Читать книгу The Poetry of South Africa - Various - Страница 24

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Half way up Indoda[13] 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? Jalúhsa’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 Jalúhsa’s high-souled daughter,

Bold Makanna’s widowed bride.

“Thus into the Demon’s River

Blood instead of milk I fling:

Hear, Uhlanga—great Life-Giver!

Hear, Togúh—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 Chiefs 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!”

Thomas Pringle.