Chapter IV: Part 4

"My school-boy friend gave me a cordial greeting; That honest lawyer bade me welcome, too, And doted on my progress and the advice He gave me ere I left my native town. Since first the iron-horse had coursed the vale Five years had fled--five prosperous, magic years, And well nigh five since I had left my home. These prosperous years had wrought upon the place Their wonders till I hardly knew the town. The broad and stately blocks of brick that shamed The weather-beaten wooden shops I knew Seemed the creation of some magic hand. Adown the river bank the town had stretched, Sweeping away the quiet grove of pines Where I had loved to ramble when a boy And see the squirrels leap from tree to tree With reckless venture, hazarding a fall To dodge the ill-aimed arrows from my bow. The dear old school-house on the hill was gone: A costly church, tall-spired and built of stone Stood in its stead--a monument to man. Unholy greed had felled the stately pines, And all the slope was bare and desolate. Old faces had grown older; some were gone, And many unfamiliar ones had come. Boys in their teens had grown to bearded men, And girls to womanhood, and all was changed, Save the old cottage-home where I was born. The elms and butternuts in the meadow-field Still wore the features of familiar friends; The English ivy clambered to the roof, The English willow spread its branches still, And as I stood before the cottage-door My heart-pulse quickened, for methought I heard My mother's footsteps on the ashen floor.

"The rumor I had heard was verified; The wedding-day was named and near at hand. I met my rival: gracious were his smiles: Glad as a boy that robs the robin's nest He grasped the hands of half the men he met. Pauline, I heard, but seldom ventured forth, Save when her doting father took her out On Sabbath morns to breathe the balmy air, And grace with her sweet face his cushioned pew. The smooth-faced suitor, old dame Gossip said, Made daily visits to her father's house, And played the boy at forty years or more, While she had held him off to draw him on.

"I would not fawn upon the hand that smote; I would not cringe beneath its cruel blow, Nor even let her know I cared for it. I kept aloof--as proud as Lucifer. But when the church-bells chimed on Sabbath morn To that proud monument of stone I went-- Her father's pride, since he had led the list Of wealthy patrons who had builded it-- To hear the sermon--for methought Pauline Would hear it too. Might I not see her face, And she not know I cared to look upon it? She came not, and the psalms and sermon fell Upon me like an autumn-mist of rain. I met her once by chance upon the street-- The day before the appointed wedding-day-- Her and her father--she upon his arm. 'Paul--O Paul!' she said and gave her hand. I took it with a cold and careless air-- Begged pardon--had forgotten;--'Ah--Pauline?-- Yes, I remembered;--five long years ago-- And I had made so many later friends, And she had lost so much of maiden bloom!' Then turning met her father face to face, Bowed with cold grace and haughtily passed on. 'This is revenge,' I muttered. Even then My heart ached as I thought of her pale face, Her pleading eyes, her trembling, clasping hand! And then and there I would have turned about To beg her pardon and an interview, But pride--that serpent ever in my heart-- Hissed '_beggar_,' and I cursed her with the lips That oft had poured my love into her ears. 'She marries gold to-morrow--let her wed! She will not wed a beggar, but I think She'll wed a life-long sorrow--let her wed! Aye--aye--I hope she'll live to curse the day Whereon she broke her sacred promises. And I forgive her?--yea, but not forget. I'll take good care that she shall not forget; I'll prick her memory with a bitter thorn Through all her future. Let her marry gold!' Thus ran my muttered words, but in my heart There ran a counter-current; ere I slept Its silent under-tow had mastered all-- 'Forgive and be forgiven.' I resolved That on the morning of her wedding-day Would I go kindly and forgive Pauline, And send her to the altar with my blessing. That night I read a chapter in this book-- The first for many months, and fell asleep Beseeching God to bless her. Then I dreamed That we were kneeling at my mother's bed-- Her death-bed, and the feeble, trembling hands Of her who loved us rested on our heads, And in a voice all tremulous with tears My mother said: 'Dear children, love each other; Bear and forbear, and come to me in heaven.'

"I wakened once--at midnight--a wild cry-- '_Paul, O Paul!_' rang through my dreams and broke My slumber. I arose, but all was still, And then I, slept again and dreamed till morn. In all my dreams her dear, sweet face appeared-- Now radiant as a star, and now all pale-- Now glad with smiles and now all wet with tears. Then came a dream that agonized my soul, While every limb was bound as if in chains. Methought I saw her in the silent night Leaning o'er misty waters dark and deep: A moan--a plash of waters--and, O Christ!-- Her agonized face upturned--imploring hands Stretched out toward me, and a wailing cry-- '_Paul, O Paul!_' Then face and hands went down, And o'er her closed the deep and dismal flood Forever--but it could not drown the cry: '_Paul, O Paul!_' was ringing in my ears; '_Paul, O Paul!_' was throbbing in my heart; And moaning, sobbing in my shuddering soul Trembled the wail of anguish--'_Paul, O Paul!_'

"Then o'er the waters stole the silver dawn, And lo a fairy boat with silken sail! And in the boat an angel at the helm, And at her feet the form of her I loved. The white mists parted as the boat sped on In silence, lessening far and far away. And then the sunrise glimmered on the sail A moment, and the angel turned her face: My mother!--and I gave a joyful cry, And stretched my hands, but lo the hovering mists Closed in around them and the vision passed.

"The morning sun stole through the window-blinds And fell upon my face and wakened me, And I lay musing--thinking of Pauline. Yes, she should know the depths of all my heart-- The love I bore her all those lonely years; The hope that held me steadfast to my toil, And feel the higher and the holier love Her precious gift had wakened in my soul. Yea, I would bless her for that precious gift-- I had not known its treasures but for her, And O for that would I forgive her all, And bless the hand that smote me to the soul. That would be comfort to me all my days, And if there came a bitter time to her, 'Twould pain her less to know that I forgave.

