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Read Ebook: The Last West; and Paolo's Virginia by Warren G B
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Ebook has 195 lines and 10587 words, and 4 pages
October Daybreak on Boundary Bay The Last Arete The Great Divide Above the Clouds Winter Sunset in the Cascade Range Beside the Ocstall Jansen's Curse The Survey Cook A Raid on the Seal Rookeries The Coast of British Columbia Vancouver Victoria, B. C.
Paolo's Virginia
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? From yon distant cliff was hurled An avalanche which shakes this snowy world.
Guide-- The rocks I've gained through chimneys rough and steep That crumble at a careless touch, and send A rattling train of rubble bounding down The icy slopes, which great crevasses rend. Re-entrant over here the mountain dips Into a gulf, which eddying mists eclipse.
Perched on this tottering and steep arete, One hardly dares to even whisper low; Lest, crashing from their crumbling pedestals, The rotten crags through empty space will go Two thousand feet down, where the hard neve Is packed by ice that avalanched that way.
The highest of a glacier covered range, Its proud and lofty crest at length hath bowed Before the bold attack of alpinists Undaunted by the steeps or storm or cloud; and all the dangers than in grim array The spirit of the mountain brought to play.
The Great Divide
What strange emotions fill my breast! What flitting shadows of unrest Sweep o'er me as I stand beside The Rocky Mountains' "Great Divide."
That rustic arch, with letters bold Against the summit snowfields cold, Has power to wing my fancy far To this split streamlet's furthest bar.
The icy flood is cleft in twain, Its waters never meet again; Far east and to the furthest west Those wavelets hurry without rest.
The mind can hardly grasp such vast Extent of territory passed E're these two streams shall reach the sea, At different oceans to be free.
Through valleys wide and fertile plain, Where yellow fields of waving grain Are garnered for the wide world's store, One stream flows to a distant shore.
May be that harnessed it will drive The wheels which in some human hive Of industry are waiting for The power that it holds in store
Such small beginnings mark this stream, It almost seems to be a dream That carries me in mind away Along its course to Hudson's Bay.
The silv'ry salmon leaps the falls; And everywhere insistent calls Arise from forest, stream and hill, To charm the sense or test the skill.
Oft times by restlessness oppressed, I long to see that lonely crest; And once again to dream beside The arch, that's lettered "Great Divide."
A watershed of the Rockies--a stream passing beneath an arch on the summit is divided, one part being directed eastward and the other westward.
Above the Clouds
On the shores of a sea of mist I chanced to roam, Where sunlit the surface gleamed Whiter than foam.
But the voice of the restless main Was absent there, For the billows that rolled along Were waves of air;
And the isles of that silent sea Were mountain peaks That, far from the haunts of man, The wild goat seeks.
O, that day above the clouds Was bright and fair! With pines and the sparkling snow Unsullied there;
But, a thousand fathoms down A city street Was shrouded in sunless gloom Where shadows meet;
It knew not the fairer day And matchless view; That snowfields gleamed above And skies were blue:
That the clouds which gloomed below Were seas of light From another point of view At greater height.
Winter Sunset in the Cascade Range
Picture a world of snowfields Aglow in the sunset light, Great fir trees snow-flake laden And broken clouds piled white; While bathed in a silver sheen The pines on a crest are seen.
Would I could frame the language Worthy those sunset tints, Hued from saffron to coral, Aflame where the sunlight glints; And the clear steel blue of the sky Where the clouds had drifted by.
The daylight slowly faded. Weakly mere words convey The ivory white of snowflakes, Decking the hills that day; And the softening yellow tone That fell from the sun god's throne.
Far beyond wooded ridges Lit with a twilight ray, Sentinel like in the cloudland A nameless peak held sway; Keeping a silent guard O'er valleys by cloud wreaths barred.
'Twas crowned with flaming colours Of sunset's fleeting hour; Giving its best expression To nature's lavish dower E're the ebbing tide of day Should fade from the world away.
Then light melted softly to shadow And the blue of the sky turned grey, While a veil of deepening twilight Warned us to haste away, For the winter nights are bleak In the wilds by that lonely peak.
Beside the Ocstall
I mused one day beside the Ocstall River Where trailing mists went drifting softly by; And waterfalls in thunderous voices calling, Their vaporous breath raised to a burdened sky.
What mystic spell? what strange compelling passion Did hold the sons of Britain toiling there? What charm was there in that great lonely region Enticing them from distant lands, more fair?
Fantastic cloud wreaths draped a sea of mountains: Forest and muskeg in the vales held sway; To win a fortune from those wild surroundings Men came, then could not from them break away.
They tried the lands where everlasting sunshine Caressed lush fruits and kissed the waves at play; But no place gripped them like this western outpost Where men with large ambitions hewed their way.
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