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diff --git a/6076-h/6076-h.htm b/6076-h/6076-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..030b141 --- /dev/null +++ b/6076-h/6076-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2143 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="us-ascii"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Legends of San Francisco, by George W. Caldwell, M. D. + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +Project Gutenberg's The Legends of San Francisco, by George W. Caldwell + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Legends of San Francisco + +Author: George W. Caldwell + +Release Date: April 13, 2009 [EBook #6076] + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LEGENDS OF SAN FRANCISCO *** + + + + +Produced by David Schwan, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + LEGENDS OF SAN FRANCISCO + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Other Books by the Same Author: + + Legends of Southern California. + Oriental Rambles. + Rainbow Stories. + The Wizzywab. +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George W. Caldwell, M. D. + </h2> + <h4> + Dedication. + </h4> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + My San Francisco on her seven hills is smiling, + Beside an opalescent sunset sea; + There is a magic in her bracing air beguiling, + Yet filling all with tireless energy. + The tingling tang of open sea the breeze is giving; + The fog rolls in and drives heat languors out, + And thrills her loyal subjects with the joy of living, + And puts the love of idleness to rout. + + When in the valleys, fervent summer heat oppresses, + And gives no, respite night or day, + There is a City that the cooling fog caresses, + Upon the breezy San Francisco Bay. + When winter rains and sun have wrought in fragrant flowers + A multicolored carpet on the land, + A charm is in her circling hills and redwood bowers + That only those who see can understand. + + She has a mystic charm in all the changing seasons— + A lure that brings the stranger to her door, + And in these pages I will give the Indian's reasons + For charms and lures, never told before. + The legends of the hills, the fog, the gulls, the waters + Idealize the beautiful and true; + Allow me, therefore, California's Native Daughters, + To dedicate this book of verse to you. +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> The Maid of Tamalpais. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> The Twin Guardians of the Golden Gate. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> The Sea Gulls. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> The Islands of the Bay. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> The Lake of Merita. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + The Maid of Tamalpais. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + This she told me in the firelight + As I sat beside her campfire, + In a grove of giant redwoods, + On the slope of Tamalpais. + + Old she was, and bent and wrinkled, + Lone survivor of the Tamals, + Ancient tribe of Indian people, + Who have left their name and legend + On the mountain they held sacred. + On the ground she sat and brooded, + With a blanket wrapped around her— + Sat and gazed into the campfire. + On her bronze and furrowed features, + On her hair of snowy whiteness, + Played the shadows and the firelight. + Long she gazed into the embers, + And I feared I had offended + In the question I had asked her. + Then she spoke in measured accents, + Slowly, with a mournful cadence, + And long intervals of silence. + + "You have asked me why my people + Will not climb Mount Tamalpais— + Why we hold the mountain sacred. + I am old, and when the Raven + Calls my spirit to the Father, + None will know the ancient story, + Sacred legend of the Tamals. + Therefore, I will tell the story, + I will tell and you shall write it, + Else it will be lost forever; + I will tell it that the paleface + May respect our sacred mountain." + + "In the morning of creation + All the world was covered over + With the flood of troubled waters. + Only Beaver and the Turtle + Swam about upon the surface. + Beaver said, 'I'm very weary.' + Turtle said, 'Dive to the bottom.' + Beaver dove and brought up gravel, + Laid it on the back of Turtle; + Dove again and brought a pebble, + Then another and another. + Pebbles grew to rocks and boulders, + As a peak above the waters— + Thus was Mount Diablo fashioned. + + Beaver sat upon the mountain, + Gazing out across the waters; + Saw a single feather floating; + Feather grew into an Eagle; + Eagle flew and sat by Beaver. + Long they talked about creation, + Counseled, planned, and reconsidered, + Then they moulded clay with tules; + Beaver placed his hair upon it, + Eagle breathed into its nostrils + Thus Coyote was created. + Coyote barked and sat beside them. + Many creatures were created; + Some with hair, and some with feathers; + Some with scales, or shells, or bristles. + + Other peaks and mountain ridges + Then appeared above the waters. + Walls of hills were then continued + North and south, to hold the waters + In a mammoth lake, that, filling + All the Sacramento Valley, + Found its outlet to the ocean + Through the Russian River Canyon. + Round the lake the blazing mountains + Spouted lava and hot ashes; + Casting on the troubled waters + Lurid gleams and purple shadows. + + By the lake Coyote wandered— + Sat and howled, for he was lonely, + Lonely for a Man to tame him + Into Dog as a companion. + Then Coyote mixed dry tules + With wet clay and made a figure. + Sun God came and shone upon it; + Spirit came and blew upon it, + And a Man was thus created. + Sun God made the Moon to guard him, + And she stood before his tepee, + Watching while the Sun was sleeping; + But she loved the Sun and followed + Him into the starry heavens, + Always with her face turned to him. + Still she watched the lonely tepee, + And her heart was touched with pity + For the lonely man within it, + So she made a lovely woman, + Gave her constancy, and sent her + On a moonbeam to his tepee, + As his helpmate and companion. + Man then multiplied, and flourished, + Building villages and lording + Over all the other creatures. + + On the sunny eastern margin + Of the Bay of San Francisco, + Grew the village of the Tamals; + Fisher folk they were, and gentle, + Seeking not for wars of conquest; + Fishing in the purple waters + From their boats of bark or rawhide; + Wading in the limpid shallows + Seeking oysters, clams and mussels. + In the course of generations + Piles