177
And Soul, and Guide, and Good of all we did:
My Lady Nesta of the noble heart.
Ah! like to one who dreams that he must die,
And waking finds him at a golden feast;
Or like to one whose hapless eyes have lost
The lovely light of day, when sudden gleam
Of the world's joy and glory comes again,
And all his darkness dies; so was it now,
Great Pharaoh! with thy servants, day by day,
Conning the happy sea-signs. What to us
Any more irked the straining at the oar,
The narrow bed, the hard-worn plank, the toil
To beach and unbeach? In our ragged sails
Flapped triumph: in our oar-ports, worn to gloss
By oar-looms grinding through five thousand leagues,
Shone pride. My merry rowers loved the ships
So staunch, so faithful, and so friendly grown—
Their good sea-houses. Pipe and drum kept time
More lively than before to the light song
Of Thalamite and Zeugite, as we skimmed
Over the autumn waters to that mouth,
Where thy broad Nilus voids his western wave;
And battered, torn and lean, but jubilant,
Joyous, and eager for the grace of this—
To see thy face and kneel before thy feet,
And lay thee, for thy favour and thy trust,
The Secret of the Unknown Earth made known.
For this we did rejoice: for this are here.
And waking finds him at a golden feast;
Or like to one whose hapless eyes have lost
The lovely light of day, when sudden gleam
Of the world's joy and glory comes again,
And all his darkness dies; so was it now,
Great Pharaoh! with thy servants, day by day,
Conning the happy sea-signs. What to us
Any more irked the straining at the oar,
The narrow bed, the hard-worn plank, the toil
To beach and unbeach? In our ragged sails
Flapped triumph: in our oar-ports, worn to gloss
By oar-looms grinding through five thousand leagues,
Shone pride. My merry rowers loved the ships
So staunch, so faithful, and so friendly grown—
Their good sea-houses. Pipe and drum kept time
More lively than before to the light song
Of Thalamite and Zeugite, as we skimmed
Over the autumn waters to that mouth,
Where thy broad Nilus voids his western wave;
178
Joyous, and eager for the grace of this—
To see thy face and kneel before thy feet,
And lay thee, for thy favour and thy trust,
The Secret of the Unknown Earth made known.
For this we did rejoice: for this are here.
| The Voyage of Ithobal | |