ernal love ye have also seen.
Oft have ye heard the King make mention of his name,
As one born to win a hero's long-enduring fame.
'Tis needless to rehearse the deeds already done
By the stout arm of dead Mostana's princely son;
They are known to all the Watuta tribes around,
And all our most ambitious youths his praises sound.
Morula, King of Ubena, fell by his hand,
So died the false and cruel chief of Bemba land.
The rebel Bongo, tribal chief on Chuma plain,
Fell by Kalulu's spear, was by Kalulu slain.
When the Arab boy sank in the deep waters brown,
Gripped by the greedy crocodile, and sank deep down,
Who div'd to rescue him? Who but young Kalulu?
Who but the noblest, bravest son of Malungu!
The King swore to me,--the Mganga Soltali,
I,--who to him wedded my daughter Lamoli,
"None shall rule as King over Tuta's Kwikuru
But brave Mostana's son, my princely Kalulu!"
Now in council, your priests and elders do maintain
That o'er the Tuta tribes none may aspire to reign
Save brave Mostana's son, and the choice of Malungu.
We now proclaim him King. Long live King Kalulu!

The warriors gave a great shout, the drums thundered, and all the
warriors, the women, the children, the doctors, the councillors, and
elders cried "Long live King Kalulu!"

When silence prevailed, Kalulu stood up before the people, and while the
body swayed and the hands made gestures, according as his emotions
governed him, the young King might, by a stretch of fancy, have been
taken for a demi-god visiting a favoured people, teaching them the ways
of the wise, and urging them to abandon savage habits. While all
listened intently and admiringly, the elected chief spoke as follows:--

"Warriors of the Watuta, and ye elders and councillors! Ye have elected
me King, because I, the son of Mostana, was beloved by Katalambula, and
because he, being heirless, said to Soltali, `Since I have no son,
Kalulu shall reign in my stead, when I am laid in the ground.'
Katalambula has gone to his fathers; he was old, he was weighed down
with the burden of years, and loaded with honours; he is no more; the
cruel earth covers him. The King is dead, but ye have chosen me to fill
his place. I am young, I have not seen many moons, and I am not yet a
full warrior. How, then, shall I fill Katalambula's place? I will tell
you. Katalambula was good; he loved the good and hated the wrong. So
do I love the good and hat