THE HUNTING OF CETEWAYO.
Full of anger was Sir Garnet
When he came among the Zulus,
And found them in a precious muddle,
Heard of all the wicked doings,
All the luckless Zulus slaughter'd
By the savage Cetewayo.
Fuming in alarming fashion,
Through his thick moustache he mutter'd
Dire words of blood and thunder,
Raging like an angry tiger—
"I will nobble Cetewayo,
Bag this horrid rascal," said he;
"Not so wide the realm of Zulus,
Not so terrible the bye-ways,
That my anger shall not nail him,
That my vengeance shall not spot him!"
Then in hot pursuit departed
Marter and the mighty hunters
On the trail of Cetewayo.
Through the bush where he had hidden,
To the hut where he had rested—
But they found not Cetewayo;
Only in the charcoal embers
And the smell of bad tobacco,
Found the spot where he had halted;
Found the tokens of his presence.
Through the bush and brake and forest
Ran the cunning Cetewayo,
Till a lonely kraal he entered
In the middle of the forest!
Then the corpulent old sinner
Heard the tramp of many footsteps,
Heard the sound of many voices,
Saying, "He, the white man's coming!"
Got into a funk and shivered.
Then came Marter, mighty Major,
He, of all Dragoons the boldest,
To the hut door riding straightway,
Saying, "Where is Cetewayo,
For his Majesty is wanted?"
Then came forth the noble savage,
On his breast a scarlet blanket,
Proudly wearing à la toga,
Gave himself to mighty Marter;
Pass'd a captive 'twixt the soldiers!
Ended now his strange adventures,
Ended all his wily dodges,
All his plottings and his schemings,
And his hecatombs of Zulus!
From Snatches of Song, by F. B. Doveton, 1880.