The King of Congo and His Hundred Wives

FILL up with bright palm-wine, unto the rim fill up
The cloven Ostrich-eggshell-cup,
And don your shells and chowries, ye Sultaunas!
O chuse your gayest, gorgeousest array,
As on the brilliant Beiram holiday
That opes the doors of your Zenaunas!

Come! never sit a trembling on your silk deewauns!
What fear ye? To your feet, ye timid fawns!

See here your zones embossed with gems and amber I
See here the firebright beads of coral for your necks!
In such a festal time each young Sultauna decks
Herself as for the nuptial-chamber.

Kejoice! — your Lord, your King comes home again!

His enemies lie slaughtered on the desert-plain.
Rejoice! — It cost you tears of blood to sever
From one you loved so well — but now your griefs are o'er:
Sing! Dance! He leaves his land, his house, no more—-
Henceforward he is yours for ever!

Triumphant he returns: nought seeks he now; his hand
No more need hurl the javelin: sea and sand and land
Are his, far as the Zaire's blue billows wander;
Henceforth he bids farewell to spear and battle-horse,
And calls you to his couch, — a cold one, for — his corse
Lies on the copper buckler yonder!

Nay, fill not thus the Harem with your shrieks!

'Tis he! Behold his cloak, striped, Quagga-like, with bloody streaks!

'Tis he! albeit his eyes lie glazed for ever under
Their lids, — albeit his blood no more shall dance along
In rapture to the music of the Tomtom-gong,
Or headlong war-steed's hoof of thunder!

Yes! the Great Buffalo sleeps! His mightiest victory was his last.
His warriors howl in vain — his necromancers gaze aghast —
Fetish, nor magic wand, nor amulet of darnel,
Can charm back life to the clay-cold heart and limb.
He sleeps, and you, his women, sleep with him!

You share the dark pomps of his charnel!

Even now the headsman whets his axe to slay you at the funeral-feast.
Courage! — a glorious fate is yours! Through Afric and the East
Your fame shall be immortal! Kordofan and Yemen
With stories of your lord's exploits and your devotedness shall ring,
And future ages rear skull-obelisks to the King
Of Congo and his Hundred Women!