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Keeper of the Southern Gateway, grim, rugged, gloomy and grand;

Warden of these wastes uncharted, as the years sweep on, you stand.

At your head the swinging smoke-cloud; at your feet the grinding ﬂoes;

Racked and seared by the inner fires, gripped close by the outer snows.

Proud, unconquered and unyielding, whilst the untold aeons passed,

Inviolate through the ages, your ramparts spurning the blast,

Till men impelled by a strong desire, broke through your icy bars;

Fierce was the fight to gain that height where your stern peak dares the stars.

You called your vassals to aid you, and the leaping blizzard rose,

Driving in furious eddies, blinding, stiﬂing, cruel snows.

The grasp of the numbing frost clutched hard at their hands and faces,

And the weird gloom made darker still dim seen perilous places.