It is so long ago; and men well-nighForget what gladness was, and how the earthGave corn in plenty, and the rivers fish,And the woods meat, before he went away.His going was on this wise.
All the worksAnd words and ways of men and beasts becameEvil, and all their thoughts continuallyWere but of evil. Then he made a feast.Upon the shore that is beside the seaThat takes the setting sun, he ordered it,And called the beasts thereto. Only the menHe called not, seeing them evil utterly.He fed the panther's crafty brood, and filledThe lean wolf's hunger; from the hollow treeHis honey stayed the bear's terrific jaws;And the brown rabbit couched at peace, withinThe circling shadow of the eagle's wings.And when the feast was done he told them allThat now, because their ways were evil grown,On that same day he must depart from them,And they should look upon his face no more.Then all the beasts were very sorrowful.
It was near sunset, and the wind was still,And down the yellow shore a thin wave washedSlowly; and Gluskâp launched his birch canoe,And spread his yellow sail, and moved from shore,Though no wind followed, streaming in the sail,Or roughening the clear waters after him.And all the beasts stood by the shore, and watched.Then to the west appeared a long red trailOver the wave; and Gluskâp sailed and sangTill the canoe grew little, like a bird,And black, and vanished in the shining trail.And when the beasts could see his form no more,They still could hear him, singing as he sailed,And still they listened, hanging down their headsIn long row, where the thin wave washed and fled.But when the sound of singing died, and whenThey lifted up their voices in their grief,Lo! on the mouth of every beast a strangeNew tongue! Then rose they all and fled apart,Nor met again in council from that day.
