The story of Bisesa, Armod's child, -- A maiden plighted to the Chief in War, The Man of Sixty Spears, who held the Pass That leads to Thibet, but to-day is gone To seek his comfort of the God called Budh The Silent -- showing how the Sickness ceased Because of her who died to save the tribe. Taman is One and greater than us all, Taman is One and greater than all Gods: Taman is Two in One and rides the sky, Curved like a stallion's croup, from dusk to dawn, And drums upon it with his heels, whereby Is bred the neighing thunder in the hills. This is Taman, the God of all Er-Heb, Who was before all Gods, and made all Gods, And presently will break the Gods he made, And step upon the Earth to govern men Who give him milk-dry ewes and cheat his Priests, Or leave his shrine unlighted -- as Er-Heb Left it unlighted and forgot Taman, When all the Valley followed after Kysh And Yabosh, little Gods but very wise, And from the sky Taman beheld their sin. He sent the Sickness out upon the hills, The Red Horse Sickness with the iron hooves, To turn the Valley to Taman again. And the Red Horse snuffed thrice into the wind, The naked wind that had no fear of him; And the Red Horse stamped thrice upon the snow, The naked snow that had no fear of him; And the Red Horse went out across the rocks, The ringing rocks that had no fear of him; And downward, where the lean birch meets the snow, And downward, where the gray pine meets the birch, And downward, where the dwarf oak meets the pine, Till at his feet our cup-like pastures lay. That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped, Dropped as a cloth upon a dead man's face, And weltered in the Valley, bluish-white Like water very silent -- spread abroad, Like water very silent, from the Shrine Unlighted of Taman to where the stream Is dammed to fill our cattle-troughs -- sent up White waves that rocked and heaved and then were still, Till all the Valley glittered like a marsh, Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist Knee-deep, so that men waded as they walked. That night, the Red Horse grazed above the Dam, Beyond the cattle-troughs. Men heard him feed, And those that heard him sickened where they lay. Thus came the Sickness to Er-Heb, and slew Ten men, strong men, and of the women four; And the Red Horse went hillward with the dawn, But near the cattle-troughs his hoof-prints lay. That night, the slow mists of the evening dropped, Dropped as a cloth upon the dead, but rose A little higher, to a young girl's height; Till all the Valley glittered like a lake, Beneath the moonlight, filled with sluggish mist. That night, the Red Horse grazed beyond the Dam, A stone's-throw from the troughs. Men heard him feed, And those that heard him sickened where they lay. Thus came the Sickness to Er-Heb, and slew Of men a score, and of the women eight, And of the children two.