Part II: The Four Winds
- "Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"
- Cried the warriors, cried the old men,
- When he came in triumph homeward
- With the sacred Belt of Wampum,
- From the regions of the North-Wind,
- From the kingdom of Wabasso,
- From the land of the White Rabbit.
- He had stolen the Belt of Wampum
- From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa,
- From the Great Bear of the mountains,
- From the terror of the nations,
- As he lay asleep and cumbrous
- On the summit of the mountains,
- Like a rock with mosses on it,
- Spotted brown and gray with mosses.
- Silently he stole upon him
- Till the red nails of the monster
- Almost touched him, almost scared him,
- Till the hot breath of his nostrils
- Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis,
- As he drew the Belt of Wampum
- Over the round ears, that heard not,
- Over the small eyes, that saw not,
- Over the long nose and nostrils,
- The black muffle of the nostrils,
- Out of which the heavy breathing
- Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
- Then he swung aloft his war-club,
- Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
- Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
- In the middle of the forehead,
- Right between the eyes he smote him.
- With the heavy blow bewildered,
- Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
- But his knees beneath him trembled,
- And he whimpered like a woman,
- As he reeled and staggered forward,
- As he sat upon his haunches;
- And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
- Standing fearlessly before him,
- Taunted him in loud derision,
- Spake disdainfully in this wise:
- "Hark you, Bear! you are a coward;
- And no Brave, as you pretended;
- Else you would not cry and whimper
- Like a miserable woman!
- Bear! you know our tribes are hostile,
- Long have been at war together;
- Now you find that we are strongest,
- You go sneaking in the forest,
- You go hiding in the mountains!
- Had you conquered me in battle
- Not a groan would I have uttered;
- But you, Bear! sit here and whimper,
- And disgrace your tribe by crying,
- Like a wretched Shaugodaya,
- Like a cowardly old woman!"
- Then again he raised his war-club,
- Smote again the Mishe-Mokwa
- In the middle of his forehead,
- Broke his skull, as ice is broken
- When one goes to fish in Winter.
- Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa,
- He the Great Bear of the mountains,
- He the terror of the nations.
- "Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"
- With a shout exclaimed the people,
- "Honor be to Mudjekeewis!
- Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind,
- And hereafter and forever
- Shall he hold supreme dominion
- Over all the winds of heaven.
- Call him no more Mudjekeewis,
- Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!"
- Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen
- Father of the Winds of Heaven.
- For himself he kept the West-Wind,
- Gave the others to his children;
- Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind,
- Gave the South to Shawondasee,
- And the North-Wind, wild and cruel,
- To the fierce Kabibonokka.
- Young and beautiful was Wabun;
- He it was who brought the morning,
- He it was whose silver arrows
- Chased the dark o'er hill and valley;
- He it was whose cheeks were painted
- With the brightest streaks of crimson,
- And whose voice awoke the village,
- Called the deer, and called the hunter.
- Lonely in the sky was Wabun;
- Though the birds sang gayly to him,
- Though the wild-flowers of the meadow
- Filled the air with odors for him;
- Though the forests and the rivers
- Sang and shouted at his coming,
- Still his heart was sad within him,
- For he was alone in heaven.
- But one morning, gazing earthward,
- While the village still was sleeping,
- And the fog lay on the river,
- Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise,
- He beheld a maiden walking
- All alone upon a meadow,
- Gathering water-flags and rushes
- By a river in the meadow.
- Every morning, gazing earthward,
- Still the first thing he beheld there
- Was her blue eyes looking at him,
- Two blue lakes among the rushes.
- And he loved the lonely maiden,
- Who thus waited for his coming;
- For they both were solitary,
- She on earth and he in heaven.
- And he wooed her with caresses,
- Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,
- With his flattering words he wooed her,
- With his sighing and his singing,
- Gentlest whispers in the branches,
- Softest music, sweetest odors,
- Till he drew her to his bosom,
- Folded in his robes of crimson,
- Till into a star he changed her,
- Trembling still upon his bosom;
- And forever in the heavens
- They are seen together walking,
- Wabun and the Wabun-Annung,
- Wabun and the Star of Morning.
- But the fierce Kabibonokka
- Had his dwelling among icebergs,
- In the everlasting snow-drifts,
- In the kingdom of Wabasso,
- In the land of the White Rabbit.
- He it was whose hand in Autumn
- Painted all the trees with scarlet,
- Stained the leaves with red and yellow;
- He it was who sent the snow-flake,
- Sifting, hissing through the forest,
- Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,
- Drove the loon and sea-gull southward,
- Drove the cormorant and curlew
- To their nests of sedge and sea-tang
- In the realms of Shawondasee.
- Once the fierce Kabibonokka
- Issued from his lodge of snow-drifts
- From his home among the icebergs,
- And his hair, with snow besprinkled,
- Streamed behind him like a river,
- Like a black and wintry river,
- As he howled and hurried southward,
- Over frozen lakes and moorlands.
- There among the reeds and rushes
- Found he Shingebis, the diver,
- Trailing strings of fish behind him,
- O'er the frozen fens and moorlands,
- Lingering still among the moorlands,
- Though his tribe had long departed
- To the land of Shawondasee.
