Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/185

 MAKANNA'S GATHERING. ! Amakosa, wake!
 * And arm yourselves for war,

As coming—winds the forest shake,
 * I hear a sound from far:

It is not thunder in the sky,
 * Nor lion's roar upon the hill,

But the voice of Him who sits on high,
 * And bids me speak His will!

He bids me call you forth,
 * Bold sons of Kahabee,

To sweep the white men from the earth,
 * And drive them to the sea:

The sea which heaved them up at first,
 * For Amakosa's curse and bane,

Howls for the progeny she nurst,
 * To swallow them again.

Hark! 'tis Uhlanga's voice
 * From Debe's mountain caves!

He calls you now to make your choice—
 * To conquer or be slaves:

To meet proud Amanglezi's guns,
 * And fight like warriors nobly born:

Or, like Umlao's feeble sons,
 * Become the freeman's scorn.