Part 5

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.

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]

While the Master was pursuing Winpe the giant magician, One day at Uktukâmkw He saw afar in the distance Over the silent water, Far away in the sunset, Kwîmûŭk (the Loons) a-flying. Thence did their chief in a circle Lead them around the lake; Yet ever drawing nearer To the Home of Beasts and Men; And as he came, the Master Said: “What is thy will, O Kwîmû?”

To whom the Loon replied “I fain would be thy servant, Thy servant and thy friend.” Then the Master taught them a cry, A strange long cry like the howl Of a dog when he calls to the moon, Or when, far away in the forest, He seeks to find his master; And told them when they required him To utter this long strange cry.

Now it came to pass long after The Master in Uktâkŭmkûk (The which is Newfoundland) Came to an Indian village And all who dwelt therein Were Kwîmûŭk, who had been Loons in the time before; And now they were very glad As men to see once more The Master who had blessed them When they were only birds; Therefore he made them his huntsmen, Also his messengers; Hence comes that in all the stories Which are told of the mighty Master The Loons are ever his friends; And the Indians when they hear The cry of the Loons, exclaim: “_Kwîmû elkomtûejul Kulóskapŭl_,” “The Loon is calling Kulóskap,” the Master.

FOOTNOTES:

[24] Kulóskap used to fight with Winpe the great wizard.

II

KULÓSKAP AND THE BEAVER

[_Micmac_]

_Kulóskap naga Kwâbît._[25]

Over all the land Of the Wabanaki, The Land of the Break of Day, There is never a place Where the hand of Kulóskap Made not a mark. It is seen on hills and rivers, On the great roads through mountains, As well as on mighty rocks Which once were living monsters.

Such is the wonderful highway Running along the river Called Herbert--the road which is named By white men the Boar’s Back, By Indians Onwokun, Which is their word for Causeway.

The tale is told of Kulóskap That, once while travelling To visit Partridge Island And then Cape Blomidon, His friends were tired of rowing, Tired of travel by water, And wished to cross by land; And, while they all were resting, The Master, raising his magic Unto a mighty deed To be spoken of forever, Went away for a little time And cast up a giant ridge, A wide and beautiful level Over great bogs and streams, And across this they travelled Rejoicing, to await him.

And yet again the Master Did a very wondrous deed; For it came to pass in those days That the beavers had built a dam From Âûkogegéchk or Blomidon, Even unto the opposite shore, And thereby made a pond Which filled up all the valley. Now in those times the beavers Were beasts of monstrous size, And the Master, though kind of heart, Seems to have had indeed But little love for them Since the day when young Kwâbîtsis, The son of the Great Beaver, Tempted Malsum to slay his brother In the very early time. Now to this very day They find the bones of these beavers; There are many on Unamagik, Their teeth are six inches wide, There are no such beavers to-day! And these are indeed the bones Of the beavers who built the dam Across at Cape Blomidon And crossed the Annapolis Valley.

Now the Master would fain go hunting, And thereby do a deed Which should equal the great whale-fishing Of Kitpûsiigʾnâû.

So he cut the great dam near the shore, And he bade the boy Marten watch; For he said, “I greatly suspect That there is a little beaver Who is hiding hereabouts.” And when the dam was cut From where it joined the shore, There was a mighty rush, And the roar of many waters, So that the beaver dam, Which was made of giant trees Deftly fastened together, Swung full around to the westward; And yet it did not break Away from the other shore. Therefore the end of it lodged With a great split therein When the flood had found a passage; And the whole may be seen there still, To this very day, even, As it is seen by all Of those who pass up the bay; And still this point, Cape Split, Is called by the Micmacs Plîgun Which means the opening Or cleft of a beaver dam.

Then to frighten the Beaver The Master threw at it Several handfuls of earth, Which falling to eastward Of what is called Partridge Island, Became the Five Islands, and The pond which was left behind Became the Basin of Minas.

Yet another tradition tells That after cutting the dam The Master sat and watched, And yet no Beaver came forth, For Kwâbît had escaped by a hole Which led back to the other side; Kulóskap then tore up A rock and he threw it Very far indeed, One hundred and fifty miles, To frighten the Beaver back; But over the Grand Falls Kwâbît had gone in haste And so for the time escaped; Yet the stone remaineth there As a wonder to this day.

However, others declare That by this rock the Beaver Was killed while swimming away; For thus the tale was told By a Penobscot woman As she sat weaving a basket, A basket or _abaznoda_ Of that sweet-scented grass Which Indians dearly love.

Kulóskap gave the names To everything on earth; He first made man and woman Bestowing on them life; He also made the winds To make the waters move; The Turtle was his uncle, Tiakēūch the Mink Was his adopted son, While Mūnŭmkwech, the Woodchuck-- She was his grandmother. The Beaver built a dam The greatest ever seen.

