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117
R. L. Nettleship.
DIED ON MOUNT BLANC, AUGUST 25TH, 1892.
When God from off life's perilous slope doth call
His men of humble heart to go up higher,
He sends for this the chariot wheels of fire,
For that the torrent thundering to the fall,
Snow-avalanche, ice-plumed wings of storm; and all
Who hear the dreadful courier coming nigher
Sink into silence, leave their last desire
Dumb before One who holdeth speech in thrall.
His men of humble heart to go up higher,
He sends for this the chariot wheels of fire,
For that the torrent thundering to the fall,
Snow-avalanche, ice-plumed wings of storm; and all
Who hear the dreadful courier coming nigher
Sink into silence, leave their last desire
Dumb before One who holdeth speech in thrall.
But this brave soul of pure unselfishness
Sang till the dawn to cheer his comrade band,
Then marched right on to death upon the height,
And, since in alien tongue he needs must bless,
Reached dying hands with longing infinite
Which spake farewells that all might understand.
Sang till the dawn to cheer his comrade band,
Then marched right on to death upon the height,
And, since in alien tongue he needs must bless,
Reached dying hands with longing infinite
Which spake farewells that all might understand.
Through the terrible night of anxiety in the snow-pit on the Dome de Gouter the guides related how Mr. Nettleship kept up their courage and prevented them from falling asleep by constantly singing snatches of song to them. When in his brave desperate attempt to escape on the following morning, the cold and storm overwhelmed him—he stretched out his hands to his guides and speaking to them in a language they could not understand, shook them warmly by the hand, they thought that he thus wished to convey to them that he did not blame them for his death.
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