| |
| THESE were my companions going forth by night— | |
| (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) | |
| Now come I to whistle them the ending of the fight. | |
| (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) | |
| Word they gave me overhead of quarry newly slain, | 5 |
| Word I gave them underfoot of buck upon the plain. | |
| Here’s an end of every trail—they shall not speak again! | |
| |
| They that cried the hunting-cry—they that followed fast— | |
| (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) | |
| They that bade the sambhur wheel, or pinned him as he passed— | 10 |
| (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) | |
| They that lagged behind the scent—they that ran before, | |
| They that shunned the level horn—they that over-bore. | |
| Here’s an end of every trail—they shall not follow more. | |
| |
| These were my companions. Pity ’twas they died! | 15 |
| (For Chil! Look you, for Chil!) | |
| Now come I to comfort them that knew them in their pride. | |
| (Chil! Vanguards of Chil!) | |
| Tattered flank and sunken eye, open mouth and red, | |
| Locked and lank and lone they lie, the dead upon their dead. | 20 |
| Here’s an end of every trail—and here my hosts are fed! | |
| |