"A hasty rapping at my chamber-door; In came my school-boy friend whose guest I was, And said: 'Come, Paul, the town is all ablaze! A sad--a strange--a marvelous suicide! Pauline, who was to be a bride to-day, Was missed at dawn and after sunrise found-- Traced by her robe and bonnet on the bridge, Whence she had thrown herself and made an end--'

"And he went on, but I could hear no more; It fell upon me like a flash from heaven. As one with sudden terror dumb, I turned And in my pillow buried up my face. Tears came at last, and then my friend passed out In silence. O the agony of that hour! O doubts and fears and half-read mysteries That tore my heart and tortured all my soul!

"I arose. About the town the wildest tales And rumors ran; dame Gossip was agog. Some said she had been ill and lost her mind, Some whispered hints, and others shook their heads But none could fathom the marvelous mystery. Bearing a bitter anguish in my heart, Half-crazed with dread and doubt and boding fears, Hour after hour alone, disconsolate, Among the scenes where we had wandered oft I wandered, sat where once the stately pines Domed the fair temple where we learned to love. O spot of sacred memories--how changed! Yet chiefly wanting one dear, blushing face That, in those happy days, made every place Wherever we might wander--hill or dale-- Garden of love and peace and happiness. So heavy-hearted I returned. My friend Had brought for me a letter with his mail. I knew the hand upon the envelope-- With throbbing heart I hastened to my room; With trembling hands I broke the seal and read. One sheet inclosed another--one was writ At midnight by my loved and lost Pauline. Inclosed within, a letter false and forged, Signed with my name--such perfect counterfeit, At sight I would have sworn it was my own. And thus her letter ran:

"'Beloved Paul, May God forgive you as my heart forgives. Even as a vine that winds about an oak, Rot-struck and hollow-hearted, for support, Clasping the sapless branches as it climbs With tender tendrils and undoubting faith, I leaned upon your troth; nay, all my hopes-- My love, my life, my very hope of heaven-- I staked upon your solemn promises. I learned to love you better than my God; My God hath sent me bitter punishment. O broken pledges! what have I to live And suffer for? Half mad in my distress, Yielding at last to father's oft request, I pledged my hand to one whose very love Would be a curse upon me all my days. To-morrow is the promised wedding day; To morrow!--but to-morrow shall not come! Come gladlier, death, and make an end of all! How many weary days and patiently I waited for a letter, and at last It came--a message crueler than death. O take it back!--and if you have a heart Yet warm to pity her you swore to love, Read it--and think of those dear promises-- O sacred as the Savior's promises-- You whispered in my ear that solemn night Beneath the pines, and kissed away my tears. And know that I forgive, beloved Paul: Meet me in heaven. God will not frown upon The sin that saves me from a greater sin, And sends my soul to Him. Farewell--Farewell.'"

Here he broke down. Unto his pallid lips I held a flask of wine. He sipped the wine And closed his eyes in silence for a time, Resuming thus:

"You see the wicked plot. We both were victims of a crafty scheme To break our hearts asunder. Forgery Had done its work and pride had aided it. The spurious letter was a cruel one-- Casting her off with utter heartlessness, And boasting of a later, dearer love, And begging her to burn the _billets-doux_ A moon-struck boy had sent her ere he found That pretty girls were plenty in the world.

"Think you my soul was roiled with anger?--No;-- God's hand was on my head. A keen remorse Gnawed at my heart. O false and fatal pride That blinded me, else I had seen the plot Ere all was lost--else I had saved a life To me most precious of all lives on earth-- Yea, dearer then than any soul in heaven! False pride--the ruin of unnumbered souls-- Thou art the serpent ever tempting me; God, chastening me, has bruised thy serpent head. O faithful heart in silence suffering-- True unto death to one she could but count A perjured villain, cheated as she was! Captain, I prayed--'twas all that I could do. God heard my prayer, and with a solemn heart, Bearing the letters in my hand, I went To ask a favor of the man who crushed And cursed my life--to look upon her face-- Only to look on her dear face once more.

"I rung the bell--a servant bade me in. I waited long. At last the father came-- All pale and suffering. I could see remorse Was gnawing at his heart; as I arose He trembled like a culprit on the drop. 'O, sir,' he said, 'whatever be your quest, I pray you leave me with my dead to-day; I cannot look on any living face Till her dead face is gone forevermore.'

"'And who hath done this cruel thing?' I said. 'Explain,' he faltered. 'Pray _you_, sir, explain!' I said, and thrust the letters in his hand. And as he sat in silence reading hers, I saw the pangs of conscience on his face; I saw him tremble like a stricken soul; And then a tear-drop fell upon his hand; And there we sat in silence. Then he groaned And fell upon his knees and hid his face, And stretched his hand toward me wailing out-- 'I cannot bear this burden on my soul; O Paul!--O God!--forgive me or I die.'

"His anguish touched my heart. I took his hand, And kneeling by him prayed a solemn prayer-- 'Father, forgive him, for he knew not what He did who broke the bond that bound us twain. O may her spirit whisper in his ear Forever--God is love and all is well.

"The iron man--all bowed and broken down-- Sobbed like a child. He laid his trembling hand With many a fervent blessing on my head, And, with the crust all crumbled from his heart, Arose and led me to her silent couch; And I looked in upon my darling dead. Mine--O mine in heaven forevermore! God's angel sweetly smiling in her sleep; How beautiful--how radiant of heaven! The ring I gave begirt her finger still; Her golden hair was wreathed with immortelles; The lips half-parted seemed to move in psalm Or holy blessing. As I kissed her brow, It seemed as if her dead cheeks flushed again As in those happy days beneath the pines; And as my warm tears fell upon her face, Methought I heard that dear familiar voice So full of love and faith and calmest peace, So near and yet so far and far away, So mortal, yet so spiritual--like an air Of softest music on the slumbering bay Wafted on midnight wings to silent shores, When myriad stars are twinkling in the sea:

"'_Paul, O Paul, forgive and be forgiven; Earth is all trial;--there is peace in heaven_.'

