To see the Sagamore,
Behold, there lay before him,
Lazily in the mud,
A creature who was more
Of monster than of man--
Though truly in human form--
For he was immense in size,
In measure like a giant,
Fat, bloated, at all points
Most brutal to behold;
His great, round, yellow eyes
Stuck from his head as knots
Or knobsticks from a pine.
His mouth with stringy lips
Went well from ear to ear;
His feet were broad and flat,
With toes immensely long--
He was marvellous to behold!
And unto him the man
Set forth his just complaint,
To which the brute at first
Made no reply beyond
A most uncivil grunt
And a croak, but he said at last
In a loud, bellowing voice,
Such as we sometimes hear
At night from pond or pool:
“Do as you choose,
“Do as you choose,
“Do as you choose!
“What do I care?
“What do I care?
“What do I care?
“If you want water,
“If you want water,
“If you want water,
“Go somewhere else.”
Then the messenger told
How his people were pining
Near dead of their thirst,
Which seemed hugely to please
The monster, who grinned for joy,
Till at last he rose to his feet.
And, making a single spring
Of many rods to the dam,
Took an arrow and bored a hole
So that a little water
Just trickled out, and then cried:
“Up and begone,
“Up and begone,
“Up and begone!”
Then the messenger returned
In sorrow to his people,
Bringing them little joy,
And for a very few days
There was a little water,
Then it stopped and they suffered again.
Now these good Indians, who
Were the honestest fellows alive,
Best natured in all the world,
And never harmed any one
Except their enemies,
Were in a pickle indeed;
For sad it is to have
Nothing but water to drink;
But to want even that
When one is raging with thirst
Is worse than waiting for dinner
When we have no dinner to wait for.
Now this the Lord Kulóskap,
Who was merciful in heart
And knew all that was passing
In the hearts of his Indian children,
Observed, and pitying them
Came to them all at once;
For he ever came as the wind
And no man e’er wist how.
Now, just before he came,
These honest Indians
Had in a council resolved
To send their boldest man
Though ’twere to certain death,
Even unto the village
Where dwelt the evil chief
Who built the cursèd dam
Which kept the water with which
They slaked their thirst when they
Could get it--that is to say,
Whenever the water was running.
And when he got there, the brave
Was either to obtain
That the water-dam be cut,
Or, failing, do something desperate--
They knew not exactly what;
But it was expected by all
That if he were refused
He would paint the village with care
Of a deep vermilion hue,
Leaving on every lodge
Blood, and in this intent,
Should, armed at every point,
Go with his tomahawk,
His axe and scalping-knife
Singing his death-song, too,
As he went on his way;
And they were all agog.
Now the Master was greatly pleased
When he observed all this,
For nothing delighted him more
Than plucky, desperate deeds;
So he resolved that he
Would see to this thing himself.
Therefore he came to them--
The people of the town
Which was then so high and dry--
Looking so terribly fierce
That in all the land there was none
Who was half so horrible;
For he seemed to be ten feet high,
With a hundred wonderful plumes,
Feathers of red and black,
From his scalp-lock uprising;
His face fresh-painted like blood,
Green rings around his eyes,
While a very large clam-shell hung
From either ear, and behind,
A great spread eagle, which
Was awful to behold,
Flapped wings at every step;
So that the hearts of all
Beat as he entered the village,
For as simple Indians, they
Accounted that this must be
Either Lox, the Wolverine,
Or Michihant the Devil
Himself in person, who
Had turned to Indian form.
And the squaws declared that they
Had ne’er seen aught so fine,
Such a lovely, lovable man!
Then the Master having heard
The whole of their terrible tale,
Bade them cheer up, for he
Would soon set all to rights.
So without delay he went
Straight up the bed of the brook,
And coming to the town
Sat down, and bade a boy
Bring him some water to drink;
To which the boy replied
That not a drop could be had
In that town unless ’twere given
Out by the chief himself.
“Then go to your Sagamore,”
Said the Master, “and bid him hurry,
Or verily I will know
The reason why I wait.”
