Classic Poem

A Melicite Legend

When tent was pitched, and supper done,
And forgotten were paddle, and rod, and gun,
And the low, bright planets, one by one,

Lit in the pine-tops their lamps of gold,
To us by the fire, in our blankets rolled,
This was the story Sacobi told: —

" In those days came the Moose from the east,
A monster out of the white north-east,
And as leaves before him were man and beast.

" The dark rock-hills of Saguenay
Are strong, — they were but straws in his way.
He leapt the St. Lawrence as in play.

" His breath was a storm and a flame; his feet
In the mountains thundered, fierce and fleet,
Till men's hearts were as milk, and ceased to beat.

" But in those days dwelt Clote Scarp with men.
It is long to wait till he comes again, —
But a friend was near, and could hear us, then!

" In his wigwam, built by the Oolastook,
Where the ash-trees over the water look,
A voice of trouble the stillness shook.

" He rose, and took his bow from the wall,
And listened; he heard his people's call
Pierce up from the villages one and all.

" From village to village he passed with cheer,
And the people followed; but when drew near
The stride of the Moose, they fled in fear.

" Like smoke in a wind they fled at the last.
But he in a pass of the hills stood fast,
And down at his feet his bow he cast.

" That terrible forehead, maned with flame,
He smote with his open hand, — and tame
As a dog the raging beast became.

" He smote with his open hand; and lo!
As shrinks in the rains of spring the snow,
So shrank the monster beneath that blow,

" Till scarce the bulk of a bull he stood,
And Clote Scarp led him down to the wood,
And gave him the tender shoots for food. "

He ceased. And a voice said, " Understand
How huge a peril will shrink like sand,
When stayed by a prompt and steady hand. "