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