Clad in their ancient remembrance, their rage, their lust, and their longing,
They come with the sun to the river, churching their stately females,
Baptizing their frolicking heirs, old prophets and burly commanders.
The earth submits to their footsteps: ramparts of fever and thorn
Are pulp in the wake of their war. They sigh and barricades fall.
Planets bow to their bugles: the somber siege engines advance
To shatter the sunrise with psalms, with homage of ordure and ivory.
Africa mantles their shoulders; they walk the world in hexameters.