章节正文
though my mother is dead by witchcraft. See, he takes snuff to bring
tears to his eyes that are dry with wickedness. Take him away, the
heartless brute! Oh, take him away!"
So this one also was killed, and these were but the first of
thousands, for presently Chaka grew mad with wickedness, with fury,
and with the lust of blood. He walked to and fro, weeping, going now
and again into his hut to drink beer, and I with him, for he said that
we who sorrowed must have food. And ever as he walked he would wave
his arm or his assegai, saying, "Take them away, the heartless brutes,
who do not weep because my mother is dead," and those who chanced to
stand before his arm were killed, till at length the slayers could
slay no more, and themselves were slain, because their strength had
failed them, and they had no more tears. And I also, I must slay, lest
if I slew not I should myself be slain.
And now, at length, the people also went mad with their thirst and the
fury of their fear. They fell upon each other, killing each other;
every man who had a foe sought him out and killed him. None were
spared, the place was but a shambles; there on that day died full
seven thousand men, and still Chaka walked weeping among them, saying,
"Take them away, the heartless brutes, take them away!" Yet, my
father, there was cunning in his cruelty, for though he destroyed many
for sport alone, also he slew on this day all those whom he hated or
whom he feared.
At length the night came down, the sun sank red that day, all the sky
was like blood, and blood was all the earth beneath. Then the killing
ceased, because none had now the strength to kill, and the people lay
panting in heaps upon the ground, the living and the dead together. I
looked at them, and saw that if they were not allowed to eat and
drink, before day dawned again the most of them would be dead, and I
spoke to the king, for I cared little in that hour if I lived or died;
even my hope of vengeance was forgotten in the sickness of my heart.
"A mourning indeed, O King," I said, "a merry mourning for true-
hearted men, but for wizards a mourning such as they do not love. I
think that thy sorrows are avenged, O King, thy sorrows and mine
also."
"Not so, Mopo," answered the king, "this is but the beginning; our
mourning was merry to-day, it shall be merrier to-morrow."
"To-morrow, O King, few will be left to mourn; for the land will be
swept of men."
"Why, Mopo, son of Makedama? But a few have perished of all the
thousands who are gathered together. Number the people and they will
not be missed."
"But a few have died beneath the assegai and the kerrie, O King. Yet
hunger and thirst shall finish the spear's work. The people have
neither eaten nor drunk for a day and a night, and for a day and a
night they have wailed and moaned. Look without, Black One, there they
lie in heaps with the dead. By to-morrow's light they also will be
dead or dying."
Now, Chaka thought awhile, and he saw that the work would go too far,
leaving him but a small people over whom to rule.
"It is hard, Mopo," he said, "that thou and I must mourn alone over
our woes while these dogs feast and make merry. Yet, because of the
gentleness of my heart, I will deal gently with them. Go out, son of
Makedama, and bid my children eat and drink if they have the heart,
for this mourning is ended. Scarcely will Unandi, my mother, sleep
well, seeing that so little blood has been shed on her grave--surely
her spirit will haunt my dreams. Yet, because of the gentleness of my
heart, I declare this mourning ended. Let my children eat and drink,
if, indeed, they have the heart."
"Happy are the people over whom such a king is set," I said in answer.
Then I went out and told the words of Chaka to the chiefs and
captains, and those of them who had the voice left to them praised the
goodness of the king. But the most gave over sucking the dew from
their sticks, and rushed to the water like cattle that have wandered
five days in the desert, and drank their fill. Some of them were
trampled to death in the water.
Afterwards I slept as I might best; it was not well, my father, for I
knew that Chaka was not yet gutted with slaughter.
On the morrow many of the people went back to their homes, having
sought leave from the king, others drew away the dead to the place of
bones, and yet others were sent out in impis to kill such as had not
come to the mourning of the king. When midday was past, Chaka said
that he would walk, and ordered me and other of his indunas and
servants to walk with him. We went on in silence, the king leaning on
my shoulder as on a stick. "What of thy people, Mopo," he said at
length, "what of the Langeni tribe? Were they at my mourning? I did
not see them."
Then I answered that I did not know, they had been summoned, but the
way was long and the time short for so many to march so far.
"Dogs should run swiftly when their master calls, Mopo, my servant,"
said Chaka, and the dreadful light came into his eyes that never shone
in the eyes of any other man. Then I grew sick at heart, my father--
ay, though I loved my people little, and they had driven me away, I
grew sick at heart. Now we had come to a spot where there is a great
rift of black rock, and the name of that rift is U'Donga-lu-ka-
Tatiyana. On either side of this donga the ground slopes steeply down
towards its yawning lips, and from its end a man may see the open
country. Here Chaka sat down at the end of the rift, pondering.
