SAVAGE SORCERY

Man-to-ac, the Mighty Father,
When he filled the earth with blessings,
Deep within the heart of Woman
Hid the burning Need-of-Loving;
Which through her should warm the ages
With a flame of mutual feeling,
Throbbing through her sons and daughters
With a force beyond their power.
And this law of human loving,
Changeless through unending changes,
Fills each living heart with yearning
For another heart to love it;
And against this ceaseless craving
Creed, nor clime, nor color standeth;
Heart to heart all nature crieth
That the earth may thrill with gladness.

So the young braves of the nation,
Thrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na,
Made rude ornaments to please her,
Laid the red deer at her wigwam.
Brought her skins of furry rabbits
Soft and white as her own skin was;
Robbed the black bear and the otter
That her bed might soft and warm be.
And the children of the forest
Were uplifted by such loving
Of a higher type of being,
Who yet throbbed with human instincts.

Brave O-kis-ko loved the maiden
With a love which made him noble;
With the love that self-forgetting
Fills the soul with higher impulse.
As the sun with constant fervor,
Heat and light to earth bestowing,
Seeks for no return of blessing,
Feels no loss for all his giving,
So O-kis-ko loved Wi-no-na,
Gave her all his heart’s rude homage,
Felt no loss for all his giving,
Loved her for the joy of loving.
Scorned he all fatigue and danger
Which would bring her food or pleasure;
And each day brought proof of fealty,
For his deeds were more than language.

For her sake he tried to fasten
To his rude canoe white pinions
Like the winged ships of the white man,
That with her he might sail boldly
Out towards the rosy sunrise,
Seeking for her lost grandsire
For whose coming her heart saddened.
Though his red companions mocked him,
His endeavor pleased the maiden,
And her eyes beamed kindly on him,
Though no passion stirred her pulses.
For sweet maiden hopes and fancies
Filled her life with happy dreaming
Ere her woman’s heart awakened
To O-kis-ko’s patient waiting.
Waiting for her eyes to brighten
’Neath the ardor of his glances;
Waiting for her soul to quicken
With the answer to his longing;
Finding sweet content in silence,
Glad each day to see and serve her.

Now old Chi-co, the Magician,
Also loved the fair Wi-no-na,
All his youth to him returning
As he gazed upon her beauty.
In his wigwam pelt of gray wolf,
Antlers of the deer and bison,
Hung to prove his deeds of valor;
And he wooed the gentle maiden
With his cunning tales of prowess.

She would not rebuke his boasting,
Fearful lest her words offend him;
For her nature kind and loving
Could not scorn the vaunting Chi-co.

When he walked among the maidens,
Gay with paint and decked with feathers,
She would look on him with kindness
That the others might not scoff him;
She would smile upon his weakness,
Though she did not wish to wed him.

Chi-co’s love was fierce as fire
Which from flame yields only ashes;
Which gives not for joy of giving,
But demands unceasing tribute,
More and more to feed its craving.
He grew eager and impatient,
He would share with none her favor;
All for him her eyes must brighten,
Else his frown would blight her pleasure.

When the young men played or wrestled,
If O-kis-ko came out victor;
Or returning with the hunters
He it was who bore the stag home;
If with eyes abrim with pleasure
Sweet Wi-no-na smiled upon him,
Or with timid maiden shyness
Drooped her eyes beneath his glances,
Then old Chi-co’s heart would wither
With the fire of jealous fury,
Till at length in bitter anger
He determined none should win her,
As from him she turned in coldness.

Wrapped in silence grim and sullen,
Much he wandered near the water;
With his soul he took dark counsel,
Seeking for devices cruel
For the torture of his rival
And destruction of the maiden.

Though he rarely used his power,
Chi-co was a great magician.
He knew all the spells of starlight
And the link ’tween moon and water;
Knew the language of lost spirits
And the secret of their power;
Knew the magic words and symbols
Whereby man may conquer nature.

Long he plotted, much he brooded,
While he gathered from the water
Mussel-pearls all streaked and pieded,
All with rays like purple halos.

Such pearls are the souls of Naiads
Who have disobeyed the Sea-King,
And in mussel-shells are prisoned
For this taint of human frailty.
When by man released from durance
These souls, grateful for their freedom,
Are his slaves, and ever render
Good or evil at his bidding.

Chi-co steeped each one he gathered
In a bath of mystic brewing;
Told each purple, pieded pearl-drop
What the evil was he plotted.
Never once his purpose wavered,
Never once his fury lessened;
Nursing vengeance as a guerdon
While the mussel-pearls he polished.

Then a new canoe he fashioned,
Safe, and strong, and deep he made it;
And then sought to work his magic
On the innocent Wi-no-na;
Asked the maiden to go with him
In his boat across the water.
“Come,” said he, “to Ro-a-no-ak,
Where the waves are white with blossoms,
Where the grapes hang ripe in clusters,
Come with me and drink their juices.”

And the innocent Wi-no-na
Listened to his artful pleading;
Went with him in search of pleasure,
Glad to show him friendly feeling.

While with idle stroke they floated
To the fragrant lily-blossoms,
He a string of pearls gave to her,
Smooth and polished, pied and purple.
’Round her snowy neck she placed them
With no thought of harm or cunning;
And with simple, maiden speeches
Filled the time as they sped onward.

To each pearl had Chi-co chanted,
Each had bathed in mystic water,
Each held fast the same weird power,
Till the time grew ripe for evil.
On the waves they could not harm her,
There the Sea-King ruled them ever;
But when on the shore she landed
They would work their evil mission.

On the shore of Ro-a-no-ak
Chi-co sent his boat with vigor.
Lithe and happy she sprang shoreward,
When, from where her foot first lightly
Pressed the sand with human imprint,
On away towards the thicket,
Sprang a White Doe, fleet and graceful.

His revenge thus wrought in safety,
Drifting seaward Chi-co chanted:
“Go, White Doe, hide in the forest,
Feed upon the sweet wild-grasses;
No winged arrow e’er shall harm you,
No Red Hunter e’er shall win you;
Roam forever, fleet and fearless,
Living free and yet in fetters.”

O fair maiden! born and nurtured
’Neath the shadow of disaster!
Isle of Fate was Ro-a-no-ak,
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water.
Nevermore to fill with gladness
The sad heart of stricken mother;
Nevermore to hear the wooing
Of the brave and true O-kis-ko.
Gone thy charm of youthful beauty,
Gone thy sway o’er savage natures;
Doomed to flee before the hunter,
Doomed to roam the lonely island,
Doomed to bondage e’en in freedom.
Is the seal of doom eternal?
Hath the mussel-pearl all power?
Cannot love thy fetters loosen?