The Congo and Other Poems | Page 6

Lay emphasis on the delicate
ideas.
Keep as light-footed as possible.
#
A negro fairyland swung into view,
A minstrel river
Where dreams
come true.
The ebony palace soared on high
Through the
blossoming trees to the evening sky.
The inlaid porches and
casements shone
With gold and ivory and elephant-bone.
And the
black crowd laughed till their sides were sore
At the baboon butler in
the agate door,
And the well-known tunes of the parrot band
That
trilled on the bushes of that magic land.
# With pomposity. #
A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came

Through the agate doorway in suits of flame,
Yea, long-tailed coats
with a gold-leaf crust
And hats that were covered with diamond-dust.

And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call
And danced
the juba from wall to wall.
# With a great deliberation and ghostliness. # But the witch-men
suddenly stilled the throng
With a stern cold glare, and a stern old
song: --
"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you." . . .
# With overwhelming assurance, good cheer, and pomp. # Just then
from the doorway, as fat as shotes,
Came the cake-walk princes in
their long red coats,
Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine,
And tall
silk hats that were red as wine.
# With growing speed and sharply marked dance-rhythm. # And they

pranced with their butterfly partners there,
Coal-black maidens with
pearls in their hair,
Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet,

And bells on their ankles and little black feet.
And the couples railed
at the chant and the frown
Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them
down.
(O rare was the revel, and well worth while
That made those
glowering witch-men smile.)
The cake-walk royalty then began
To walk for a cake that was tall as
a man
To the tune of "Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,"
# With a touch of negro dialect,
and as rapidly as possible toward
the end. #
While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air,
And sang with the
scalawags prancing there: --
"Walk with care, walk with care,
Or
Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all of the other
Gods of the
Congo,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Beware, beware, walk
with care,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.
Boomlay, boomlay,
boomlay, boom,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom,
Boomlay,
boomlay, boomlay,
BOOM."
# Slow philosophic calm. #
Oh rare was the revel, and well worth
while
That made those glowering witch-men smile.
III. The Hope of their Religion
# Heavy bass. With a literal
imitation
of camp-meeting racket, and
trance. #
A good old negro in the slums of the town
Preached at a sister for her
velvet gown.
Howled at a brother for his low-down ways,
His
prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days.
Beat on the Bible till he wore it
out
Starting the jubilee revival shout.
And some had visions, as they
stood on chairs,
And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs,
And they
all repented, a thousand strong
From their stupor and savagery and

sin and wrong
And slammed with their hymn books till they shook
the room
With "glory, glory, glory,"
And "Boom, boom, BOOM."
# Exactly as in the first section.
Begin with terror and power, end
with joy. #
THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE
BLACK
CUTTING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A
GOLDEN TRACK.
And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil

And showed the apostles with their coats of mail.
In bright white
steele they were seated round
And their fire-eyes watched where the
Congo wound.
And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high

Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry: --
# Sung to the tune of "Hark, ten
thousand
harps and voices". #
"Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle;
Never again will he hoo-doo
you,
Never again will he hoo-doo you."
# With growing deliberation and joy. #
Then along that river, a
thousand miles
The vine-snared trees fell down in files.
Pioneer
angels cleared the