



 


|
In
Divers Tones
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
Edited
by Tracy Ware
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THE
QUELLING OF THE MOOSE.
A
MELICITE LEGEND
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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,
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was the story Sacòbi 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
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Are
strong,—they were but straw 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.
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“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,
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| 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,
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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.
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“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,
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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
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How
huge a peril will shrink like sand,
When stayed by a prompt and steady hand!”
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