I dreamed that I saw the boy Chaka who struck me: he was grown like a giant.

He stalked across the mountains and the veldt, his eyes blazed like the lightning, and in his hand he shook a little assegai that was red with blood.

He caught up people after people in his hands and tore them, he stamped their kraals flat with his feet.

Before him was the green of summer, behind him the land was black as when the fires have eaten the grass.

I saw our people, Mopo; they were many and fat, their hearts laughed, the men were brave, the girls were fair; I counted their children by the hundreds.