Томас Прингл (Thomas Pringle)

The Incantation

Half-way up Indoda climbing,
     Hangs the wizard forest old,
From whose shade is heard the chiming
     Of a streamlet clear and cold:
With a mournful sound it gushes
     From its cavern in the steep;
Then at once its wailing hushes
     In a lakelet dark and deep.

Standing by the dark-blue water,
     Robed in panther's speckled hide,
Who is she? Jaluhsa's daughter,
     Bold Makanna's widowed bride.
Stern she stands, her left hand clasping
     By the arm her wondering child;
He, her shaggy mantle grasping,
     Gazes up with aspect wild.

Thrice in the soft fount of nursing
     With sharp steel she pierced a vein,—
Thrice the white oppressor cursing,
     While the blood gushed forth amain,—
Wide upon the dark-blue water,
     Sprinkling thrice the crimson tide,—
Spoke Jaluhsa's high-souled daughter,
     Bold Makanna's widowed bride.

"Thus unto the Demon's River
     Blood instead of milk I fling:
Hear, Uhlanga—great Life-giver!
     Hear, Toguh—Avenging King!
Thus the mother's feelings tender
     In my breast I stifle now:
Thus I summon you to render
     Vengeance for the Widow's vow!

"Who shall be the Chief's avenger?
     Who the Champion of the Land?
Boy! the pale Son of the Stranger
     Is devoted to thy hand.
He who wields the bolt of thunder
     Witnesses thy Mother's vow!
He who rends the rocks asunder
     To the task shall train thee now!

"When thy arm grows strong for battle,
     Thou shalt sound Makanna's cry,
Till ten thousand shields shall rattle
     To war-club and assegai:
Then, when like hail-storm in harvest
     On the foe sweeps thy career,
Shall Uhlanga, whom thou servest,
     Make them stubble to thy spear!"

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