"Aye, Captain, in that sad and solemn hour I laid my hand upon the arm of Christ, And he hath led me all the weary way To this last battle. I shall win through Him; And ere you hear the _reveille_ again Paul and Pauline, amid the psalms of heaven, Embraced will kneel and at the feet of God Receive His benediction. Let me sleep. You know the rest;--I'm weary and must sleep. An angel's bugle-blast will waken me, But not to pain, for there is peace in heaven."

He slept, but not the silent sleep of death. I felt his fitful pulse and caught anon The softly-whispered words "_Pauline_," and "_Peace_." Anon he clutched with eager, nervous hand, And in hoarse whisper shouted--"_Steady, men_!" Then sunk again. Thus passed an hour or more And he woke, half-raised himself and said With feeble voice and eyes strange luster-lit:

"Captain, my boat is swiftly sailing out Into the misty and eternal sea From out whose waste no mortal craft returns. The fog is closing round me and the mist Is damp and cold upon my hands and face. Why should I fear?--the loved have gone before: I seem to hear the plash of coming oars; The mists are lifting and the boat is near. 'Tis well. To die as I am dying now-- A soldier's death amid the gladsome shouts Of victory for which my puny hands Did their full share, albeit it was small, Was all my late ambition. Bring the Flag, And hold it over my head. Let me die thus Under the stars I've followed. Dear old Flag--"

But here his words became inaudible, As in the mazes of the Mammoth Cave, Fainter and fainter on the listening ear, The low, retreating voices die away. His eyes were closed; a gentle smile of peace Sat on his face. I held his nerveless hand, And bent my ear to catch his latest breath; And as the spirit fled the pulseless clay, I heard--or thought I heard--his wonder-words-- "_Pauline,--how beautiful!_"

As I arose
The gray dawn paled the shadows in the east.

THE SEA-GULL.[1]

THE LEGEND OF THE PICTURED ROCKS OF LAKE SUPERIOR. OJIBWAY

_In the measure of Hiawatha._

[The numerals refer to Notes to The Sea-Gull, in Appendix.]

On the shore of Gitchee Gumee[2]-- Deep, mysterious, mighty waters-- Where the manitoes--the spirits-- Ride the storms and speak in thunder, In the days of Neme-Shomis,[3] In the days that are forgotten, Dwelt a tall and tawny hunter-- Gitchee Pez-ze-u the Panther, Son of Waub-Ojeeg,[4] the warrior, Famous Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior. Strong was he and fleet as roebuck, Brave was he and very stealthy; On the deer crept like a panther; Grappled with Makwa,[5] the monster, Grappled with the bear and conquered; Took his black claws for a necklet, Took his black hide for a blanket.

When the Panther wed the Sea-Gull, Young was he and very gladsome; Fair was she and full of laughter; Like the robin in the spring-time, Sang from sunrise till the sunset; For she loved the handsome hunter. Deep as Gitchee Gumee's waters Was her love--as broad and boundless; And the wedded twain were happy-- Happy as the mated robins. When their first-born saw the sunlight Joyful was the heart of Panther, Proud and joyful was the mother. All the days were full of sunshine, All the nights were full of starlight. Nightly from the land of spirits On them smiled the starry faces-- Faces of their friends departed. Little moccasins she made him, Feathered cap and belt of wampum; From the hide of fawn a blanket, Fringed with feathers, soft as sable; Singing at her pleasant labor, By her side the tekenagun, [6] And the little hunter in it, Oft the Panther smiled and fondled, Smiled upon the babe and mother, Frolicked with the boy and fondled, Tall he grew and like his father, And they called the boy the Raven-- Called him Kak-kah-ge--the Raven. Happy hunter was the Panther. From the woods he brought the pheasant, Brought the red deer and the rabbit, Brought the trout from Gitchee Gumee-- Brought the mallard from the marshes-- Royal feast for boy and mother: Brought the hides of fox and beaver, Brought the skins of mink and otter, Lured the loon and took his blanket, Took his blanket for the Raven. Winter swiftly followed winter, And again the tekenagun Held a babe--a tawny daughter, Held a dark-eyed, dimpled daughter; And they called her Waub-omee-mee Thus they named her--the White-Pigeon. But as winter followed winter Cold and sullen grew the Panther; Sat and smoked his pipe in silence; When he spoke he spoke in anger; In the forest often tarried Many days, and homeward turning, Brought no game unto his wigwam; Only brought his empty quiver, Brought his dark and sullen visage.

Sad at heart and very lonely Sat the Sea-Gull in the wigwam; Sat and swung the tekenagun Sat and sang to Waub-omee-mee: Thus she sang to Waub-omee-mee, Thus the lullaby she chanted:

Wa-wa, wa-wa, wa-we-yea;
Kah-ween, nee-zheka ke-diaus-ai,
Ke-gah nau-wai, ne-me-go s'ween,
Ne-baun, ne-baun, ne-daun-is ais,
Wa-wa, wa-wa, wa-we-yea;
Ne-baun, ne-baun, ne-daun-is-ais,
E-we wa-wa, wa-we-yea,
E-we wa-wa, wa-we-yea.

TRANSLATION

Swing, swing, little one, lullaby;
Thou'rt not left alone to weep;
Mother cares for you--she is nigh;
Sleep, my little one, sweetly sleep;
Swing, swing, little one, lullaby;
Mother watches you--she is nigh;
Gently, gently, wee one, swing;
Gently, gently, while I sing
E-we wa-wa--lullaby,
E-we wa-wa--lullaby.

