The Last West and Paolo's Virginia

Excerpt

Author's Introduction

  To you who have lifted the veil of mists o'er-blown
  And gazed in the eyes of dawn when night had flown—
  Have felt in your hearts a thrill of sheer delight
  As you scanned the scene below from some alpine height—
  I extend this fleeting glimpse across a world
  Of forest and meadow land—at last unfurled—
  Through vistas of soaring peaks with frosted crest
  In the fiorded wonderland of this—last—west.

October Daybreak on Boundary Bay

  A skyline bold and clear
    Of cold sharp corniced snow,
  Where, bulking huge, the mass of Baker's cone
    Shadows the world below.

  'Tis bright with promise now!
    That flood and field
  Still shrouded in the mystery of night,
    Will shortly be revealed.

  The wildfowl on the bay
    Call to the distant flight
  Of ducks, that swoop from out the realms of space,
    Seeking a place to light.

  Sounds through the waking hours
    The beating of countless wings,
  Faint voices floating through the upper air
    In softest whisperings.

  A blush of coming day
    Flooding the eastern sky,
  Fresh rosy Dawn climbing the rampart hills,
    Forces the night to fly:

  Then from his lair the sun
    Leaps forth. The fading gleam
  Of silver moon and silent stars is quenched.
    Day reigns once more supreme.

The Last Arete

  Alpinist—
    Excelsior, there's nought we may not dare!
    Why, now, confess defeat, when plain in sight
    Looms the stern peak—to which we've toiled and fought
    Up many a mountain gorge and soaring height?
    It were a shame if we should now go back
    And, leaving all we've won, retrace our track.

    Undaunted by the circling mists we camped,
    Laid siege; while hail and snow went storming by,
    Assaulted through the brilliant mists; that wrapped
    A veil, impenetrable to the eye,
    Around the wastes of ice, the snowfields bare
    And craggy peaks that pierce the upper air.

    We scorned to own defeat, when lost to sight,
    'Mid cloud and snowstorm, was that summit cold;
    But started out the morn e're yet the sun
    The highest cornices had edged with gold.
    See now! the noonday glare reveals our fate
    Above a rampart white and sharp arete.

  Guide—
    Crevasses open-mouthed have reft the face
    Of brightly gleaming ice, that upward led.
    Their clear green depths a gap impassable present
    Across the glacier slope ahead;
    Save on yon steep and scintillating slope
    Which promises success to axe and rope.

  Alpinist—
    Roped man to man we'll scale the giddy height:
    Step after step cut up those slopes of snow
    That, gleaming spotless in the noonday light,
    Curve out of sight above and far below.
    What rumbled? (G.) From yon distant cliff was hurled
    An avalanche which shakes this snowy world....