The Fire Bird

The Fire Bird

Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, Make for me High Magic. I, Yiada, daughter of White Wolf, Mighty Chief of the Canawacs, Mate of Star Face, Brave of the Mandanas, I of your blood, I have said it! From the roots of the white toluache lilies Make me a strong medicine That will drown my scorching spirit-fire And empty my hands of their fulness. Beat your sacred turtle drums Loud and threateningly. Drive back to the fear peopled forest Of the far and dread Shadow Land The flaming ghost of the fire bird And the white flower of the still water. [2] Heal me of the dread head-sickness Like the midsummer madness Of foaming-mouthed quiota. I, Yiada, proud daughter of the fierce Canawacs, I, mate of the Brave, Star Face, Chief of a forest of wigwams, With ponies like the sands of the sea, have said it. Hear me, for the healing of my sickened spirit! Where the triumphant blue sea water, Sky-gold all day in the slanting sunlight, Silver-white in the uncertain moonlight, Teases the pale sands of the craggy beaches, Lay the lodge of my Father, White Wolf, The savage hunter of beast and enemy, First at the kill, Chief of great wealth, Next in power to the high Sachem, Chief of all Chiefs. Many were the strong sons Who sprang from White Wolf's loins I, Yiada, his one daughter, pride of Falcon Eye, His daring chieftainess, from the far Mandanas. Tall our wigwams of deer and bear and elk skins, Stout our warm lodges of cedar and pine tree, Many our robes of beaver and buffalo and marten, [3] Heavy our necklaces with cunningly carved beads, Polished elk teeth and eagle talons, Shining black obsidian and precious blue shell; Our war ponies flocking like birds fleeing winter. Always for me, the one daughter, The warm spot by the storm fire, The floating sweet fat from the cooking kettles, The first crusty brown cake From the smoking red baking stones, The clear flowing gold sweet From the tall nests of the wood bees; The soft sun coloured robe of down fine doeskin Embroidered with broad bands of white beads, Luring beads of green, and blue, and yellow, The red stained singing quills of the porcupine, And downy snow white under feathers From the breast of the white swan. I, first in the picking of the juicy berries The fruits of earth and bush, Most skilful in the weaving Of the bright story baskets, Swiftest at embroidering robes of doeskin For chieftain or little fatling; Leader in the ceremonial dances Of the young women of our tribe, In the great Assembly Lodge of our people. [4] I, of slim body, willow smooth, oak strong, With thick long hair of crow-back blackness, And keen far eyes like the high eagle Of the top crag of the cloud country Spying in the gold hunting grounds of the sun. Many the gaily dressed young Braves Who nightly crept close our lodges And made soft eyes and sang wooing songs, When the moon of full womanhood shone on me. But always, when she braided ornaments In my hair, for dancing, And oiled me for high ceremonials, In my ear Falcon Eye, my Mother, whispered: "Keep your body for Mountain Lion, Son of the High Sachem, Chief of Chiefs when his Father makes his journey To the far country of the Great Spirit." Mountain Lion was the tallest, The strongest of our young men, The fastest rider, the most skilful dancer, The surest hunter among us, The spy who never failed, The warrior who always returned in triumph. Like the young trees of the sea shore He was slim and straight. [5] Like the water rolling up the white sands He was ever tireless. Like the shining of the spirit sun He lighted all the day with gold magic; Like the kindly silver moon He peopled all the night with friendly shadows. The heart of every maiden was wingd In the wild breast of her, If he but looked where her footsteps led her. Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, Make for me a new, a sure medicine That will ease my scorched heart Of the fire of a flaming red bird And take from my tortured hands Their burden of moon white lilies. In the cool night of the fat, bloody moon of harvest When the tribal storehouses were full heaped With dried fish and bear, buffalo and deer meat, With little mountains of maize for winter; When the cakes and candles of yellow tallow Were moulded past numbering, When the wide-mouthed seed baskets Were high heaped with richness, And many deep nut baskets were overflowing, When the dried berries from far thickets Made little sun painted hills [6] Then all of the tribe of our hunting grounds Bathed their hard worked bodies, Oiled their smooth skins, painted their happy faces And put on the wealth of their richest robes For the Great Dance of Thanksgiving. When the robins made love chase that season, In the secret ceremonial of the wise old women My Maiden's Hour had been celebrated. Always had my proud, savage Mother Taken me alone to the forest, And there, beating hands and chanting, She had carefully taught me The Wonder Dance of the Maidens' Hour Of the Mandanas, her people. It was a dance of moonlight and moon madness, Of sign love