| |
| FAR and wide among the nations | |
| Spread the name and fame of Kwasind; | |
| No man dared to strive with Kwasind, | |
| No man could compete with Kwasind. | |
| But the mischievous Puk-Wudjies, | 5 |
| They the envious Little People, | |
| They the fairies and the pygmies, | |
| Plotted and conspired against him. | |
| “If this hateful Kwasind,” said they, | |
| “If this great, outrageous fellow | 10 |
| Goes on thus a little longer, | |
| Tearing everything he touches, | |
| Rending everything to pieces, | |
| Filling all the world with wonder, | |
| What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies? | 15 |
| Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies? | |
| He will tread us down like mushrooms, | |
| Drive us all into the water, | |
| Give our bodies to be eaten | |
| By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs, | 20 |
| By the Spirits of the water!” | |
| So the angry Little People | |
| All conspired against the Strong Man, | |
| All conspired to murder Kwasind, | |
| Yes, to rid the world of Kwasind, | 25 |
| The audacious, overbearing, | |
| Heartless, haughty, dangerous Kwasind! | |
| Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind | |
| In his crown alone was seated; | |
| In his crown too was his weakness; | 30 |
| There alone could he be wounded, | |
| Nowhere else could weapon pierce him, | |
| Nowhere else could weapon harm him. | |
| Even there the only weapon | |
| That could wound him, that could slay him, | 35 |
| Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree, | |
| Was the blue cone of the fir-tree. | |
| This was Kwasind’s fatal secret, | |
| Known to no man among mortals; | |
| But the cunning Little People, | 40 |
| The Puk-Wudjies, knew the secret, | |
| Knew the only way to kill him. | |
| So they gathered cones together, | |
| Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree, | |
| Gathered blue cones of the fir-tree, | 45 |
| In the woods by Taquamenaw, | |
| Brought them to the river’s margin, | |
| Heaped them in great piles together, | |
| Where the red rocks from the margin | |
| Jutting overhang the river. | 50 |
| There they lay in wait for Kwasind, | |
| The malicious Little People. | |
| ’T was an afternoon in Summer; | |
| Very hot and still the air was, | |
| Very smooth the gliding river, | 55 |
| Motionless the sleeping shadows: | |
| Insects glistened in the sunshine, | |
| Insects skated on the water, | |
| Filled the drowsy air with buzzing, | |
| With a far resounding war-cry. | 60 |
| Down the river came the Strong Man, | |
| In his birch canoe came Kwasind, | |
| Floating slowly down the current | |
| Of the sluggish Taquamenaw, | |
| Very languid with the weather, | 65 |
| Very sleepy with the silence. | |
| From the overhanging branches, | |
| From the tassels of the birch-trees, | |
| Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended; | |
| By his airy hosts surrounded, | 70 |
| His invisible attendants, | |
| Came the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin; | |
| Like a burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she, | |
| Like a dragon-fly, he hovered | |
| O’er the drowsy head of Kwasind. | 75 |
| To his ear there came a murmur | |
| As of waves upon a sea-shore, | |
| As of far-off tumbling waters, | |
| As of winds among the pine-trees; | |
| And he felt upon his forehead | 80 |
| Blows of little airy war-clubs, | |
| Wielded by the slumbrous legions | |
| Of the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin, | |
| As of some one breathing on him. | |
| At the first blow of their war-clubs, | 85 |
| Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind; | |
| At the second blow they smote him, | |
| Motionless his paddle rested; | |
| At the third, before his vision | |
| Reeled the landscape into darkness, | 90 |
| Very sound asleep was Kwasind. | |
| So he floated down the river, | |
| Like a blind man seated upright, | |
| Floated down the Taquamenaw, | |
| Underneath the trembling birch-trees, | 95 |
| Underneath the wooded headlands, | |
| Underneath the war encampment | |
| Of the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies. | |
| There they stood, all armed and waiting, | |
| Hurled the pine-cones down upon him, | 100 |
| Struck him on his brawny shoulders, | |
| On his crown defenceless struck him. | |
| “Death to Kwasind!” was the sudden | |
| War-cry of the Little People. | |
| And he sideways swayed and tumbled, | 105 |
| Sideways fell into the river, | |
| Plunged beneath the sluggish water | |
| Headlong, as an otter plunges; | |
| And the birch canoe, abandoned, | |
| Drifted empty down the river, | 110 |
| Bottom upward swerved and drifted: | |
| Nothing more was seen of Kwasind. | |
| But the memory of the Strong Man | |
| Lingered long among the people, | |
| And whenever through the forest | 115 |
| Raged and roared the wintry tempest, | |
| And the branches, tossed and troubled, | |
| Creaked and groaned and split asunder, | |
| “Kwasind!” cried they; “that is Kwasind! | |
| He is gathering in his fire-wood!” | 120 |
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