The godless savage paused awhile—
And, with a flashing eye,
Look'd round o'er all that beauteous land,
Far stretching 'neath the sky.
Where'er he turn'd his eyes he saw
War's desolating brand;
The smoke of burning villages
Arose on ev'ry hand.
The tow'ring mountains far away,
High heav'nward bore the blaze;
O'er all the fruitful valleys hung
A thick and lurid haze.
"There are the mountains where I track'd
The lions to their dens;
Oft have I coursed the flying deer
Across those burning glens.
"No more shall huntsman's shout be heard
On Mancazana's hills;
No more shall huntsman slake his thirst
In Mancazana's rills;
"No more shall young men dance at eve,
Around the peaceful kraal;
No more shall maidens wait to hear
Their brave young lovers call.
"No more shall children sport around
The reed huts of their sires;
Men, wives, and children—all are burn'd
Under the white man's fires!"