talk, of eyes asking great gifts, Of swift feet stamping like the roebuck And singing bead and shell trinket music, So that all the night was softly lighted With strange visions flower sweet. On the day of the Thanksgiving Ceremonial When my Mother oiled me to leaf fine smoothness, And hung me heavy with bracelets of bone beads And a necklace of precious carved blue shell, [7] As her skilled hands of love flew, In my ear she made Canawac talk: "To-night, before the Great Sachem On his high throne of prideful authority, With the son who follows him in Council, Sitting beside his knee, When thou leadest the Thanksgiving Dance At the head of the young women Thou shalt wave all of them back to their places, And alone, before the assembled Chieftains, Thou shalt dance the Mating Dance Of the rich and powerful Mandanas, Ever keeping thine eye of glad submission, Fast on the eye of Mountain Lion. "If the soft light in his eye strike fire for thee, Then shalt thou forget all others And dance out thy heart for him alone And bow low as the young cedar before him, And as the serpent charm him. If he arise and stand facing thee And dance love manifest before thee, Then is the hour come for thy union with him. "Then shall I fly to set up thy wigwam Of down-fine doeskin, bleached with love, That many suns I have worked on in hiding for thee, [8] And gladly in the sand before it Thou shalt set thy lighted candle, Thy tall proud candle of gold bear tallow; And if he come to thee with soft words With words of wooing magic, Then shalt thou bury thy candle flame In the yielding sands before him. "Then art thou our Chieftainess in seasons to come, And high shall thy sure heart beat With pride of love and power, And swift shall thy red blood run in leaping streams With the flood-high tide of mighty Chieftains. "Braves shall thy many straight sons be, Great Chiefs who shall rule other far nations; And sweet shall thy tall strong women be As the red honey-flower that grows in the forest, And swift shall their hearts be As the heart of the frightened fawn That leaps with feathered feet before the hunter." Medicine Man, make me a sure medicine, A strong medicine, new to our people, That shall ease my weary eyes Of a red bird and a white lily. When the Harvest Ceremonial Dance Was cried through all the village, [9] When night crept, silent as the bat's wing, From the blanketed heart of the forest, When the great Assembly Lodge Was lighted and filled with happy faces, When the old chiefs and the wise men Had spoken thanksgivings for fat harvest, And the time was come for all the tribe to rejoice, First came the dance of the little stumbling children; The little fat bellied round faced serious children, With shining black hair and wonder eyes, And flower red cheeks and mouths, And stout breath like short gusts of North Wind. When, worn out with swift dances, They rolled in their soft blankets, Came the shy youths' dance, And the uncertain growing maidens' All bravely tinkling little necklaces Of squirrel and rabbit teeth, and bright rare shells. Then danced the carefully trained young women, Grown and ripe for the Harvest of love. In their lead I did as my Mother had told me. Straight I stood before the Great Sachem And the son of the pride of his heart. High I lifted my head like a proud pine tree, And softly I shook my bracelets of beads [10] And rattled my necklace of blue shell, And rustled the porcupine fringes Of my fine robe of yellow, In music like the little secret whispering Among the dry grass under passing feet. I spoke as I had always been taught by my Mother: "Great Chief, grant that I dance before thee The Woman's Love Dance of the brave Mandanas, A dance that I have learned From the swift feet of my Mother." Searchingly, the Great Sachem looked at his son And his son looked at me with understanding And made a swift sign to his Father; So raising his hands of authority, The Great Sachem cried aloud: "Yiada, daughter of Chief White Wolf, Will dance the Woman's Dance of the Mandanas, Let all others be seated. I have said it!" Alone, with the blood of heart red on lip and cheek And with the pride of my asking heart Beating like wings on my light feet, With my Mother keeping time for me, As she did in the secret forest, Slowly I stepped into the great dance Of the Mandanas, of the peace lands; [11] The strongest love medicine Ever measured by the feet of wild women. As I danced, even as my Mother had long told me I kept my eyes ever spying Deep into the eyes of Mountain Lion. When the dance grew to its swiftest wildest note, When my proud head of certainty And my willing arms were high lifted, And the beads and obsidian and blue shell Tinkled soft singing, like falling rain, Mountain Lion sprang to his feet And came down in the firelight before me. With no knowledge of the dance of the Mandanas, And no teaching of step or of posture, He fell into the strange measures That my Mother had taught me; With eyes upon eyes and heart near to heart, Facing in the wide fire flaming circle Where envious faces kept watch upon us, We danced the wonder dance Of the hour of full womanhood. Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, Healer of the hearts of the Mandanas, There, facing the chiefs and maidens Of a thousand lodges of our tribe, [12] With the Great Sachem keenly watching On his high throne of great power, Darest say that was not my hour My rightful moon of exultation? When I looked, near the close of the dance, Toward my Mother for guidance She gave me the swift happy sign of birds flying; So I caught that joyful sign And I gave it to the waiting maidens. Like homing swallows they swept around me; The young Braves came stamping, Like roebucks before the does of Spring, Then all of us changed the dance To the love measures of the Canawacs. When the chattering maidens Went back to their waiting mothers, I stood there tall and straight and proud Fresh as the wing of the eagle, From the highest peak of dawn Eye to eye, face to face with Mountain Lion. His eyes burned deep into my eyes With a look of quivering power. Medicine Man, darest thou say That was not the great understanding? So when all of the others Went on with the Dance of Thanksgiving, [13] Soft as the veiling mists From the dim breast of evening meadows I slipped from the Council House And I flew to our lodge. With hands of high satisfaction My Mother set my wigwam beside her lodge. I lighted my tall happy candle of bear fat; I opened my doorway wide to the friendly moon; Deep in the sands I set my love light to burning. And there I waitedlong and long I waited, In burning eagerness of heart Tremblingly listening with each breath For the sure step of Mountain Lion. Then, Medicine Man, With black angered sign talk And fierce eyes of leaping fire, Came my storm driven Mother. As she came toward me, Like a killing wind uprooting the cedars, Arose high clamour from the Council Lodge. She caught up my hopeful waiting candle, My living love token to Mountain Lion, my man, She buried its flame deep in the white sands, In rage she thrust it from her, She snatched shut the welcoming doors [14] Before the eyes of anguish of my Mother Of my willing doeskin wigwam, And in the harsh low voiced Canawac tongue She cried to me in choking anger: "Woe is upon us! Strangers have reached us. Comes a great Chief from tribes of the far North, From the camps of the powerful Killimacs, From the home fires of the Ice God; And with him on a snow white pony Rides his beautiful raven haired daughter, A tall proud Princess of a great warlike nation. "This night Mountain Lion will not come to thee: His father has sent him to serve the rich strangers. Get thee back to thy place in the Council Lodge Before the venom tipped finger pointers miss thee, For there will be great feasting and much talk, The rejoicing will last for many suns and moons. It was the wrong time for thy dance of allurement Thy maiden proffer of prideful loving, But I, thy Mother, taught thee thy undoing, I, thy Mother, gave to thee the sign." Then, Medicine Man, As fierce a storm as ever tore the forest, As ever pitched the sea high in wild fury, Broke in my heart, leaping to flee its lodging place. I lifted my head high, and proudly and silently [15] I stepped into the moon tide, But I trembled and shook with all-over sickness, My blood ran hot angry gushes, And I, who had never known pain In any part of my strong body, Now felt its rending arrows Tearing my heart in sick torture, As I crept through the restless whispering forest Where the wise old yellow leaves Talked over my shame with each other And every mocking finger of night Pointed in derision at my wounded side. I crept back to the Council Lodge Still as a panther fending for her cubs, I slipped in unseen by any, And took up my place among the young women. On the high throne of power Beside our Great Sachem, Storm Wind, Sat a tall Chief trailing rich robes Of white fox, sealskin, and white bear. A proud Chief of savage face, Weighted with a heavy necklace of eagles' claws, Many elk teeth, and lion talons, Hanging across his broad shoulders. Standing still and straight before them, First, I saw the stranger woman. [16] I heard the deep voice of her father, Toned to soft talk, as among peace councils, When he told the Great Sachem and Chieftains And all the watching Canawacs: "This is my daughter, a Princess of seven tribes, She who can run with the foot of the hare, Who can dance as the gold birch leaves, When spring comes stealing from the Southland; Who can guide the swift canoes surely And ride the wild ponies on the chase, Whose fingers are skilful in basket weaving, In beading, and braiding, and polishing ornaments. She comes with me to make the friendship Of a people of her mother's blood; And her name is a name held sacred Among all the tribes at peace with us. Like music there fell from his smooth tongue A name well known to council wise Canawacs, 'Coy-oy'a breath of sweetness He spoke it like the easy tongue of a lazy brook Softly singing among the small stones of its bed. Then every Canawac remembered the dark days When the Great