- Cried the fierce Kabibonokka,
- "Who is this that dares to brave me?
- Dares to stay in my dominions,
- When the Wawa has departed,
- When the wild-goose has gone southward,
- And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
- Long ago departed southward?
- I will go into his wigwam,
- I will put his smouldering fire out!"
- And at night Kabibonokka,
- To the lodge came wild and wailing,
- Heaped the snow in drifts about it,
- Shouted down into the smoke-flue,
- Shook the lodge-poles in his fury,
- Flapped the curtain of the door-way.
- Shingebis, the diver, feared not,
- Shingebis, the diver, cared not;
- Four great logs had he for firewood,
- One for each moon of the winter,
- And for food the fishes served him.
- By his blazing fire he sat there,
- Warm and merry, eating, laughing,
- Singing, "O Kabibonokka,
- You are but my fellow-mortal!"
- Then Kabibonokka entered,
- And though Shingebis, the diver,
- Felt his presence by the coldness,
- Felt his icy breath upon him,
- Still he did not cease his singing,
- Still he did not leave his laughing,
- Only turned the log a little,
- Only made the fire burn brighter,
- Made the sparks fly up the smoke-flue.
- From Kabibonokka's forehead,
- From his snow-besprinkled tresses,
- Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy,
- Making dints upon the ashes,
- As along the eaves of lodges,
- As from drooping boughs of hemlock,
- Drips the melting snow in spring-time,
- Making hollows in the snow-drifts.
- Till at last he rose defeated,
- Could not bear the heat and laughter,
- Could not bear the merry singing,
- But rushed headlong through the door-way,
- Stamped upon the crusted snow-drifts,
- Stamped upon the lakes and rivers,
- Made the snow upon them harder,
- Made the ice upon them thicker,
- Challenged Shingebis, the diver,
- To come forth and wrestle with him,
- To come forth and wrestle naked
- On the frozen fens and moorlands.
- Forth went Shingebis, the diver,
- Wrestled all night with the North-Wind,
- Wrestled naked on the moorlands
- With the fierce Kabibonokka,
- Till his panting breath grew fainter,
- Till his frozen grasp grew feebler,
- Till he reeled and staggered backward,
- And retreated, baffled, beaten,
- To the kingdom of Wabasso,
- To the land of the White Rabbit,
- Hearing still the gusty laughter,
- Hearing Shingebis, the diver,
- Singing, "O Kabibonokka,
- You are but my fellow-mortal!"
- Shawondasee, fat and lazy,
- Had his dwelling far to southward,
- In the drowsy, dreamy sunshine,
- In the never-ending Summer.
- He it was who sent the wood-birds,
- Sent the robin, the Opechee,
- Sent the bluebird, the Owaissa,
- Sent the Shawshaw, sent the swallow,
- Sent the wild-goose, Wawa, northward,
- Sent the melons and tobacco,
- And the grapes in purple clusters.
- From his pipe the smoke ascending
- Filled the sky with haze and vapor,
- Filled the air with dreamy softness,
- Gave a twinkle to the water,
- Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,
- Brought the tender Indian Summer
- To the melancholy north-land,
- In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.
- Listless, careless Shawondasee!
- In his life he had one shadow,
- In his heart one sorrow had he.
- Once, as he was gazing northward,
- Far away upon a prairie
- He beheld a maiden standing,
- Saw a tall and slender maiden
- All alone upon a prairie;
- Brightest green were all her garments,
- And her hair was like the sunshine.
- Day by day he gazed upon her,
- Day by day he sighed with passion,
- Day by day his heart within him
- Grew more hot with love and longing
- For the maid with yellow tresses.
- But he was too fat and lazy
- To bestir himself and woo her.
- Yes, too indolent and easy
- To pursue her and persuade her;
- So he only gazed upon her,
- Only sat and sighed with passion
- For the maiden of the prairie.
- Till one morning, looking northward,
- He beheld her yellow tresses
- Changed and covered o'er with whiteness,
- Covered as with whitest snow-flakes.
- "Ah! my brother from the North-land,
- From the kingdom of Wabasso,
- From the land of the White Rabbit!
- You have stolen the maiden from me,
- You have laid your hand upon her,
- You have wooed and won my maiden,
- With your stories of the North-land!"
- Thus the wretched Shawondasee
- Breathed into the air his sorrow;
- And the South-Wind o'er the prairie
- Wandered warm with sighs of passion,
- With the sighs of Shawondasee,
- Till the air seemed full of snow-flakes,
- Full of thistle-down the prairie,
- And the maid with hair like sunshine
- Vanished from his sight forever;
- Never more did Shawondasee
- See the maid with yellow tresses!
- Poor, deluded Shawondasee!
- 'T was no woman that you gazed at,
- 'T was no maiden that you sighed for,
- 'T was the prairie dandelion
- That through all the dreamy Summer
- You had gazed at with such longing,
- You had sighed for with such passion,
- And had puffed away forever,
- Blown into the air with sighing.
- Ah! deluded Shawondasee!
- Thus the Four Winds were divided
- Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis
- Had their stations in the heavens,
- At the corners of the heavens;
- For himself the West-Wind only
- Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis.
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