Praised his own address too highly, Talked too much of his achievements, All his hearers cried, "Iagoo! Here's lagoo 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; And the arrows of the oak-tree. 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, From the Evening Star descended." 155 XII. THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR. CAN it be the sun descending O'er the level plain of water? Staining all the waves with crimson, Filling all the air with splendor, 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, To the sky its wings are lifted, With its blood the waves are reddened! Melts and trembles through the purple, As he passes through the twilight, 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, She the wilful and the wayward, Was the fairest of the sisters. "All these women married warriors, Married brave and haughty husbands; 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, |