Classic Poem

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.
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 —
( 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!
( 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.
Here's an end of every trail — and here my hosts are fed!