The Mysteries of All Nations Part 17

Defunctos ploro!

Pestem fugo!

Festa decoro!

LUCIFER.

Shake the cas.e.m.e.nts!

Break the painted Panes, that flame with gold and crimson; Scatter them like leaves of autumn, Swept away before the blast!

VOICES.

O, we cannot!

The archangel Michael flames from every window, With the sword of fire that drove us Headlong out of heaven, aghast!

THE BELLS.

Funera plango!

Fulgura frango!

Sabbata pango!

LUCIFER.

Aim your lightnings At the oaken, Ma.s.sive, iron-studded portals!

Sack the house of G.o.d, and scatter Wide the ashes of the dead!

VOICES.

O, we cannot!

The apostles And the martyrs, wrapped in mantles, Stand as warders at the entrance, Stand as sentinels o'erhead!

THE BELLS.

Excito lentos!

Dissipo ventos!

Paco cruentos!

LUCIFER.

Baffled! baffled!

Inefficient, Craven spirits! leave this labour Unto Time, the great destroyer!

Come away, ere night is gone!

VOICES.

Onward! onward!

With the night wind, Over field and farm and forest, Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet, Blighting all we breathe upon!"

THE SONG OF HIAWATHA.

"Should you ask me whence these stories?

Whence these legends and traditions, With the odours of the forest, With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rus.h.i.+ng of great rivers, With their frequent repet.i.tions, And their wild reverberations, As of thunder in the mountains?

I should answer, I should tell you: 'From the forests and the prairies, From the great lakes of the Northland, From the land of the Ojibways, From the land of the Dacotahs, From the mountains, moors, and fenlands, Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Feeds among the reeds and rushes.

I repeat them as I heard them From the lips of Nawadaha, The musician, the sweet singer.'

Can it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water?

Or the red swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimson, With the crimson of its life-blood, Filling all the air with splendour, With the splendour of its plumage?

Yes, it is the sun descending, Sinking down into the water; All the sky is stained with purple, All the water flushed with crimson!

No; it is the red swan floating, Diving down beneath the water; To the sky its wings are lifted, With its blood the waves are reddened Over it the star of evening Melts and trembles through the purple Hangs suspended in the twilight.

No; it is a bead of wampum On the robes of the Great Spirit, As he pa.s.ses through the twilight, Walks in silence through the heavens!

This with joy beheld Iagoo, And he said in haste, 'Behold it!

See the sacred star of evening!

You shall hear a tale of wonder; Hear the story of Osseo, Son of the evening star Osseo.

'Once, in days no more remembered, Ages nearer the beginning, When the heavens were closer to us, And the G.o.ds were more familiar, In the Northland lived a hunter, With ten young and comely daughters, Tall and lithe as wands of willow; Only Oweenee, the youngest, She the wilful and the wayward, She the silent, dreamy maiden, Was the fairest of the sisters.

'All these women married warriors, Married brave and haughty husbands; Only Oweenee, the youngest, Laughed and flouted all her lovers, All her young and handsome suitors, And then married old Osseo, Old Osseo, poor and ugly, Broken with age and weak with coughing, Always coughing like a squirrel.

'Ah, but beautiful within him Was the spirit of Osseo, From the evening star descended, Star of evening, star of woman, Star of tenderness and pa.s.sion!

All its fire was in his bosom, All its beauty in his spirit, All its mystery in his being, All its splendour in his language!

'And her lovers, the rejected, Handsome men with belts of wampum, Handsome men with paint and feathers, Pointed at her in derision, Followed her with jest and laughter, But she said, "I care not for you, Care not for your belts of wampum, Care not for your paint and feathers, Care not for your jests and laughter: I am happy with Osseo!"

'Once to some great feast invited, Through the damp and dusk of evening Walked together the ten sisters, Walked together with their husbands; Slowly followed old Osseo, With fair Oweenee beside him; All the others chatted gaily, These two only walked in silence.

'At the western sky Osseo Gazed intent, as if imploring, Often stopped and gazed imploring At the trembling star of evening, At the tender star of woman; And they heard him murmur softly, "_Ah, showain nemes.h.i.+n, Nosa!_ Pray, pity me, my father!"

'"Listen!" said the elder sister, "He is praying to his father!

What a pity that the old man Does not stumble in the pathway, Does not break his neck by falling!"

And they laughed till all the forest Rang with their unseemly laughter.

'On their pathway through the woodlands Lay an oak by storms uprooted, Lay the great trunk of an oak-tree Buried half in leaves and mosses, Mouldering, crumbling, huge and hollow.

And Osseo, when he saw it, Gave a shout, a cry of anguish, Leaped into its yawning cavern, At one end went in an old man, Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly; From the other came a young man, Tall and straight and strong and handsome.

'Thus Osseo was transfigured, Thus restored to youth and beauty; But, alas for good Osseo, And for Oweenee, the faithful!