Homeward to his lodge returning Kindly greeting found the hunter, Fire to warm and food to nourish, Golden trout from Gitchee Gumee, Caught by Kah-kah-ge--the Raven. With a snare he caught the rabbit-- Caught Wabose,[7] the furry-footed, Caught Penay,[7] the forest-drummer; Sometimes with his bow and arrows, Shot the red deer in the forest, Shot the squirrel in the pine-top, Shot Ne-ka, the wild-goose, flying. Proud as Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior, To the lodge he bore his trophies. So when homeward turned the Panther, Ever found he food provided, Found the lodge-fire brightly burning, Found the faithful Sea-Gull waiting. "You are cold," she said, "and famished; Here are fire and food, my husband." Not by word or look he answered; Only ate the food provided, Filled his pipe and pensive puffed it, Sat and smoked in sullen silence. Once--her dark eyes full of hunger-- Thus she spoke and thus besought him: "Tell me, O my silent Panther, Tell me, O beloved husband, What has made you sad and sullen? Have you met some evil spirit-- Met some goblin in the forest? Has he put a spell upon you-- Filled your heart with bitter waters, That you sit so sad and sullen, Sit and smoke, but never answer, Only when the storm is on you?"

Gruffly then the Panther answered: "Brave among the brave is Panther Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior, And the brave are ever silent; But a whining dog is woman, Whining ever like a coward." Forth into the tangled forest, Threading through the thorny thickets, Treading trails on marsh and meadow, Sullen strode the moody hunter. Saw he not the bear or beaver, Saw he not the elk or roebuck; From his path the red fawn scampered, But no arrow followed after; From his den the sly wolf listened, But no twang of bow-string heard he. Like one walking in his slumber, Listless, dreaming, walked the Panther; Surely had some witch bewitched him, Some bad spirit of the forest.

When the Sea-Gull wed the Panther, Fair was she and full of laughter; Like the robin in the spring-time, Sang from sunrise till the sunset; But the storms of many winters Sifted frost upon her tresses, Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. Not alone the storms of winters Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. Twenty winters for the Panther Had she ruled the humble wigwam; For her haughty lord and master Borne the burdens on the journey, Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, Tanned the skins of bear and beaver, Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer; Made him moccasins and leggins, Decked his hood with quills and feathers-- Colored quills of Kaug,[8] the thorny, Feathers from Kenew,[8] the eagle. For a warrior brave was Panther; Often had he met the foemen, Met the bold and fierce Dakotas, Westward on the war-path met them; And the scalps he won were numbered, Numbered seven by Kenew-feathers. Sad at heart was Sea-Gull waiting, Watching, waiting in the wigwam; Not alone the storms of winters Sifted frost upon her tresses.

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty,[9] He that sends the cruel winter, He that turned to stone the Giant, From the distant Thunder-mountain, Far across broad Gitchee Gumee, Sent his warning of the winter, Sent the white frost and Kewaydin,[10] Sent the swift and hungry North-wind. Homeward to the South the Summer Turned and fled the naked forests. With the Summer flew the robin, Flew the bobolink and blue-bird. Flock-wise following chosen leaders, Like the shaftless heads of arrows Southward cleaving through the ether, Soon the wild-geese followed after. One long moon the Sea-Gull waited, Watched and waited for her husband, Till at last she heard his footsteps, Heard him coming through the thicket. Forth she went to met her husband, Joyful went to greet her husband. Lo behind the haughty hunter, Closely following in his footsteps, Walked a young and handsome woman, Walked the Red Fox from the island-- Gitchee Menis the Grand Island-- Followed him into the wigwam, Proudly took her seat beside him. On the Red Fox smiled the hunter, On the hunter smiled the woman.

Old and wrinkled was the Sea-Gull, Good and true, but old and wrinkled. Twenty winters for the Panther Had she ruled the humble wigwam, Borne the burdens on the journey, Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, Tanned the skins of bear and beaver, Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer, Made him moccasins and leggins, Decked his hood with quills and feathers, Colored quills of Kaug, the thorny, Feathers from the great war-eagle; Ever diligent and faithful, Ever patient, ne'er complaining. But like all brave men the Panther Loved a young and handsome woman; So he dallied with the danger, Dallied with the fair Algonkin,[11] Till a magic mead she gave him, Brewed of buds of birch and cedar.[12] Madly then he loved the woman; Then she ruled him, then she held him Tangled in her raven tresses, Tied and tangled in her tresses.

Ah, the tall and tawny Panther! Ah, the brave and brawny Panther! Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior! With a slender hair she led him, With a slender hair she drew him, Drew him often to her wigwam; There she bound him, there she held him Tangled in her raven tresses, Tied and tangled in her tresses. Ah, the best of men are tangled-- Sometimes tangled in the tresses Of a fair and crafty woman.

So the Panther wed the Red Fox, And she followed to his wigwam. Young again he seemed and gladsome, Glad as Raven when the father Made his first bow from the elm-tree, From the ash-tree made his arrows, Taught him how to aim his arrows, How to shoot Wabose--the rabbit. Then again the brawny hunter Brought the black bear and the beaver, Brought the haunch of elk and red-deer, Brought the rabbit and the pheasant-- Choicest bits of all for Red Fox. For her robes he brought the sable, Brought the otter and the ermine, Brought the black-fox tipped with silver.

But the Sea-Gull murmured never, Not a word she spoke in anger, Went about her work as ever, Tanned the skins of bear and beaver, Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer, Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire, Gathered rushes from the marshes; Deftly into mats she wove them; Kept the lodge as bright as ever. Only to herself she murmured, All alone with Waub-omee-mee, On the tall and toppling highland, O'er the wilderness of waters; Murmured to the murmuring waters, Murmured to the Nebe-naw-baigs-- To the spirits of the waters; On the wild waves poured her sorrow. Save the infant on her bosom With her dark eyes wide with wonder, None to hear her but the spirits, And the murmuring pines above her. Thus she cast away her burdens, Cast her burdens on the waters; Thus unto the good Great Spirit, Made her lowly lamentation: "Wahonowin!--showiness![13] Gitchee Manito, bena-nin! Nah, Ba-ba, showain nemeshin! Wahonowin!--Wahonowin!"

