A Guide to MythologyClarke, Helen A. (Helen Archibald)
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A Guide to Mythology
Clarke, Helen A. (Helen Archibald)
Mythology -- Juvenile literature
It had been her custom to pass many of her hours in her favorite place of
retirement, under a broad-topped young pine, whose leaves whispered in
every wind that blew; but most of all in that gentle murmur of the air at
the evening hour, dear to lovers, when the twilight steals on.
Thither she now repaired, and, while reclining pensively against the
young pine tree, she fancied that she heard a voice addressing her. At
first it was scarcely more than a sigh; presently it grew more clear, and
she heard it distinctly whisper:
“Maiden, think me not a tree, but thine own dear lover, glad to be with
thee in my tall and blooming strength, with the bright green nodding
plume that waves above thee. Thou art leaning on my breast, Leelinau;
lean forever there and be at peace. Fly from men who are false and
cruel, and quit the tumult of their dusty strife, for this quiet, lonely
shade. Over thee I my arms will fling, fairer than the lodge’s roof. I
will breathe a perfume like that of flowers over thy happy evening rest.
In my bark canoe I’ll waft thee o’er the waters of the sky-blue lake. I
will deck the folds of thy mantle with the sun’s last rays. Come, and on
the mountain free rove a fairy bright with me!”
Leelinau drank in with eager ear these magical words. Her heart was
fixed. No warrior’s son should clasp her hand. She listened in the hope
to hear the airy voice speak more; but it only repeated, “Again! again!”
and entirely ceased.
On the eve of the day fixed for her marriage, Leelinau decked herself in
her best garments. She arranged her hair according to the fashion of her
tribe, and put on all of her maiden ornaments in beautiful array. With a
smile, she presented herself before her parents.
“I am going,” she said, “to meet my little lover, the chieftain of the
Green Plume, who is waiting for me at the Spirit Grove.”
Her face was radiant with joy, and the parents, taking what she had said
as her own fanciful way of expressing acquiescence in their plans, wished
her good fortune in the happy meeting.
“I am going,” she continued, addressing her mother as they left the
lodge, “I am going from one who has watched my infancy and guarded my
youth; who has given me medicine when I was sick, and prepared my food
when I was well. I am going from a father who has ranged the forest to
procure the choicest skins for my dress, and kept his lodge supplied
with the best spoil of the chase. I am going from a lodge which has been
my shelter from the storms of winter, and my shield from the heats of
summer. Farewell, my parents, farewell!”
So saying, she sped faster than any could follow her to the margin of the
fairy wood, and in a moment was lost to sight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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