There is a daring insolence, morbid vanity, and huge description in this song of Panda, that make one feel like admitting that the sable bard did his work of flattery quite cleverly. It should not be forgotten by the reader, that, in the translation of these songs, much is lost of their original beauty and perspicuity. The following song was composed to celebrate the war triumphs of Dinga, and is, withal, exciting, and possessed of good movement. It is, in some instances, much like the one quoted above:-- "Thou needy offspring of Umpikazi, Eyer of the cattle of men; Bird of Maube, fleet as a bullet, Sleek, erect, of beautiful parts; Thy cattle like the comb of the bees; O head too large, too huddled to move; Devourer of Moselekatze, son of Machobana; Devourer of 'Swazi, son of Sobuza; Breaker of the gates of Machobana; Devourer of Gundave of Machobana; A monster in size, of mighty power; Devourer of Ungwati of ancient race; Devourer of the kingly Uomape; Like heaven above, raining and shining." The poet has seen fit to refer to the early life of his hero, to call attention to his boundless riches, and, finally, to celebrate his war achievements. It is highly descriptive, and in the Kaffir language is quite beautiful. Tchaka sings a song himself, the ambitious sentiments of which would have been worthy of Alexander the Great or Napoleon Bonaparte. He had carried victory on his spear throughout all Kaffir-land. Everywhere the tribes had bowed their submissive necks to his yoke; everywhere he was hailed as king. But out of employment he was not happy. He sighed for more tribes to conquer, and thus delivered himself:-- "Thou hast finished, finished the nations! Where will you go out to battle now? Hey! where will you go out to battle now? Thou hast conquered kings! Where are you going to battle now? Thou hast finished, finished the nations! Where are you going to battle now? Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah! Where are you going to battle now?" There is really something modern in this deep lament of the noble savage! The following war song of the Wollof, though it lacks the sonorous and metrical elements of real poetry, contains true military aggressiveness, mixed with the theology of the fatalist. A WAR SONG. "I go in front. I fear not death. I am not afraid. If I die, I will take my blood to bathe my head. "The man who fears nothing marches always in front, and is never hit by the murderous ball. The coward hides himself behind a bush, and is killed. "Go to the battle. It is not lead that kills. It is Fate which strikes us, and which makes us die." Mr. Reade says of the musicians he met up the Senegal,--