| |
| THE JUNGLE glistens like a cloud— | |
| Purple-cool, tree-deep, lake-pearled; | |
| Where lions lurk and thrash and crowd, | |
| Like lands that battle for the world. | |
| Behold, one lion leaps for his prey, | 5 |
| Trotting like a saffron mist, | |
| As savage nations in our day | |
| Pounce on some weak antagonist. | |
| |
| Across the jungle-painted grass | |
| His roar breaks through the tropic air; | 10 |
| And he runs like a tawny flame— | |
| Swift yellow stroke of lightning there. | |
| His cry is like the thunder’s sound, | |
| Shaking leaf and bough and bole; | |
| And he is part of Africa— | 15 |
| The yellow monarch in her soul. | |
| |
| Painted birds fly through the trees | |
| And stain the sky with brown on blue, | |
| Hammering with their wings the breeze, | |
| Hitting songs across the dew. | 20 |
| Parrots gaudy as a star | |
| Tap their bells and chatter sound. | |
| Each insect sweeps his dim guitar | |
| Like music hidden in the ground. | |
| |
| The tawny lion goes like a shot— | 25 |
| A daub of gold against the green, | |
| Scenting a wounded bleeding doe | |
| That he is following unseen. | |
| A spangled serpent lights a tree, | |
| A coiling flame around it, curled; | 30 |
| But the old lion goes great and free, | |
| The master of his jungle world. | |
| |
| Bravely born and bravely bred, | |
| Proud as a diamond of his fire, | |
| This yellow monarch of the south | 35 |
| Goes like the hosts that swarmed to Tyre. | |
| Hungry to kill, he scents the air, | |
| And roars into beginning night, | |
| His blond mane tossing up its hair, | |
| His eyes two pools of blazing light. | 40 |
| |
| He stops and lips the evening gale, | |
| Reading the wind across the trees; | |
| Giant cat in his tawny mail, | |
| Spelling out the trail-warm breeze. | |
| Then on he darts as though with wings, | 45 |
| To find his prey and drink the blood | |
| And feast upon the harmless things | |
| That God has put into the wood. | |
| |
| A gorilla slouches through the bush; | |
| A leopard’s eyes shoot stars of light; | 50 |
| The deep luxuriant forest hush | |
| Hides serpents beetle-colored, bright. | |
| The crane nods sleeping, spindle-shanked; | |
| Gray monkeys troop and clack and peer; | |
| A jungle stream goes emerald-banked, | 55 |
| Purring like a wild-cat near. | |
| |
| The cinnamon-colored land awakes | |
| Around the lion fold on fold; | |
| Yellowing with fruit, blue with lakes, | |
| Stuck with fireflies burnished gold. | 60 |
| Gray monkeys watch the lion and talk, | |
| Lassoing trees with leather tails; | |
| Some far palms by the seaside walk, | |
| And near-by sing the nightingales. | |
| |
| The moon hangs like a petal of gold | 65 |
| Broken upon the western sky. | |
| The blue dusk deepens fold on fold, | |
| The shattered day lies down to die. | |
| Here in this wild primeval place, | |
| Savage, wooded, poisonous, still, | 70 |
| Far from mankind and human face, | |
| The old lion goes to hunt and kill. | |
| |
| His prey is near, the scent is strong, | |
| He roars out in his ghastly mirth. | |
| There, bleeding like a shattered song, | 75 |
| His wounded doe is run to earth. | |
| But as he leaps to take its throat | |
| A younger lion leaps up and cries; | |
| And there the two lions stand like stone, | |
| The fires of ages in their eyes. | 80 |
| |
| It took the centuries to make | |
| These lions’ sun-colored bodies bright, | |
| These great-teethed felines from the brake, | |
| Tawny, crouching, cruel as night. | |
| Their eyes turn red—these cats of brown | 85 |
| Swift as wind, lithe as air, | |
| Savage-maned and monarch-crowned, | |
| With blazing eyes and yellow hair. | |
| |
| The painted snake makes not a sound; | |
| The frightened birds shake in the tree: | 90 |
| Like two great russet clouds they bound, | |
| These monarchs, for the mastery. | |
| The teak-tree groans, the gum is still, | |
| The coffee-tree nods to the duel; | |
| An elephant calf stares from a hill, | 95 |
| A lizard watches from a pool. | |
| |
| White silver moon, an eye of snow, | |
| Looks from the dusk with beauty hung, | |
| Her pale lids open and aglow | |
| Where starry ladders are far-flung. | 100 |
| The lions’ steel sinews knot in cords; | |
| There is a crash of yellow forms; | |
| The zebu and chimpanzee run; | |
| The jungle with the battle storms. | |
| |
| A roar that rocks the ground is heard, | 105 |
| And monkeys chatter, parrots flee. | |
| The coiled snake and the gaudy bird | |
| Slink from their everlasting tree. | |
| The colors of the painted land | |
| All disappear as quick as light; | 110 |
| The great palms tremble, and the hand | |
| Of God draws over all the night. | |
| |
| The dotted turtles hunt the ground, | |
| Now rocking with the battling pair; | |
| The night birds, startled, make no sound, | 115 |
| The vultures scent the bloody air. | |
