Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/143

Rh

The day was waning, and the crest Of Chomiomo paler grew,
 * As sank the sun into the west

And ever lengthening shadows threw The giants hoar between.
 * The north wind sharp and sharper blew,
 * The frost was piercing keen;

Night followed day, but still no sound Was heard the silent snow drift round
 * Of coming foot-steps, and no light

Of lantern or of torch did peer
 * Across the waste of gleaming white
 * To say that help was near.

No light had they, nor drink, nor meat Nor could they forward go or back; The drifts were deep around the track. The snow was thick around the feet; And night like a funeral pall lay black
 * On a snow winding sheet.

The moon rose slow, and pale, and sad
 * O'er the royal crest of Kinchinjow,

And Chomiomo's peak was clad
 * In the light that bathed his icy brow;

And a shimmering moonbeam sad caressed
 * Her white still face and summit proud

As they laid their weary limbs to rest
 * On her silent spreading shroud.

At length that awful night was past, No more they shuddered 'neath the blast; The morning smiled across the wild,
 * And the tentsmen followed fast.

Down Kongralamo's snowy waste
 * The Yaks with stately movement paced.

And five score swordsmen's weapons glanced
 * As Kamba's chieftain grave advanced

The mystic chorton past.