Kulóskap turned it away, And killed the Beaver, too; At Mûschik he killed a moose; The bones are there e’en now, At Bar Harbor, turned to stone. The entrails of the moose, Across the bay he cast Unto his dogs, and they, Which were also turned to stone, To this day may be seen there, As I have seen them myself; And there, too, in the rock Are the prints of his arrow and bow.

FOOTNOTES:

[25] Kulóskap and the Beaver.

III

THE SABLE AND THE SERPENT

[_Passamaquoddy_]

_Kulóskap wtiwaspʾnil nequt Otloketmul nʾmokswesul._[26]

All of the olden time, All in a year it befell That Kulóskap had a foe: A very evil man, A very sinful beast, A very vile magician, Who after he had tried A hundred tricks in vain Took on the form of a snake, A serpent of awful size, In hope to kill the Lord.

Now the Master had a boy His faithful servitor, Nʾmokswes or the Sable; A boy of elfin kind Who played the magic flute Wherewith he could entice All birds and animals To come to him, when they Once heard its wondrous sound.

It happened on a time When Kulóskap was afar, The Sable broke his flute, And, deeply crushed with grief, Would not return again, But wandered far away Into the wilderness. And all of this the Lord Knew well--for by his art He knew when aught went wrong Pertaining to himself. Then, when returned, he asked The old, old grandmother Where Sable was? but she Could only weep. And then, The Master said: “I’ll roam Forever if I must, But I will find the boy.”

So he went forth, resolved, Following Sable’s trail, And tracked him through the snow, Three days and nights, and then Heard some one sing afar; It was the magic song Which sorcerers only sing When in the direst need, And death is drawing near. So, circling round the place, Kulóskap looked adown, And saw a lodge, and heard The voice distinctly sound, As he grew nearer; it Was Sable’s wondrous voice; Then heard him sing a curse Against all serpent kind, And he was wandering About the place to seek A stick, extremely straight.

The Master understood What this all meant: how that Sable had been enticed Into the wilderness By Atoʾsis the Snake, And that the Serpent-chief Was in the lodge, and he Had sent the Sable forth To seek a long straight rod For evil magic deeds. Then, softly singing, he Bade Sable disobey, And get a crooked stick, As twisted as could be, And told him carefully What more he was to do.

Then Sable found in fact A very rugged rod, As twisted as a worm, When it is wounded; then As he came in, the Snake Cried out, amazed and wroth, “How hast thou dared to bring To me a stick like that?” But Sable, answering, Replied, “It is not straight, But what is crookedest May be the straightest made, And I do know a charm Whereby this may be done; I will but heat this stick A little in the fire, And sing the proper spell And then it shall be straight.”

Now Atoʾsis the Snake, Like all the crafty folk, Was very curious And so looked closely on. But Sable, when the stick Was burning, or red hot, Thrust it into his eyes; (It had a forked end) Utterly blinding him; Then headlong rushed away.

The serpent followed him, But, even as he left The wigwam, there he met The Master, who forthwith Struck him a mighty blow And slew him out of hand; Of old times this befell-- And thus my story ends.

FOOTNOTES:

[26] Kulóskap had a servant once who was a Sable.

IV

KULÓSKAP AND THE TURTLE

[_Micmac and Passamaquoddy_]

_Nekke meiawet nektuk Piliomeskasik ktakʾmigw otlian Pikto._[27]

When the Master left _Uktâkumkûk_, Called by the English Néwfoundlánd, He went to Piktook or Pictou, Which means “the rising of bubbles,” Because at that place the water Is ever strangely moving. There he found an Indian village And in the village a man Whom he loved through all his life.

Yet it was not because this man, Whose name in Micmac is Mikchik And in our Passamaquoddy Chikwenóchk “the Turtle,” Was great or well favored or rich; He was truly none of these, Being very poor and lazy, No longer young or lively, Nor in any way clever or wise. It is said he was the uncle Of Kulóskap, but many declare It was only by adoption.[28] However, he always bore His trials with such good nature, His wants with such merry patience, That the Master took strangely to him With most unwonted affection, As if he had determined To make of the idler a man; Which verily came to pass Quite soon, and very quaintly, As you shall presently hear. When he came to Piktook, A town of a hundred wigwams, Kulóskap being a handsome And very stately warrior With the air of a great chief, Was greatly admired by all, Especially the women; So that every one felt honored Whose wigwam he deigned to enter; Yet he saw the folk very seldom, And dwelt with old uncle Mikchik Delighting in his fancies, Quaint ways and old time stories, Very old songs of the fathers; Such things were the joy of his heart.