LEGENDS AND MYTHS
OF THE
ABORIGINAL INDIANS OF 
BRITISH GUIANA
 
COLLECTED AND EDITED BY THE REV.
WILLIAM HENRY BRETT, B.D.,

Missionary in connection with the S. P. G.; Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Guiana; 
and Late Rector of the Parish of Holy Trinity, Essiquibo.
 
LONDON:
WILLIAM WELLS GARDNER,
2, PATERNOSTER BUILDINGS.

(Reduced to HTML by Christopher M. Weimer, March 2003, for Sacred Texts Online. This plain 
text version has been prepared by the Caribbean Amerindian Centrelink for not-for-profit 
distribution)


p. v 

PREFACE

THE chief object of the present work has been to preserve, and to give at one view, the more 
serious traditions—religious, mythological, and historical—of the four aboriginal races who live 
nearest the shores of Guiana.
A few of these legends appeared in a former work on the Indian tribes. To  them are here added 
the more copious results of systematic research, extending over many years. A metrical form has 
been adopted, as agreeable to the native style in former days, when their national traditions were 
recited with peculiar intonation—chanted, rather than told.
The head-men, mostly sorcerers, who guarded, and from time to time recited  them, have, in 
the vicinity of our missions, nearly all passed away. Many time-honoured legends have expired 
with them, as the old state of things has yielded to the spread of Christianity.

p. vi 

The foregoing remarks apply only to the more  serious traditions. Fanciful legends, of which a 
few specimens are also given here, are common to all. Some are very popular, and will probably 
continue to be told, for the purpose of amusement, over their evening fires, as long as the native 
languages shall be spoken.

p. vii

CONTENTS.

 
PART I.

PAGE
LEGENDS OF THE ARAWÂKS
1
 
PART II.
LEGENDS OF THE WARRAUS
49
 
PART III.
LEGENDS OF THE CARIBS
87
 
PART IV.
LEGENDS OF THE A CAWOIOS
123

PART V.
FANCIFUL LEGENDS
163


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 2

CONTENTS OF PART I.

		PAGE
INTRODUCTION	3
I.	OF THE SUPREME BEING.	
	 Origin of Living Creatures (Legend of the Ceiba Tree)	7
	 Origin of the White Race	8
	 The Fire and the Flood	10
	 Ideas of a Future State	14
II.	THE ARAWÂK SORCERER'S LEGENDS.	
	 Arawanili and the Orehu	15
	 Appendix to the Legend (Biter Bit)	23
	 Arawidi (A Fragment)	26
III.	HISTORICAL AND WARLIKE LEGENDS.	
	 The Cannibal Mounds	30
	 The Fight on the Bowruma	35
	 The Fight on the Haimâra Cabura	39
	 The Fight on the Waiini	44
	 Alliance and Intereourse with White Men	46
CONCLUSION	47

The Arawâks formerly inhabited the whole of the West Indian Islands. Those  in the Lesser 
Antilies were exterminated by the Caribs, before the discovery of America by Columbus. The 
inhabitants of the larger island perished soon after that event, under the oppression of the 
Spaniards.
The few Arawâks who dwell near the coast of Guiana and whose legends are  here given are 
now the only known representatives of a gentle and once numerous race.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 3 
Legends of the Arawâks.
 
INTRODUCTION.
'Twas long ago! yet still I view 
The scene to me then fresh and new, 
Where two fair rivers flow;  
Where stately moras tower above, 
And palms wave gently in the grove, 
As pleasant breezes blow.  
p. 4  
I see, as natives pass me there, 
Bright copper skins and jet black hair; 
While one whose face is kind and fair 
The forest trees lays low. 
Alone that Indian came to me, 
A young white stranger's friend to be; 
And hoping that the white man's "word" 
Might to the red men light afford. 
So when, oppressed by noontide glow, 
He sought my hut—too close and low; 
We to the river would repair, 
And talk of Christ's religion there.
There painted Caribs in our view 
Would pass us in their light canoe, 
And slowly glide away.  
We saw grim alligators sleep, 
And languid lizards near them creep, 
In the meridian ray.  
And there—while no sweet breeze above 
Would stir the leaves and cheer the grove, 
And water-lilies scarce could move— 
Would wait the cool of day. 
There he of God and of the soul 
Would question in the "Dutch Creole;" 
A "patois" I could daily hear 
From an old negress living near, 
p. 5  
And could reply to, right or wrong. 
But when he spoke his own sweet tongue, 
Too hard it was to understand, 
Though helped by signs with head or hand!
Time passed: he heard in his own tongue 
Truths which to Christian faith belong. 
 Then, first, to God he prayed. 
And I from him their legends heard, 
With that old superstitious "word" 
Which he before  obeyed. 
Of spirits good and bad he told; 
Of sorcerers and warriors bold; 
But chief, this legend, grave and old, 
Of  HIM who all things made.
p. 6 
 
