When thou art not pleased, be-
loved,

Then my heart is sad and darkened,
As the shining river darkens
When the clouds drop shadows on it!
When thou smilest, my beloved,
Then my troubled heart is bright-
ened,

As in sunshine gleam the ripples
That the cold wind makes in rivers.
Smiles the earth, and smile the
waters,

66

Smile the cloudless skies above us, But I lose the way of smiling When thou art no longer near me !

"I myself, myself! behold me! Blood of my beating heart, behold me!

O awake, awake, beloved!
Onaway awake, beloved!”

Thus the gentle Chibiabos
Sang his song of love and longing;
And Iagoo, the great boaster,
He the marvellous story-teller,
He the friend of old Nokomis,
Jealous of the sweet musician,
Jealous of the applause they gave
him,

Saw in all the eyes around him,
Saw in all their looks and gestures,
That the wedding guests assembled
Longed to hear his pleasant stories,
His immeasurable falsehoods.

Very boastful was Iagoo;
Never heard he an adventure
But himself had met a greater;
Never any deed of daring
But himself had done a bolder;
Never any marvellous story
But himself could tell a stranger.

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 as far as he could; None had måde so many journeys, None had seen so many wonders, As this wonderful Iagoo, As this marvellous-story-teller !

Thus his name became a byword 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 sin

ews;

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 i

And Iagoo answered straightway, You shall hear a tale of wonder. You shall hear the strange advent

ures

Of Osseo, the Magician,

From the Evening Star descended."

XII.

THE SUN OF THE EVENING STAR.

CAN it be the sun descending
O'er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan floating, flying,1

1 The fanciful tradition of the Red Swan may be found in Schoolcraft's Algic Researches, Vol. II., p. 9. Three brothers were hunting on a wager to see who would bring home the first game.

"They were to shoot no other animal," so the legend says, "but such as each was in the habit of killing. They set out different ways; Odjibwa, the youngest, had not gone far before he saw a bear, an animal he was not to kill, by the agreement. He followed him close, and drove an arrow through him, which brought him to the ground. Although contrary to the bet, he immediately commenced skinning him, when suddenly something red tinged all the air around him. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was perhaps deceived, but without effect, for the red hue continued. At length he heard a strange noise at a distance. It first appeared like a human voice; but after following the sound for some distance, he reached the shores of a lake, and soon saw the object he was looking for. At a distance out in the lake sat a most beautiful Red Swan whose plumage glittered in the sun, and who would now and then make the same noise he had heard. He was within long bow-shot, and pulling the arrow from the bow-string up to his ear, took deliberate aim and shot. The arrow took no effect; and he shot and shot again till his quiver was empty. Still the swan remained, moving round and round,stretching its long neck and dipping its bill into the water, as if heedless of the arrows shot at it. Odjibwa ran home, and got all his own and his brother's arrows, and shot them all away. He then stood and gazed at the beautiful bird. While standing, he remembered his brother's saying that in their deceased father's

medicine-sack where three magic arrows. Off he started, his anxiety to kill the swan overcoming all scruples. At any other time he would have deemed it sacrilege to open his father's medicine-sack; but now he hastily seized the three arrows and ran back, leaving the other contents of the sack scattered over the lodge. The swan was still there. He shot the first arrow with great precision, and came very near to it.

The second came still closer; as he took the last arrow, he felt his arm firmer, and drawing it up with vigor, saw it pass through the neck of the swan a little above the breast. Still it did not prevent the bird from flying off, which it did, however, at first slowly, flapping its wings and rising gradually into the air, and then flying

off toward the sinking of the sun."-Pp.

10-12,

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 red-
dened !

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,

66

Son of the Evening Star, Osseo!
'Once, in days no more remem-
bered,

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 daugh-

ters,

Tall and lithe as wands of willow;
Only Oweence, the youngest,
She the wilful and the wayward,
She the silent, dreamy maiden,
Was the fairest of the sisters.

"All these women married war-
riors,

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 from
Always coughing like a squirrel.
coughing,

All the charms of the magicians,

All the magic powers of evil; Come to me; ascend, Osseo !

pies,

Some were jays and some were mag

fore 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 wam-
pum,

And the kettles shall be silver; They shall shine like shells of scarlet,

Like the fire shall gleam and glim

mer.

"And the women shall no longer Bear the dreary doom of labor, But be changed to birds, and glisten With the beauty of the starlight, Painted with the dusky splendors 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 whip-poor-will 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 treetops
Forth into the dewy starlight,
Till it passed the topmost branches;
And behold the wooden dishes
All were changed to shells of scar-
let!

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 shining 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.

twittered,

Pecked and fluttered all their feathers,

Strutted in their shining 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 shining silver feather!

vapor,

And amid celestial splendors
On the Evening Star alighted,
As a snowflake falls on snowflake,
As a leaf drops on a river,
As the thistledown 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

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 passion,
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

At his feet fell wounded sorely.

"But, O wondrous transforma. tion !

'T was no bird he saw before him, 'T was a beautiful young woman, With the arrow in her bosom !

66

When her blood fell on the planet,

On the sacred Star of Evening, Broken was the spell of magic, Powerless was the strange enchantment,

And the youth, the fearless bowman, Suddenly felt himself descending,

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 pros-
pered,

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

“Round and round they wheeled
and darted,

Filled the Evening Star with music, With their songs of joy and freedom;

Filled the Evening Star with splendor,

With the fluttering of their plu

mage;

Till the boy, the little hunter,
Bent his bow and shot an arrow,
Shot a swift and fatal arrow,
And a bird, with shining feathers,

Downward through the empty

spaces,

Downward through the clouds and vapors,

Till he rested on an island,
On an island, green and grassy,
Yonder in the Big-Sea-Water.

"After him he saw descending All the birds with shining feathers, Fluttering, falling, wafted downward,

Like the painted leaves of Autumn; And the lodge with poles of silver, With its roof like wings of beetles, Like the shining shards of beetles, By the winds of heaven uplifted, Slowly sank upon the island, Bringing back the good Osseo, Bringing Oweenee, the faithful.

Then the birds again transfigured,

Reassumed the shape of mortals, Took their shape but not their stat

ure ;

They remained as Little People,
Like the pygmies, the Puk-Wud-
jies,

And on pleasant nights of Summer,
When the Evening Star was shining,
Hand in hand they danced together
On the island's craggy headlands,
On the sandbeach low and level.

"Still their glittering lodge is seen
there,

On the tranquil Summer evenings, And upon the shore the fisher, Sometimes hears their happy voices, Sees them dancing in the starlight!" When the story was completed,