Consented that Little Thunder
Should marry her whom he sought,
But on several conditions--
The first that he should slay
And bring to him the head
Of a certain horrible monster,
Like to a wingless dragon,
The dreadful and horned Chipíchkâm.
So this was agreed upon,
Then the strangers went to their cabin
And all the world to sleep.
All save the wise Būʾūin
Who soon arose from his bed,
And went alone and afar,
Till he came to the den of the monster
In a gaping gulf in the ground.
Over the hole he laid
A mighty log, and began
The magic dance round the den;
Then the serpent or great Chipíchkâm,
Hearing the call, came forth,
Putting out his head from the hole,
And weaving it about
After the manner of snakes.
While he was doing this,
He rested his head for an instant
On the over-arching log,
When, with a blow of his hatchet
The Indian severed the neck;
Then, taking the head by one
Of its shining yellow horns,
He bore it to his friend
Who gave it in the morning
Unto the chief, who said:
“This time I fear indeed,
That I must lose my child,
Yet thou hast more to do.”
More indeed, for the chief
Said, “Look at yonder hill,
I fain would see my son
Coast down it on a sled.”
Now the hill was indeed a mountain.
Its sides were very steep,
Ragged with rocks and holes
And terrible with trees
And rough with snow and ice.
Then they brought out two toboggans,
One for the strangers. This
The Badger should direct;
While on the other sat
Two great and powerful men,
And these were Būʾūinuk
Or sorcerers who were skilled
In sledding, and they hoped
To see the others soon
Fall out upon the ground,
And then to run over them.
And at the word they went
Flying at fearful speed
Adown the mountain side,
And ever faster still
As if to headlong death.
Soon he who sought the girl
Went whirling from his sled,
And the two sorcerers howled
In triumph an hurrah!
For they knew not that this was done
By their enemy that he
Might get them before his sledge.
Then he put forth his arm,
And seizing the younger man
Turned for a pace aside,
And then again shot on.
Then the sorcerers stopped,
Thinking that those before
Were checked and at an end;
When lo! their enemy
In his sled shot over their heads,
And over a mighty wall
Of ice, as a bird might fly
High above all in the air;
Then, touching the ground once more,
Ran with tremendous speed,
First down into the vale,
Then up, and ever up
Upon the opposite hill
Where the village stood, till it struck
The wigwam of the chief,
Ripping it all in two.
Again the Sagamore said:
“This time I fear indeed
That I must lose my child:
Yet thou hast more to do!”
Yes, and far more to do:
For then the Sagamore said:
“I have a runner here,
A man so fleet of foot
That never in his life
Has he been overcome,
And thou must strive with him
And gain the victory
Ere thou canst win thy wife.”
So then the race was set,
And Thunder should compete,
But at the time his friend
Lent him the magic pipe
Which gave him wondrous power
Over all dark sorcery
Such as Būʾūinuk use
And witches dark and vile.
Now when the pair had met
The youth said: “Who art thou?”
And the sorcerer replied:
“I am the Wegaduskʾ;”
Which means the Northern Lights,
“But tell me who art thou?”
“I am Wosogwoesk,
Chain-lightning is my name,”
The Thunder answering said.
And, as the race was run
All in the early morn,
Then in an instant both
No longer were in sight.
They were far, far away
Beyond the distant hills;
Then, waiting, all sat still,
Till long before the noon
Chain-lightning came again;
He showed no weariness,
Nor was he out of breath,
Yet had gone through the world.
Then all sat still again
Till evening, when they saw
The Northern Light return
Completely, sadly tired;
He quivered and he shook
As beaten by fatigue,
Yet for all that the Light
Had not been through the world,
For, coming to the south,
The heat had sent him home.
Again the Sagamore said,
“This time I fear again
That I must lose my child,
Yet thou hast more to do.”
The Sagamore had a man
Whom none could overcome
In swimming of all kinds,
Or diving in the sea;
With him the youth must strive.
And when they met, the Badger
Asked him, “What is thy name?”