I. 
OF THE SUPREME BEING.
THERE is a mighty One above: and like Him there is none! 
He sits on high, above the sky, where none can see His throne. 
He was there ere He made the world, with stars, and moon, and sun; 
And evermore He will be there; when each its course has run.
Our tongue gives Him no proper name, but titles more than one; 
We call Him "Dweller in the Height,"1 since there He sits alone. 
The "Great Our Father,"2 though to Him for comfort none have gone, 
And of "Our Maker"3 oft we speak, but never call upon.
That Mighty Maker all things formed; 'tis He that made them move; 
And food for all things He bestows, which seems a proof of love. 
But calm He   sits above the sky, 
To Him for succour none can fly,   
He is so    high above!
p. 7 
 
ORIGIN OF LIVING CREATURES. 
(Legend of the Ceiba Tree.)
Here, beneath this sacred tree, 
Old men told how moon and sun,  
Earth and sky, and wide-spread sea, 
Lay before the Mighty One.  
High He stood, where rivers run, 
Pausing, ere His work was done!
Waves, soft murm'ring, beat the strand, 
Gentle breezes sighed  above. 
Still no life was in the land, 
No sweet birds sang songs of  love. 
O'er the plain and through the grove, 
Nothing then was seen to move.
Then his seat, "Komaka,"1 there— 
Wondrous tree!—He  caused to grow. 
'Midst the clouds its branches were, 
Earth and sea lay  far below. 
Sacred trees we this day know; 
None such vast dimensions show.
From that bright-green throne, His hand 
Scattered twigs and bark  around. 
Some in air, and some on land; 
Some the sparkling waters  found. 
Soon He saw with life abound 
Water, air, and solid ground!
p. 8 
Those which fell upon the stream 
Found a pleasant shelter  there: 
Shining fishes dart and gleam 
Where those woody fragments  were; 
Others sported through the air, 
Bright with wings and feathers fair.
Moving, too, on solid ground, 
Or the river's marshy strand,  
Beasts and reptiles then were found, 
Spreading thence to fill the land.  
Men and women upright stand, 
Raised by their great Maker's hand.

Wild fruits first were human food; 
Water man's sole drink, they  say. 
No bold hunters roamed the wood; 
None would then take life  away; 
Beasts and birds would sport and play 
With young children day by day.
On this earth our sire then came 
(Young and brave "Wadili" he),  
Saw their maidens, felt love's flame, 
Took them, fair, his wives to  be; 
Taught the native arts you see: 
Hunting, fishing, husbandry.

 
ORIGIN OF THE WHITE RACE.
Some addition has been made 
To that legend, grave and old;  
Since our fathers here surveyed 
p. 9  
Steel-clad white men,  strong and bold. 
They, with blood-hounds, we are told, 
Hunted men—and all for gold!
"Not from the Komaka tree 
Sprang the whites," our sages say;  
"They from wood cast on the sea 
Rose, amidst wild ocean's spray,  
Finding land on which to stay 
O'er the waters—far away."
"If from wood our race has sprung, 
Did it in these forests grow?  
Did it to 'green-heart' belong? 
'Locust,' or 'balata?' No?  
Did its foliage ruddy glow 
With a mora's strength below?
"Ask no more, friend, you are wrong. 
Those trees give us, day by  day, 
Bark, or gums, and timber strong: 
Useful gifts they all  convey. 
But the white man's stock, they say, 
Good for nought, was cast away!"
Smiles on every face appear, 
Red men, seated on the  ground, 
Laugh—that satire old to hear: 
Mild revenge! which poor men  found, 
Who escaped, in swamps around, 
Spanish "arcabuz" and hound!
p. 10 
 
THE FIRE AND THE FLOOD.
Traditions of a deluge, we are told, 
In the New World prevailed, as in the Old. 
Those of our Arawâks may seem absurd, 
Yet stranger tales from inland tribes are heard. 
And far more wild were those which (Spaniards show) 
Were told by that same race in Bohio 
(Or Hayti)—for their race at first possessed 
Those lovely islands all, whose charms adorn the west.
'Twas said in Hayti, that from magic gourd, 
By accident o'erturned, the deluge poured; 
Till then that wondrous gourd enclosed could keep 
The num'rous finny tribes that swim the deep. 
No trace of that wild legend I have found, 
Though strange were the traditions all around. 
The Arawâks, peculiar, understood 
That fire had swept the earth before the water-flood.
 
