Wherein he found a giant,
Truly a wondrous one
The greatest of his race,
For he was Winter. When
The Indian god came in,
He sat in silence down;
Then gave as welcoming
A pipe unto his guest;
And as they smoked, the host
Told stories to the chief--
Tales of the olden time,
In the old giant tongue.
A charm was in the words,
The enchantment of the frost,
And so the giant talked on,
Freezing with every word,
Until Kulóskap fell
Into a sleep like death.
Six months he silent lay,
Even as the bear or toad
Lies quietly till spring:
Then, when the charm was gone,
The Indian god awoke,
Woke with his might renewed.
Homeward he turned his way
Unto the glowing South.
At every step his foot
Met with the growing grass,
Warm breezes greeted him,
And many a forest flower
Rose up and talked in song.
He came into a dell
Deep in the greenwood shade,
Where many little fays,
Fair little sun-ray elves,
Were dancing in their joy.
And their sweet fairy queen,
Bright Summer, led the round--
Summer most beautiful
Of beings ever born.
He caught fair Summer up,
And, by a crafty trick,
He kept her as his own;
For, as he fled away,
And as the elves pursued,
He let behind him trail
A long and slender cord
Cut from a moose-hide. All
Pulled gayly at the end;
But as he ran, he let
The cord run out, and they
Were ever left behind,
Because by magic power
The moose-cord had no end!
Even so the Lord escaped
The Fairies of the Light,
The Ladies of the Dawn!
Again as he returned
He came unto the lodge
Where grim old Winter lay,
Who gayly welcomed him,
Hoping to freeze the god
Again into sleep, and hold
Him very sternly there,
Forever in his power.
But hidden in his breast
Kulóskap held the charm
Of a great victory,
For he had Summer there;
Even as now to you
I sing the summer song!
They sat them down and smoked.
This time the Master told
Tales of the ancient time
In the old giant tongue
Once spoken by the gods--
Magic and wonder tales.
This time he had the power;
His spell was mightiest,
And his strange wizardry
The stronger of the two.
Ere long the hut grew warm
And then down Winter’s cheeks,
His cheeks of hard gray stone,
The melting ice-drops ran,
Till he and all his home
Fell down, and in a flood
As water rushed away
Adown between the rocks
Into the roaring sea!
Then everything awoke.
The seeds and wildflowers grew.
The snow in rivers ran
Bearing away the leaves
Left from the Fall before;
The fairies all came out
And then Kulóskap turned
Again unto the South,
Leaving his captive there;
Summer was in the land. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[43] Long ago people used to live in the red light of morning.
IX
HOW KULÓSKAP LEFT THE WORLD
[_Passamaquoddy and Micmac_]
_Yut negum tan Kulóskap
Udelinaktamnes uskitkamigw._[44]
[Illustration]
When the great Kulóskap,
The Lord of Beasts and Men,
By power, for all his people
And for the world, had subdued
All of the evil things
Which cursed the early time,
Giants and sorcerers,
Witches and devils dire,
Fiends and every horror,
All were silenced then.
The ice-hearted Kiwakʿw
Wandered no longer free
In the green wilderness,
And the mighty bird Kullû,
Great as a hundred eagles,
No longer scared the Indian
As it spread its mighty wings
Like a cloud ’twixt earth and the sun.
Evil beasts, devils and serpents
Were found no more in the land,
And the world at last knew peace;
For the Master had taught to man
All that should make him happy;
But all were in turn ungrateful,
And, while they feared the Master,
Grew every day more wicked,
Forgetting him in their hearts;
And sin roared in the land.
Now when the ways of men
And of beasts became so evil,
So false, proud and ferocious,
Kulóskap as their lord
Was angered at their sin,
Yet bore it as a god
Till all his love was gone;
As oil spreads over the sea
Till all is thinned away.