Strangely, too, was she transfigured.

Changed into a weak old woman, With a staff she tottered onward, Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly!

And the sisters and their husbands Laughed until the echoing forest Rang with their unseemly laughter.

'But Osseo turned not from her, Walked with slower step beside her, Took her hand, as brown and withered As an oak-leaf is in winter, Called her sweetheart, Nenemoosha, Soothed her with soft words of kindness, Till they reached the lodge of feasting, Till they sat down in the wigwam, Sacred to the star of evening, To the tender star of woman.

'Wrapt in visions, lost in dreaming, At the banquet sat Osseo; All were merry, all were happy, All were joyous but Osseo.

Neither food nor drink he tasted, Neither did he speak nor listen, But as one bewildered sat he, Looking dreamily and sadly, First at Oweenee, then upward At the gleaming sky above them.

'Then a voice was heard, a whisper, Coming from the starry distance, Coming from the empty vastness, Low and musical and tender; And the voice said, "O Osseo!

O my son, my best beloved!

Broken are the spells that bound you, All the charms of the magicians, All the magic powers of evil; Come to me; ascend, Osseo!

'"Taste the food that stands before you; It is blessed and enchanted, It has magic virtues in it, It will change you to a spirit.

All your bowls and all your kettles Shall be wood and clay no longer; But the bowls be changed to wampum, And the kettles shall be silver; They shall s.h.i.+ne like sh.e.l.ls of scarlet, Like the fire shall gleam and glimmer.

'"And the women shall no longer Bear the dreary doom of labour, But be changed to birds, and glisten With the beauty of the starlight, Painted with the dusky splendours Of the skies and clouds of evening!"

'What Osseo heard as whispers, What as words he comprehended, Was but music to the others, Music as of birds afar off, Of the whippoorwill afar off, Of the lonely Wawonaissa Singing in the darksome forest.

'Then the lodge began to tremble, Straight began to shake and tremble, And they felt it rising, rising, Slowly through the air ascending, From the darkness of the tree-tops Forth into the dewy starlight, Till it pa.s.sed the topmost branches; And behold! the wooden dishes All were changed to sh.e.l.ls of scarlet!

And behold! the earthen kettles All were changed to bowls of silver!

And the roof-poles of the wigwam Were as glittering rods of silver, And the roof of bark upon them As the s.h.i.+ning shards of beetles.

'Then Osseo gazed around him, And he saw the nine fair sisters, All the sisters and their husbands, Changed to birds of various plumage.

Some were jays, and some were magpies, Others thrushes, others blackbirds; And they hopped and sang and twittered, Perked and fluttered all their feathers, Strutted in their various plumage, And their tails like fans unfolded.

'Only Oweenee, the youngest, Was not changed, but sat in silence, Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly, Looking sadly at the others; Till Osseo, gazing upward, Gave another cry of anguish, Such a cry as he had uttered By the oak-tree in the forest.

'Then returned her youth and beauty, And her soiled and tattered garments Were transformed to robes of ermine, And her staff became a feather, Yes, a s.h.i.+ning silver feather!

'And again the wigwam trembled, Swayed and rushed through airy currents, Through transparent cloud and vapour, And amid celestial splendours On the evening star alighted, As a snow-flake falls on snow-flake, As a leaf drops on a river, As the thistle-down on water.

'Forth with cheerful words of welcome Came the father of Osseo, He with radiant locks of silver, He with eyes serene and tender.

And he said, "My son, Osseo, Hang the cage of birds you bring there, Hang the cage with rods of silver, And the birds with glistening feathers, At the doorway of my wigwam."

'At the door he hung the bird-cage, And they entered in and gladly Listened to Osseo's father, Ruler of the star of evening, As he said, "O my Osseo!

I have had compa.s.sion on you, Given you back your youth and beauty, Into birds of various plumage Changed your sisters and their husbands; Changed them thus because they mocked you In the figure of the old man, In that aspect sad and wrinkled, Could not see your heart of pa.s.sion, Could not see your youth immortal; Only Oweenee, the faithful, Saw your naked heart and loved you.

'"In the lodge that glimmers yonder, In the little star that twinkles Through the vapours, on the left hand, Lives the envious Evil Spirit, The Wabeno, the magician, Who transformed you to an old man.

Take heed lest his beams fall on you, For the rays he darts around him Are the power of his enchantment, Are the arrows that he uses."

'Many years, in peace and quiet On the peaceful star of evening Dwelt Osseo with his father; Many years in song and flutter, At the doorway of the wigwam, Hung the cage with rods of silver, And fair Oweenee, the faithful, Bore a son unto Osseo, With the beauty of his mother, With the courage of his father.

'And the boy grew up and prospered, And Osseo, to delight him, Made him little bows and arrows, Opened the great cage of silver, And let loose his aunts and uncles, All those birds with glossy feathers, For his little son to shoot at.