of shells of many banquets, + With the ashes of their campfires, + Formed a mound upon the bay shore. + Shell Mound Park, the people call it, + And they gather in the shadows + Of the ancient oaks for pleasure, + Roasting clams as in the old days + When the Tamals lived upon it. + Gone are now the limpid shallows; + Gone the oysters and the mussels, + And no more are grassy meadows + Dappled with the spreading oak trees; + For great factories, grim and sordid, + Sprawl in squalid blocks around it, + And the smoke of forge and furnace + Rise from stacks into the heavens. + + Paleface men with concave glasses, + Learned in lore of printed pages, + Dig into the mounds and gather + Spear and arrow heads and axes, + Broken weapons and utensils + Made of flint, or bone, or seashell. + + To the northward, where great boulders + Lie in tumbled piles and masses, + And a Thousand Oaks are clustered, + And the crags upthrust their fingers + Through the meadows of the uplands, + Was another Indian village, + Ancient stronghold of the Tamals. + + In the village on the hillside + Men were hunters, brave and fearless, + Skillful with the bow and arrow, + Artful with the snare and deadfall; + Hunting deer and elk and bison + In the open grassy meadows, + Tracking wolf and mountain lion + To their lairs among the redwoods; + Bearing on their backs the trophies + To their camp when night was falling. + + In the village maids and matrons + Dressed the furs and tanned the buckskin, + Dried the venison, and traded + With the Shell Mound folks for salmon, + Mussels, clams and abalones, + Ornaments of bone or seashell, + Weapons chipped from flint or jasper. + From the oaks they gathered acorns, + And beneath the fragrant bay trees + And the heavy blooming buckeyes, + Ground the acorns into flour + To be baked upon the hot-stones. + + To this day the smoke of campfires + May be traced in caves, and crannies + Where the overhanging cliffsides + Gives protection from the rainstorms. + If you search among the thickets + Of the low widespreading buckeyes + You will find their ancient mortars + In the bedrock still remaining— + Mortar holes ground deep, and polished + By the toil of many women + Pounding, grinding with a pestle + Fashioned from a stream-worn boulder. + + Gone are all those ancient people, + Perished now for many ages. + Many oaks have grown and withered, + Many buckeyes bloomed and faded, + Many tribes have fought and conquered, + Lived for many generations, + Then were driven out by others. + Still the mortar holes will linger + As our monuments forever." + + Fainter grew the voice, still fainter, + Sinking almost to a whisper, + With a hesitating quaver, + As the picture came before her + Of her disappearing people. + Then I rose and piled more branches + Of the redwood on the campfire, + And the flames and sparks leaped upward, + Lighting up the mournful forest, + Driving back the eerie shadows. + + Long she bowed her head in silence, + Then resumed her rhythmic speaking. + In the village lived a maiden, + Fairest of all comely maidens + Ever born among the Tamals; + Fair of face and pure of spirit, + Kind in thought and quick in service + To the young and old and helpless; + Ever eager for her duty, + Ever singing at her labor. + + When she sat beneath the buckeyes + Grinding acorns in the mortar, + Humming birds came sipping honey + From the heavy scented blossoms; + Wild birds came and sang their sweetest + Music as they perched above her; + And the Fairies came to greet her + Dressed as Butterflies, and fluttered + Round her head and whispered secrets— + Secrets not revealed to others. + + Little wonder that the Chieftain, + Young and brave and wise in counsel, + Loved the maid and wished to take her + As his wife to rule his people. + But she answered him with sadness, + For she loved the youth, 'Beloved, + This is not the time for lovers, + But for warriors to make ready, + For a danger comes upon us. + God has sent a warning message + By the Fairies, and they whispered + To me as I ground the acorns + In the mortar 'neath the buckeyes. + + Rally all your braves around you, + Seize your strong bows, fill your quivers + With the long flint-pointed arrows; + Guard the ridges to the eastward + Ere the foe shall fall upon us.' + + To the eastward where Diablo + Rears its peak above the fog banks + Drifting landward from the ocean, + Lived a warlike tribe of people. + Fierce they were, and grim and cruel, + Worshiping the Fire Demon + Who is crouching in the mountain. + + From their heights they saw the waters + Of the Bay of San Francisco + Lying crystal-clear and purple. + Then no Sacramento River + Poured its flood of silt into it, + For a range of hills continued, + All unbroken, from Diablo + To the distant smoking mountain + Which is now called Saint Helena. + + Long they watched the bay and marveled + At its strange, alluring beauty; + Watched it in its changing colors— + In the gray of misty mornings, + In the blue of sunny mid-day, + In the glories of the sunset, + In the silver flood of moonlight— + It enticed and seemed to beckon, + Then, as ever, to the strangers. + + Long their Wizards danced, and rattled + With their gourds, to rouse the Demon + Of the Mountain to assist them— + Danced until they fell in frenzy, + Prophesying wealth of plunder. + Warriors danced and chanted war songs, + Stamped and shouted, waved their war clubs, + With the war paint on their bodies, + Black and yellow and vermillion. + Hideous and terrifying + Were they when they took the warpath. + + Oh, the terror of their coming! + Oh, the horror of the battle + On the meadows of the uplands! + Forward, by the strength of numbers, + Pressed the Devils of Diablo; + Slowly backward fell the Tamals + To the Stronghold of the Boulders. + When the darkness of the midnight + Fell as a protecting blanket, + Silently my tribe retreated, + Ere the ring should be completed + By the merciless invaders. + All the Tamals started northward— + Men and women, little children— + Through the open, grassy meadows, + Through the forest to the ridges + Circling round the Bay below them. + At the dawning of the morning + They were resting on a hilltop. + To the west the Bay was sleeping + Underneath its misty blanket; + To the east a lake was gleaming + In the rosy light of sunrise. + + While they rested on the mountain, + Weary, footsore, and disheartened, + Came pursuing scouts to spy them. + Fierce and bloody was the combat, + All the rocks were stained with crimson. + Then the scouts, or those still living, + Fled to tell their wicked Chieftain + Where to find the