And when the boy had gone
There was no reply before
An hour, when the boy returned,
During which time the Master
Sat on a log and smoked.
Then at last the messenger
Came with a little cup
Which was only just half full
Of water, extremely foul.
Then the Master rose and said:
“Now I will go to your chief,
And I think that he soon will give
Far better water than this!”
And having come to the chief
He said, “Now give me to drink
And that of the best, at once,
Thou villainous Thing of Mud!”
Then the Sagamore in a rage
Bellowed: “Begone and find
Thy water where thou canst;”
When Kulóskap thrust his spear
At once into the beast,
Into his belly, lo!
Gushed forth a mighty stream,
For it was all the water
Which should have run in the brook--
He had taken it all to himself!
Then the Master, rising high
As any giant pine,
Caught the monster in his hand,
And crumpled in his back
With a mighty grip--and lo!
It was the Bull-Frog! Then
He hurled him with contempt
Into the stream to follow
The current ever on.
And ever since that time
The Bull-Frog’s back has borne
Those crumpled wrinkles which
Are in the lower part:
These are the print-marks made
By the Master’s awful squeeze.
Kulóskap then returned
Unto the town, but there
Found not a living soul,
For a marvellous thing had come
To pass while he was gone;
A thing which shall be heard
In every Indian’s speech
Through all the ages, as
’Tis told by all to-day.
For as these people were,
As I said, good simple folk,
They had talked together, just
As boys do at their play,
When they are hungry, thus:
“What would you like to have?”
When another will reply:
“Truly, I’d like to eat
A good hot venison steak,
With maple sugar and bear’s oil;”
“Nay, give me for my part
Some succotash and honey.”
Even so these villagers said:
“Suppose you really had
All the cold sparkling water
There is in the world, what then
Would you do with it?” One replied,
“I would live in the soft smooth mud,
And always be wet and cool.”
To which another said,
That he would plunge from the rocks
And dive in the deep cold stream,
Aye drinking as he dived.
And the third said: “I would be washed
Up and down with the rippling waves,
Living at will on land,
Or in the water;” Then
The fourth said: “None of you
Know how to wish, and I
Will teach you how. I’d live
In water all the time.
And forever swim in it!”
Now it chanced that these things were said
In the hour when, while it passes
Over the world, all the wishes
Which are uttered by men are granted.
And so it was with these Indians;
For the first became a leech,
The second a spotted frog,
The third a crab which is washed
Up and down with the tide,
And the fourth a fish which swims
A-drinking ever more.
Ere this, there had been in the world
None of the creatures which dwell
In the water, but now they were there
Of every kind. And the river
Came rushing and roaring on,
And they all went headlong down
Into the endless ocean,
To be washed into many lands,
And places all over the world,
Forever and ever more.
FOOTNOTES:
[31] Long ago, an Indian village stood far back in the mountains.
VII
HOW KULÓSKAP WENT WHALE-FISHING
[_Micmac_]
_Piche Kulóskap pechian
Machieswi menikok._[32]
All of the olden time!
The Master Kulóskap came
To Pulowechē Munígû,
That is to Partridge Island.
And on the isle he met
With Kitpûsâgunâû,
Whose mother had been slain
By a fearful cannibal giant:
Therefore, like Kulóskap,
He warred through all his life
Upon the monstrous race;
From which it came to pass
That they were loving friends,
Which did not hinder them
From a hearty, merry strife
In which they barely missed
Taking each other’s lives
In the most good-natured way
As ye shall hear anon.
Now being on the isle,
The Lord of Men and Beasts
Was entertained as guest
By Kitpûsâgunâû,
Born after his mother’s death.
And, as the night came on,
The host said to the Lord.
“Let us go forth to sea
In my canoe, and catch
Some whales by torch light.” So
Kulóskap, nothing loath,
Consented, for he was
A mighty fisherman,
Like all the Wabanaki
Who live along the shore.
Now when they came to the beach
There were many mighty rocks
Lying scattered here and there.
Then Kitpûsâgunâû,
Lifting the largest of them,
Put it upon his head,
And it became a canoe.
