Part 7

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.

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.

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:

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.

Then the murdering brothers Who never spared a soul, Hearing that some one was talking, Peeped slyly in, and seeing A stranger so like their father That they knew not which was which, Said: “This is a great magician, But he shall be tried ere he goes, And that right bitterly.”

Then the giantess sister took The tail of a whale, and cooked it, And gave it to the stranger That he might eat it, when Just as it lay before him On the platter, and on his knees, The elder brother entered And saying: “This is too good For a beggar like you,” took it Away to his own wigwam. And then the Master said: “That which was given to me Is mine--so I take it again.” And sitting still he _willed_ Or wished for it to return. And lo! the dish came flying Again into his lap! And he ate from it, undisturbed. Then the brothers said: “This truly Is a very great magician, But he shall be tried ere he goes, And that right bitterly!”

When he had eaten, they brought A mighty bone; the jaw Of a whale, and the elder brother With great ado, and using Both arms and all his strength, Bent it a little, and proudly He held it to the Master Who with the thumb and finger Of his right hand alone, Snapped it like a green twig, And crumbled it to powder. Then the brothers said again: “This is truly a great magician, But he shall be tried ere he goes, And that right bitterly.”

Then they brought an enormous pipe Full of the strongest tobacco; No man, not even a sorcerer Could have smoked such fearful stuff. And as it was passed around All of them smoked. The brothers Blew the smoke through their nostrils As if it were light as air. But the Master filled it full And, lighting it, burned all The tobacco into ashes At one puff, with a single pull! Blowing all the smoke through his nose Even as they had done. Then they said and now in anger: “This is truly a great magician; But he shall be tried ere he goes”-- They never said it again!

Yet still they tried to smoke. They shut the door of the wigwam Hoping to smother him. But he puffed and puffed away As if he had been on the top Of a mountain in a breeze, Till one said: “This is idle, Let us go and play at ball!”