The earth and sky held counsel one night,
And called their messengers from northern height.
And came they, the storm fiends, the bleak and the cold,
They, who the stormwinds in grim fingers hold.
They swept o’er the earth, and then they called forth
That glist’ning maid from the far Polar North
In white trailing robe, the Queen of the Snow
And she sent her flutt’ring plumed children below.
And downward they flew in wile, whirling showers,
While in black masses hung threat’ning the sky.
Some were large cruel sharp-stinging flowers
Some pierced his chest with a fierce-cutting eye.
Thus stormfiends, snow and icy frost blending
Came cold and sharply upon him descending.
On his half nude form these shapes did alight.
And tried with his single thin garments to tight.
But Milarepa, the Snow-mountain’s child
Feared no their onslaughts, so cruel and wild.
Though they attacked him most fiercely and grim,
He only smiled – they had no power over him.