Then picking up another
It turned to a paddle; next
A long and narrow piece
Which he split away from a rock
Was changed to a fishing spear;
And then Kulóskap asked
“Who shall sit in the stern
And paddle; and who shall take
The spear?” The other said
“That will I do.” And so
The Master paddled; ere long
The canoe passed o’er a whale.
A monster of a fish;
There was not his like in the sea.
But he who held the spear
Sent it down into the waves
As if ’twere a thunderbolt;
And as the handle rose
He snatched it up, and so
The mighty fish was caught;
And as Kitpûsâgunâû
Whirled it on high, the whale
Loud roaring touched the clouds;
Then taking it from the spear
He tossed it into the barque
As if it had been a trout.
And both the giants laughed;
And the sound of their laugh was heard
All over the land afar,
The Wabanaki land.
So, being at home, the host
Took up a knife of stone
Splitting the whale in two,
And threw one half to his guest.
And they roasted each his piece,
Over the fire and ate it.
[Illustration: =How Kulóskap Went Whale-Fishing=]
Now the Master, having marked
The light which was in the heaven
Long after the sun went down,
Said, “The sky is red, and the night
I think will be bitter cold.”
And the other understood
That by his magic power
The Lord would bring a frost
And make it cold indeed;
So he made the Marten bring
All the wood that lay without,
With the fresh oil of a porpoise
Which he multiplied ten times
By sorcery; and then
They sat them down and smoked,
And sang old songs and told
Tales of the early time.
But ever the cold came on,
And at midnight, when the fire
And fuel were all burnt out,
The Marten froze to death,
And then the grandmother.
But still the giants smoked on,
And laughed and talked as before.
Then the rocks all round without
Split with the awful cold.
The great trees in the forest
Were rent with frost, and the sound
Was like thunder above, but still
The Master and “He who was born
After his mother’s death.”
Kitpûsâgunâû,
Laughed on, and so they sat
Until the sun arose.
And then Kulóskap said
Unto the grandmother:
“_Nugumích, nemchaase!_”
“O grandmother, arise.”
And then unto the boy
“_Abistaneûch, nemchaase!_”
“Marten, arise!” and both
Awoke to life once more.
Then as the day was fair
They went into the woods
To seek for game, yet found
Full little. All they got
Was one small beaver, so
The Master said: “My friend,
You may keep all of that.”
Then Kitpûsâgunâû
Fastened it to his knee
Where it dangled like a mouse.
But as the giant went
On through the woods, and on,
The beaver ever grew
Larger and larger still,
Till ’twas of monstrous size;
Then he who bore it, took
A mighty sapling. This
He twisted to a withe
And with it, to his waist
He tied the beaver fast;
But still it grew apace
Till, trailing after him,
It tore down all the trees,
So that the giant left
A clean fair road behind.
Then when the night came on
They fished for whales again,
And feasted as before
And had the cold again;
So, even as before,
The grandmother lay dead
Of cold, with Marten, too.
Then Kitpûsâgunâû
Yielded unto the spell,
And Kulóskap sat alone,
Alone as conqueror.
But when the sun arose
He brought them back to life;
And, laughing heartily,
Said merrily, “Good-bye!”
To Kitpûsâgunâû.[33] L.
FOOTNOTES:
[32] Long ago Kulóskap came to Partridge Island.
[33] The last nine lines of this poem were added by me conjecturally. L.
VIII
KULÓSKAP AND WUCHOʿSEN, THE WIND-EAGLE
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Wuchoʿsen nit kininagwʾsit
Kʾchî plakʾn potowatak pemlamsuk._[34]
Wuchoʿsen the Giant Eagle,
The Bird-Who-Blows-the-Winds,
Lives far away in the North,
Ever sitting on a rock
Which is at the end of the sky;
Because when he flaps his wings
The wind blows over the earth,
Men gave him the name of old.
When Kulóskap lived among men,
He often in his canoe
Went forth to kill the wild-fowl,
Ducks or swans or brant,
Which swim upon the sea.