And he replied, “I am
Ukchigʾmûech (Sea Duck),
But tell me who art thou?”
He answerèd “The Kwîmû,”
That is, “the Loon,” and then
They dived from a high rock
Deep down into the sea.
Ere long the Sea Duck rose
Again to get his breath,
But long the Indians
Waited and watched until
They saw the Loon again.
An hour passed, and then
Another hour, before
He rose from the deep sea.
But when at last he came,
The Sagamore sadly said,
“This is the end of all
Our weary work, for now,
I have truly lost my child!”
Yet it was not the end
Of all the curious deeds
Which they beheld, before
The strangers took their leave.
For, when the wedding came
In the evening of that day,
There was a general dance,
A wild festivity,
At which the wizard bold
Astonished every one;
For as he danced around
On the hard beaten floor,
They saw his feet sink in
Deeper at every step,
And ever deeper still
As the strange dance went on,
Still ploughing up the ground
In ridges rough and high,
Forming a trench, until
His head and nothing more
Could from without be seen.
That ended all the dance,
Since no one after him
Save wizards or a witch
Could dance on such a floor.
The bridegroom and the bride,
With them the wizard bold,
Then entered the canoe
And sailed away toward home;
Yet they had more to meet,
And trials to endure,
Though of no dangerous kind;
’Tis said they were but jests
Played by the Master’s skill.
For they had not gone far,
When right before their path
They saw an awful storm
Coming to meet them. He
Who had the elfin power
Knew that it had been raised
By sorcery, because
The tempests which are due
To hidden magic power
Are ever worst of all.
So without fear he rose
And sang the sorcerer’s song,
And, filling lungs and cheeks
With air, he blew against
The rising hurricane,
Wind against wind until
He blew the wind away,
Then all the mighty flood
Was smooth as smooth could be:
So they sailed ever on
Over a sunlit sea,
And yet it was not long
Ere the elf-gifted one
Saw rising ’mid the waves
A dark and curious form,
That of a monstrous beast
Fast-coming as a foe,
And then they knew it was
The Giant Beaver, called
Kwâbît, in fearful rage;
But when the mighty one
Saw this, he sailed direct
Even at the monster’s jaws,
And, coming to him, said:
“Lo, I am the great foe
Of all thy race and called
The Beaver-Hunter; I,
Am he who butchers them;
Full many a one ere now
Has perished by my hand.”[19]
Kwâbît had placed himself
Under the water, with
His tail upraised above
The level of the waves,
That he might sink the barque
With one tremendous blow,
As is the Beaver’s way;
But he of magic power
With well directed stroke
Of the _tumîhîgʾn_, or
His tomahawk, then cut
The body from the tail,
Leaving the Beaver dead;
Then blithely sailed away.
Yet had they not gone far
When coming round a point
They saw another beast,
Also of giant size,
Waiting to be their death;
Abúkchelû the Skunk,
A thing which many dread
More than a raging wolf;
And he, too, had his tail
Uplifted in the air;
But, ere the brute could make
His hideous attack,
The wary gifted one
Caught up his hunting spear,
And, hurling it with haste,
So pierced Abúkchelû,
That father of the skunks,
That down he fell and died.
Thrice did he kick in pain
Before he passed away.
So then the gifted one,
Stepping upon the shore,
Took up a long dead pine
Which lay upon the shore,
And, as he stuck its point
Into Abúkchelû,
Lifted him high in air,
And, fastening the tree
Firmly into the ground,
Left him, and said with scorn,
Even as he turned away;
“Just show your tail now, there!”
And ever they sailed on
Over the silver sea,
O’er blue and dancing waves,
Till home they came with joy,
And at the landing place
They saw the Master stand;
And his first words were, “Well!
I see, my friends, that you
Have brought me my canoe
All safely back again.”
And they replied, “We have.”
And gayly he inquired
“Has all gone well with you?”
And when he thus had said,
He laughed and let them know
’Twas he in all their trials
And triumphs who had worked
And brought it all to pass.