THE LEGENDS.
I.
Fire is mighty—all-subduing! 
Once its fury came,   
When the Maker, roused, was viewing 
Deeds of blood and shame—   
Evil raging, goodness failing— 
Then on earth, his wrath prevailing, 
Came the burning   flame.
p. 11 
Timely warning came from heaven: 
"Fire shall sweep the land!"   
One who heard that warning given 
Sought a reef of sand.   
By that chieftain's wisdom guided, 
Some a refuge there provided 
For their little   band.
"Here," said he, "a pit preparing, 
Wives and children hide.   
Timber strong, the sand-roof bearing. 
We must first provide.   
Piles will keep that shelter o'er us; 
Comrades, work!—the vault before us 
Must be deep   and wide.
"Felling next the trees, and burning. 
All around make clear;   
Shrubs and grass to ashes turning, 
Leave we nothing here—   
Nothing on which flames can fasten. 
Clear and burn! O brothers! hasten, 
Ere the flames   appear!
*  *  *  *  *
Clouds of smoke, the sun concealing, 
Come, still rolling   nigher; 
Then fierce flames, their might revealing. 
Wrap the woods in   fire. 
Onward comes the blazing torrent; 
That burnt "clearing" stays its current; 
  There—the flames expire.
p. 12 
Thither, from that danger flying, 
Birds and beasts repair.  
In their vault those men are lying; 
Smoke and heat they bear.  
While the flames around are roaring, 
And the fiery hail is pouring, 
Finding safety  there.
*  *  *  *  *
Coming forth, they see the ruin 
Through the lurid flame; 
Ashes, which those flames were strewing, 
Spread funereal gloom.  
Blackened skeletons there lying 
Show where men and beasts, when flying, 
Met their awful  doom!
 
II.
Time flowed on. That fearful danger 
Long had passed away;  
Punishment became a stranger; 
All had gone astray.  
Violence and wrong abounded; 
Men with evil good confounded, 
Growing worse each  day.
Evil ways have evil ending. 
When a warning—new  
Told them of a flood impending, 
None believed it true.  
Till Marerewana, hearing, 
For his wife and children fearing, 
Made a great  canoe.
p. 13 
Some among his nearest neighbours 
Said he was to blame;  
Others, mocking at his labours, 
Strove to give him shame.  
Still they found him at it working, 
Morn and eve, no labour shirking, 
Ere "great waters"  came.
"Make it large, Marerewana! 
Strong and fair to view:  
Over forest and savannah 
Float—the deluge through!"  
Thus they mocked their anxious neighbour, 
Mocked him at his heavy labour, 
Laughed at his  canoe!
Archéd roof he thatched above it, 
Palm leaves strong and warm;  
Firm, that no fierce wind might move it, 
Ready for the storm.  
"Here," said he, "my loved ones, hiding, 
Through the tempest safe abiding, 
May be kept  from harm."
Still he feared; and said with sorrow, 
"When this flood shall  come, 
We may drift (perhaps to-morrow), 
Through the salt-sea  foam!" 
Said a voice, "That great tree near thee, 
Moor to that—thy craft shall bear thee 
Safely near thy home!" 
*  *  *  *  *
p. 14 
Then, with lengthened bush-ropes mooring, 
(So our legends tell),  
He and his, the flood enduring, 
Weathered surge and swell  
When the waters left them, stranded, 
Near their former home they landed, 
Known—and  loved—so well!

 
IDEAS OF A FUTURE STATE.
Columbus told how, on fair Cuba's isle, 
Where, spent with toil, he sought repose awhile, 
And gentle natives welcomed him to land, 
A venerable elder took his hand. 
Full fourscore years had bowed that old man's head, 
And to the Admiral thus solemnly he said—
"Great is thy power, O chief! But be not vain; 
And from all violence and wrong abstain. 
For, after death, there are before the soul 
Two ways; each ending in a final goal. 
To light and life all the kind-hearted go, 
The cruel and unkind to dark and dismal woe!"
Belief like that—almost as clear—I found 
Among the heathen Arawâks around. 
Like origin with that old man they claim, 
Although their tribe may bear another name. 
And scarcely different from his we deem 
Their knowledge of one Lord, Eternal and Supreme.
p. 15 
Why did not they then on their "Father" call, 
Until the Christian teachers summoned all 
To join in prayer unto the common Lord? 
The reason our next legend will afford. 
Here, as elsewhere, we superstition find, 
Excluding true religion from the darkened mind.

