🧚 Opening, part 17 · page 2

Taking the Leaf in her bill, the Red Bird Flew through the forest among the branches To the great tree which grew secluded In the safest place in all the mountain.60 On its topmost branch they built a wigwam; Bad little Indians never came near them Hunting for birds with their bows and arrows, Nor the wicked whirlwind looking for leaves.61 There they lived and were perfectly happy, Nothing but kind words passed between them, Only kind words and favorite songs.62 [65]63

Leaves like men are never contented, When all’s for the best they never know it; So it came to pass that Mĭpis one morning Saw far away in the pleasant sunlight A land of beautiful lakes and mountains, Lovelier far than the place they lived in; And felt in his heart an earnest longing To wander away.64 So he said to the Red Bird: “Look, my dear, at that beautiful country!65 There we are sure to be perfectly happy: I can no longer live here on the mountain!”66

Taking the Leaf in her little bill, The Red Bird flew over rock and river, Till she came to the beautiful country; Again on a tree they built their wigwam, And Squʿtes sat and sang on the branches: The little Indian boy Monimques Never had heard such beautiful singing, Never beheld such wonderful feathers; Amazed he stood for a while and listened, Then bending his bow let fly an arrow.67 Down fell the Red Bird, sorely wounded, And proud of his prey the boy ran homeward.68 Then another foe came rushing after, Aplasemwesit the Little Whirlwind, Seeing the Red Leaf soon he seized it, Took it in triumph unto his grandsire The mighty Storm; when the chief beheld it, “This,” he said, “is no common capture, This is the Leaf of the Leaves, my grandson!69 He shall not die.70 I will keep him a prisoner: He has come from afar.71 We must guard him with care.”72

Greatly the Storm Chief fears the Mountain Who stops the wind in its wildest flight.73 That night there came a dream to Kʾmûsomsʾn And he learned that the Leaf had been taken prisoner, By Aplasemwesit and kept as captive.74 Waking in anger he called to his son: “Go to the chief of the storms and tell him To send me the Leaf!”75 His son departed And when he came to the mighty Whirlwind Said: “Give me the Leaf!76 Else, ere the evening All of our tribe will be on the war path.”77 Gladly the Whirlwind gave up his captive, And the son of the Mountain carried him home.78

Soon the Leaf was safe in his wigwam On the great tree.79 He lived in sorrow, And when the notes of a bird came ringing Out of the forest, his grief was greater; His life was gone with the Little Fire, And the fire of his life was all in ashes.80

Thus it fared with the beautiful Red Bird; When the old Monimques beheld her, Long he was silent, then said: “My grandson!81 This is truly no common capture!82 Well it is that thou didst not kill it!83 Let the bird live in peace in our wigwam!84 But take good care lest it escape!”85

Day after day the Red Bird grew better And soon her color was as bright as ever, Until one morning when least expected, Her voice broke forth like a brook into sunshine.86 These were her words: “Could the Wind but hear me, I should not long be kept a captive, Soon he would carry the news to the Mountain!87 Soon the Mountain would send a warrior, Soon the warrior would give me freedom!88 Soon I should be with the Leaf again!”89

As the old Monimques heard her singing: His heart at the words grew weak with fear: “Truly it was a bad beginning That ever my grandson shot this singer, And truly, ’twould have a woful ending, If the Mountain should learn she is here!90 It is madness to keep her a captive, But certain death if we let her go free!”91

While he thought it over his grandson returned Bringing a burden of birds of the forest, And little singers who live by the rivers: And when they were cooked, and the chief had eaten, Down by the fire he lay on a bear skin, Smoking himself into silent sleep.92 The door was closed, nor was there a crevice Through which the Red Bird could creep to freedom When all at once she thought of the opening Through which the smoke from the fire ascended Ever upward so densely pouring Nobody deemed she would dare to pass it.93

As the head of Monimques drooped on his shoulder And as the pipe stem dropped from his fingers And as the little Wʾnagʾmeswuk The tiny fairies who tap the eyelids, Soothed him into deepest slumber, Softly the Red Bird rose and taking A birchen bucket, filled it with water.94 Dipping her wing in the water she sprayed it Little by little upon the fire; Little by little the fire, like Monimques Sunk to sleep, and the bright red flame Lay down to rest in the dull gray ashes.95 Out of the smoke-hole, in careful silence Flitted Squʿtes, and when far from the wigwam, In the fresh air and the beautiful sunshine, Heard other song-birds far beneath her.96 As she went flying over the forest, Leaving death behind, with love before her, She had never been half so happy.97 And what was her joy when she reached the mountain And saw from afar on the great tree rising A bright Red Leaf which shone in the sunset; Straight was her flight as that of an arrow, Fast as an arrow, when she beheld him.98 And the Red Leaf leapt as if smit by an arrow, When all in an instant her arms were round him.99 Then without an instant’s warning All his darkness was turned to daylight, And the Red Wing burst into tears of rapture.100

It was long ago, even in the morning Of the first moons that this all happened; Trees had not mouldered as yet in the valleys, To the cold depths of many a river Fishes as yet had not found their way, And all the secret roads of the forest Had not been learned by the bear or woodchuck; But even then the Squʿtes and Mĭpis Lived all the summer upon the mountain, Sung in its shadows and shone in the sunshine Still as of yore they are singing and shining; And so it will be while the mountain is there.101 L.102

FOOTNOTES:103

[64] Long ago on the big mountain lived the happy little leaf.104

[65] In the original Indian-English version this line is given as--“Only kind words and popular songs.”105

V106

THE BLIND BOY107

A VERY OLD SONG108

[_Passamaquoddy_]109

_Nit neke epit pʾiche nitwechi moskesits Poskaniknikok mechinechik etli-poskʿnot.110 _[66]111