Then to the gifted one
He said, “Now go in peace
Thy way with these thy friends;
Lead ever happy lives
There in the elfin world
Deep in the forest-shades,
Far in the silent land
Of flowers and mystery.
But of this thing be sure,
If any care should come
Unto you, think of me
And I will give you aid.”
They rose and went their way.
FOOTNOTES:
[18] All of this corresponds accurately to the ancient Greek and
Roman initiation to the Mysteries, in which the hair-string or fillet
played a prominent part. L.
[19] This is oddly like the declaration of the Beaver Killer in The
Hunting of the Snark, in fact, it is almost identical with it. But
the Rand MS. in which it occurs was written many years before the
latter work appeared.
III
KULÓSKAP AND THE FOOL
[_Micmac_]
_Kes saak: Nigumaach ut
Agunudumâkun Klûskâbel._[20]
“Of the old times the tale is,
A story of Kulóskap,”
Unto whom there went full many
When they heard that all could have
Whatever they desired;
And truly he gave them all
Whate’er it was they asked for,
But whether they got their wish
Depended on the wisdom
Which they showed when it was won.
Now the Master liked it not
If, when he had plainly told
What it was that one must do,
That man should double on him
Or quibble, or disobey.
So then it came to pass
That a certain fool of the kind
Who never can do aught
Without a twist or a turn
In his own peculiar way,
Went a long journey to ask
A favor of the Lord.
His trials were many and sore;
He came unto a chain
Of mountains exceeding high,
In a dark and lonely land
Wherein no sound was heard;
And the ascent was hard
As climbing a slippery pole.
And the going down
Or descent on the other side
Was more ungrateful still,
For ’twas all a precipice
With broken, crumbly edge
Which overhung a gulf;
Yet it was worse beyond.
For there the road led on
Between the hideous heads
Of two great serpents, which
Did almost touch their lips,
And darted terrible tongues
At those who went between.
And yet again ’twas worse
When the way passed under a wall,
The awful Wall of Death
Which hung like a dreadful cloud
Over a dismal plain,
Rising and falling at times;
Yet when, no one could know.
So those who were beneath
When it fell and struck the ground
Were ever crushed to death.
Yet he escaped all this
And came to the Master’s home
Where he was well received,
And dwelt for many days;
And when the Master asked
What ’twas that he would have?
He answered, “If my Lord
Will give me a medicine
Which will cure me of every ill,
I shall be well content.”
And he asked for nothing more.
Then the Master gave to him
A little package, and said:
“Herein is that which thou seek’st
But I charge thee solemnly
That thou lettest not thine eyes
Behold what is therein,
Till thou shalt have reached thy home.”
So he thanked the Lord, and left.
Yet he was not far away
Ere he longed to open the gift,
And test the medicine,
And still more the Master’s truth.
And so he said to himself:
“If this be all deceit,
It was very shrewdly planned,
To bid me not open it
Until I should be at home.
Tush! If the medicine
Is really what I required
It cannot lose its power.
In truth I will test it now.”
So he opened it--when lo!
All that which was therein
Fell to the ground and spread
As water, everywhere,
And then like a summer mist
As quickly melted away.
So when he returned to his home
He was mocked by one and all.
FOOTNOTES:
[20] This is a story about Kulóskap of long ago.
IV
THE THREE BROTHERS WHO BECAME TREES
[_Passamaquoddy and Micmac_]
_Nequt nikt nsapihioak udelabasinia unachihonamihánia
Kelhosilichil naga omsnamnia eli-bawatmotit uch negum._[21]
There were three brothers, who
Had made the pilgrimage
To seek the Lord of Life,
And win their wishes. One
Was wondrous great and tall,
The tallest in the land;
Of this he was right proud,
For he was one of those
Who slyly put soft clay
Into their moccasins
That they may be admired
By folk of lesser size,
And win the love of squaws.
And his hair was plastered up
To stand on high, and on
The summit of it was
A very long turkey tail;
But what this man desired
Was to be taller still.