fleeing Tamals. + + Loud the wail of lamentation + When the Tamals saw their warriors + Who had fallen in the combat + Lying lifeless on the mountain. + Louder still, the cry of anguish + When they found their Maid of Mercy + Helpless now, and sorely wounded. + No more would her strong young shoulders + Bear the wounded braves to safety, + Nor would she withdraw the arrows, + Bind the wounds nor stanch the bleeding. + + On the shoulder of the Chieftain + She was carried, for no other + Had such strength and gentle manner. + On his shoulder thus he bore her, + Fleeing northward on the ridges, + Bore her gladly, for he loved her. + All the women were exhausted, + All the children, tired and weeping; + Half the warriors, dead or wounded— + Slow and painful was the progress. + + On they fled, but often turning, + Looking backward o'er their shoulders, + Fearful lest the foe o'ertake them + Ere they reached a place of safety. + + Came a deadly fear upon them! + 'We are lost,' they cried in terror, + For a league behind them, followed + Such a host of men or devils + That they could not hope to conquer. + 'We are lost,' they moaned, 'Their number + Is the number of the needles + On the redwoods in the forest; + And they follow as the foxes + Follow rabbits in the open.' + + 'We shall die, oh, my beloved,' + Said the Chieftain to the maiden. + 'And die gladly,' said the maiden, + 'If our people may not perish. + As I sat beneath the buckeye + At my mortar, grinding acorns, + Fairy butterflies came to me, + Fluttered round my head and told me + That an enemy was coming; + And I warned you, oh, my lover.' + 'Aye, you did, my best beloved.' + 'And they promised, oh, my lover, + That our God would save our people + Should I offer up my spirit + As a sacrifice before Him.' + + And the young Chief spoke, and answered, + 'Life without you would be empty; + Let my spirit travel with you + Through the spaces of the heavens, + To the upper world of spirits.' + + 'It shall be as you have spoken,' + Said the maiden to her lover, + 'And I know that God will answer + With a mighty sign from heaven. + Stoop, and bow your head, my lover, + That my face may turn to heaven. + Mighty Father, save my people, + Take my spirit and my lover's + To the spirit land of lovers; + Lift your hand and strike the mountain! + Cut a chasm wide, between us + And the wicked ones who follow; + Save my people, oh, my Father, + Strike the mountain! Strike the mountain!' + + Came a rumble in the distance, + Nearer, louder, terrifying! + God had heard her prayer, and lifted + Up his hand to strike the mountain. + When the mighty blow descended + With the crash of many thunders, + All the mountains rocked and trembled, + Rose and fell, and swayed and shuddered; + And across the Coast Range Mountains + Yawned a chasm, hot and smoking; + Into it careened the hillsides; + Mountains swooned and fell into it. + Through it, as a giant sluiceway, + Rushed the roaring, boiling waters + Of the lake, in tumbling tumult, + Flooding all the bayside lowlands, + Racing through the Golden Gateway + In a cataract stupendous. + Saint Helena burst its crater + With a blast that leveled forests, + And the falling sand and cinders + Buried deep the fallen giants, + To be petrified to agate. + Through the steam and sulphurous vapors, + Flashed the lightning on the mountains, + And the din of quake and thunder + Beat the air until it quivered. + + When God, his righteous wrath abating, + Ceased to shake and rend and deluge, + And the last reverberation + Died away into the distance, + And the trade winds from the ocean + Blew away the smoke and vapors, + Those remaining of the Tamals + Gazed with wonder at a mountain + That was standing, new, before them, + For upon it lay the maiden + With her face upturned to heaven, + As it was when she was praying + To her God to save her people. + On her youthful breast and body + Lay a forest, like a mantle, + New and green, and decked with flowers. + And her willing feet were resting + Near the bay and new-made river; + While the Chief, her faithful lover, + Bending 'neath his sacred burden, + Stretched his arms out to the valleys + Where his people would find shelter. + + Here for countless generations + We have lived in peace and safety, + Roaming through the wooded valleys, + Hunting on the grassy meadows, + Fishing in the bays and rivers. + + Now you know the sacred story + Of the Maid of Tamalpais— + Why no Tamal ever ventured + To the holy crest above us. + Would we tread upon the features + Of the martyred Maid who saved us? + Would we desecrate the rock-tomb + Of our Chief, her well beloved? + + There she lies in all her beauty, + Sacred Maid of Tamalpais! + If her eyes should turn from heaven, + She would see across the waters + Piles of tumbled crags and boulders + In the Grove of Thousand Oak Trees, + Where the buckeye trees still blossom + Over mortar holes, half hidden. + Children play with merry laughter + Hide and seek among the boulders. + Even now perhaps, the Fairies + Dressed as butterflies may whisper + Secrets in the ears of children, + If they listen to the voices. + + If her eyes should trace the steamers + As they thread the curving channel + Opened by the ancient earthquake, + She would see them pass an island + On whose red and barren summit + She was wounded in the battle. + White men call it Red Rock Island, + Knowing not the crimson color + Is from blood, shed in the battle + Fought upon the lofty summit + Of a mountain that was swallowed + When the mighty chasm opened, + Leaving but its peak projecting + Through the surface of the waters. + + There she lies in queenly beauty, + Martyred Maid of Tamalpais, + With her face upturned to heaven, + As when praying, 'Take me, Father; + Save my people; Save the Tamals.' + On her head the snows of winter + Lay a crown of shining crystals. + Fog banks twine their arms about her + To embrace her and caress her. + Passing rainclouds bathe her features + With their tear drops, shed in sorrow, + And the rainbow arches over + With the glories of a halo. + + She is first to have the greeting + Of the rising sun, and latest + To receive his goodnight kisses. + On her sides the purple shadows + Linger longest in the twilight. + For her robe the fairest wildflowers + Bloom throughout the changing seasons— + Violets, and pink wild roses, + Blue forget-me-nots, and lilies + Vie to give their sweetest perfumes + To the Maid of Tamalpais. + + Lovers climb the sacred mountain, + Roam the hillsides, tread the wildwoods, + Finding there new inspiration, + Hope and happiness, not knowing + That the Maid of Tamalpais + Gives her spirit to all lovers + Who approach her mystic presence. + + I, the last of all the Tamals, + Soon will turn my face to heaven + Where my own, my best beloved, + Waits with outstretched arms, to greet me. + + Write the story for all people; + It is finished; I have spoken." + Thus she spoke, that ancient woman, + Lone survivor of the Tamals, + By the campfire in the redwoods, + On the slopes of Tamalpais. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Twin Guardians of the Golden Gate. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Would you know the mystic legend + Of the peaks of San Francisco— + Of the Twin Peaks standing Guardian + Of the gay and careless city, + Ever laughing by the gateway + Of our Golden California? + + Would you know what brings the westwind, + With its cool and filmy vapors + Trailing like a scarf of chiffon + Through the narrow Golden Gateway, + Screening shore and hills and harbor, + While the country all around it + Bathes in floods of golden sunshine? + + Would you know why great Sea Lions + Flounder on the rocky islands, + Standing by the Golden Gateway? + Why they fight in baffled fury, + Barking ever at the mainland? + + Listen then, and I will tell you + As the legend was related + By an ancient Tamal woman, + As she sat beside the campfire + In a grove of giant redwoods + On the slopes of Tamalpais. + + "It was long ago, my children, + Long ago, in mystic ages + When the Gods lived near the people, + Who, like infants newly mothered, + Needed care and help and guidance. + As the children call to parents + So the people called to Spirits. + Then the Gods were quick to listen, + Quick to teach them and protect them, + Quick to punish when they trespassed + On the rights of one another. + + Near the place where Holy Fathers + Built the Mission of Dolores + Was a village of the Tamals, + Vanished now for many ages. + By it was a singing streamlet, + Where the willows waved their banners; + Round it giant redwoods clustered, + Redolent with forest odors; + Live oaks, bay trees, and madronas + Billowed over plains and hillsides. + + Through the forest ranged the hunters, + Seeking game in glen and canyon, + Meat for food, and fur for raiment; + Vanquishing the forest creatures + With flint arrows and stone axes; + Seeking fish in bay and river + With the spear or net of sinew. + On the bay the warriors paddled + In canoes of bark or rawhide, + Or in mighty redwood dugouts + Dared the currents of the narrows + Training warriors to be ready + To defend their shores and harbor. + + From the North the foemen threatened, + As an ever-present shadow. + O'er the water came the foemen, + In a mighty fleet of warboats; + Every summer came the foemen, + Came and fought and then retreated. + + In his tepee sat the Chieftain + With the Old Men, wise in counsel; + All their hearts were solely troubled— + Every summer brought the foemen, + Those bronze men of fearless courage, + Waxing stronger every season— + Long they counseled with each other; + Would the foemen come and conquer? + Could the Tamals long withstand them? + Thus they questioned in the Council + While they planned their last defenses. + + To the Council came the sisters, + Yana fair, and Tana fearless, + Twins, and daughters of the Chieftain, + Came and stood before the wise men, + Came and bowed their heads and waited. + + Well the wise men knew the sisters, + Maidens blooming into women, + Loved them for their grace and beauty, + For the joy they radiated, + For the charm that emanated + From their chaste and gentle spirits, + As the perfume that is wafted + From the rose buds newly opened. + + Yet the Wise Men gave no welcome, + Turned their eyes from Maids to Chieftain. + "Why, my Daughters, have you ventured + Into this, the warrior's council? + Well you know it is forbidden; + Neither man nor woman enters + When the warriors plan for battle." + + "Let us speak," the Maidens answered, + "For we bring a warning message. + As we wandered on the ridges + Gathering the golden poppies + To adorn our Mother's tepee, + We were talking of the danger + From the foemen of the Northland, + When a Maiden stood before us, + Strangely fair, with golden tresses, + Eyes of deep blue like the lupins, + Dressed in garlands made of poppies. + Hand in hand we stood and wondered, + Till the lovely apparition + Smiled and caused our fears to vanish. + 'I am the Spirit of the Country,' + Said the Maiden of the Poppies, + 'And I choose you, my Twin Daughters, + For the beauty of your bodies, + And the worth of soul within you, + As the saviors of your people, + As the guardians of my harbor. + Take the message to your Chieftain, + That the foe comes from the Northland; + Yet they shall not harm your people + If you stand upon the hilltop + With the talisman I give you. + Take this Magic Iris with you, + Guard it well for every petal + Has a charm that brings an answer + To a prayer that is unselfish, + To a prayer for all the people + That will live around your harbor. + Never, while you guard the hilltop, + Shall a foe invade your country. + Petals three there are; three wishes + Shall be granted when you make them.' + Then the Poppy Maiden vanished, + And we hastened to our village. + Hand in hand, we ran so swiftly + That our feet but touched the flowers; + While above our heads the wild ducks + Flying southward clamored hoarsely, + 'They are coming; They are coming!' + Sea gulls, winging from the ocean, + Shrieked their warning, 'They are coming!' + Then we dared to brave your Council + With the message of the Maiden, + And the warning of the seabirds. + + 'It is well,' the Chieftain answered, + 'Daughters with the eyes of springtime + And the faces of the flowers, + It is well. The Gods have marked you + With their sign upon the forehead; + You have stood before a Goddess, + And her spirit is upon you.' + + Long the Old Men sat and pondered. + Well they knew the ears of children + Are attuned to hear the voices + Of the Gods and Guardian Spirits. + Well they knew that all wild creatures + Speak to man if one is worthy + To receive their friendly warning; + Knew that seabirds, swift and cunning, + See the foemen while their war boats + Still are far beyond the sea-rim. + Thus they reasoned in their council, + Then they stood before the people + While the Chieftain gave his orders. + + 'Beat the war drums. Call the warriors. + Man the war canoes, and station + Sentinels upon the headlands + Up the coast-land to Bolinas. + Let them light the lurid war fires, + When they see the foemen coming.' + + Swiftly northward raced the