| Hyenas wait to eat the dead | |
| And pick the polished bones and wail; | |
| A python crawls with silken tread | |
| On silver plates of sliding mail. | 120 |
| |
| The wild things of the jungle know | |
| A battle of the kings is on; | |
| The zebras cry, the tree-cats yell; | |
| The tall giraffe has swiftly flown; | |
| The spiders hang on polished webs— | 125 |
| Greenish discs of jeweled light; | |
| A frog is croaking in his well, | |
| The fireflies shower through the night. | |
| |
| The two huge cats are at their duel— | |
| Two yellow whirlwinds, hard as stones; | 130 |
| Snapping, biting, wild and cruel, | |
| Tearing flesh and crunching bones. | |
| Jaws upraised and crashing shut, | |
| Lifting, sinking, slashing there; | |
| Paws like razors slitting skin, | 135 |
| Teeth like knives of white that tear. | |
| |
| The painted flowers drip with blood, | |
| The hiding snake is crushed below; | |
| The lizard stamps into the ground; | |
| The trees shake as when whirlwinds blow. | 140 |
| The monkeys swing away and run; | |
| The wildcat looks and leaps away; | |
| The leopard, spotted with the sun, | |
| Slides by into the mist of gray. | |
| |
| The poisonous flies have scented blood, | 145 |
| And elephants have come to peer; | |
| Ant-eaters look into the wood | |
| To see the battle of the year. | |
| The scorpion squirms into the view, | |
| And things unspeakable, to see— | 150 |
| Speared and horned and crusted blue, | |
| The toad and reptile infantry. | |
| |
| The jungle sees the battle rage | |
| Intense, ferocious, swift and fast— | |
| A terrible and an awful sight, | 155 |
| So horrible toward the last | |
| The lions have cowed the very night, | |
| And stunned the shadows and the trees: | |
| A scuffle like the break of worlds, | |
| The shattering of centuries. | 160 |
| |
| But the old lion shows greater skill, | |
| With harder blows and mastery; | |
| His teeth were longer trained to kill, | |
| His strength upholds his majesty. | |
| Yet the young lion is quick and strong— | 165 |
| So wiry lithe he seems to float; | |
| He worries the old lion for long— | |
| Till the old lion leaps at his throat. | |
| |
| They wave in battle, spinning round | |
| Together, snarling, thundering, bright, | 170 |
| Thrashing through the dry dead grass; | |
| Until the day has turned to night, | |
| And left the young lion dead and still— | |
| In ribbons, mangled on the sod, | |
| His broken body cold and chill— | 175 |
| The old lion still his lord and god. | |
| |
| The old master of the forest stands | |
| With one paw on the fallen breast— | |
| The monarch of the jungle lands | |
| Whose victory challenges the best. | 180 |
| A king is dead—long live the king! | |
| He roars, his eyes like coals aglow. | |
| He calls his mate, a lioness there, | |
| To come and feast and eat the doe. | |
| |
| He calls his lady through the night, | 185 |
| And she replies and comes to him, | |
| Where the dead doe lies still and white, | |
| To banquet in the shadows dim: | |
| Like nations, when the war is done, | |
| Who gather at the feasting board | 190 |
| To dine upon the hard-won prey, | |
| Each like a monarch and a lord. | |
| |
| The snake slips back into his tree, | |
| The monkeys chatter now in peace; | |
| And over the blue woods there falls | 195 |
| The age-old night of centuries. | |
| The fireflies hang their lanterns back | |
| To star the dark; the beetles bell; | |
| The lizards creep, and nightbirds sing; | |
| The snail is dancing in his shell. | 200 |
| |
| The yellow floods are still and quiet; | |
| The sky is blue like trembling glass; | |
| Beasts, birds and toads and insects riot | |
| Beneath the stars in jungle grass. | |
| After the battle night alone; | 205 |
| Moon-mist, ghostly poison-flowers; | |
| Trumpeting of beasts that moan | |
| Through creeping crawling crimson hours. | |
| |
| A shaky moon rocks in the night, | |
| A grumbling sea, far palms, the crash | 210 |
| Of monkeys chattering as they fight; | |
| Gray serpents going like a flash; | |
| Slow turtles, swifter bats on wing; | |
| Worms creeping back, and spiders, flies; | |
| Lizards with poisonous following, | 215 |
| And fanged things in their paradise. | |
| |
| Slimy silken bellies squirming, | |
| Offal-scented beasts of prey; | |
| Hungry, lethal toads and reptiles | |
| Who move by night and hide by day: | 220 |
| Tearing flesh of birds that nest, | |
| Rending bones that drip with blood. | |
| So the jackals strike and quest | |
| In the world’s jungle brotherhood. | |
| |
| But must these creepers in their turn | 225 |
| Be conquered in the coming light, | |
| As new hope rises on the world | |
| And the old lions go with the night? | |
| Yet who can tell what signs of death | |
| Await the nations one by one? | 230 |
| Ah, what will happen in earth’s dark night | |
| Before the rising of the sun? | |
| |