Then he sent messengers forth
Inviting all to a feast,
The richest ever known
By the great Lake Minas shore,
On the silver water’s edge;
And all the beasts of the wood,
The fathers of all the tribes,
Came to the feast in state,
Came at the call, to revel;
But the Lord had little to say.
Solemn and grim was the banquet,
All knew that the chief was going,
And knew, too, why he would leave them.
And when the feast was over,
Kulóskap, the Lord of all living,
Entered his great canoe
And sailed away over the water,
The shining waves of Minas;
And they looked in silence at him
Until they could see him no more.
Yet, after they ceased to behold him,
They still heard his voice in song,
The wonderful voice of the Master!
But the sounds grew fainter and fainter
And softer in the distance,
Till at last they died away.
Then over them all was silence,
Till a wonder came to pass;
For all the beasts, who, before
Had spoken but one common language,
Now talked in different tongues;
Each with a tongue of his own
Understood the others no more.
So they parted from one another
And fled to the sea or the forest;
And, since that day of the parting,
They never have met in council,
And never again will meet
Till the day when all sins and sorrows
Will be in full forgiven,
Forgiven and forgotten,
And their Lord the great Kulóskap
Shall return to restore to his children
The age of sunshine and plenty;
When all shall dwell together
In peace and joy forever;
Till then the world will mourn.
And ’tis said that, when the Master
Had left Acadia,
The bird who most had loved him,
The great white Snowy Owl
Went far into the North,
Into the deep dark forest,
Where to this day his children
Sing to the night “_Kūkuʿskūūs!_”
Which means in Indian,
“I am sorry, oh, I am sorry!”
And the loons who had been his huntsmen,
Go up and down by the waters,
Over the snow-topped mountains,
Across the rushing rivers,
Through dale and wood and valley,
Seeking in vain for their master,
The Lord whom they cannot meet;
Ever wailing, wailing sadly,
Because they find him not. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[44] This is how Kulóskap left the world.
X
THE MASTER AND THE FINAL DAY
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Kulóskap mech pʾmaoso?_[45]
“Is Kulóskap living yet?”
Yes, far away, but no one knoweth where--
Beyond the mountains or above the skies,
Where in the autumn’s lengthening twilight shades,
He smokes his _tūmʾhîgʾnpowâgon_,
His ancient tomahawk-pipe,
Making the brown air
Of the pleasant Indian summer.
Some say that he sailed away
In his marvellous stone canoe,
Afar beyond the sea,
To the country of the East;
Some that he went to the West;
And ’tis said that in days of old
There were men who knew where he dwelt,
And, making a pilgrimage
Could get from him what they sought.
And they say that, even now,
If you travel ever on,
Travel in perfect faith,
You’ll find at last the Kchi Sagem,
That is the great Sagamore
The greatest of all lords.
“Is Kulóskap living yet?”
Yes, he lives in a very great wigwam,
A wigwam very long--
That is, a council lodge--
Where he always is making arrows;
And all one side of the lodge
Is full of arrows now,
All closely packed together,
Even as your fingers lie.
When all the lodge shall be full
The god will come forth to battle,
And till then no mortal being
May ever enter the wigwam.
“On whom will war be made?”
He will make it on all mankind,
He will end all life that endures,
For the world will pass away
When that battle shall come to an end.
I know not when it will be,
To-morrow it may come
Or hundreds of years away.
“Are any to be saved
By any one, in that hour?”
That is beyond my ken,
All I have heard is this:
That the world will pass away
In roaring fire and flame,
While all the sea will rise
Hot boiling into mist,
And that the good with it
Will rise on high to heaven;
It may perhaps be so;
I’ve only heard it told,
Just heard it--and no more. L.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[45] Is Kulóskap alive yet?
PART SECOND
=Witchcraft Lore=
WITCHCRAFT LORE
I
THE WIZARD’S CHANT
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Nil nolbin naga ntetlitemen pekholagon._[46]
[Illustration]
I sit and beat the wizard’s magic drum;
And by its mystic sound I call the beasts.