The second brother asked
That he might ever live
Where he might behold the land
And all the beauty of it,
And do naught else save rest
In peace forever more.
And the third one asked to live
Unto a great old age,
And ever be in health
Till he should pass away.
Now when they came to the isle
They found three lodges there,
And in two of them were men
Who are not spoken of
In any of the tales
Which I have ever heard:
In one dwelt Kulpujot--
A wondrous one indeed!
For there is not a bone in him,
Yet every spring and autumn
He is “rolled over with hand-spikes”
By order of the Lord;
And this is what his name
Means in the Micmac tongue.
In the autumn he is turned
Over towards the West,
But in spring towards the East;
And the meaning of it all
Is the seasons of the year
As they follow in their course.
He with his breath alone
Can sweep all armies forth,
And with his looks alone
Perform most wondrous things;
This means what weather can do
With sunshine, frost and ice,
Which are felt in everything.
And in the other dwelt
Kuhkw, which in Micmac means,
The Earthquake. This great man
Can pass beneath the ground,
And make the mountains shake,
And tremble by his power.
Now when the Lord had heard
What it was that they desired,
He bade the Earthquake come
And put them with their feet
Fast planted in the ground.
And when ’twas done, the three
At once were turned to trees;
To pines, as one tale tells,
Or cedars, as some say;
In either case each man
Received what he required.
Thus, he who would be tall
Became exceeding great,
For his head rose o’er the wood
Even as a giant pine;
Nor was the top-feather forgotten;
It waves in the wind to this hour.
And on a summer day
Who listens in a pine wood,
May hear the trees a murmuring
In the soft Indian tongue
All of the olden time:
(“_Î nĭl etuchi nek mʾkilaskîtap
Î nĭl etuchi nek mʾkiluskíjin_”)
“Oh, I’m such a great man!
Oh, I’m such a big Indian!”
And the second brother, who wished
To remain in peace in the land,
So stays, for while his roots
Are in the ground he _must_ do so;
And the third, who fain would live
To the end in perfect health,
Unless they’ve cut him down
Is standing as of yore.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[21] Once there were three brothers who went to see the Lord of Life
and get their wishes from him.
V
KULÓSKAP AND THE WISE WISHERS
[_Micmac_]
_Kes saak; kes saak._[22]
All of the olden time.
Now when ’twas noised abroad
That whoever sought the Master
Could obtain the wish of his heart,
There were three men who said:
“Let us seek the Lord and see
If this be truly so.”
So they left their home in the spring
When the bluebird began his song,
And walked till the autumn frosts,
And then into the winter,
Ever steadily onward
Till the next midsummer came;
And being in a forest
They found a winding path
Which they followed till they came
To a very beautiful river
Which led to a great fair lake;
And still they kept to the path,
Yet where it failed, the trees
Were blazed, or the bark removed
On the side of the trunk, but ever
Opposite to the place
Where the wigwam or village lies
Towards which the pathway leads,
So the mark can aye be seen
As the traveller goes to the goal,
But not while leaving it.
Then after a time they came
To a long point of land
Which ran into the lake,
Where, having climbed a hill,
They saw in the distance smoke;
Guided by this they came
To a large and beautiful hut;
And entering it they found,
Seated upon the right,
A handsome stately man
Like a chief of middle age,
And on the left a woman,
So old and so decrepit
That it seemed as if a century
Or more had made her life;
And opposite the door
Was a mat which seemed to show
That some other had there a place.
And the Master made them welcome
And spoke as if he were
Well pleased to see them there,
But asked not whence they came,
Or whither they were going,
As others are wont to do.
Ere long they heard the sound
As of a paddle outside,
And the noise of a canoe
When it is drawn ashore.
Then in there came a youth
Of beautiful form and features,
Well clad and bearing weapons
As if returned from the chase;
Who addressed the woman _Kejû!_
Which is in the Micmac, “Mother;”
And told her he had game.
