A Lay of Lachen.
The purple shadows upward crept
On Sikkim's mountains blue,
The snows their solemn vigil kept
Those stately watchers true.
The frosted peaks of Chola gleamed.
Broken and bare and bold,
On the glittering crest of Kinchin streamed
The sun-light clear and cold.
The fleeting clouds brief shadows flung
On mighty Junnoo's brow, or hung
On Pindim's forehead near;
And Donkia's beetling bastions frowned
A silent warning far around:
No foot may venture here.
The light air bore the sullen roar
Of Rungit rushing by;
And Bengal's Lord in thought was deep
As he gazed across the mountains steep
And he spake his counsel high:—
"No travellers come from far Tibet,
From the mystic land no tidings yet
For many a month are sent;
No more the tinkling bells ring clear;
On Lingtu's heights, by Bedden's mere;
On Jelep's path no step resounds
No smoke at even upward bounds
From weary trader's tent.