sentries + In their light canoes of deerskin— + Through the narrows to Bonita, + On the ocean to Bolinas. + All was tumult in the village; + To each warrior was given + Long bows, strong bows, wrapped with sinews, + Stores of arrows, eagle feathered, + Newly tipped with sharpest flint-heads; + Stone head war clubs, wrapped with rawhide; + Shields of oakwood, tough and heavy. + Women decked the braves with feathers, + Robes of fur, and charms of seashell; + Roused their courage with the stories + Of the prowess of their Fathers; + Cheered with songs of deeds of valor + Of the heroes of the Tamals; + While the children, heavy hearted, + Watched the scene in wide-eyed wonder. + + Every day the Chieftain's daughters, + As twin sentinels were standing + On the hill between the valley + And the blue expanse of ocean. + + Every day they watched the Morning + Reach his rosy fingers upward, + From behind the eastern mountains, + Painting with an elfin fancy, + Crimson edges on the cloudbanks; + Then erasing and repainting + Them with gold or mauve or amber; + Always changing, as his fancy + Swayed the child to blend the colors; + Till Old Father Sun uprising, + Drove his elfin son to shelter + From the dazzle of his presence. + + All day long the faithful sisters + Stood upon the ridge and waited— + Waited while the Sun ascended, + Crossed the zenith, then descended + On his daily westward journey. + Watched him sink into the ocean + As a molten globe of metal; + While the fleecy clouds above him + Caught afire, and blazed in beauty, + Radiating flaming colors + Through the changing clouds, and lighting + O'er the purple sea a pathway + Glinting in a golden glory. + + Evening came, and still they waited— + While the heavenly dome turned purple, + And the twinkling stars were lighted, + One by one, until the darkness + Scintillated with their sparkle; + And a milky way of star-dust + Arched across, to hold the heavens + High above the reach of mortals. + + Through the night they watched and waited— + While the silver moon was racing + Through the silken clouds, and flooding + All the bay and hills and ocean + With a pale illumination, + Casting moving shadows earthward + When a dark cloud passed before her. + Wild Coyotes broke the silence + Of the midnight with their barking, + And the prowling Wolves crept nearer, + Till the patter of their footsteps + Could be heard in stealthy rushes. + + Still the fearless Sisters waited, + Watched the north for signal fires, + And in eager alternation + Held the Magic Yellow Iris. + + Came at last the welcome singing + Of the Meadow Lark and Robin, + And above the eastern mountains + Flushed the rose-light of the morning; + Then again the sky was tinted + By the Elf who plays with colors, + And the sleeping poppies wakened + When the sunbeams kissed their eyelids. + + From the Heights of Point Bonita + Rose a thread of smoke that lengthened, + Broadened, flaunted like a banner, + Black and ominous of evil. + "They are coming!" Yana whispered, + "See, the signal fires are lighted! + They are coming. Guardian Spirit + Of our native country, save us!" + And she pressed the Yellow Iris + Closely to her throbbing bosom. + + Over northern rim of ocean + Came the war canoes by hundreds, + Came until the waters darkened + With the number of the warboats. + Never could the Tamals conquer + Such a multitude of foemen. + Swiftly rose and fell their paddles, + Flashing in the brilliant sunshine, + Trailing scarfs of foam behind them, + As they raced toward the harbor. + + Tana searched the far horizon, + Saw the signal fires blazing + On the mountain tops and headlands, + Heard the war drums in the village + Roll in constant wild alarum. + + Yana held the Yellow Iris + With the Magic in its petals, + Held and gazed with adoration + On the velvet mystic markings. + Then she plucked a magic petal, + Held it high, and ere it fluttered + To the breeze this prayer was uttered: + + 'Spirit of our Native Country, + Goddess guarding home and harbor, + Roll the fog-banks o'er the headlands, + Hide the narrows from the foemen; + Bring the west-wind from the ocean, + Drive their boats to crash and shatter + On the rocky surf-bound islands. + Bring the west-wind! Bring the fogbanks!' + + From the ocean came the west-wind, + Blowing stronger, growing cooler, + Bringing in protecting fog-banks, + Sweeping landward o'er gray waters, + Flooding through the Golden Gateway, + Rolling over shore and headlands. + + Through the fog the boats were racing + For the entrance to the harbor, + When they plunged into the smother + Of the breakers round the islands— + Crashed upon the rocks and splintered. + From the surf the foemen struggled + To the rocks and scrambled on them. + + Then the Maiden plucked another + Petal from the Magic Iris, + And she prayed again, 'Oh, Spirit + Of our Native Country, hear us, + Change the foemen to Sea-creatures, + That they never more attack us.' + + As the magic petal fluttered + To the ground the foe was changing. + Arms and paddles changed to flippers; + Legs were bound as in a bandage, + And their brown and hairy bodies + Wriggled on the rocks, and crowded, + Barking, fighting one another. + + When the danger was averted, + When the enemy was helpless, + Sisters wept, embraced each other, + Thanked the Gods for their deliverance. + + Still remained another petal + Of the Magic Yellow Iris. + 'One more wish we have, one only.' + Said one sister to the other, + 'Would we might remain forever, + As the guardians of the harbor, + To protect it from all foemen, + To invoke the fog and west-wind.' + + Then, again The Poppy Maiden + Stood triumphantly before them. + 'You have chosen well, my children, + Had you wished for wealth or beauty, + Robes or jewels for adornment, + Or for any selfish purpose, + Then the petals would have fallen + To the earth and lost their Magic. + My twin daughters, ever faithful, + All your thoughts are for your people; + Therefore, you shall be immortal, + Standing on the heights forever, + As the Guardians of the Harbor. + Draw your mantles around your shoulders, + Furs they are, but flowers they shall be. + As my garments are of flowers, + So shall yours be, golden poppies, + Lupins, blue, shall deck your mantle. + Blue and gold shall be your colors— + Blue, for purity of purpose; + Gold, for worth of soul and spirit. + While you stand above the harbor, + While you call the fog and west-wind, + While you wear your cloak of poppies, + Never shall a foeman enter + Through the Golden Gate with war-boats. + Pluck the petal, let it flutter + To the ground. Your wish is granted. + Stand forever, native daughters, + As Twin Peaks, to guard the harbor.' + + That was long ago, my children, + When the earth was young, and people + Heard the voices of the Spirits— + Knew the language of the sea-birds. + To this day the ancient warriors + Flounder on the Sea Rock Islands, + Barking, roaring, crowding, fighting, + Near the gateway of the harbor. + Still the Sisters, as the Twin Peaks, + Guard the city and the harbor. + In the summer, at the season + When the ancient foes came southward, + They invoke the cooling west-wind + With its fog, to screen the harbor; + Yet, the sunlight seeks the valley + Where the ancient tepees clustered, + Beaming there in benediction, + While around it lie the shadows.' + + That, my children, is the legend + Told beside the evening campfire + By the ancient Tamal woman, + In a grove of giant redwoods, + On the slopes of Tamalpais. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Sea Gulls. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Round the boat the Sea Gulls hovered, + Soaring on their spreading pinions, + Floating on the air, but turning + Searching eyes upon the people; + Searching, searching, always searching, + Winging, swinging, darting, calling + In their plaintive tones, "Ah-we-a." + + By my side my friend, the Tamal, + Stood and gazed upon the Sea Gulls. + Long he gazed in deep abstraction, + Then he said, "They still are searching, + Still are calling to Ah-we-a. + Would you know the Tamal legend + Of Ah-we-a and the Sea Gulls? + + Know you, then, that these blue waters + Were not always calm and peaceful. + Once the Sea King, grim and moody, + Held his court within this harbor— + Held his carnivals of beauty, + And his wild and stormy revels. + + In the cove of Sausalito, + Where the houses of the paleface + Terrace on the wooded hillside + And the sailboats ride at anchor, + Lived a tribe of fisher people, + Building homes among the crannies + Of the rocks upon the bayshore, + Fishing in the harbor waters + From their light canoes of redwood— + Fishing boldly in defiance + Of the Sea King's fitful anger + At the raiding of his Kingdom + And the slaughter of his subjects. + + Oft the Sea King, in reprisal, + Lashed the harbor with his west wind + Till the breakers leaped in frenzy, + Overturning boats and claiming + Many fishermen as victims. + + Those who clung in desperation + To their boats and reached the mainland + Told the tale of their encounter + With the Sea King in the tempest. + Through the smother of the surges, + Through the driving rain and fog-banks, + Came the Sea King's boat upon them, + Drawn by floundering sea horses + With their manes of seafoam curling + From the prow and backward trailing. + Through the mist they saw it faintly, + As a ghostly apparition, + Riding down upon the billows— + Phantom ship, at times transparent, + White or gray—to ride them over; + Racing nearer, nearer, nearer, + Then dissolving into vapor; + Or, at times, it darted past them. + Giving glimpses through the fog-banks + Of the Furies at the paddles, + Bending, dipping, throwing surges + From their mighty magic paddles, + While the wake of foaming waters + Seethed and boiled in whirlpool currents. + + Long the warfare had continued. + Fishermen must live by fishing, + And the Sea King claimed his victims + Through a strategy of cunning, + Seeking ever to beguile them + To the sea to work his vengeance. + + When day dawned in rosy splendor + Calm and still the harbor waters + As a sea of purple satin, + Only wrinkled into ruffles, + Ever widening in a circle + Where the fishes leaped the surface. + + Fishermen with song and laughter, + Waved farewell to wives and children, + Paddled off into the silence; + Then, without a sign of warning, + Gales arose and lashed the harbor + Till the waters writhed and tumbled, + Wave on wave, in thundering tumult; + And the Sea King, in his anger, + Dashed the boats, o'erturned and empty, + High upon the rocky seashore + At the feet of wailing women. + + Queen Ah-we-a of the Fishers + Mourned the sorrows of her people; + Comforted the weeping widows; + Cared for all the little orphans. + Little wonder that her subjects + Loved the gentle Queen Ah-we-a. + + Long the Queen in silence pondered + On the perils of her people. + Long she stood upon the headland + Where the wind-distorted cedars + Cling upon the rocky hillside. + Long she prayed to the Great Spirit + For his guidance and protection. + Long she prayed and watched and waited + Till the moon came up and silvered + All the sea, and cast the shadows + Of the cedars, weird and lonely. + + From the harbor came the night winds + Robed in tinsel veils of vapors, + And they whispered in the branches + Of the cedar trees above her— + Whispered of the King, their master, + Whispered terms for ceasing warfare. + + Ah-we-a heard the hard conditions, + Bowed her head as in submission. + On her face the resolution + For a sacrifice was graven— + For a sacrifice so noble + That the Spirit in the Heavens + Smiled and promised, in her absence, + To protect her Fisher people. + + Morning dawned, with vapors brooding + On the silent glassy waters. + Queen Ah-we-a called her people + To the sandy shore, and standing + In her light canoe of deer skin, + Told them of her nightlong vigil. + 'Now I go,' she said in parting, + 'To the great boat of the Sea King, + There to plead that storms be banished, + Banished from our bay forever. + The Great Spirit will protect you + Till I come again to lead you.' + Then her paddle dipped the water, + And her light canoe of deer skin + Went into the fog and faded, + Faded to a shadow outline, + Then was gone into the silence. + + Long and watchfully the people + Waited for the Queen Ah-we-a. + Then a great fear came upon them. + 'She is lost. The wicked Sea King + Holds her hostage on his war boat.' + + Thus they mourned, and prayed the Father, + The Great Spirit, that he give them + Wings to fly above the waters + Where the Sea King could not reach them. + 'Give us wings,' they prayed 'On pinions + Would we fly to find Ah-we-a. + Change us, Father, into sea birds. + Let us search and find Ah-we-a, + And at last, when we have found her, + Change us back to Fisher People. + + In the flicker of an eyelid, + All the fisher men and women + And their children changed to Sea Gulls. + And the Father, ever mindful + Of his promise to Ah-we-a, + Put into the hearts of mortals + Universal love for Sea Gulls. + Laws have even been enacted + To protect them from the hunters. + + To this day the faithful Sea Gulls + Search the Bay, now free from tempests; + Search the ferry boats and steamers, + Soaring by on spreading pinions, + Peering into people's faces, + Searching for their Queen Ah-we-a. + Winging, swinging, darting, calling + In their plaintive tones, 'Ah-we-a;' + For they know that when they find her + They will change to human beings, + Subjects of the Queen Ah-we-a. + + Thus was told the ancient legend + Of Ah-we-a and the Sea Gulls. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Islands of the Bay. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Tamalpais wrapped her mantle + Of the clouds about her shoulders. + Gray the day, and melancholy, + For December rains were falling, + Falling in a steady downpour. + Mournful branches of the redwoods, + Drooping, dripping, swayed above us; + Moaned above the lonely cabin + On the slope of Tamalpais. + Raindrops pattered on the shingles, + Beat against the eastern windows, + Flooding down the glass in torrents. + + Through the veil of slanting rainfall. + Could be seen the distant harbor, + With its flecks of fleecy vapors + Floating, merging, disappearing. + + In the fireplace of the cabin, + Logs and knots of pine were blazing, + Snapping with the pitch imprisoned; + Flocks of sparks were flying upward; + Flags of flame were waving welcome, + Warming, cheering, exorcising + Ghosts of Gloom and eerie phantoms; + Bringing brightness and the odor + Of the burning pitch that lingers + As the incense of the forests. + + By the fireplace sat the Tamal, + Lone survivor of her people— + Sat and listened to the patter + Of the raindrops on the shingles, + To the soughing of the west-wind + In the branches of the redwoods. + Long she gazed upon the harbor, + Lying leaden-gray below us. + Then, she told this ancient legend— + Legend of her tribe, the Tamals, + Legend of an ancient deluge. + + "Do you see," she said, "the Islands + Of the Albatross and Beaver? + By another name you call them. + One is crested by a prison, + Grim and somber, melancholy; + One is gay with flags and bunting, + Ringing with the martial music + Of your sailor boys in training; + Yet, if you observe them closely, + You will see in one the profile + Of an Albatross, a giant + Sea bird, sleeping on the water; + While the other is a Beaver + Facing always to the eastward. + When the noon sun casts its shadows + You may see his stony features + From the deck of ferry steamers + Near the pier that wades the shallows + On the harbor's eastern border, + Tamals call them Sacred Islands + Of the Albatross and Beaver, + For upon their backs were carried + All the Tamals through the deluge. + + Down the ages came the legend, + Told by Fathers to the children, + Told on rainy winter evenings + Round the campfires of the Tamals. + + From the ocean rolled the rain-clouds, + Came unceasingly the rain-clouds. + Black and heavy were the rain-clouds, + Lighted only by the flashes + Of the lightning playing in them. + Fell the rain as falls the torrents + In the waterfalls of rivers, + Fell through days of murky darkness, + Fell through nights of inky blackness, + Fell for days and nights unnumbered. + Waters covered plains and valleys. + On the coast the sea was rising, + Flooding all the lower country, + Creeping up the mountain foothills; + Still the rains in floods descended. + + Up the slopes of Tamalpais + Climbed the people of the Tamals, + While behind them crept the waters, + Covering the hills and mountains. + One by one the peaks were swallowed + In the flood of rising waters. + On the gray and sullen waters + Floated logs and trees uprooted; + On the trunks and in the branches + Cowered creatures of the forests, + Then the people prayed the Spirit— + Prayed the Father in the Heavens— + That he save his tribe, the Tamals, + Ere the waters rise above them; + And the Spirit heard their pleading, + Sent the Albatross and Beaver, + Giant messengers from Heaven, + As the Saviors of the Tamals. + + Albatross came from the westward, + Through the lightning of the storm-clouds, + Growing larger, coming nearer, + Till the thunder of his pinions + Echoed from the cliffs above them, + Then he rested on the waters. + + From the eastward came the Beaver, + Swimming through the turbid waters, + Growing, growing, ever growing, + Till he had become a Giant, + On whose back the tribe of Tamals + Could find refuge from the waters. + + Then a voice spoke from the storm-clouds, + Spoke in mighty tones of thunder: + 'I have heard your prayer, Oh Tamals; + You shall live, and shall re-people + All the world with men and women. + I will give to them the spirit + Of the Albatross who searches + Distant seas on tireless pinions. + I will give to them the wisdom + Of the Beaver who with patience + Labors, building and constructing. + On the Albatross and Beaver + You shall ride, until the waters + Shall return to their own borders.' + + On the Albatross and Beaver + All the Tamals rode in safety, + While the swirling deluge covered + All the foothills and the mountains. + Then the northwind, dry and scorching, + Drove the rain-clouds to the ocean, + And the sun-rays, piercing through them, + Glinted on the troubled waters. + Came the peak of Tamalpais + As an island to the surface; + Down the slopes the flood receded + Baring forests to the sunlight, + Then the grass-lands of the valleys + And the old familiar coastline. + + With rejoicing all the Tamals + Sought their homes along the bayshore, + Singing thanks to the Great Spirit, + Singing praises to their saviors, + Giant Albatross and Beaver, + Resting then, within the harbor. + Then again, in voice of thunder, + Spoke the Spirit from the Heavens; + 'Let the Totem of the Tamals + Be the Albatross and Beaver; + Search and Labor, be their motto; + And, lest children of their children + May forget their mighty saviors, + Giant Albatross and Beaver + Shall be changed to rocky Islands— + Monuments to stand forever, + In the Harbor of the Tamals.' + + Thus the ancient Tamal woman + Told the Legend of the Islands, + While December rains were falling, + And the fragrant pine was burning + In the fireplace of the cabin + On the slope of Tamalpais. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + The Lake of Merita. + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The lengthening shadows of evening + Were creeping on Mount Tamalpais, + Painting with purple the valleys, + Gilding the ridges and summit. + Green were the groves of the redwoods, + Lacing their branches together; + Through them the last rays of sunlight + Pierced to the carpet of needles. + Only the tinkling of water, + Only the breeze in the branches, + Only the call of the blue jays + Broke the mysterious silence. + + Far through the canyon I wandered, + Far to her camp in the redwoods— + The home of the Indian woman, + Wrinkled and old and decrepit, + Learned in the lore of the Tamals. + Nearing her camp-fire, I saw her, + And halted in fear, lest I trespass. + + She sat like a Priestess of Forests, + Chanting with weird intonations, + Slowly, with strange repetitions, + Swaying in rhythmical measure. + Round her the wild forest creatures + Gathered and sat at attention. + Birds ceased their anthems of evening, + Fluttered to branches above her, + Listened as if fascinated. + + The singing was hushed when she saw me; + Away fled the wild things to cover. + "Welcome, my friend," said the Tamal. + "A seat at my camp-fire is waiting." + Her welcome was hearty and friendly, + But out of the shade of the forests + Came chattering, chirping and barking, + Resenting, reproaching, complaining. + + I sat by the camp-fire and listened + In wonder. The scene was uncanny. + At last, when the plaints had subsided, + Or faded away in the distance, + I said , "Tell me, friend, by what magic + Are wild creatures called to your camp-fire. + Is it a secret you cherish? + May you reveal it to others?" + + She gazed in the flickering embers, + Dreamily gazed in the embers, + Then she replied, "You have heard me + Singing the song of Merita, + The magical song of Merita, + Merita, the friend of wild creatures, + Wearers of fur or of feathers, + Creatures of forest and mountain, + Birds of the sea and the marshes. + + I will tell you the tale of Merita, + Merita, the daughter of Yado, + Chief of the fishermen people + Who lived by the Lake of the Oak Trees, + Far to the east of the harbor. + + Slender and tall was Merita, + Dark were her eyes, and her tresses + Glossy and black as the feathers + That gleam on the wings of the raven. + Gentle and kind was Merita, + Serving the young and the aged, + Nursing the sick and the wounded, + Cheering when sorrow was breaking + The heart of some one of her people. + The Gods taught Merita the language + Of birds that made nests in the oak trees, + Of water fowl thronging the tules, + Of all furry creatures that peopled + The hills and the valleys around them. + They came from afar when she called them, + Called with her song, and they hastened + To tell her their troubles and sorrows. + She bound up their wounds and caressed them, + And told them the wiles of the hunters. + + Wandering one day to the northward, + She came to a creek where strawberries, + Ripe and delicious were growing + Beside a small stream that cascaded + Down from the Peak of the Grizzlies. + Refreshing herself with the berries + She sat in the shade of the live oaks, + The ancient and widespreading live oaks, + And called to the wild forest creatures, + Singing the Song of Merita. + + 'Come, come, come, birds of the air, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, tell how you fare, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, wild creatures, know + That I love you. + Come, come, come, tell me your woe, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, you will I serve, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, you well deserve, + And I love you. + Come, come, come, I bring you aid, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, be not afraid, + For I love you. + Come, come, come—come—come—come.' + + Before the monotonous chanting + Was finished, the Blue Jays and Robins, + Pigeons, and Bluebirds, and Blackbirds + Flew to the branches above her, + And tipping their heads to observe her + Opened their bills in complaining. + Down from the canyon a white fawn + Came with a shaft in her shoulder, + Fell at the feet of Merita, + Bleating her plea for protection. + Quickly the arrow was taken + Out of her quivering shoulder. + Then came the hunter, pursuing— + Halted, and gazed in amazement. + 'I am Zarando, the Tamal, + Chief of the Thousand Oaks People. + Pardon me, if I have wounded + A pet of the beautiful stranger.' + + Under the arm of Merita + The frightened fawn crept for protection. + + 'I am Merita, the daughter + Of Yado, the Chief of the Fishers + Who live by the Lake of the Oak Trees. + The Fawn is my friend, and she answers + My call to all wild forest creatures.' + + 'I have a call,' said Zarando, + 'A call to decoy the wild creatures + Into the range of my arrows, + Yet few are deceived by the pretense. + Teach me your call, oh, Merita. + + 'Nay, nay, Zarando; love only + Will draw the wild creatures around you. + Love does not change cannot injure— + The shaft is not aimed at a loved one. + If you would draw the wild creatures, + Love them, and guard them from danger.' + + 'I am a hunter, Merita, + And yet would I gladly abandon + The bow and the trap to secure + The charm that the Great Spirit gives you. + Tell me the secret, Merita, + Teach me to speak in the language + Of all the wild creatures around you; + Teach me to know and to love them.' + + Then were the first lessons given, + Where now gather thousands of students, + Beneath the old widespreading live oaks + That stand by the stream in the Campus. + There the first Teacher and Pupil, + Merita and young Chief Zarando, + Met on the mornings that followed, + Met for the love of the study, + And then for the love of each other. + + No more were the Tamals and Fishers + Rivals, at war with each other; + United they lived as one people— + One people around the great harbor. + Zarando, their chief ruled with justice; + Merita, their Queen ruled with mercy. + Their village grew up where the oak trees + Stand on a point in the Lakelet. + The water birds came at her calling, + And thronged on the Lake of Merita, + Holding conventions, and heeding + The judgments she gave in their quarrels. + No one disturbed them nor harmed them; + There was a refuge from danger. + + It is said that souls of the lovers + Still live in the oak trees that border + The shore of the Lake of Merita; + And that water-birds come at their calling, + And throng, unafraid, on the waters, + Hearing the song of Merita: + + 'Come, come, come, birds of the air, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, tell how you fare, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, I bring you aid, + For I love you. + Come, come, come, be not afraid, + For I love you.' + Come, come, come, + Come, + Come, + Come." +</pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + The End +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Legends of San Francisco, by George W. 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