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka,[9] the mighty, He that sends the cruel winter, From the distant Thunder-mountain On the shore of Gitchee Gumee, On the rugged northern border, Sent his solemn, final warning, Sent the white wolves of the Nor'land.[14] Like the dust of stars in ether-- In the Pathway of the Spirits,[15] Like the sparkling dust of diamonds, Fell the frost upon the forest, On the mountains and the meadows, On the wilderness of woodland, On the wilderness of waters. All the lingering fowls departed-- All that seek the South in winter, All but Shingebis, the diver;[16] He defies the Winter-maker, Sits and laughs at Winter-maker.

Ka-be-bon-ik-ka, the mighty, From his wigwam called Kewaydin-- From his home among the icebergs, From the sea of frozen waters, Called the swift and hungry North-wind. Then he spread his mighty pinions Over all the land and shook them. Like the white down of Waubese[17] Fell the feathery snow and covered All the marshes and the meadows, All the hill-tops and the highlands. Then old Peboean[18]--the winter-- Laughed along the stormy waters, Danced upon the windy headlands, On the storm his white hair streaming, And his steaming breath, ascending, On the pine-tops and the cedars Fell in frosty mists of silver, Sprinkling spruce and fir with silver, Sprinkling all the woods with silver.

By the lodge-fire all the winter Sat the Sea-Gull and the Red Fox, Sat and kindly spoke and chatted, Till the twain seemed friends together. Friends they seemed in word and action, But within the breast of either Smoldered still the baneful embers-- Fires of jealousy and hatred-- Like a camp-fire in the forest Left by hunters and deserted; Only seems a bed of ashes, But the East wind, Wabun-noodin, Scatters through the woods the ashes, Fans to flame the sleeping embers, And the wild-fire roars and rages, Roars and rages through the forest. So the baneful embers smoldered, Smoldered in the breast of either. From the far-off Sunny Islands, From the pleasant land of Summer, Where the spirits of the blessed Feel no more the fangs of hunger, Or the cold breath of Kewaydin, Came a stately youth and handsome, Came Segun,[19] the foe of Winter. Like the rising sun his face was, Like the shining stars his eyes were, Light his footsteps as the Morning's, In his hand were buds and blossoms, On his brow a blooming garland. Straightway to the icy wigwam Of old Peboean, the Winter, Strode Segun and quickly entered. There old Peboean sat and shivered, Shivered o'er his dying lodge-fire.

"Ah, my son, I bid you welcome; Sit and tell me your adventures; I will tell you of my power; We will pass the night together." Thus spake Peboean--the Winter; Then he filled his pipe and lighted; Then by sacred custom raised it To the spirits in the ether; To the spirits in the caverns Of the hollow earth he lowered it. Thus he passed it to the spirits, And the unseen spirits puffed it. Next himself old Peboean honored; Thrice he puffed his pipe and passed it, Passed it to the handsome stranger.

"Lo I blow my breath," said Winter, "And the laughing brooks are silent. Hard as flint become the waters, And the rabbit runs upon them."

Then Segun, the fair youth, answered: "Lo I breathe upon the hillsides, On the valleys and the meadows, And behold as if by magic-- By the magic of the spirits, Spring the flowers and tender grasses."

Then old Peboean replying: "_Nah!_[20] I breathe upon the forests, And the leaves fall sere and yellow; Then I shake my locks and snow falls, Covering all the naked landscape."

Then Segun arose and answered: "_Nashke!_[20]--see!--I shake my ringlets; On the earth the warm rain falleth, And the flowers look up like children Glad-eyed from their mother's bosom. Lo my voice recalls the robin, Brings the bobolink and bluebird, And the woods are full of music. With my breath I melt their fetters, And the brooks leap laughing onward."

Then old Peboean looked upon him, Looked and knew Segun, the Summer. From his eyes the big tears started And his boastful tongue was silent. Now Keezis--the great life-giver, From his wigwam in Waubu-nong[21] Rose and wrapped his shining blanket Round his giant form and started, Westward started on his journey, Striding on from hill to hill-top. Upward then he climbed the ether-- On the Bridge of Stars[22] he traveled, Westward traveled on his journey To the far-off Sunset Mountains-- To the gloomy land of shadows.

On the lodge-poles sang the robin-- And the brooks began to murmur. On the South-wind floated fragrance Of the early buds and blossoms. From old Peboean's eyes the tear-drops Down his pale face ran in streamlets; Less and less he grew in stature Till he melted down to nothing; And behold, from out the ashes, From the ashes of his lodge-fire, Sprang the Miscodeed[23] and, blushing, Welcomed Segun to the North-land.

So from Sunny Isles returning, From the Summer-Land of spirits, On the poles of Panther's wigwam Sang Opee-chee--sang the robin. In the maples cooed the pigeons-- Cooed and wooed like silly lovers. "Hah!--hah!" laughed the crow derisive, In the pine-top, at their folly-- Laughed and jeered the silly lovers. Blind with love were they, and saw not; Deaf to all but love, and heard not; So they cooed and wooed unheeding, Till the gray hawk pounced upon them, And the old crow shook with laughter.

On the tall cliff by the sea-shore Red Fox made a swing. She fastened Thongs of moose-hide to the pine-tree, To the strong arm of the pine-tree. Like a hawk, above the waters, There she swung herself and fluttered, Laughing at the thought of danger, Swung and fluttered o'er the waters. Then she bantered Sea-Gull, saying, "See!--I swing above the billows! Dare you swing above the billows-- Swing like me above the billows?"

To herself said Sea-Gull--"Surely I will dare whatever danger Dares the Red Fox--dares my rival; She shall never call me coward." So she swung above the waters-- Dizzy height above the waters, Pushed and aided by her rival, To and fro with reckless daring, Till the strong tree rocked and trembled, Rocked and trembled with its burden. As above the yawning billows Flew the Sea-Gull like a whirlwind, Red Fox, swifter than red lightning, Cut the thongs, and headlong downward, Like an osprey from the ether, Like a wild-goose pierced with arrows, Fluttering fell the frantic woman, Fluttering fell into the waters-- Plunged and sunk beneath the waters! Hark!--the wailing of the West-wind! Hark!--the wailing of the waters, And the beating of the billows! But no more the voice of Sea-Gull.

