John Wyndham - The Myths Of Ife - The Sacrifice lyrics

Arába continues: Oíbo I have told you of the days When Odudúwa and Orísha fought; But of the times of peace our annals hold Strange legends also. . . Now in the age when mirth And Odudúwa reigned, grief ever-growing Befell Great Mórimi, the wife of sk**ed Obálufon—for while his lesser wives Proudly bore many sons unto their lord, A daughter only, young Adétoún, Was granted to his queen. And as the years Lagged by, a strangeness which he always seemed To keep in hiding chequered the fair day With doubtings, and waylaid her in the paths Of her fond nightly dreams. Once with the Spring, She saw the clustered tree-tops breaking into leaf Copper and red and every green, and she Remembered how beneath the new year's buds It was ordained by Peregún 'Gbo, lord Of uninhabitable woods that Life Should spring from Forest, and Life from Life,—till all The Woods were gladdened with the voice of beasts And birds—and thus she reasoned: "Is it not told How Peregún 'Gbo spoke, and from the womb Of Forest leaped the sloth that laughs by night? How 'mid the boughs the sloth brought forth the ape That bore the leopard? And did not Peregún Watch o'er the birth of young Orúnmila, And ever, when the morrow's sorrowing dawn Must yield up to the leaguing fiends the child's Fair life, did not the watchful God send down His messenger to stay the grasping hand Of d**h? Thus do the Gods; and surely one Will give me sons. Ah! whom must I appease?" Quick with new hope Great Mórimi sought out A priest of Ífa in his court yard dim, Where from each beam and smoke-grimed pillar hung The charms the wise man set to guard his home, His wives and children from the ills contrived By the bad spirits. To her gift she whispered, And laid it on Okpéllè; and the priest Seizing the charm of Ífa said: "Okpéllè, To you the woe of Mórimi is known; You only can reveal its secret cause, Its unknown cure!" Then he laid down the charm And Óffun Kánran stood before them. The face Of Ífa's priest was troubled, and he said: "Mórimi, this is the message of my lord Ífa: a son, nay many sons, you long for. You have a daughter, and your husband's love Was yours. The Gods would give you many sons, But in your path stands Éshu, the Undoer, Whose shrine calls out for blood, for sacrifice: Adétoún." Without hope Mórimi Went forth, and loathing of the ways of the Gods Possessed her—while indignation fed her love Of her one child. . . . The months pa**ed by: Moons came, And in the smiles of happier wives she read A mockery; Moons faded from the sky, And grief and her Adétoún remained Companions of her hours. At last she cried: "But sons l asked for; I will go again And pray for sons and my Adétoún. The last word is not yet. Olókun's tide Has ebbed: will it not flow again?" Went not with Mórimi to the dark court Of Ífa's priest; and when a torch disclosed The self-same bode of sorrow in the dusk— To her drear home Great Mórimi fled back In terror of the deed which love commanded, And love condemned. . . . Silently in the night Came Édi, the Perverter, the smooth of tongue, Who with his guileful reasoning compels To conscious sin: "The forms of messengers Reveal the thoughts of Ífa, and the ears Of Ífa, the God-Messenger, have heard The far-off, thundrous voice. Would you hold back? Is not the birth of Nations the first law Arámfè gave? Can any wife withstand His will, or maid stern Ógun's call? To-day Is yours, oh, mother of great kings that shall be: The green shoots greet the Spring-rain and forget The barren months, and Mórimi shall know Her grief and her reproach no more." Then doubt Seized Mórimi but still she answered; "Will Gods Not give? Is the grim World a morning market Where they drive bargains with the folk they made? Are babes as bangles which Obálufon Fashions to barter?" But Édi answered her: "But once Arámfè spoke to Odudúwa, And with what heavy hearts the Gods went forth From Heaven's valleys to the blackness! Now thrice, Thrice to the woman Mórimi the word Has come—with promise of the World's desire: Not every wife is chosen for the mother Of a house of kings. And think!—Obálufon!" Then Édi, the Perverter, hid his form In darkness; and with the dawn a young girl lay On the Undoer Éshu's altar—while The lazy blue of early morning smoke Crept up the pa** between the hills