Presently he looked up and saw a vast multitude of men, women, and
children, who wound like a snake across the plain beneath towards the
kraal Gibamaxegu.
"I think, Mopo," said the king, "that by the colour of their shields,
yonder should be the Langeni tribe--thine own people, Mopo."
"It is my people, O King," I answered.
Then Chaka sent messengers, runningswiftly, and bade them summon the
Langeni people to him where he sat. Other messengers he sent also to
the kraal, whispering in their ears, but what he said I did not know
then.
Now, for a while, Chaka watched the long black snake of men winding
towards him across the plain till the messengers met them and the
snake began to climb the slope of the hill.
"How many are these people of thine, Mopo?" asked the king.
"I know not, O Elephant," I answered, "who have not seen them for many
years. Perhaps they number three full regiments."
"Nay, more," said the king; "what thinkest thou, Mopo, would this
people of thine fill the rift behind us?" and he nodded at the gulf of
stone.
Now, my father, I trembled in all my flesh, seeing the purpose of
Chaka; but I could find no words to say, for my tongue clave to the
roof of my mouth.
"The people are many," said Chaka, "yet, Mopo, I bet thee fifty head
of cattle that they will not fill the donga."
"The king is pleased to jest," I said.
"Yea, Mopo, I jest; yet as a jest take thou the bet."
"As the king wills," I murmured--who could not refuse. Now the people
of my tribe drew near: at their head was an old man, with white hair
and beard, and, looking at him, I knew him for my father, Makedama.
When he came within earshot of the king, he gave him the royal salute
of Bayete, and fell upon his hands and knees, crawling towards him,
and konzaed to the king, praising him as he came. All the thousands of
the people also fell on their hands and knees, and praised the king
aloud, and the sound of their praising was like the sound of a great
thunder.
At length Makedama, my father, writhing on his breast like a snake,
lay before the majesty of the king. Chaka bade him rise, and greeted
him kindly; but all the thousands of the people yet lay upon their
breasts beating the dust with their heads.
"Rise, Makedama, my child, father of the people of the Langeni," said
Chaka, "and tell me why art thou late in coming to my mourning?"
"The way was far, O King," answered Makedama, my father, who did not
know me. "The way was far and the time short. Moreover, the women and
the children grew weary and footsore, and they are weary in this
hour."
"Speak not of it, Makedama, my child," said the king. "Surely thy
heart mourned and that of thy people, and soon they shall rest from
their weariness. Say, are they here every one?"
"Every one, O Elephant!--none are wanting. My kraals are desolate, the
cattle wander untended on the hills, birds pick at the unguarded
crops."
"It is well, Makedama, thou faithful servant! Yet thou wouldst mourn
with me an hour--is it not so? Now, hearken! Bid thy people pass to
the right and to the left of me, and stand in all their numbers upon
the slopes of the grass that run down to the lips of the rift."
So Makedama, my father, bade the people do the bidding of the king,
for neither he nor the indunas saw his purpose, but I, who knew his
wicked heart, I saw it. Then the people filed past to the right and to
the left by hundreds and by thousands, and presently the grass of the
slopes could be seen no more, because of their number. When all had
passed, Chaka spoke again to Makedama, my father, bidding him climb
down to the bottom of the donga, and thence lift up his voice in
mourning. The old man obeyed the king. Slowly, and with much pain, he
clambered to the bottom of the rift and stood there. It was so deep
and narrow that the light scarcely seemed to reach to where he stood,
for I could only see the white of his hair gleaming far down in the
shadows.
Then, standing far beneath, he lifted up his voice, and it reached the
thousands of those who clustered upon the slopes. It seemed still and
small, yet it came to them faintly like the voice of one speaking from
a mountain-top in a time of snow:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama!"
And all the thousands of the people--men, women, and children--echoed
his words in a thunder of sound, crying:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama!"
Again he cried:--
"Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!"
And the thousands answered:--
"Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!"
A third time came his voice:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama, mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with
the whole world!
"Howl, ye warriors; weep, ye women; beat your breasts, ye maidens;
sob, ye little children!
"Drink of the water of tears, cover yourselves with the dust of
affliction.
"Mourn, O tribe of the Langeni, because the Mother of the Heavens is
no more.