In the wigwam sat the Red Fox, Hushed the wail of Waub-omee-mee, Weeping for her absent mother. With the twinkling stars the hunter From the forest came and Raven. "Sea-Gull wanders late," said Red Fox, "Late she wanders by the sea-shore, And some evil may befall her." In the misty morning twilight Forth went Panther and the Raven, Searched the forest and the marshes, Searched for leagues along the lake-shore, Searched the islands and the highlands; But they found no trace or tidings, Found no track in marsh or meadow, Found no trail in fen or forest, On the shore-sand found no footprints. Many days they sought and found not. Then to Panther spoke the Raven: "She is in the Land of Spirits-- Surely in the Land of Spirits. High at midnight I beheld her-- Like a flying star beheld her-- To the waves of Gitchee Gumee Downward flashing through the ether. Thus she flashed that I might see her, See and know my mother's spirit; Thus she pointed to the waters, And beneath them lies her body, In the wigwam of the spirits-- In the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs."[24]

Then spoke Panther to the Raven: "On the tall cliff by the waters Wait and watch with Waub-omee-mee. If the Sea-Gull hear the wailing Of her infant she will answer."

On the tall cliff by the waters So the Raven watched and waited; All the day he watched and waited, But the hungry infant slumbered, Slumbered by the side of Raven, Till the pines' gigantic shadows Stretched and pointed to Waubu-nong[21]-- To the far-off land of Sunrise; Then the wee one woke and, famished, Made a long and piteous wailing.

From afar where sky and waters Meet in misty haze and mingle, Straight toward the rocky highland, Straight as flies the feathered arrow, Straight to Raven and the infant, Swiftly flew a snow-white sea-gull-- Flew and touched the earth a woman. And behold, the long-lost mother Caught her wailing child and nursed her, Sang a lullaby and nursed her.

Thrice was wound a chain of silver Round her waist and strongly fastened. Far away into the waters-- To the wigwam of the spirits-- To the lodge of Nebe-naw-baigs-- Stretched the magic chain of silver. Spoke the mother to the Raven: "O my son--my brave young hunter, Feed my tender little orphan; Be a father to my orphan; Be a mother to my orphan-- For the crafty Red Fox robbed us-- Robbed the Sea-Gull of her husband, Robbed the infant of her mother. From this cliff the treacherous woman Headlong into Gitchee Gumee Plunged the mother of my orphan. Then a Nebe-naw-baig caught me-- Chief of all the Nebe-naw-baigs-- Took me to his shining wigwam, In the cavern of the waters, Deep beneath the mighty waters. All below is burnished copper, All above is burnished silver Gemmed with amethyst and agates. As his wife the Spirit holds me; By this silver chain he holds me.

"When my little one is famished, When with long and piteous wailing Cries the orphan for her mother, Hither bring her, O my Raven; I will hear her--I will answer. Now the Nebe-naw-baig calls me-- Pulls the chain--I must obey him." Thus she spoke, and in the twinkling Of a star the spirit-woman Changed into a snow-white sea-gull, Spread her wings and o'er the waters Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished. Then in secret to the Panther Raven told his tale of wonder. Sad and sullen was the hunter; Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger; All the old love came upon him, And the new love was a hatred. Hateful to his heart was Red Fox, But he kept from her the secret-- Kept his knowledge of the murder. Vain was she and very haughty-- Oge-ma-kwa[25] of the wigwam. All in vain her fond caresses On the Panther now she lavished; When she smiled his face was sullen, When she laughed he frowned upon her; In her net of raven tresses Now no more she held him tangled. Now through all her fair disguises Panther saw an evil spirit, Saw the false heart of the woman.

On the tall cliff o'er the waters Raven sat with Waub-omee-mee, Sat and watched again and waited, Till the wee one, faint and famished, Made a long and piteous wailing. Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull, From afar where sky and waters Meet in misty haze and mingle, Straight toward the rocky highland, Straight as flies the feathered arrow, Straight to Raven and the infant, With the silver chain around her, Flew and touched the earth a woman. In her arms she caught her infant-- Caught the wailing Waub-omee-mee, Sang a lullaby and nursed her. Sprang the Panther from the thicket-- Sprang and broke the chain of silver! With his tomahawk he broke it. Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull-- From the Water-Spirit freed her, From the Chief of Nebe-naw-baigs.

Very angry was the Spirit; When he drew the chain of silver, Drew and found that it was broken, Found that he had lost the woman, Very angry was the Spirit. Then he raged beneath the waters, Raged and smote the mighty waters, Till the big sea boiled and bubbled, Till the white-haired, bounding billows Roared around the rocky headlands, Rolled and roared upon the shingle.

To the wigwam happy Panther, As when first he wooed and won her Led his wife--as young and handsome. For the waves of Gitchee Gumee Washed away the frost and wrinkles, And the spirits by their magic Made her young and fair forever.

In the wigwam sat the Red Fox, Sat and sang a song of triumph, For she little dreamed of danger, Till the haughty hunter entered, Followed by the happy mother, Holding in her arms her infant. When the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull-- Saw the dead a living woman, One wild cry she gave despairing, One wild cry as of a demon. Up she sprang and from the wigwam To the tall cliff flew in terror; Frantic sprang upon the margin, Frantic plunged into the waters, Headlong plunged into the waters.

Dead she tossed upon the billows; For the Nebe-naw-baigs knew her, Knew the crafty, wicked woman, And they cast her from the waters, Spurned her from their shining wigwams; Far away upon the shingle With the roaring waves they cast her. There upon her bloated body Fed the cawing crows and ravens, Fed the hungry wolves and foxes.

