They slumber 'neath a lonely hill,
And o'er the long brown grass
Sunlight and flickering shadow pass,
Where everything is still.
Syringa blossoms strew their tombs
Blown by the sea-borne breeze:
In golden mist Kahlamba looms
Beyond the scented trees.
No volleys break the stillness now,
The din of Death is o'er;
His harvest 'neath this stony brow
Is God's for evermore.
Oh! comrades, in this fleeting life
Give one short hour to dreams
Of our dear dead who fell in strife
Where the Inyoni gleams.