One day the tempest roared,
The waves were as high as hillocks,
Even Kulóskap the Lord
Cared not to face the storm;
So then he said to himself:
“Wuchoʿsen has made this mischief
And all to show his power,
So now he shall feel mine!”
He turned him to the North,
It was long ere he came to the end;
There on a moss-grown rock
He found a great White Bird,
The Eagle of the Wind.
“Grandfather!” said the God,
“Thou takest no compassion
Upon us Kosesak--
That is, ’thy suffering children’--
For thou hast raised this storm.
It is too terrible!
Be easier with thy wings!”
The Giant Bird replied:
“Even from the earliest time,
And from the earliest days,
Ere aught beside on earth
Had ever uttered word,
I moved my wings and spoke
In Wind unto the World;
For mine was the first Voice
E’er heard in life or time,
Therefore I’ll ever speak,
And ever move my wings,
At freedom, as I will.”
Then Kulóskap the God,
Arose in all his might,
Tremendous--for he rose
Up to the clouds above--
And took the Giant Bird
As if he were a duck,
And, tying fast his wings,
Cast him afar, adown
Into a deep dark cleft
Between the splintered rocks,
And left him lying there.
Then all the Indians
Could go in their canoes
As freely as they chose
For many days and months.
But then as time went by,
They noted day by day
That all the waters grew
So stagnant and so foul
That even the Master found
He could not row his bark;
All was so thick and dead,
And rottenness and slime
Crept into all the world.
And then he thought upon
The Giant Bird, and went
To find him, far away.
As he had left him, so
He found him, for the Bird,
The Spirit of Air,
Can never truly die.
And so he picked him up,
And then with care untied
One single wing, but left
The other tightly bound.
And since that time the Wind
Has never been so wild
As ’t ever was of yore. L.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[34] Wuchoʿsen, that is the great eagle which blows the winds.
=Canto Fourth=
THE MASTER AND THE SORCERERS
I
KULÓSKAP AND WINPE; OR, THE MASTER’S FIRST VICTORY
[_Micmac_]
_Piʾche ktagudimol._[35]
All in the olden time,
Or in the first of all,
Of all things here on earth,
Men were as animals
And animals as men.
But how this mystery was,
No one can understand,
Though some explain it thus:
As Man was made the first,
All creatures first were men,
But as they gave themselves
To this or that desire
Like that of animals,
And all their souls to it,
So were they changed to brutes.
Yet ere this came to pass
There was a middle time
When they could change their forms
To beasts or men at will;
Yet more and more and more
Even as men, they showed
In all, the Animal.
Then Kulóskap the Great
Lived on a wooded isle
With many Indians
Whose names and natures, too,
Were all of beasts and birds.
These men, and most of all
The one called Pulowech,
The Partridge, had attained
To certain magic power.
These, as they found him great,
Grew jealous of the Lord,
He who was ever Man;
And so they all resolved
To leave him in the isle.
But with them take away
His grandmother, likewise
Marten, the boy, who served
The Master in his lodge.
In Micmac Marten’s name
Is Abistanēūch; he
Was of the Elfin kind,
One who could change his form
To what he pleased. For all
Relating to the Lord
Was wonderful and strange.
This Marten ever ate
From a small dish of bark
Called Witchkwîdlakunchich.
Whene’er he left this plate
Kulóskap always knew
The place where it was laid,
And by a glance thereat
Could tell whate’er had happed
Unto his family.
Kulóskap had, beside,
A wondrous magic belt
Which gave him endless strength
And untold mystic power.
Yet to increase his might,
Even he, the Lord of Men,
Must often all alone,
Dwell in the wilderness,
And fast and pray and dream,
Until by penance strong
He gained once more his power.
Among his enemies
Who dwelt upon the isle,
Was one named Winpe, who
Of all was terrible;
So he and all the rest,
With Marten as a slave,
Likewise the grandmother,
One day when Kulóskap
Was hunting in the North
Got into their canoes
With all their worldly gear,
And sailed, far, far away.
