{"collection":"African","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/afr/ife/ife8.htm","path":"afr/ife/ife8.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/afr/ife/ife8.htm","text":"Sacred-Texts Africa Index Previous Next\n| | Ar\u00e1ba continues: | \n| After the \u00dabo Wars, \u00d3gun reigns | An age passed by, and \u00cdf\u00e8 knew no more Of battles; for \u00d3gun, grey and bent, chose out The way of peace beloved of Old Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8. | \n| in peace. | | \n| | Forgotten lives were lived, and shadowy priests Kept warm the altars of the departed Gods: Old men went softly to the River's lip1 Unsung: 'twixt hope and fear mute colonists Went forth to the strange forests of the World; And unremembered wives sought out the shrines Of the givers of new life. Their names are lost. . . Yet now, O\u00edbo, let a final tale Be told; for, at the last, that silent age Yields up the legend of its fall. In those Last tranquil years the mothers blessed King \u00d3gun For peaceful days and night's security; And old men used to tell of their brave deeds In battles where Or\u00e1nyan led, applaud The torch-lit dance and pass their last calm days Happily. . . But then came traders from the wilds p. 47 By thorn and tangle of scarce-trodden ways Through the dim woods with wondrous tales they heard At crossway markets1 in far lands of deeds Or\u00e1nyan did on battlefields beyond The region of the forests. These tales, oft-told In house and market, filled the air with rumours And dreams of war which troubled the repose Of ancient \u00cdf\u00e8\u2014for, while the fathers feared The coming of the day when the grey God, Aweary of Earth's Kingship, would go back To his first far-off home, the young men's dreams Were always of Or\u00e1nyan, and their pale days | \n| Or\u00e1nyan returns from distant Wars to demand the crown. | Lagged by. . . Such were the various thoughts of men In \u00cdf\u00e8, when on a clay, unheralded, Or\u00e1nyan2 with a host appeared before Her peaceful gates. None could deny his entrance: The hero strode again the streets he saved From the Ol\u00fabo's grass-clad men, and came Before his father to demand the crown Of Odud\u00fawa. King \u00d3gun spoke: \"My son, p. 48 'Tis long since you were here, and you are welcome. But why with these armed men do you recall Times well-forgotten and the ancient wars? This is a land of peace: beneath the shade Of \u00cdf\u00e8's trees the mirth of Heaven's vales Has found a home, the chorus and the dance Their measure. Lay by your arms, and may no hurt Attend your coming or your restful hours!\" Harshly Or\u00e1nyan answered his old father: \"You speak of peace, Great \u00d3gun, and the calm Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8 destined for a World to be. Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8 spoke\u2014and Odud\u00fawa's dream Of wisdom linked to supreme power begat A theft!1 And that same night on Heaven's rim Devised another destiny for men. What Heaven-sent art has \u00d3gun to undo That deed, and bid the still-born live? Besides, Who taught the peaceful peoples of the World Their longing for red War? Who forged their weapons\u2014 With steel Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8 gave for harvesting? Who slew young maids who would not wed to bear p. 49 More sons for ancient wars? Who, pray, but \u00d3gun, The God of War? . . What then? 'Tis said: 'The field The father sowed his son shall reap!'\"1 And \u00d3gun Made answer: \"The story of my life has been As the succeeding seasons in the course Where \u00d3shun pours her stream. First, long ago, The sunny months of heaven when I roamed A careless boy upon the mountains; then, As a whole season when the boisterous storms Fill full the crag-strewn bed with racing waters, And the warm Sun is hidden by the clouds, Doom brought me journeys, toils in darkness, wars And yet more wars. Again the barren months Are here: the wagtail lights upon the rock The river hid; a lazy trickle moves And in my age Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8's promised peace Gives back her stolen happiness to \u00cdf\u00e8. . . . And now, the sage Os\u00e1nyi2 is no more, His charms forgotten: I cannot turn to stone And vanish like Od\u00fawa; I cannot cast p. 50 My worn old body down to rise instead A river of the land, as \u00d3shun did. No, Earth must hold me, glad or desolate, A King or outcast in the vague forest, Till Heaven call me\u2014when the locked pools bask, And \u00d3shun sleeps. . . Till then I ask to be In peace; and, with my tale of days accomplished, My last arts taught, Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8's bidding done\u2014 I, the lone God on Earth who knows fair Heaven, And the calm life the Father bade us give To men,\u2014I, \u00d3gun, will make way, and go Upon the road I came.