So then, with sore ado,
For she was very weak,
The old dame tottered out
And brought in one by one
Four beavers; but she had
Such trouble to cut them up,
That the elder of the pilgrims
Said to the youngest, “_Nchígŭnŭm!_
My brother--do thou the work.”
And so they supped on beaver,
And then they stayed for a week,
Resting themselves in comfort,
For all were sadly worn,
And also utterly ragged;
But then there came to pass
A wonderful thing which showed
That they were in fairy land,
For the master said to the youth,
“Go wash the mother’s face!”
He did so--when all her wrinkles
Vanished, and she became
Very young and fair:
The travellers had never
In all their lives beheld
A maid so beautiful:
Her hair, once white and scanty,
Now hung to her very feet,
It was as dark and glossy
As any blackbird’s breast;
And, clad in fine array,
She showed a tall lithe form,
Graceful, in all points perfect.
Then the travellers said to themselves,
“Truly this Sagamore is
A very great magician.”
With him they all walked forth
To see the place where he dwelt,
They never had felt the sunshine
So soft and so sweetly tempered
By a cooling gentle breeze;
For all in that land was fair,
And day by day grew fairer
To all who dwelt therein:
Tall trees, with richest leafage
And many fragrant flowers,
Grew everywhere in groves
Without any lower limbs,
And clear of underbrush,
Wide as a forest; yet
The eye could pierce the distance
In any or every way.
Now when for the first time
They felt that they had come
Into another life,
An ever-enchanted land,
The Master gently questioned
And asked them whence they came,
And what it was they sought;
They said they sought Kulóskap,
And he answered, “I am he!”
Then they were awed by his presence,
For now a wondrous glory
And majesty showed in him.
For as the woman had changed,
So he, and he seemed divine.
Then the elder pilgrim said:
“Lo, I am a wicked man
Accursed with furious moods,
Given to wrath and reviling;
Yet I would fain be gentle,
Pious and meek and good.”
And the second said: “I am poor,
My life is very hard,
And, though I toil unceasing,
I can barely make a living,
And I would fain be rich.”
And the third replied, “Though proud,
I am of low estate,
Being despised and scorned,
While I long to be respected
And loved by every one.”
And to all of these the Master
Made answer, “So shall it be!”
Then, taking from his belt
His powerful _upsinai_,
That is his medicine-bag,
He gave unto each Indian
A little box and bade him
Keep it well closed, nor heed it
Till he should reach his home.
Then he led them to the wigwam
And gave them all new garments,
Exceedingly rich apparel,
The like of which the pilgrims
Had never seen before.
Then, when it was time to depart,
Since they knew not the way
Unto their home, he rose
And went with them for a distance.
A year had they been in coming,
But having put on his belt
He led them and they followed,
Till, ere the afternoon,
He took them to the top
Of a lofty mountain, from which
Afar off they beheld
Another, whose outline blue
Rose lofty o’er the plain.
Yet it seemed so far away
They thought ’twould be a week
Ere they should gain its top,
But the Master led them on,
And in the afternoon
Of the day when they first beheld it,
Lo, they were on the summit!
And looking from this afar,
All seemed familiar to them:
The plains and hills and river,
And wood and dale and valley--
It was their native land!
“And there,” said the Master to them
“There lies your village home.”
So he left them on the mountain,
And they went on their way.
Before the sun had set
They were among their people,
Each by his wigwam fire;
At first sight no one knew them,
Because of a wondrous change;
The like of their fair attire
Had never in those days
Been seen by any man.
But when they made themselves known,
All gathered round to behold them,
In wonder or silent awe,
Or to listen to their adventures,
And truly all were amazed.
Then each man opened his box,
And found therein an unguent
Exceedingly rich and fragrant,
With which they rubbed themselves
From head to foot completely.
And always from that day
The three smelt so divinely
That all who could draw near them
Were ever in delight;
And happy were the Indians
Who could get a single whiff
Of that celestial fragrance
Spread by them all around!
Now he who had been despised
For his deformity,
Leanness, weakness, and meanness,
Became as grand and stately,
As beautiful and graceful,
As the fairest pine of the forest;
There was in all the land
No man so much admired,
And his people were proud of him.