"Mourn, children of Makedama, because the Spirit of Fruitfulness is no
more.
"Mourn, O ye people, because the Lion of the Zulu is left so desolate.
"Let your tears fall as the rain falls, let your cries be as the cries
of women who bring forth.
"For sorrow is fallen like the rain, the world has conceived and
brought forth death.
"Great darkness is upon us, darkness and the shadow of death.
"The Lion of the Zulu wanders and wanders in desolation, because the
Mother of the Heavens is no more.
"Who shall bring him comfort? There is comfort in the crying of his
children.
"Mourn, people of the Langeni; let the voice of your mourning beat
against the skies and rend them.
"Ou-ai! Ou-ai! Ou-ai!"
Thus sang the old man, my father Makedama, far down in the deeps of
the cleft. He sang it in a still, small voice, but, line after line,
his song was caught up by the thousands who stood on the slopes above,
and thundered to the heavens till the mountains shook with its sound.
Moreover, the noise of their crying opened the bosom of a heavy rain-
cloud that had gathered as they mourned, and the rain fell in great
slow drops, as though the sky also wept, and with the rain came
lightning and the roll of thunder.
Chaka listened, and large tears coursed down his cheeks, whose heart
was easily stirred by the sound of song. Now the rain hissed fiercely,
tears to his eyes that are dry with wickedness. Take him away, the
heartless brute! Oh, take him away!"
So this one also was killed, and these were but the first of
thousands, for presently Chaka grew mad with wickedness, with fury,
and with the lust of blood. He walked to and fro, weeping, going now
and again into his hut to drink beer, and I with him, for he said that
we who sorrowed must have food. And ever as he walked he would wave
his arm or his assegai, saying, "Take them away, the heartless brutes,
who do not weep because my mother is dead," and those who chanced to
stand before his arm were killed, till at length the slayers could
slay no more, and themselves were slain, because their strength had
failed them, and they had no more tears. And I also, I must slay, lest
if I slew not I should myself be slain.
And now, at length, the people also went mad with their thirst and the
fury of their fear. They fell upon each other, killing each other;
every man who had a foe sought him out and killed him. None were
spared, the place was but a shambles; there on that day died full
seven thousand men, and still Chaka walked weeping among them, saying,
"Take them away, the heartless brutes, take them away!" Yet, my
father, there was cunning in his cruelty, for though he destroyed many
for sport alone, also he slew on this day all those whom he hated or
whom he feared.
At length the night came down, the sun sank red that day, all the sky
was like blood, and blood was all the earth beneath. Then the killing
ceased, because none had now the strength to kill, and the people lay
panting in heaps upon the ground, the living and the dead together. I
looked at them, and saw that if they were not allowed to eat and
drink, before day dawned again the most of them would be dead, and I
spoke to the king, for I cared little in that hour if I lived or died;
even my hope of vengeance was forgotten in the sickness of my heart.
"A mourning indeed, O King," I said, "a merry mourning for true-
hearted men, but for wizards a mourning such as they do not love. I
think that thy sorrows are avenged, O King, thy sorrows and mine
also."
"Not so, Mopo," answered the king, "this is but the beginning; our
mourning was merry to-day, it shall be merrier to-morrow."
"To-morrow, O King, few will be left to mourn; for the land will be
swept of men."
"Why, Mopo, son of Makedama? But a few have perished of all the
thousands who are gathered together. Number the people and they will
not be missed."
"But a few have died beneath the assegai and the kerrie, O King. Yet
hunger and thirst shall finish the spear's work. The people have
neither eaten nor drunk for a day and a night, and for a day and a
night they have wailed and moaned. Look without, Black One, there they
lie in heaps with the dead. By to-morrow's light they also will be
dead or dying."
Now, Chaka thought awhile, and he saw that the work would go too far,
leaving him but a small people over whom to rule.
"It is hard, Mopo," he said, "that thou and I must mourn alone over
our woes while these dogs feast and make merry. Yet, because of the
gentleness of my heart, I will deal gently with them. Go out, son of
Makedama, and bid my children eat and drink if they have the heart,
for this mourning is ended. Scarcely will Unandi, my mother, sleep
well, seeing that so little blood has been shed on her grave--surely
her spirit will haunt my dreams. Yet, because of the gentleness of my
heart, I declare this mourning ended. Let my children eat and drink,
if, indeed, they have the heart."
"Happy are the people over whom such a king is set," I said in answer.
