Zlobane is the name of the mountain which was taken by storm from the
Zulus by the British forces on the morning of the 28th of March, 1879.
On the top of this mountain the victorious English troops, who had
unsaddled their horses and cast themselves down to rest, were surprised
and surrounded by the Zulus. Of the British corps only one captain and
six men escaped. The young hero of the ballad was the son of Colonel
Weatherly.
As swayeth in the summer wind
The close and stalwart grain,
So moved the serried Zulu shields
That day on wild Zlobane;
The white shield of the husband,
Who hath twice need of life,
The black shield of the young chief,
Who hath not yet a wife.
Unrecking harm, the British lay,
Secure as if they slept,
While close on front and either flank
The live, black crescent crept.
Then burst their wild and frightful cry
Upon the British ears,
With whirr of bullets, glare of shields,
And flash of Zulu spears.
Uprose the British; in the shock
Reeled but an instant; then,
Shoulder to shoulder, faced the foe,
And met their doom like men.
But one was there whose heart was torn,
In a more awful strife;
He had the soldier’s steady nerve,
And calm disdain of life;
Yet now, half turning from the fray,
Knee smiting against knee,
He scanned the hills, if yet were left
An open way to flee.
Not for himself. His little son,
Scarce thirteen summers born,
With hair that shone upon his brows
Like tassels of the corn,
And lips yet curled in that sweet pout
Shaped by the mother’s breast,
Stood by his side, and silently
To his brave father pressed.
The horse stood nigh; the father kissed,
And tossed the boy astride.
“Farewell!” he cried, “and for thy life,
That way, my darling, ride!”
Scarce touched the saddle ere the boy
Leaped lightly to the ground,
And smote the horse upon its flank,
That with a quivering bound
It sprang and galloped for the hills,
With one sonorous neigh;
The fire flashed where its spurning feet
Clanged o’er the stony way.
“Father, I’ll die with you!” The sire
As this he saw and heard,
Turned, and stood breathless in the joy
And pang that knows no word.
Once, each, as do long knitted friends,
Upon the other smiled,
And then--he had but time to give
A weapon to the child
Ere, leaping o’er the British dead,
The supple Zulus drew
The cruel assegais, and first
The younger hero slew.
Still grew the father’s heart, his eye
Bright with unflickering flame:
Five Zulus bit the dust in death
By his unblenching aim.
Then, covered with uncounted wounds,
He sank beside his child,
And they who found them say, in death
Each on the other smiled.
_Phrase Exercise._
1. _Stalwart_ grain.--2. _Serried_ shields.--3. Unrecking
harm.--4. The black crescent crept.--5. _Whirr_ of bullets.--6.
Reeled but an instant.--7. Met their _doom like men_.--8. Awful
strife.--9. _Calm disdain_ of life.--10. Shone like tassels
of the corn.--11. Sweet pout.--12. Quivering bound.--13.
_Spurning_ feet.--14. Unflickering flame.--15. _Unblenching_
aim.