From mountain lair and forest nook they throng;
E’en mighty storms obey the dreadful sound.
I sit and beat the wizard’s magic drum;
The storm and thunder answer when it calls.
Aplasemwesit, mighty whirlwind, stops
To hearken to the mystic sound I make.
I sit and beat the wizard’s magic drum;
And Chibelaʿkwe, night-air spirit, flies
To hearken to the mystic sound I make;
And old Wuʾchoʿsen, storm-bird of the North,
Rests his great pinions, causing calm to reign,
To hearken to the mystic sound I make.
I sit and beat the wizard’s magic drum;
And Lumpeguin, who dwells beneath the wave,
Arises to the surface struck with awe,
To hearken to the mystic sound I make.
E’en Atwuskniges, armed with axe of stone,
Will cease his endless chopping, and be still
To hearken to the mystic sound I make.
I sit and beat the wizard’s magic drum;
And Appodumken, with his long, red hair,
Ariseth from the depths, and draweth near
To hearken to the mystic sound I make.
The lightning, thunder, storm and forest sprite,
The whirlwind, gale, and spirit of the deep,
The Chibelaʿkwe, loathly night-air ghost,
All come together, and with reverent mien
Will hearken to the mystic sound I make. P.
FOOTNOTES:
[46] I sit and beat the magic drum.
II
THE WOMAN AND THE SERPENT
[_Passamaquoddy_]
_Piʿchedog Laʿtogwesnuk._[47]
Far away, very far in the North,
There dwelt by a great fair lake
An Indian and his wife,
A very beautiful woman
Given to strange wild dreams;
Passion was in her blood.
The lake was frozen over
For many months in the year;
One day, when she cut away
The ice, she saw in the water
A pair of wonderful eyes
Steadily gazing at her;
Bright eyes which charmed her so
That she could not move a hand;
Then she saw a handsome face
And a graceful slender young man,
Who rose from the glittering water,
And he himself, like it,
Glittered from head to foot;
On his breast were _nʾskemanul_,
Or shining silvery plates.
He said, “I am Aʿtosis,
The King of all the Serpents”;
Little she cared for his nature,
She talked with him of love,
She returned his fond embraces;
Every day she came to meet him,
And often in the night.
Her husband noticed that often
She strayed away from home,
And asked her, why she wandered?
She answered, “To get fresh air.”
The weather grew ever warmer;
The ice from the lake had melted,
Grass, flowers and leaves were growing.
The woman patiently waited
Till her husband was asleep;
Then she stole away in silence
From the one whom she kissed no more
Unto her serpent lover
Whom she kissed with all her heart.
The husband greatly suspecting,
Resolved to watch her wandering.
And so, to avert suspicion,
Said, “Stay here in the wigwam,
For I shall be gone three days
To hunt the deer in the forest.”
But at the end of the second
He came again to the wigwam,
And found that she was absent.
As he sat, re-kindling the fire,
She entered. He saw upon her
Bright shining silver scales;
He asked her what ’twas that glittered?
She answered, “My silver brooches.”
He said. “I must go again
To be absent hunting to-morrow.”
He went to the top of a hill
Overlooking the lake, where he watched her.
She went and sat by the shore;
Then rose afar in the water
What seemed to his sight to be
A shining flake of ice,
But when it came to the shore
’Twas a tall and slender man
All clad, as it seemed, in silver.
The woman leapt up and embraced him,
And gave him many kisses.
The husband in awe and anger
Went forth to other people,
And left his wife forever;
But soon her father and mother
Came to her home to see her,
And dwelt with her many days.
And every day, when returning
From an absence they knew not whither,
She brought them furs and venison,
With fish and fowl in plenty.
They asked her whence she had it?
She answered, “I have another,
A husband who suits me better
Than him whom first I married.
This one can give me all.