Now when the Lord returned
And saw that all were gone,
He sought and found the dish
Which Marten had concealed,
And on it read the truth:
How he had been deceived
And whither all had fled.
Now, it is said, the Lord
To gain tremendous power,
Or such grand mastery
As man had never won,
Went to the wilderness,
And there for seven years
So trained his mighty mind
By penance into will,
That when the time was o’er
He knew that he had won,
And that no thing on earth
No sorcerer nor fiend,
Giant nor devil grim,
Could now resist his power.
So when the time had come
He called his dogs, and went
Down to the shore and looked
Far o’er the rolling sea,
And sang the magic song
Which all the Whales obey.
Soon in the distance rose
A small dark spot, which grew
In size as it drew near.
’Twas but a little whale;
It came unto the Lord,
But he was now a giant;
He stepped upon the whale.
It sank beneath his feet;
He laughed and said, “Begone!
Thou art too small for me!”
He sang again the song,
But now with all his power;
And then there came the Queen
Of all the whales, and she
Was as a giantess
Even among her kind;
She bore him easily
Unto Kespūgitk, then
She paused and said, “O Lord!
I dare not further go,
For I shall run ashore.”
And this he wished because
He would not wet his feet,
And so he lied and said:
“The land is far away.”
So she went boldly on,
Till she beheld below,
The bottom of the sea
With many shells on it;
And then she said in fear:
“The land, does it not seem
To thee like a bow-string?” “No!”
He answered, “Land is far.”
The water grew so shoal
That soon she heard the song
Of many Clams, who lay
Deep shelled below the sand.
They were the enemies
Of Kulóskap the Man,
Their only enemy,
And so they sang to her:
“Hasten and throw him off,
And drown him in the sea.”
But great Putúp the whale
Who did not know their tongue,
Asked what the words might mean?
And he replied in song
“They tell you to make haste;
_Nenagimk_, ’to hurry’;
To hurry, to hurry along,
Away--as fast as you can.”
The whale like lightning flew
Until she found herself
High up upon the shore,
Then she, too, cried in woe:
“Alas, alas! Nujich!
My grandchild, you have been
My death at last--for now
I cannot leave the land;
I shall swim in the sea no more!”
But Kulóskap answered her:
“Nʾgumi, have no fear!
You shall not suffer, for
You shall swim in the sea once more.”
Then with a push of his bow
Against her head, he sent
The whale into the sea,
Into the deep once more.
And then the whale rejoiced,
But ere she went she said:
“O darling grandson mine!
O Master! Hast thou not
Tobacco in thy pouch,
Therewith a pipe to spare?”
And he replied, “Ah yes!
I see you want a smoke,
I have what you require.”
He gave the whale a pipe,
Tobacco and a light
And so she sailed away
Rejoicing as she went,
A-smoking as she swam;
While Kulóskap, the Lord,
Leaning upon his bow
Beheld the long low cloud
Which trailed behind her, till
She vanished far away.
So to this very day,
The Indians, when they see
A whale who blows, cry out:
“Behold, it smokes a pipe,
The pipe of Kulóskap.”
And so the Lord went on,
Meeting at every step
Adventures wild and strange;
Witches and sorcerers
Sought to delay his steps,
Until at last he came
To Uktâkumkuk, or
Néwfoundland, where his foes
Had been, then fled away.
Again he sang his song,
And once again a whale
Carried him far away,
Away unto the North;
And now he found indeed
That he had gained his end,
Since by the shore he saw
A wigwam, and therein
His sorrowing grandmother
And Marten well-nigh dead;
Winpe the sorcerer
Had treated them full ill.
Greatly did they rejoice
To see their Lord once more;
And then Kulóskap said:
“When Winpe shall return
Do all that’s in your power
To irritate the man
To make him mad with wrath;
So shall he lose his power,
For anger weakeneth will.”
They did what he required
When Winpe came again,
Till in a roaring rage
He sought to take their lives;
When lo! before their eyes
The Master stood and gazed
In aspect terrible,
Upon his angry foe.
Winpe fell back a pace
To gain once more his power;
It came and it was great.