Then I went out and told the words of Chaka to the chiefs and
captains, and those of them who had the voice left to them praised the
goodness of the king. But the most gave over sucking the dew from
their sticks, and rushed to the water like cattle that have wandered
five days in the desert, and drank their fill. Some of them were
trampled to death in the water.
Afterwards I slept as I might best; it was not well, my father, for I
knew that Chaka was not yet gutted with slaughter.
On the morrow many of the people went back to their homes, having
sought leave from the king, others drew away the dead to the place of
bones, and yet others were sent out in impis to kill such as had not
come to the mourning of the king. When midday was past, Chaka said
that he would walk, and ordered me and other of his indunas and
servants to walk with him. We went on in silence, the king leaning on
my shoulder as on a stick. "What of thy people, Mopo," he said at
length, "what of the Langeni tribe? Were they at my mourning? I did
not see them."
Then I answered that I did not know, they had been summoned, but the
way was long and the time short for so many to march so far.
"Dogs should run swiftly when their master calls, Mopo, my servant,"
said Chaka, and the dreadful light came into his eyes that never shone
in the eyes of any other man. Then I grew sick at heart, my father--
ay, though I loved my people little, and they had driven me away, I
grew sick at heart. Now we had come to a spot where there is a great
rift of black rock, and the name of that rift is U'Donga-lu-ka-
Tatiyana. On either side of this donga the ground slopes steeply down
towards its yawning lips, and from its end a man may see the open
country. Here Chaka sat down at the end of the rift, pondering.
Presently he looked up and saw a vast multitude of men, women, and
children, who wound like a snake across the plain beneath towards the
kraal Gibamaxegu.
"I think, Mopo," said the king, "that by the colour of their shields,
yonder should be the Langeni tribe--thine own people, Mopo."
"It is my people, O King," I answered.
Then Chaka sent messengers, runningswiftly, and bade them summon the
Langeni people to him where he sat. Other messengers he sent also to
the kraal, whispering in their ears, but what he said I did not know
then.
Now, for a while, Chaka watched the long black snake of men winding
towards him across the plain till the messengers met them and the
snake began to climb the slope of the hill.
"How many are these people of thine, Mopo?" asked the king.
"I know not, O Elephant," I answered, "who have not seen them for many
years. Perhaps they number three full regiments."
"Nay, more," said the king; "what thinkest thou, Mopo, would this
people of thine fill the rift behind us?" and he nodded at the gulf of
stone.
Now, my father, I trembled in all my flesh, seeing the purpose of
Chaka; but I could find no words to say, for my tongue clave to the
roof of my mouth.
"The people are many," said Chaka, "yet, Mopo, I bet thee fifty head
of cattle that they will not fill the donga."
"The king is pleased to jest," I said.
"Yea, Mopo, I jest; yet as a jest take thou the bet."
"As the king wills," I murmured--who could not refuse. Now the people
of my tribe drew near: at their head was an old man, with white hair
and beard, and, looking at him, I knew him for my father, Makedama.
When he came within earshot of the king, he gave him the royal salute
of Bayete, and fell upon his hands and knees, crawling towards him,
and konzaed to the king, praising him as he came. All the thousands of
the people also fell on their hands and knees, and praised the king
aloud, and the sound of their praising was like the sound of a great
thunder.
At length Makedama, my father, writhing on his breast like a snake,
lay before the majesty of the king. Chaka bade him rise, and greeted
him kindly; but all the thousands of the people yet lay upon their
breasts beating the dust with their heads.
"Rise, Makedama, my child, father of the people of the Langeni," said
Chaka, "and tell me why art thou late in coming to my mourning?"
"The way was far, O King," answered Makedama, my father, who did not
know me. "The way was far and the time short. Moreover, the women and
the children grew weary and footsore, and they are weary in this
hour."
"Speak not of it, Makedama, my child," said the king. "Surely thy
heart mourned and that of thy people, and soon they shall rest from
their weariness. Say, are they here every one?"
"Every one, O Elephant!--none are wanting. My kraals are desolate, the
cattle wander untended on the hills, birds pick at the unguarded
crops."
"It is well, Makedama, thou faithful servant! Yet thou wouldst mourn
with me an hour--is it not so? Now, hearken! Bid thy people pass to
the right and to the left of me, and stand in all their numbers upon
the slopes of the grass that run down to the lips of the rift."
