Victory would be their bride that night, and oh! her breast is fair.
Hark! the war-song, the Ingomo, the music of which has the power to drive men mad, rose far away to the left, and was thrown along from regiment to regiment--a rolling ball of sound-- We are the king's kine, bred to be butchered, You, too, are one of us! We are the Zulu, children of the Lion, What! did you tremble?
Suddenly Chaka was seen stalking through the ranks, followed by his captains, his indunas, and by me.

He walked along like a great buck; death was in his eyes, and like a buck he sniffed the air, scenting the air of slaughter.

He lifted his assegai, and a silence fell; only the sound of chanting still rolled along the hills.
"Where are the children of Zwide ?" he shouted, and his voice was like the voice of a bull.
"Yonder, father," answered the regiments.

And every spear pointed across the valley.
"They do not come," he shouted again.

"Shall we then sit here till we grow old ?" "No, father," they answered.