He is a better hunter.”
She sent them away with presents,
With many silver bracelets,
With many ear-rings and brooches
And said: “Do not return
Till the ice is here in winter.”
When they returned they found her
White as a silver lily:
Her Indian hue had faded;
And soon she gave birth to offspring
But her children all were serpents.
Then the parents went away;
But even as they left her
She said: “When you come again
You will see me but never know me!”
Years after three Indian hunters
Who had heard this wondrous story
Sought by the lake for the wigwam.
It was standing still, but empty,
But all the wood about it
Was full of great black serpents
Which from the grass uprising
Would look them in the face
Then glide away in silence. L.
FOOTNOTES:
[47] Far away in the north.
III
THE WIZARD SNAKE
[_Abenaki_]
_Noñwat nizwak noñkskwesizak._[48]
Long years ago, two lovely Indian girls
Were wont to leave their people every week,
Embarking secretly in birch canoe.
Their tribe knew neither why nor where they went.
One summer’s noon a hunter chanced to stray
Close to a well-hid pond in forest deep,
Where, puzzled by the sound of plashing spray,
He stole behind the alders for a peep.
There swam the damsels in abandoned glee,
Their hair all streaming with a loathly snake.
Then when they felt the hunter’s look of awe
Straightway they dived beneath the surface foul.
In horror, back the hunter made his way
And told the Indians what his eyes had seen.
Then, all together left the happy town
And struggling through the brush and tangled wood
Went straightway to that fearsome pool to save
The damsels from a fate too dread to tell.
But ah, when they drew near, they heard them sing,
All sad and woful in a wailing chant:
“No more, no more may we turn back again,
For mortal eye hath seen us in our sin.” P.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[48] Long ago there were two maidens.
IV
THE MEASURING WORM
[_Abenaki_]
_Noñwat alnoñbak liwʾlalmoñldamōk
Ali mʾdaulinʾwak aïdit._[49]
Long, long ago the Indians believed in witches’ power.
One day a man was hunting far from human sights and sounds,
Deep in the wildest forest glades, nor thought of magic wiles,
When suddenly he heard a voice which said to him: “Depart,
And come again to this same spot at earliest streak of dawn.”
Awestruck, the hunter at the hour appointed sought once more
To hear the mystic tones which came to him he knew not whence.
So at the morrow’s dawn he trod again the darksome glade;
And once again he heard the voice command him in this wise:
“Begone from here and seek the spot where yawns a precipice.
There on the earth thine eyes shall see a liver freshly cut
This eat and then depart; but come again, I’ll give thee strength.”
Then on the following day, he brought his bow and arrows sharp
And heard the voice command him: “Do thou shoot at yonder tree,”
He shot, and saw his arrow pass straight through the doomèd tree.
Astonished beyond measure then, he bade his mother look.
“_O kini nikʾn_,” “mother, see,” he cried in wonder great.
His mother saw and straightway feared; began to watch the lad,
And marked that when he lay at night no sleep would come to him,
But always after little time he’d rise and steal away,
Till daylight dawned and then he would come creeping back to bed.
At last, all tortured by her pain and harrowed by her fears,
She questioned him and said: “My son, where hast thou been all
night?”
Quoth he: “My friend and I have played together in the wood.”
She asked once more: “My son, pray tell what is it that you do.”
“We have been killing serpents vile and eating them,” said he;
“A serpent’s liver eaten giveth magic gifts to man.
I am not as I was before, but have the power to move
And climb from ledge to ledge as doth a worm, upon my head.
My friend hath taught me how to pass through ways impassable
To all save us.” “Who is thy friend?” His mother asked of him.
“His name is Tatebákwunowat, which means ‘a Measuring Worm.’
Of sport like this I never dreamed;” and yet the mother feared,
And told her agèd husband that their son was lost to them;
For he’d become _mʾdaulin_ and endowed with secret might.