On the shore of Gitchee Gumee, Ever young and ever handsome, Long and happy lived the Sea-Gull, Long and happy with the Panther. Evermore the happy hunter Loved the mother of his children. Like a red star many winters Blazed their lodge-fire on the sea-shore. O'er the Bridge of Souls[26] together Walked the Sea-Gull and the Panther. To the far-off Sunny Islands-- To the Summer-Land of Spirits, Sea-Gull journeyed with her husband-- Where no more the happy hunter Feels the fangs of frost or famine, Or the keen blasts of Kewaydin, Where no pain or sorrow enters, And no crafty, wicked woman. There she rules his lodge forever, And the twain are very happy, On the far-off Sunny Islands, In the Summer-Land of Spirits. On the rocks of Gitchee Gumee-- On the Pictured Rocks--the legend Long ago was traced and written, Pictured by the Water-Spirits; But the storms of many winters Have bedimmed the pictured story, So that none can read the legend But the Jossakeeds,[27] the prophets.

POETRY.

I had rather write one word upon the rock Of ages than ten thousand in the sand. The rock of ages! lo I cannot reach Its lofty shoulders with my puny hand: I can but touch the sands about its feet. Yea, I have painted pictures for the blind, And sung my sweetest songs to ears of stone. What matter if the dust of ages drift Five fathoms deep above my grave unknown, For I have sung and loved the songs I sung. Who sings for fame the Muses may disown; Who sings for gold will sing an idle song; But he who sings because sweet music springs Unbidden from his heart and warbles long, May haply touch another heart unknown. There is sweeter poetry in the hearts of men Than ever poet wrote or minstrel sung; For words are clumsy wings for burning thought. The full heart falters on the stammering tongue, And silence is more eloquent than song When tender souls are wrung by grief or shameful wrong.

The grandest poem is God's Universe: In measured rhythm the planets whirl their course: Rhythm swells and throbs in every sun and star, In mighty ocean's organ-peals and roar, In billows bounding on the harbor-bar, In the blue surf that rolls upon the shore, In the low zephyr's sigh, the tempest's sob, In the rain's patter and the thunder's roar; Aye, in the awful earthquake's shuddering throb, When old Earth cracks her bones and trembles to her core.

I hear a piper piping on a reed To listening flocks of sheep and bearded goats; I hear the larks shrill-warbling o'er the mead Their silver sonnets from their golden throats; And in my boyhood's clover-fields I hear The twittering swallows and the hum of bees. Ah, sweeter to my heart and to my ear Than any idyl poet ever sung, The low, sweet music of their melodies; Because I listened when my soul was young, In those dear meadows under maple trees. My heart they molded when its clay was moist, And all my life the hum of honey-bees Hath waked in me a spirit that rejoiced, And touched the trembling chords of tenderest memories.

I hear loud voices and a clamorous throng With braying bugles and with bragging drums-- Bards and bardies laboring at a song. One lifts his locks, above the rest preferred, And to the buzzing flies of fashion thrums A banjo. Lo him follow all the herd. When Nero's wife put on her auburn wig, And at the Coliseum showed her head, The hair of every dame in Rome turned red; When Nero fiddled all Rome danced a jig. Novelty sets the gabbling geese agape, And fickle fashion follows like an ape. Aye, brass is plenty; gold is scarce and dear; Crystals abound, but diamonds still are rare. Is this the golden age, or the age of gold? Lo by the page or column fame is sold. Hear the big journal braying like an ass; Behold the brazen statesmen as they pass; See dapper poets hurrying for their dimes With hasty verses hammered out in rhymes: The Muses whisper--'"Tis the age of brass." Workmen are plenty, but the masters few-- Fewer to-day than in the days of old. Rare blue-eyed pansies peeping pearled with dew, And lilies lifting up their heads of gold, Among the gaudy cockscombs I behold, And here and there a lotus in the shade; And under English oaks a rose that ne'er will fade.

Fair barks that flutter in the sun your sails, Piping anon to gay and tented shores Sweet music and low laughter, it is well Ye hug the haven when the tempest roars, For only stalwart ships of oak or steel May dare the deep and breast the billowy sea When sweeps the thunder-voiced, dark hurricane, And the mad ocean shakes his shaggy mane, And roars through all his grim and vast immensity.

The stars of heaven shine not till it is dark. Seven cities strove for Homer's bones, 'tis said, "Through which the living Homer begged for bread." When in their coffins they lay dumb and stark Shakespeare began to live, Dante to sing, And Poe's sweet lute began its werbelling. Rear monuments of fame or flattery-- Think ye their sleeping souls are made aware? Heap o'er their heads sweet praise or calumny-- Think ye their moldering ashes hear or care? Nay, praise and fame are by the living sought; But he is wise who scorns their flattery, And who escapes the tongue of calumny May count himself an angel or a naught: Lo over Byron's grave a maggot writhes distraught.

Genius is patience, labor and good sense. Steel and the mind grow bright by frequent use; In rest they rust. A goodly recompense Comes from hard toil, but not from its abuse. The slave, the idler, are alike unblessed; Aye, in loved labor only is there rest. But he will read and range and rhyme in vain Who hath no dust of diamonds in his brain; And untaught genius is a gem undressed. The life of man is short, but Art is long, And labor is the lot of mortal man, Ordained by God since human time began: Day follows day and brings its toil and song. Behind the western mountains sinks the moon, The silver dawn steals in upon the dark, Up from the dewy meadow wheels the lark And trills his welcome to the rising sun, And lo another day of labor is begun.

