Would you listen to his boasting, Would you only give him credence, No one ever shot an arrow Half so far and high as he had;Ever caught so many fishes, Ever killed so many reindeer, Ever trapped so many beaver!
None could run so fast as he could, None could dive so deep as he could, None could swim so far as he could;None had made so many journeys, None had seen so many wonders, As this wonderful Iagoo, As this marvellous story-teller!
Thus his name became a by-word And a jest among the people;And whene'er a boastful hunter Praised his own address too highly, Or a warrior, home returning, Talked too much of his achievements, All his hearers cried, "Iagoo!
Here's Iagoo come among us!"
He it was who carved the cradle Of the little Hiawatha, Carved its framework out of linden, Bound it strong with reindeer sinews;He it was who taught him later How to make his bows and arrows, How to make the bows of ash-tree, And the arrows of the oak-tree.
So among the guests assembled At my Hiawatha's wedding Sat Iagoo, old and ugly, Sat the marvellous story-teller.
And they said, "O good Iagoo, Tell us now a tale of wonder, Tell us of some strange adventure, That the feast may be more joyous, That the time may pass more gayly, And our guests be more contented!"And Iagoo answered straightway, "You shall hear a tale of wonder, You shall hear the strange adventures Of Osseo, the Magician, From the Evening Star descending."XII
THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR
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 splendor, With the splendor 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 passes 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 Gods were more familiar, In the North-land 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 passion!
All its fire was in his bosom, All its beauty in his spirit, All its mystery in his being, All its splendor 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 gayly, 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 nemeshin, Nosa!
Pity, pity me, my father!'
"'Listen!' said the eldest 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!
