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 called 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 overbore,
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!