Itu, who led the Oash Gul to war,
Carved a great image from the mountain-pine,
Strung beads upon its neck and smeared its cheeks
With blood of slaughtered beasts, and called it God,
And set it in a cavern of the Hills,
Alone, and save for him who knew the path
Between the glacier and the sliding shale,
Remote, unseen and unapproachable.
Between the Council and the Day of Fight,
Between the Choosing and the Sacrifice,
Between the full-thought Plan and that he did,
ltu made pilgrimage across the snows
That guard the glacier and the sliding shale,
And called upon his God with mighty cries,
And looked into the white-shell eyes for sign.
And slew the beasts, and made the altar smoke,
Alone and in the cavern of the Hills.
And, as the night-wind sang about the rocks,
Or as the hill-stream thundered in the cleft,
Or as the river groaned beneath the snows,
So Itu read the answer of his God,
And warred against the foe or held his hand.