Only Oweenee, the youngest,
She the wilful and the wayward,
She the silent, dreamy maiden,
Was the fairest of the sisters.

"All these women married warriors, Married brave and haughty husbands; Only Oweenee, the youngest,

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,
Star of Evening, Star of Woman,
Star of tenderness and passion!
All its fire was in his bosom,
All its beauty in his spirit,
All its mystery in his being.

All its splendor in his language!

And her lovers, the rejected,

Handsome men with belts of wampum,

Handsome men with paint and feathers,
Pointed at her in derision,

Followed her with jest and laughter,
But she said: 'I care not for you,
Care not for your belts of wampum,
Care not for your paint and feathers,
Care not for your jests and laughter;
I am happy with Osseo !'

"Once to some great feast invited, Through the damp and dusk of evening Walked together the ten sisters,

Walked together with their husbands;

Slowly followed old Osseo,
With fair Oweenee beside him ;
All the others chatted gayly,
These two only walked in silence.
"At the western sky Osseo
Gazed intent, as if imploring
Often stopped and gazed imploring
At the trembling Star of Evening,
At the tender Star of Woman;
And they heard him murmur softly,
Pity, pity me, my father!'

66 6

'Listen!' said the eldest sister, 'He is praying to his father! What a pity that the old man Does not stumble in the pathway, Does not break his neck by falling!'

And they laughed till all the forest

Rang with their unseemly laughter.

On their pathway through the woodlands

Lay an oak, by storms uprooted,

Lay the great trunk of an oak tree,
Buried half in leaves and mosses,

Mouldering, crumbling, huge and hollow,
And Osseo, when he saw it,
Gave a shout, a cry of anguish,
Leaped into its yawning cavern.
At one end went in an old man,
Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly;

From the other came a young man,

Tall and straight and strong and handso`ne. “Thus Osseo was transfigured,

Thus restored to youth and beauty;

But, alas for good Osseo,

And for Oweenee, the faithful!

Strangely, too, was she transfigured.

Changed into a weak old woman,

With a staff she tottered onward,
Wasted, wrinkled, old and ugly!
And the sisters and their husbands
Laughed until the echoing forest
Rang with their unseemly laughter.

'But Osseo turned not from her,

Walked with slower step beside her,
Took her hand, as brown and withered
As an oak leaf is in Winter,

Called her sweetheart, Nenemoosha,
Soothed her with soft words of kindness,
Till they reached the lodge of feasting,
Till they sat down in the wigwam,
Sacred to the Star of Evening,

To the tender Star of Woman.

"Then a voice was heard, a whisper,
Coming from the starry distance,
Coming from the empty vastness,
Low, and musical, and tender;
And the voice said: 'O Osseo!
O my son, my best beloved!

Broken are the spells that bound you,
All the charms of the Magicians,

All the magic powers of evil;

Come to me; ascend, Osseo!

Taste the food that stands before you It is blessed and enchanted,

It has magic virtues in it,

It will change you to a spirit;

All your bowls and all your kettles
Shall be wood and clay no longer ;
But the bowls be changed to wampum,
And the kettles shall be silver;
They shall shine like shells of scarlet,
Like the fire shall gleam and glimmer.

"And the women shall no longer
Bear the dreary doom of labor,
But be changed to birds, and glisten
With the beauty of the starlight,
Painted with the dusky splendors
Of the skies and clouds of evening!
Then the lodge began to tremble,
Straight began to shake and tremble,
And they felt it rising, rising,
Slowly through the air ascending,
From the darkness of the tree-tops
Forth into the dewy twilight,

Till it passed the topmost branches:
And behold! the wooden dishes
All were changed to shells of scarlet!
And behold! the earthen kettles
All were changed to bowls of silver !
And the roof-poles of the wigwam
Were as glittering rods of silver,
And the roof of bark upon them
As the shining shards of beetles.

Then Osseo gazed around him, And he saw the nine fair sisters, All the sisters and their husbands, Changed to birds of various plumage. Some were jays and some were magpies, Others thrushes, others blackbirds; And they hopped, and sang, and twittered, Perked and fluttered all their feathers, Strutted in their shining plumage,

And their tails like fans unfolded.

Only Oweenee, the youngest,

Was not changed, but sat in silence,

Wasted, wrinkled, old, and ugly,

Looking sadly at the others;

Till Osseo, gazing upward,

Gave another cry of anguish,
Such a cry as he had uttered
By the oak-tree in the forest.

“Then returned her youth and beauty
And her soiled and tattered garments
Were transformed to robes of ermine,
And her staff became a feather,
Yes, a shining silver feather!

"And again the wigwam trembled,
Swayed and rushed through airy currents.
Through transparent cloud and vapor,
And amid celestial splendors

On the Evening Star alighted,

As a snow-flake falls on snow-flake,

As a leaf drops on a river,

As the thistle-down on water.

Forth with cheerful words of welcome

Came the father of Osseo,

He with radiant locks of silver,

He with eyes serene and tender.

And he said: 'My son, Osseo,

Hang the cage of birds you bring there,
Hang the cage with rods of silver,
And the birds with glistening feathers,
At the doorway of my wigwam.'

At the door he hung the bird-cage,
And they entered in and gladly
Listened to Osseo's father,
Ruler of the Star of Evening,
As he said: 'O my Osseo!

I have had compassion on you,

Given you back your youth and beauty,
Into birds of various plumage

Changed your sisters and their husbands;
Changed them thus because they mocked you
In the figure of the old man,