And now, to appease great Okee’s ire,
The priests with solemn care
Enter the sacred temple halls,
And mystic rites prepare--
Those sacred halls where priests perform
Their fearful mystery,
Places by far too holy deem’d
For other eyes to see--
Temples that shield from vulgar sight{18}
A thousand holy things,
Their idols, tombs, and images
Of great and ancient kings.
Out on a grassy, open spot,
Are fagots piled on high,
And leaping flame and rolling smoke
Are towering to the sky;
And there, to wait the priest’s return,
Hundreds are gather’d round,
To join the mystic revelry,
And dance on holy ground--
When lo! the solemn man comes forth{19}
With slow and measured tread;
A crown of snakes and weasel skins
Is borne upon his head;
Atop a tuft of feathers serves
To bind them in their place,
And serpent heads and weasel claws
Hang round his neck and face.
His naked shoulders and his breast
Are stain’d a blood-red hue,
And grim and blood-red is the mask
His fiery eyes look through.
The sacred weed is in his hand,{20}
That Okee’s favor wins,
Whose grateful odor hath the power
To expiate all sins;
He hurls it forth with sinewy arm
Into the hottest flame,
And thrice aloud in solemn tone
Invokes great Okee’s name.
At once they leap and form a ring,
With shout and hideous yell,
And round the flames they whirl and scream,
Like a thousand fiends of hell.
With strange contortions, flashing eyes,
And long and flying hair,
Around and round, for six long hours,{21}
They battle with the air.
And then again through every hall
The feast and song renew,
And all day long and all the night
Their festive mirth pursue.