Wild cadences mount up, to sink again
Lamenting, as when mourners wail and weep;—
Comes to the traveller upon the stream,
A Plain-Song Litany of high despair;
The notes Gregorian fit into his dream
Of home and fatherland, remotely fair;—
Whilst from the gleaming mud in Niger’s course
Rises an amorous croak, now sweet, now hoarse.
In every country in the world fine weather comes after rain, and the tornado was succeeded on the Niger by a star-light night of a clearness and limpidity such as is never seen anywhere out of the tropics. The soft murmur of the Niger was borne to us upon the gentle night breeze, reminding us of the Fulah proverb—
“Ulululu ko tiaygueul, so mayo héwi, déguiet,” which may be translated—