Poets are born, not made, some scribbler said, And every rhymester thinks the saying true: Better unborn than wanting labor's aid: Aye, all great poets--all great men--are made Between the hammer and the anvil. Few Have the true metal, many have the fire. No slave or savage ever proved a bard; Men have their bent, but labor its reward, And untaught fingers cannot tune the lyre. The poet's brain with spirit-vision teems; The voice of nature warbles in his heart; A sage, a seer, he moves from men apart, And walks among the shadows of his dreams; He sees God's light that in all nature beams; And when he touches with the hand of art The song of nature welling from his heart, And guides it forth in pure and limpid streams, Truth sparkles in the song and like a diamond gleams.

Time and patience change the mulberry-leaf To shining silk; the lapidary's skill Makes the rough diamond sparkle at his will, And cuts a gem from quartz or coral-reef. Better a skillful cobbler at his last Than unlearned poet twangling on the lyre; Who sails on land and gallops on the blast, And mounts the welkin on a braying ass, Clattering a shattered cymbal bright with brass, And slips his girth and tumbles in the mire. All poetry must be, if it be true, Like the keen arrows of the--Grecian god Apollo, that caught fire as they flew. Ah, such was Byron's, but alas he trod Ofttimes among the brambles and the rue, And sometimes dived full deep and brought up mud. But when he touched with tears, as only he Could touch, the tender chords of sympathy, His coldest critics warmed and marveled much, And all old England's heart throbbed to his thrilling touch.

Truth is the touchstone of all genius Art, In poet, painter, sculptor, is the same: What cometh from the heart goes to the heart, What comes from effort only is but tame. Nature the only perfect artist is: Who studies Nature may approach her skill; Perfection hers, but never can be his, Though her sweet voice his very marrow thrill; The finest works of art are Nature's shadows still.

Look not for faultless men or faultless art; Small faults are ever virtue's parasites: As in a picture shadows show the lights, So human foibles show a human heart.

O while I live and linger on the brink Let the dear Muses be my company; Their nectared goblets let my parched lips drink; Ah, let me drink the _soma_ of their lips! As humming-bird the lily's nectar sips, Or _Houris_ sip the wine of Salsabil. Aye, let me to their throbbing music thrill, And let me never for one moment think, Although no laurel crown my constancy, Their gracious smiles are false, their dearest kiss a lie.

TWENTY YEARS AGO

I am growing old and weary
Ere yet my locks are gray;
Before me lies eternity,
Behind me--but a day.
How fast the years are vanishing!
They melt like April snow:
It seems to me but yesterday--
Twenty years ago.

There's the school-house on the hill-side,
And the romping scholars all;
Where we used to con our daily tasks,
And play our games of ball.
They rise to me in visions--
In sunny dreams--and ho'
I sport among the boys and girls
Twenty years ago.

We played at ball in summer time--
We boys--with hearty will;
With merry shouts in winter time
We coasted on the hill.
We would choose our chiefs, divide in bands,
And build our forts of snow,
And storm those forts right gallantly--
Twenty years ago.

Last year in June I visited
That dear old sacred spot,
But the school-house on the hill-side
And the merry shouts were not.
A church was standing where it stood;
I looked around, but no--
I could not see the boys and girls
Of twenty years ago.

There was sister dear, and brother,
Around the old home-hearth;
And a tender, Christian mother,
Too angel-like for earth.
She used to warn me from the paths
Where thorns and brambles grow,
And lead me in the "narrow way"--
Twenty years ago.

I loved her and I honored her
Through all my boyhood years;
I knew her joys--I knew her cares--
I knew her hopes and fears.
But alas, one autumn morning
She left her home below,
And she left us there a-weeping--
Twenty years ago.

They bore her to the church-yard,
With slow and solemn pace;
And there I took my last fond look
On her dear, peaceful face.
They lowered her in her silent grave,
While we bowed our heads in woe,
And they heaped the sods above her head--
Twenty years ago.

That low, sweet voice--my mother's voice--
I never can forget;
And in those loving eyes I see
The big tears trembling yet.
I try to tread the "narrow way;"
I stumble oft I know:
I miss--how much!--the helping hand
Of twenty years ago.

Mary--(Mary I will call you--
'Tis not the old-time name)
Sainted Mary--blue-eyed Mary--
Are you in heaven the same?
Are your eyes as bright and beautiful,
Your cheeks as full of glow,
As when the school-boy kissed you, May,
Twenty years ago?

How we swung upon the grape-vine
Down by the Genesee;
And I caught the speckled trout for you,
While you gathered flowers for me:
How we rambled o'er the meadows
With brows and cheeks aglow,
And hearts like God's own angels--
Twenty years ago.

How our young hearts grew together
Until they beat as one;
Distrust it could not enter;
Cares and fears were none.
All my love was yours, dear Mary,
'Twas boyish love, I know;
But I ne'er have loved as then I loved--
Twenty years ago.

How we pictured out the future--
The golden coming years,
And saw no cloud in all our sky,
No gloomy mist of tears;
But ah--how vain are human hopes!
The angels came--and O--
They bore my darling up to heaven--
Twenty years ago.

I will not tell--I cannot tell--
What anguish wrung my soul;
But a silent grief is on my heart
Though the years so swiftly roll;
And I cannot shake it off, May,
This lingering sense of woe,
Though I try to drown the memory
Of twenty years ago.

I am fighting life's stern battle, May,
With all my might and main;
But a seat by you and mother there
Is the dearest prize to gain;
And I know you both are near me,
Whatever winds may blow,
For I feel your spirits cheer me
Like twenty years ago.

BETZKO

A HUNGARIAN LEGEND

Stibor had led in many a fight,
And broken a score of swords
In furious frays and bloody raids
Against the Turkish hordes.

And Sigismund, the Polish king,
Who joined the Magyar bands,
Bestowed upon the valiant knight
A broad estate of lands.

Once when the wars were o'er, the knight
Was holding wassail high,
And the valiant men that followed him
Were at the revelry.

Betzko, his Jester, pleased him so
He vowed it his the task
To do whatever in human power
His witty Fool might ask.

"Build on yon cliff," the Jester cried,
In drunken jollity,
"A mighty castle high and wide,
And name it after me."