🧚 Opening, part 17

“Fly!” he cried, “For our foes are coming!1 Up from the Southland, The home of Summer!”2 Even as he spoke The sweat dropped from him His face grew thin, His feet seemed smaller: “I feel them coming!3 Fly to the battle!”4

The mighty wind-giants Flew to the fight, Great snow-flakes And heavy hail-stones Met and melted With the great rain-drops; Winds were loud roaring, Thunder pealing, Tempest fighting tempest, Storm against storm; The drops of sweat Grew ever bigger On Pûn’s cheeks; On Nipon’s head The hair grew whiter; Louder and louder The winds were blowing, Snow was falling, Thicker and thicker, But the driving rain And the mild south winds Were ever warmer And bigger the drops Grew on Pûn’s face; His strength had left him.5 Down he fell And in his falling A leg was broken:6

“Lo, I must perish If this lasts longer, Set Nipon free!7 She it is Who has brought this trouble And made this battle.8 By my own prisoner I have been conquered.9 Set Nipon free!”10

At the word spoken, Even in the instant, The winds were silent.11 Snow and rain ceased.12 Turning her back To the Laʿtogwesnuk And Pûn the winter, Weary Nipon Set out on her journey.13 Old she was, old As she bore from the North In her white hair The hue of its snows, In her tottering weakness Its chilling frosts.14 Many moons passed, Still she travelled; The sun grew warmer, Days and shadows Were ever longer; The air was softer; Greener and greener Grew the mountains; Freer from ice Rivers were rushing; Lakes were shining In the sunlight; Flowers were unfolding To the warm breezes.15

Weary Nipon Was weary no longer; Her heart grew lighter, Her hair grew darker, Her face was fairer, Brighter and younger, Thus becoming All she had been In her early beauty.16

Then the butterflies Knew her again, And fluttered round her, And all the flowers Greeted with perfume In scent-voices As she went past.17

On she went To the grandmother’s wigwam, To old Kʾmēwun.18 As she drew near The clouds grew thicker; Rain-winds were blowing, Rain-drops falling, Showers pelting, Torrents pouring, Thunder roaring round: Still she went on, Her path lit By wild lightning, Till in the midst Where the clouds were darkest She found the wigwam And entered the door.19 There as if dying Lay Kʾmēwun The ancient Rain-mother, Weaker and older, And worn and weary.20

“Thou, my daughter!”21 She said to Nipon, “Hast well-nigh killed me!22 By disobedience Thou hast brought suffering On me and all things.23 But for my battle With Pûn the winter All life had perished: Never again though, While life is in me Can I venture On such a struggle!24 Be this thy warning!25 Else will Pûn, The cruel winter, Conquer all things And ice and snow For ever and ever Cover the world.”26 L.27

FOOTNOTES:28

[63] Long ago a fair woman named Nipon always lived near the sun.29

III30

THE SCARLET TANAGER AND THE LEAF31

[_Passamaquoddy_]32

_Piche yut kʾchî wachok nit wigit welitasit mipis.33 _[64]34

In the earliest time on the greatest mountain Lived merry Mĭpis, the Little Leaf; When spring is coming and sunlight is shining He climbs a tree, and there, all summer, Dressed in green he rocks in the branches, Listens all day to the birds and the breezes, And goes to sleep to the song of the owl.35

When fall is coming and days are shorter, Mĭpis dresses himself in scarlet; Glad and gay in the Indian Summer; But as the nights grow cold and longer, He puts on a coat of brown or yellow, Curls himself up like a bear for winter, Lets go his hold and falls to the ground; There he sleeps, all under the snow-drift Till he hears in the spring the blue-bird calling, And the stream fighting its enemy ice-- Carrying proudly in pieces as prisoners The foe which kept it a frozen captive, All the winter under its wigwam.36 Then little Mĭpis, the Leaf, awaking, Dresses in green and climbs in the sunshine, Up through a tree, and upon the branches, Lives as he did the summer before.37

Merry Mĭpis on a bright May morning Was stretching himself in the warm sunshine When he heard afar a wonderful music, A sound like a flute and the voice of a maiden, Rippling melodies melting in one.38 Never before had he heard such singing; Then looking up he beheld before him A beautiful merry little bird-girl, Dressed in garments of brilliant scarlet, Just like his own in the Indian Summer.39 “O fairest of small birds!” said merry Mĭpis; “Who are you, and what is your name?”40 Thus she answered: “I am Squʿtes: The Little Fire.41 When I fly in the forest And meet in my way a bar of sunshine, I look as I enter and leave the shadow Like a red flame which leaps up in darkness, And then falls asleep in the night again.42 I have lived in the deep green forest, Even as you have, for many ages, Singing my songs to Kʾmûsomsʾn Unto our Father the mighty mountain, And because he well loved my music, For a reward he sent me hither To seek a youth whose name is Mĭpis, Whom he wills that I should wed. And as I think, and hope as I think it, You are truly the one whom I seek.”43

Little Leaf listened in silence Being by nature very cunning, Trained to suspicion from his childhood; Thus his grandmother ever taught him: “My child--beware of all living creatures, Even the very smallest insect May eat your life out.44 A worm so little That it can pass through the prick of a needle Even as a rabbit runs through a valley, Or as a fish swims free up a river, May cut your stem or blight your beauty; Anything living may be your death.”45

So to Squʿtes, Mĭpis listened, Charmed with her beauty yet still mistrusting, Liking her look yet deeply doubting, Wondering whether this lovely creature Was truly a friend or a false-hearted foe.46

Beautiful Squʿtes, never heeding What the Leaf thought, began to warble; Pouring out in the pleasant sunshine Her morning song.47 As Mĭpis listened To the melodious trill, he melted; For the sweet tune filled all the forest, Every leaf on the tree was listening, Branches were waving in keeping cadence, Even the busy ants stopped running, The butterfly sat on a flower to hear; And as the music grew tender and stronger, And as in one long soft note it ended, Little Leaf said to her: “Be my own!”48

So in the greenwood they lived together; Other singers often assembled, Other birds were often about them, Coming to see the beautiful stranger, Longing to try with hers their voices, But at every trial the Little Fire Flew in her melody far above them, Even as she went beyond them in beauty.49 One morning Squʿtes sang to the Leaf: “Let us go and visit Kʾmûsomsʾn Our mighty grandfather--the Mountain: He made us happy--let us thank him!”50 So the little Squʿtes and Mĭpis Went like a flame through the shades of the forest, Till they came to the cave of the grandsire.51 Glad the grandfather was when he saw them!52 Thus he spoke unto them--“_Nosesak!53 _ Grandchildren!54 Heed well what I tell you!55 While you live never leave the mountain!56 While you are here you are always in safety: But when away from it, ever in danger From one who is ever seeking to kill you: The little Indian boy Monimques, Who, armed with a terrible bow and arrows, Shoots all the little birds of the forest, And carries them home to old Monimques, Who roasts them all in the fire and eats them.57 Even worse is another foeman, A dreadful little boy who is flying All the time over rivers and valleys, Aplasemwesit, the Little Whirlwind, Who never rests.58 He is always trying To blow the leaves away from the branches, And drives them headlong, in flocks together, To his grandfather the terrible Tempest, The great wild Whirlwind who kills them all.”59