So Makedama, my father, bade the people do the bidding of the king,
for neither he nor the indunas saw his purpose, but I, who knew his
wicked heart, I saw it. Then the people filed past to the right and to
the left by hundreds and by thousands, and presently the grass of the
slopes could be seen no more, because of their number. When all had
passed, Chaka spoke again to Makedama, my father, bidding him climb
down to the bottom of the donga, and thence lift up his voice in
mourning. The old man obeyed the king. Slowly, and with much pain, he
clambered to the bottom of the rift and stood there. It was so deep
and narrow that the light scarcely seemed to reach to where he stood,
for I could only see the white of his hair gleaming far down in the
shadows.
Then, standing far beneath, he lifted up his voice, and it reached the
thousands of those who clustered upon the slopes. It seemed still and
small, yet it came to them faintly like the voice of one speaking from
a mountain-top in a time of snow:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama!"
And all the thousands of the people--men, women, and children--echoed
his words in a thunder of sound, crying:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama!"
Again he cried:--
"Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!"
And the thousands answered:--
"Mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with the whole world!"
A third time came his voice:--
"Mourn, children of Makedama, mourn, people of the Langeni, mourn with
the whole world!
"Howl, ye warriors; weep, ye women; beat your breasts, ye maidens;
sob, ye little children!
"Drink of the water of tears, cover yourselves with the dust of
affliction.
"Mourn, O tribe of the Langeni, because the Mother of the Heavens is
no more.
"Mourn, children of Makedama, because the Spirit of Fruitfulness is no
more.
"Mourn, O ye people, because the Lion of the Zulu is left so desolate.
"Let your tears fall as the rain falls, let your cries be as the cries
of women who bring forth.
"For sorrow is fallen like the rain, the world has conceived and
brought forth death.
"Great darkness is upon us, darkness and the shadow of death.
"The Lion of the Zulu wanders and wanders in desolation, because the
Mother of the Heavens is no more.
"Who shall bring him comfort? There is comfort in the crying of his
children.
"Mourn, people of the Langeni; let the voice of your mourning beat
against the skies and rend them.
"Ou-ai! Ou-ai! Ou-ai!"
Thus sang the old man, my father Makedama, far down in the deeps of
the cleft. He sang it in a still, small voice, but, line after line,
his song was caught up by the thousands who stood on the slopes above,
and thundered to the heavens till the mountains shook with its sound.
Moreover, the noise of their crying opened the bosom of a heavy rain-
cloud that had gathered as they mourned, and the rain fell in great
slow drops, as though the sky also wept, and with the rain came
lightning and the roll of thunder.
Chaka listened, and large tears coursed down his cheeks, whose heart
was easily stirred by the sound of song. Now the rain hissed fiercely,
- presently [´prezəntli]
ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词) - thirst [θə:st] n.渴，口渴；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- cunning [´kʌniŋ] a.&n.狡猾(诡诈)的 (初中英语单词)
- sickness [´siknis] n.生病；呕吐，恶心 (初中英语单词)
- mourning [´mɔ:niŋ] n.悲伤；治丧；戴孝 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- awhile [ə´wail] ad.少顷；片刻 (初中英语单词)
- gently [´dʒentli] ad.温和地；静静地 (初中英语单词)
- swiftly [´swiftli] ad.迅速地，敏捷地 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- driven [´driv(ə)n] drive 的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- multitude [´mʌltitju:d] n.大群(批)；众多 (初中英语单词)
- running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- majesty [´mædʒisti] n.壮丽；崇高；尊严 (初中英语单词)
- moreover [mɔ:´rəuvə] ad.再者，此外，而且 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- thence [ðens] ad.从那里；因此 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- thunder [´θʌndə] n.雷 vi.打雷 vt.吼出 (初中英语单词)
- fiercely [´fiəsli] ad.凶猛地，残忍地 (初中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- cruelty [´kru:əlti] n.残忍；残酷行为 (高中英语单词)
- vengeance [´vendʒəns] n.报复，复仇 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- summon [´sʌmən] vt.召集；号召 (高中英语单词)
- desolate [´desəleit] a.荒凉的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- faintly [´feintli] ad.微弱地，软弱无力的 (高中英语单词)
- gentleness [´dʒentlnis] n.温和，温柔 (英语四级单词)
- morrow [´mɔrəu] n.翌日 (英语四级单词)
- midday [´middei] n.中午 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- desolation [desə´leiʃ(ə)n] n.荒凉 (英语四级单词)
- witchcraft [´witʃkrɑ:ft] n.巫术 (英语六级单词)
- weeping [´wi:piŋ] a.&n.哭泣(的) (英语六级单词)
- beating [´bi:tiŋ] n.敲；搅打；失败 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
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