\" But Or\u00e1nyan said: \"Let the first Mistress of the World decide. These years the kingly power has passed away From the old sleeping town Od\u00fawa built To me, Or\u00e1nyan, battling in far lands Where no voice spoke of \u00cdf\u00e8. Let \u00cdf\u00e8 choose Her way: obscurity or wide renown!\" A silence fell: the black clouds of the storm Were overhanging human destiny; The breathless pause before the loud wind's blast Held all men speechless\u2014though they seemed to heave | \n| The old men desire \u00d3gun to remain; | p. 51 For utterance. At length, El\u00e9ffon, the friend Of \u00d3gun, voiced the fond hopes of the old chiefs Who feared Or\u00e1nyan and his coming day: \"Ours is the city of the shrines which guard The spirits of the Gods, and all our ways Are ordered by the Presences which haunt The sacred precincts. The noise of war and tumult Is far from those who dream beneath the trees Of \u00cdf\u00e8. There is another way of life: The way of colonists. By God's command, From this first breast the infant nations stray To the utter marches of humanity. Let them press onward, and let Or\u00e1nyan lead them Till the far corners of the World be filled; Let the unruly fall before their sword Until the Law prevail. But let not \u00cdf\u00e8 Swerve from the cool road of her destiny For dreams of conquest; and let not \u00d3gun leave The roof, the evening firelight and the ways Of men\u2014to go forth to the naked woods.\" And the old chiefs echoed: \"Live with us yet, Oh, \u00d3gun! Reign on your stable throne.\" But murmurs rose | \n| but the young men acclaim Or\u00e1nyan. | p. 52 From the young men\u2014suppressed at first, then louder\u2014 Until their leader, gaining courage, cried: \"Empty our life has been\u2014while from far plains, Vibrant with the romance, the living lustre, Or\u00e1nyan's name bestows, great rumours came To mock our laggard seasons; and each year M\u00f3rimi's festival recalls alike The hero's name and \u00cdf\u00e8's greatness. Must All \u00cdf\u00e8 slumber that the old may drowse? No; we will have Or\u00e1nyan, and no other, To be our King.\" And a loud cry went up From his followers: \"Or\u00e1nyan is our King!\" And in that cry King \u00d3gun heard the doom A chieftain of our day sees clear in eggs1 Of fateful parrots in his inmost chamber: The walls of his proud city (his old defence) Can never more uphold a rule of iron For victor treachery within. And wearily He spoke his last sad words: \"My boyhood scarce Had ended on Ar\u00e1mf\u00e8's happy hills p. 53 When I came here with Odud\u00fawa; with him, Lovingly I watched this ancient city growing, And planted the grand forests for a robe For queenly \u00cdf\u00e8. I have grown old with \u00cdf\u00e8: Sometimes I feel that \u00d3gun did become \u00cdf\u00e8, and \u00cdf\u00e8 \u00d3gun, with the still lapse | \n| \u00d3gun goes away. | Of years. Yet she rejects me. Ah! my trees Would be more kind, and to my trees I go.\" Dawn came; and \u00d3gun stood upon a hill To Westward, and turned to take a last farewell Of his old queen of cities\u2014but white and dense. O'er harbouring woods and unremembering \u00cdf\u00e8 A mist was laid and blotted all. . Beyond, As islands from a morning sea, arose Two lone grey hills; and \u00d3gun dreamed he saw Again those early days, an age gone by, When he and Great Od\u00fawa watched the Bird Found those grand hills with magic sand,\u2014bare slopes, Yet born to smile. . . That vision paled: red-gold Above grey clouds the Sun of yesterday Climbed up\u2014to shine on a new order. . So passed Old \u00d3gun from the land. | \n1 The River which separates this World from the next.\n1 Markets are often found at crossroads in the forest.\n2 See Note X. on \u00d3gun and Or\u00e1nyan.\n1 The theft of Or\u00edsha's bag.\n1 Yoruba saying.\n2 Os\u00e1nyi made the charms which enabled the Gods to transform.\n1 A gift of parrot's eggs to a Yoruba chief is an intimation that he has reigned long enough and that, should he die by his own hand, trouble would be saved.","title":"VI. THE PASSING OF \u00d3GUN.","type":"page"}