EREBUS
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.
They, weary, wayworn, and sleepless, through the long withering night,
Grimly clung to your iron sides till with laggard Dawn came the light:
Both heart and brain upheld them, till the long-drawn strain was o’er,
Victors then on your crown they stood and gazed at the Western Shore;
The distant glory of that land in broad splendour lay unrolled,
With icefield, cape, and mountain height, flame rose in a sea of gold.
Oh! Herald of returning Suns to the waiting lands below;
Beacon to their home-seeking feet, far across the Southern snow.
In the Northland in the years to be, pale Winter’s first white sign
Will turn again their thoughts to thee, and the glamour that is thine.
Fourteen good and true.
