Tales by Polish Authors Part 20

'Ah yes!' answered the attendant.

'I who am the first in creation--'

'Verily,' the attendant replied.

'I, the first among the chosen--'

'In truth,' the attendant repeated.

'Let them come blazing, like the shield of the sun!'

'Let them come!'

'He himself like the clouds,--the fiery raven precedes him--'

'Riddles for a child!'

'Riddles for a child!'

'I am thy son. I, wretched one, walking the earth, implore thee!'

'I implore!'

'Aid my weak strength in this stony path.'

'Oh, aid!'

'Oh, drum, my herald, and wind, my wings!'

'Aye, verily--'

'I approach you, encircled by winged and restless--'

'Winged and restless--'

'Their claws are open, their throats are extended--'

'Extended--'

'The mountains groan, the earth trembles within--'

'Ah!--'

'And I go ever fearfully, yet unhindered--'

'Protect me, my lord, I cry to thee--'

'For I am from the suffering nation!'

'I am indeed.'

'Mighty helper, angry, threatening saviour, have pity!'

'We pray!--'

'If I err, let me not perish on the pathless track!'

'Let me not!'

'Save the erring, lead me.'

'We go--'

Growing more and more animated, the old man stood up, and began to dance.

The dance resembled a march. The shaman described what he met in his path in fantastic language, and by gestures. The attendant followed him, repeating his words, and, at moments, supporting him by the elbow. Thus they came to the edge of the circle. Calmly and solemnly the shaman raised his drum towards the sky in silence, and then sang:

'Thou snake-like Etygar, dwelling in regions below the earth, ruling over the air, sickness, and death itself.--'

'Oh, Etygar!'

'And thou, Iniany, like to a man with huge wings, thou, who shelterest from destruction--'

'Iniany!'

'And thou, Arkunda, endued with the power of second-sight!'

'And thou, Normanda, whose piercing cry turns the heart to ice!'

'And thou, iron-feathered Wavadabaki! And thou, whom we only know by thy shadow!--'

'I ask what you may require, and what is the cause of your anger?

Restrain your ministers, withhold your persecutions. Know ye not that we perish, and if we perish, who will prepare your offering?'

'Who will?'

'To you I come defenceless, entangled in a long cloak. My head is bent with years, my open eyes cannot see far.'

'It is even so!' chimed in the attendant, who had been silent hitherto, not daring to repeat all these awful incantations.

'Going to the sea, and returning to the sea, I am a Nomad--'

'Yea, verily--'

'Ye like dark reindeer, ye like dappled reindeer; have they ceased to be pleasing?'

'Have they ceased?'

'Ha! Ha! Ha! When you dance, do you forget us, and being merry, do you shun us?'