He who desired abundance,
Had it in fullest measure,
The wild deer came to his arrows,
The fish leaped into his nets;
As he gave freely to all,
All gave as freely to him.
And he who had been wicked,
Hasty and wild and cruel,
Became as meek and gentle,
Calm and ever forbearing
Making others like himself;
He had ever a blessing on him,
As there ever is upon those
Who make their wishes with wisdom,
For such folk shall be happy
Unto the end of their days.
FOOTNOTES:
[22] Long ago; long ago.
VI
HOW KULÓSKAP WAS CONQUERED BY THE BABE
[_Penobscot_]
_Yut nit nekani agnodʾmâgon uch Kulóskap
Elakʾnotmotits piʾche._[23]
All of the olden time.
They tell this tale
Of great Kulóskap. He had conquered all
Of his worst enemies, even the Kiwaʾkw
Who were ice-giant ghouls, and over them,
Mʾdeolinʾwak or sorcerers
And Pʾmûla the night air’s evil spirit,
And every manner of uncanny ghosts,
Grim witches, devils, goblins, cannibals,
And the dark demons of the forest shade.
And now he paused, and, thinking o’er his deeds,
Long wondered if his work was at an end.
This thought unto a certain wife he told--
A clever woman with a ready tongue--
And she replied: “O Master--not so fast!
For One there still remains whom no man yet
Has ever overcome in any strife
Or got the better of in any way;
And who will ever, as I oft have heard,
Remain unconquered to the end of time.”
“And who is he?” inquired the Lord, amazed.
“It is the mighty Waʾsis,” she replied:
“And there he sits before you on the floor!
And mark my words--if you do trouble him,
He’ll cause you greater trouble in the end!”
Now Waʾsis was the Baby. And he sat
Upon the floor, in baby peace profound
Sucking a piece of maple sugar sweet;
Greatly content and troubling nobody.
Now as the mighty Lord of Men and Beasts
Had never married, nor had had a child,
The art of nursing or of managing
Such little ones was all unknown to him;
And therefore he was sure, as all such folk
Invariably are, be they or maids
Or blooming bachelors, that he at least
Knew all about it and would have his way,
And make the young obey him. So the Lord
Turned to the babe with a bewitching smile,
And bade the little creature come to him;
Back smiled the baby, but it did not budge.
And then the Master spoke in sweeter tone,
Making his voice like that of summer birds,
And all to no avail; for Waʾsis sat,
And, sucking at his sugar silently,
Looked at Kulóskap with untroubled eyes.
So then the Lord as in great anger frowned
And ordered Waʾsis in an awful voice
To crawl to him at once. And baby burst
Into wild tears, and high he raised his voice
Unto a squall tremendous--yet for all
Did never move an inch from where he sat.
Then, since he could do only one thing more,
The Master had recourse to sorcery
And used the awful spells, and sang the songs
Which raise the dead and scare the devils wild
And send the witches howling to their graves,
And make the forest pines bend low to earth.
And Waʾsis looked at him admiringly
And seemed to find it interesting, quite;
Yet, peacefully as ever kept his place.
So, in despair, Kulóskap gave it up,
And Waʾsis, ever sitting on the floor
In the warm sunshine, went “Goo! goo!” and crowed;
That was his infant crow of victory.
Now to this very day, whene’er you see
A baby well contented, crying “Goo!”
Or crowing in this style, know that it is
Because he then remembers in great joy
How he in strife, all in the olden time,
Did overcome the Master, conqueror
Of all the world. For that, of creatures all,
Or beings which on earth have ever been
Since the beginning, Baby is alone
The never yielding and invincible. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[23] This is an old story of Kulóskap. They told it long ago.
=Canto Third=
THE MASTER AND THE ANIMALS
I
KULÓSKAP AND THE LOONS
[_Micmac and Passamaquoddy_]
_Kulóskap umimat netinniaspʾnil
Winpeul kʾchi mteolinul._[24]