Then spake the father: “This shall cease; I know a way to save
The foolish lad.” So when the evening came, he locked him in
And would not let him forth to roam in spite of all his prayers.
Then came the sound of some one walking heavily and hard,
The old man looked and saw a Thing of horror at his door,
Large eyes, short arms, short body and long legs of insect shape.
“Set free thy son thou foolish one,” the loathsome wizard cried.
“Not I,” replied the father, and at once let fall the flap
Before his wigwam door. The lad grew very ill and begged,
Entreated and implored that he might be allowed to roam
As he had done before, but only got the answer “No.”
Yet once again when morning’s light shone whitely on the trees,
Another wizard slowly came before the wigwam door.
At his approach the leaves and shrubs all rustled as from wind.
“Why dost thou seek to keep thy son from getting magic power?
He hath the magic gift to be the greatest of the great
Among us men who practise arts unknown to thee and thine.”
So spoke the wizard scornfully; the father stern replied:
“I have no wish that son of mine should be like thee and thine.”
Then quoth the wizard: “Thou shalt see thy son die here to-night,
For we have taken him too far to let him back to thee.”
“I care not if he die or no,” the father answering said,
And moaning with an angry moan the wizard drew away
And soon was lost to sight amid the waving forest leaves.
In awful agony the boy lay stretched upon the earth
Retching and crying out as one who soon must breathe his last.
Till suddenly he vomited a mass of serpent skins,
And then at last cast up the magic liver from his mouth.
This was the end of all his woe, for when that loathsome thing
Had left his body he arose all strong and purged and clean
And never more was known to seek to practise magic arts. P.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[49] Long ago the Indians believed there were wizards.
V
THE PʾMULA OR AIR-DEMON
[_Abenaki_]
_Noñwat agua ni alnoñbak pʾmigowak kʾpiwi._[50]
[Illustration]
In days of yore some Indians were camping in the woods
And one of them when near a stream heard a strange sound o’erhead.
At once he looked and lo he saw a sprite of upper air,
Called by the Indians, Pʾmûla, alighting on a ledge.
The demon took a piece of yellow metal from his lips
And bent himself to drink and then, restoring to his mouth
The metal, spread his spacious wings and, rising, soared away.
The man perceived that power to fly lay hidden in this charm,
And so at once decided he would steal the thing away.
It was not long before he heard again the rush of wings.
This time, though, when the demon had alighted, he ran forth,
And, snatching up the yellow charm, said, laughingly: “Ha, ha,
My friend, do thou lie there a while, and I will fly about!”
Then the Pʾmûla told the man: “If thou wilt let me go,
I’ll give to thee another charm which aye will bring thee luck.”
The Indian at once believed the demon’s given word
And gave him back the yellow charm which brings the power of flight.
Soaring aloft the Pʾmûla at once was lost to view
But after a brief period returned and gave the man
The two great eye-rings of a snake, and once again was gone.
No sooner had the hapless wight these eye-rings in his hands,
Than every kind of snake and beast that roam the northern woods
Surrounded him, till, terrified, he rushed to his canoe.
E’en there a giant serpent’s head confronted him agape.
Then, quite beside himself with fear, he fled to thickest wood,
And when at length all out of breath and weary with the chase
He had to pause, he saw that still a host of snakes was there.
Then suddenly he thought: “This dread comes from the magic rings.”
So, raising up a heavy stone, he laid them safe beneath.
And there they lie unto this day all full of mystic power.
The Indian then ran away and saw no more strange sights,
But ever on his hunts abroad he killed sufficient food,
For all the forest creatures had no fear of him who once
Had had the serpent’s eye-rings from the demon of the air. P.
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[50] Long ago some Indians camped in the woods.
VI
THE LITTLE BOY KIDNAPPED BY THE BEAR
[_Penobscot_]
_Nâwad agua eleʿkza niʿkwop kʾdado kéowun._[51]
I am going to tell you now what happened long ago.
