Senegal River

Now, past the limit which his course divides,   
When to the north the sun’s bright chariot rides,   
We leave the winding bays and swarthy shores,   
Where Senegal’s black wave impetuous roars;           
A flood, whose course a thousand tribes surveys,   
The tribes who blackened in the fiery blaze   
When Phaeton, devious from the solar height,   
Gave Afric’s sons the sable hue of night.