Kthaahthikha

The first three cantos of my unfinished homage to Longfellow , which mostly look like this:

III

The Song of the Pleiades

It was this time before the campfire,

When the lands were cold in winter,

When the bushfires swept the forests

And tribes picked embers from the ashes;

Then there came the Karatgurk,

The five women from the northward.

On the Yarra flats they dwelt then

With their hair flowing about them,

Bearing secrets out before them,

Begged after by all the Kulin.

Upon their digging-sticks they bore it,

The bright pin-points of coals,

Fire from campfire to campfire

Never shared with any asker.

Sweet yams they baked within it,

The delicious warmth and taste,

Or shared their raw yams with old Waang,

The crow who followed these five beauties.

Not knowing of the taste,

Knowing not the fire's blessing,

One day Waang fell upon a cooked yam

Left discarded by the fire.

The sweet taste was so delicious,

It enthralled him and bewitched him;

He begged the Karatgurk for fire

But the five sisters refused him.

Poor Waang, cursed by the tasting

Of that single wondrous cooked yam,

He was wise and cunning, old Waang,

Catching up a host of black snakes.

These he hid within an anthill,

Where the bull-ants squirmed and writhed.

Then he called out to the maidens;

'Fair Karatgurk!' he called-out,

'Come to this the teeming ant's nest,

Dig within the pale earth,

Quest downward with your digging sticks,

Draw forth the masses of larvae.

For the flavour of the larvae! O,

It shames a thousand yams.

The sweet writhing mass to fill your guts,

Come to, it fairest maidens,

Come to it, Karatgurk!'

And they listened to old Waang's words,

And their mouths flooded with the thought.

The sweet flavour beckoned them down,

Digging sticks tearing at hard earth.

Down through the swarms they burrowed,

Yet no sooner had they broached

Into the fair Queen's royal chamber,

Gazing up with startled facets,

Than there burst from out the chamber

The ten-fold sharp-fanged serpents,

The yellow bellies scraping,

The spines winding like rivers,

Till they came upon the sisters,

Their jaws wide and venom dripping,

And the battle raged through the bush,

As the birds cried-out the conflict.

'War! War!' There screamed the magpie,

And the swallow spoke of famine.

The wagtail trilled and fled to sky

As black snakes coiled by his patch.

The Karatgurk wielded their sticks,

Beating back the savage serpents,

And the coals flew to the dry earth,

Rolled hissing amidst the grey dust,

As old Waang the crow dove down

And snatched a few coals up.

Away across the bush he winged it,

Warbling his cries of triumph,

Cawing encrypted jubilation

To the startled folk below.

In a high, high tree he nested,

And he surveyed all the land.

When the Karatgurk had triumphed,

Swinging their blood-stained yam sticks,

The black snakes lay about them

As they returned to fetch the coals.

Yet on finding some coals missing

They saw now that Crow had tricked them,

Cursed sly old Waang for his mischief

And coursed him swiftly through the trees.

At the tall bole's feet they made camp,

Crying-out for him to come down,

But Waang remained high above them

With the bright coals clutched in hand.

Then Bunjil the All-Father,

The Eaglehawk from out the sky,

He came passing by the tall tree

And heard the loud commotion.

Seeing all the events

Lain-out quite plain before him,

He demanded of the old crow

That he be given coals to cook with.

'For I have a bit of possum,

That I would much like to eat hot.'

But Waang the shrewd refused him,

'Toss the possum here, I'll cook it.'

And he roasted well the tidbit

And cast it succulent to Bunjil.

Bunjil took the piece of possum,

And he saw it was still smoking,

So he blew with all of his breath,

Sought to rouse the flesh to flame,

Yet he acted all in vain.

Then the Kulin gathered round him,

The beasts clamoured all at old Waang,

They tore at the trees broad base;

They demanded that he cede them,

That he cast to them the bright coals,

And he quailed in fear as he saw them,

The broad sea of screaming faces.

Flung him then the fire amongst them,

Watched the bright coals cascade down,

Watched Koruk-goru snatch one,

Slip the bright coal behind his tail,

And seal his term, the fire-tail finch,

The bright orange of his hind.

The rest was grasped by Djurt-djurt,

By Thara, Bunjil's aids,

And they cast a lump at old Waang,

Caught the crow across the chest.

Then he screeched high in agony,

Burnt forever black by bright flame,

And the land below was scorched jet

By the harsh justice of the pair.

Kindled the land, did Djurt-djurt,

Fanned the flames did clever Thara,

Waang's fair country scorched ashen,

Till Lord Bunjil came around it,

Took the Kulin for assistance,

And beat about the smoking wastes.

With great rocks he stalled the furnace,

Placed boulder's at Yarra's head,

And the rocks are still visible,

Wardens against the inferno.

Amidst the crackling crimson flames,

The Kestrel and the Quail-hawk,

Their own heat did consume them,

Justice for their unkind actions,

Penitence for fire consuming,

And they were burnt down black to cinders,

Left to stand amidst the forest,

On the bald hill, Munnio,

They stand now stone, upon the ash-hill,

And old Waang stands by their side,

All alone upon the bald hill,

Scorched by the careless first fire's flame.

Bunjil, he set to seeing,

Saw the worth of the Karatgurk,

Swept them up in his broad arms,

Swept them up into the heavens,

And the five bright stars look down,

Watch the world they helped to make,

Watch the fires which they gave man,

Brought down on their sticks from the north,

The bright coals glowing eternal

On the tips of their digging sticks,

Casting light across the world,

The Pleiades, the five fair sisters.