Some Indians were camping with their children near a lake
And one fair morning started off to hunt the wary moose,
The children left alone in camp, as is the Indian way.
On that same day a little lad who scarce could walk unhelped,
Tottered and crawled away from camp until he lost the path
And passed the cold and bitter night afar out in the bush.
When morning dawned he thought he saw his mother drawing near
And, rushing to her side, he held her fast in firm embrace.
This was a she-bear, shaggy, great and strong as oxen twain.
She seized the lad and bore him off and fed him in her den.
When the old folk returned to camp they sought the boy in vain.
[Illustration:
This was a she-bear, shaggy, great and strong as oxen twain,
She seized the lad and bore him off.]
For ten full days, all day and night, they sought the boy in vain.
At last they broke up camp and, sorrowing, went back unto their
town.
All winter long the baby lay warmed by the sleeping bear
And drawing nourishment at need forth from her milky teats--
A wonder this, and quite unlike the usual way of bears.
But this one was a wizard bear who wished to keep the lad.
When spring-time came, the wizard of the little Indian town
Took twenty men and started off to seek the long-lost lad.
He had found out by secret arts the way to his abode.
When they arrived, the furious bear rushed forth in anger dire
But met her death by magic shot, and thus the boy was saved;
He ran away, but soon was caught and to his kind restored,
But during many years that lad was wild as any bear. P.
FOOTNOTES:
[51] I am going to tell you of what happened long ago.
VII
THE WIZARD AND THE CHRISTIAN PRIEST
[_Abenaki_]
_Askua ali wigiidit waʿkasimigʾzowak
Salaʾki agua ni wijiganun kigamʾwinno._[52]
A priest of God came to an Indian town
And settled there to teach the people truth,
Which some received and others spurned with scorn.
Some hostile Mohawks fell upon that town,
Killing the folk, all save the Priest and one,
An Indian of many magic gifts.
Late in the afternoon of that same day
The Mohawks reached their village with these two:
The holy Priest and Wizard skilled in craft.
The Mohawks held a council by the fire
Discussing how to torture best the twain,
So as to see their frenzy, and enjoy
With gloating satisfaction every pain.
They all agreed to heat two earthen pots
On fiery coals unto the whitest heat;
Then place these pots upon the head of each
And watch them dance about till life was spent.
With merry whoop they started up the fires;
Began at once to heat the torture pots.
Soon, when they thought the glow was great enough,
They first of all laid hands upon the Priest.
Then he who had been taken with the Priest
At once brought all his magic arts to bear,
And burst his bonds asunder with a yell
That curdled every heart among the foe.
The Wizard cried in Indian tongue: “_Nda
Awâni niûna ndelima--
Magahôûnana_,” which means: “My friends,
We shall not torture any one (to-day).”
And then he leapt upon the fiery coals
And danced and danced, until his feet did fry
And sizzle hot like bacon in a pan.
Then all the Indians were full of fear.
But when to crown the horror of the whole
They saw the wizard put the glowing pot
On his own head and leap about in glee,
They all took flight in terror to the woods.
Then spake the Wizard: “Father, now escape.”
When they had reached all safe and sound their home,
The Priest said to the Wizard: “O my son,
Thou shouldst repent and turn thee from thine art
Unto God’s ways and ever keep the Faith.”
Then quoth the Wizard laughing: “Father mine,
Had I repented and mine art eschewed,
Then were we both of us dead men this day.”[53] P.
FOOTNOTES:
[52] A priest came to where some families were camping.
[53] This song is very interesting, as indicating a survival of the
old Indian faith in their magicians as superior to Christian power.
It is quite like the many indications in Italian tales, relating to
witches, in which the sorcerer conquers the priest.--C. G. L.
VIII
WIZARD WARFARE
[_Abenaki_]
_Noñwat nd-odananok
Mʾsalok mdaulinʾwak._[54]