Wolfghosts (In Winter)

Beyond the invisible girdle of north
 Lies the well-hidden castle of frost
 And the paths to its towers, carved in ice.
 Are guarded by wolves of ominous size.
 Great are their numbers in winter's realm
 And great is their strength by all the accounts
 And nobody passes the borders unseen
 By the fiery eyes of the servants of wild
 Yet some of the evil spirits
 Those most unobedient and vile
 Have been cast out of the enchanted domain
 And doomed to forever roam the land
 When full-moon casts its evil beams
 On silent forests and ice-clad streams
 Unlucky travellers may then hear
 A chilling howl of anger afar
 There the downfallen children of snow
 Each of the twelve expelled once
 Have gathered a threatening army of wolves
 To avenge upon mankind the curse laid on them
 People of highlands, men of the north - folk of fierce courage,
 endurance and might - yet even
 They fear the onslaughts of the phantoms at night, and above
 all their leaders, whom they
 named wolfghosts - dreadful masters with white on their breast
 and bellow-like nostrils,
 inclined for warm flesh
 And when over the sinister mountains of north
 Storms forth a raging blizzard of frost
 Through the snowclouds may sometimes be seen
 Foggy shades of rushing terrible beasts
 Ahead of the flock leaps a tremendous wolf -
 one of the twelve in hunger and wrath
 Gnashing its fangs of iron and steel,
 whilst leading the majestic legion of night
 Pity to those forlorn who may ever perceive
 The triumphant king of the nebular herd...