Part 9

Narrower grew the water, More dreadful still the current, And fear came over the mother And then on the brother Marten, Till of that fear they died. But the Master with silent soul Ever sang the songs of magic, The awful incantations, Till he had passed the darkness And came again into sunlight, The bright and beautiful day.

He found upon the bank A lonely deserted wigwam, Therein he carried the dead, And, laying them down, he said: “_Nemchaase!_” that is, “Arise!” And behold they both arose, And thought they had only slept. Then the Master found by this trial He had gained his greatest power. L.

FOOTNOTES:

[42] The old people say that seven beasts stole Kulóskap’s family from him and that he followed them to Newfoundland.

VIII

HOW THE MASTER FOUND THE SUMMER

[_Passamaquoddy_]

_Piche pamaosoinnoak wiwikitopʾnik Mequatoekak ospassio._[43]

In the long time ago, When people ever lived In the red morning light Or ever the day of man had come; Before the sun had risen And ere the Eastern land Was peopled as to-day, Kulóskap, the great lord, Went far into the North Where all was snow and ice.

He came to a great lodge 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]

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[45] Is Kulóskap alive yet?

PART SECOND

=Witchcraft Lore=

WITCHCRAFT LORE

I

THE WIZARD’S CHANT

[_Passamaquoddy_]

_Nil nolbin naga ntetlitemen pekholagon._[46]

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.

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.

FOOTNOTES:

[49] Long ago the Indians believed there were wizards.

V

THE PʾMULA OR AIR-DEMON

[_Abenaki_]

_Noñwat agua ni alnoñbak pʾmigowak kʾpiwi._[50]

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.

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]