With all his evil will
The sorcerer raised his strength
And as it came he grew
In giant stature, till
His head was o’er the pines;
And truly in those days
The pines were higher far
Than those we have to-day:
[Illustration: =Kulóskap and Winpe=]
But Kulóskap the Great
The Lord of Men and Beasts,
Laughed as the thunder roars.
And grew until his head
Was far above the clouds,
Until he reached the stars,
And ever higher still,
Till Winpe seemed to be
A child beneath his feet.
Then, holding him in scorn,
Kulóskap the great lord
Smote Winpe with his bow
As one might strike a dog;
Down fell the sorcerer dead!
FOOTNOTES:
[35] I will tell you of long ago.
II
HOW A WITCH SOUGHT TO CAJOLE THE MASTER
[_Micmac_]
_Kes saak._[36]
This is a story of the olden time.
It chanced that great Kulóskap met a witch,
An evil being who had made herself
Look like a fair young girl, and that so well
By all the deepest art of sorcery,
That she was sure the Lord could never see
Through her disguise--wherein she was a fool,
Because he read her at a single glance.
She bade him take her out in his canoe;
So forth they sailed over a summer sea
With a sweet breeze. The witch upon the way
Sought to beguile the Lord with loving words
To which he made no answer, knowing well
What kind of passenger he had on board.
And so she played all her cajoleries,
While he remained as grim as any bear,
Replying with a growl to loving words;
Till in a rage she changed her melody
Into the curse which raises up the storm
As if to show defiance of his power.
And it was terrible when the wind howled
Over the waves which madly rose and fell
Like great white wolves a-jumping while they run;
And the red lightnings flashed, while the great sea
Grew dark as if to show their fire the more.
And then the Master was enraged indeed,
That a vile witch should dare to play such tricks
With him, the mighty Lord of Beasts and Men;
And, driving the canoe unto the beach,
He leaped ashore, and giving it a push
He sent it headlong out to sea again,
And cried: “Sail with the devil if you will,
But ne’er on earth again in human form!”
Then she in terror cried: “What must I be?
Oh, Master, say what shape shall I assume?”
And he replied: “Whatever form you please--
That grace alone I give thee.” In despair
She plunged into the deep and there became
The _wĕbĕtumekw_, a ferocious shark
Which has upon its back a mighty fin
Like a great sail when swimming in the sea.
So the canoe and witch were changed as one
To the great evil fish, and to this day
The Indians when they see it, ever cry:
“Behold the girl, who in the olden time
Was punished by the Master.” That is all! L.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] Of old time.
III
HOW KULÓSKAP FOUGHT THE GIANT SORCERERS AT SACO
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Yut nʾkani aknodʾmâgon uch Kulóskap._[37]
This is a tale of Kulóskap,
An old one. There was a father
Who had three sons and a daughter,
And all were Mteolinwuk,
That is, they were magicians
Of terrible power, and giants;
They ate men, women, and children;
Yea, they did everything
That was wicked and horrible;
And the land grew tired of them
And of all their abominations.
Yet when this family
Was young, Kulóskap had been
Ever and truly their friend;
He had made their father his father,
The brothers his brothers, the sister
His sister by adoption,
As Indians often do.
But, as they all grew older,
And the Master began to hear
On every side of their sins.
He said: “I will go among them
And find if this be true;
If it be so, they shall die--
I will not spare one of those
Who oppress and devour mankind,
I care not who he may be.”
This evil family dwelt
Near the place that now is Saco,
Upon the sandy field
Which is in the Intervale,
Or the summer bed of the river,
Among the White Mountains, which lie
Between Kèzitwâzuch,
Or Mount Kearsarge the mighty,
And Kchibenabesk
The towering rock, and near
Wʾnâgʾmeswuk Wigît
The Home of the Water Elves.
Now the old man, the father
Of all these evil sorcerers,
Had only one eye, and he
Was half gray like a stony mountain;
Then the Master made himself
Like to the hoary old fellow;
There was not between them
The difference of a hair.
So having taken this form
He entered into the wigwam
And sat by the agèd man.