Spirit became justly angered, And in the height of his deep wrath Against the treachery of all tribes Drew up the waters of destruction [17] Until they covered the earth's face, Leaving upon the tallest tree Only one Chief and his mate, And one pair of every bird and climbing beast, On the top of the highest mountain Of all the earth known to man. When the water had come up to the top branches Until only their heads were above it, And had stood still for three weary suns, Then slowly it drew back, and left the earth barren, So there was no fire to cook food For the hungry Sachem and his mate, Nor to warm the water soaked camping grounds. Then the Sachem sent a beaver messenger Far down to the underworld To borrow only one coal From the campfires of the dark spirits; But the beaver was not able to bring it For burning his mouth cruelly. Then he sent the fierce mountain lion, Searching all over the earth for campfires, But there was no fire to be found, For the water had been everywhere. Then he sent a little gray bird to the spirit world To bring from the campfires of the unseen country [18] One living coal with which to make a fire For the cooking kettles and light-signals, And to warm the lodges of all the tribes That would follow him in suns to come. So the dauntless little gray bird Slowly winged across the far spaces. Three suns arose and set, and at the red evening When the third sun plunged its face in the sea, With all of its plumage burned a flame-tongue red, With a beak of red like hot coals And its face blackened with fire, Came the brave panting bird With a living coal held fast in its mouth, A coal snatched from the high altars Of the far country of the spirits. And so the fire gift was brought back to earth To warm the hearts and the wigwams Of every nation, for all seasons to come. The bird was sent from a stranger tribe Far to the south of our hunting grounds, Where the hot suns shine and the grass withers; But travellers journeying northward to see us, Had told our grandfathers about it, Had shown us the bird of bloody red beak And face still blackened with fire, [19] Singing gaily in our summer forests, Singing even in the ice of winter. Often when we chanted songs of thanksgiving To the Great Spirit, for rich gifts, When we thanked him for the buffalo and beaver, For the deer meat and fish and corn for winter, Then our tribes made a ceremonial of glad rejoicing For the bird that brought back The great wonder gift of fire. Its sacred name fell on our ears Like the peace of the Great Spirit, Fell soft as flying snowflakes When first squaw winter comes, Soft as the hunting wing of the thieving owl, Sweet as the breath of flowers in the nesting moon, From the lips of the Great Chief: "Coy-oy." Before him, her shining head bowed, Our people watched her in silent wonder. She was tall, taller than any of our women, Tall and slender like the singing wind reeds That grow around the magic pool Of the white spirit lily of the still water, Far back in the valley pastures. She moved like the night hawk Slowly sweeping across the moon sky. [20] From the proud lift of her head And the eagle look of her dark eye From the red flower flame of her soft lips And the sureness of her being, I could see that the heart of her Was like a wiry little war pony Swiftly racing up the steep trail of her breast With the hunt blood of the soft chase Fevering its questing nostrils. No woman among our people, Had seen the beauty of her robe, For she stood in flower white, flower fine doeskin, Bleached and tanned like winter snowdrift, Like the shining water flower face of far lakes, Like the wide wing of a homing white swan, Like the silver rays of the big cold hunting moon. All around her feet fell soft knotted fringes Cut deep as the height of the first upstanding Of papooses ready to walk. And her belt and her neck were deeply embroidered With a thousand green stained quills From the backs of many porcupines, While her long heavy necklace Was got from traders crossing far seas, For it lay soft dull jade like the green wave meadow In the deepest bay of the leaf tinted big sea water. [21] Medicine Man, O Medicine Man, When one looked upon her searchingly, As I looked long upon her, That night of fat harvest thanksgiving, Slowly one saw creeping from her bare arms, From her firm high breasts, Over the dark gleaming bowed head And sure slender shoulders of her, A faint waving cloud like fine blue mist That could have been none other Than the secret power of the Great Spirit, Stealing from her breast to wrap around her So that any evil spirit magic Might not be strong to work against her. I could see that she was softer Than our hard working women, Though she had learned from the bee To be busy and useful, Though she had learned from the hunted fawn To travel far journeys in daring wingd leaps. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 35188
Author: Stratton-Porter, Gene
Release Date: Feb 6, 2011
Format: eBook
Language: English

Contributors

Illustrator: Grant, Gordon, 1875-1962 , Thayer, Lee, 1874-1973