 
II. 
THE ARAWAK SORCERER'S LEGEND. 
(1841.)
 
ARAWANILI AND THE OREHU.
THE shadows now lengthen, and evening steals o'er us, 
Tall forests will soon hide the sun;  
Our work being done, to the river before us 
My little red Indians run.  
With gay, merry shouts, and long hair wildly streaming, 
They plunge from a stump, one by one;  
And little of danger from water-snakes deeming, 
Some swim the wide river  alone. 
'Tis a dream of the past; but how oft in such dreaming 
I view  their glad sports going on!
Their gay, happy shouts, from the river ascending, 
Seem echoed from  yonder clear sky; 
With hundreds of voices from parrots there blending, 
As  homeward green parrots now fly. 
p. 16  
The bright macaw's scream may be heard in the chorus, 
The toucan may add his harsh cry;  
But mutely, on yonder tree, leafless before us, 
The sloth gazes round from on  high. 
Ah! let him beware; for now, hovering o'er us, 
His foe, the  bush-eagle, is nigh!
While through the dense forest the echoes are ringing 
Of those merry  boys at their play, 
Sweet, silvery laughter the breezes are bringing— 
The  girls are in their little bay; 
Where the water seems flashing,   
With   mermaidens dashing, 
And diving, and swimming away! 
And now, though from distance we hear not the dash, 
We can see, far away, where the calm waters flash, 
As they catch the sun's evening rays.  
'Tis the stroke of some paddles disturbing their calm, 
And we see a canoe, where yon manicole palm 
Its fair, slender beauty displays,  
Lowly bending, as if 'twould its Maker adore, 
While myriads more   
Wave along the green   shore, 
As the breeze seems to whisper His praise.
Soon we see that canoe to our landing draw near, 
With two Arawâk men, their wives, children, and gear; 
They are soon on the bank, and assisting to land 
Their two aged parents, with kind, loving hand. 
p. 17  
And tall is that patriarch, chief of his clan, 
Though he leans on his staff as a feeble old man; 
What he bears, wrapped in palm-leaves, I cannot well see, 
But all shrink from its sound, as he hands it to me.
"O Maraka-kore!" for so did they call, 
In their own native language, that sorcerer tall, 
(Which name means "Red-rattle," denoting his trade, 
Or that instrument rather, which dupes of them made); 
"Say, why do you bring your 'maraka' to-day, 
With its handle adorned with birds' feathers so gay, 
And the stones rattling in it, the demons to scare, 
Or attract to the sick, as your people declare?
"In token that I from these things turn away, 
And renounce evil spirits; I bring this to-day, 
From your neighbour Cornelius we hear the 'good word;' 
We believe, and are thankful for what we have heard. 
On myself and my wife feeble age has come on, 
And we wish to be christened ere life shall be gone."
Such, in substance, he said; and I need not here tell 
Of those of his brethren who gave theirs as well.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
"Pray tell me, old man," I one day to him said, 
"What were your traditions respecting your trade? 
Who was the first sorcerer? How came you to use 
This rattle, when demons you charm or abuse?"
Being urged by his sons and some friends who were near, 
He told a tradition they all longed to hear."
p. 18 
 
THE LEGEND.
A chieftain grave, both wise and brave— 
Good Arawânili—  
Stood mournful by the silver wave 
Of the wide-spread ocean sea. 
His heart was sore; the plume he wore, 
As chief of Kaieri, 1 
Drooped—while he listened on the shore 
To the sigh of  that ocean sea.
Then, in his view, bright Orehu 
(The Water-Mother she)  
Rose, glistening as with drops of dew, 
Or pearls—from the ocean sea. 
Her beauty rare, which glossy hair 
Enveloped, flowing free,  
More lovely made those waters fair, 
And shores of the ocean sea. 
"Tell me thy grief," she said, "O chief! 
The grief of Kaieri;  
And I, perchance, may bring relief 
From the depths of the ocean sea!" 
p. 19 
"'Tis for the dead," the chieftain said, 
"For whom I nought could  do, 
To help them, ere their spirits fled, 
From torturing  Yauhahu."
"Throughout this isle, man, wife, or child, 
By fever crushed, I  view; 
By demons' arrows1 driven wild, 
Dire shafts of  Yauhahu!
"Were mortal foe to work us woe, 
Their deeds they soon should  rue! 
But none, without a charm, I trow, 
Can face the  Yauhahu.
"Thy helping hand may save this land: 
Lady! for that I sue.  
Grant me some charm, which may withstand, 
And quell the Yauhahu!" 
"I hear, O chief! thy tale of grief, 
Thy people's grief," said  she, 
"And thou shalt thank, for their relief, 
The lady of the  sea.
"Go, plant with care this branch I bear 
And rear the 'ida'  tree, 
Where, on yon hill, thy cottage there 
O'erlooks this pleasant  sea.
p. 20 
"When fruit is found, full large and round 
And heavy it will be;  
Take that which first falls on the ground, 
And meet me by the sea!" 
*  *  *  *  *
Slow from his gaze withdrew her face, 
As in the wave sank she.  
The tree he reared then at his place, 
And watched—the deep blue  sea!
*  *  *  *  *
His watch was o'er, when to the shore 
The  calabash bore he. 
The Water-Mother there, once more 
Met Arawânili. 
Its rind with care he emptied there, 
Through holes like these you  see. 
She brought its handle, feathered fair, 
For Arawânili. 
And while he wrought, she dived and sought 
The gems of ocean sea;  
And stones of shining white she brought 
To Arawânili. 
Tobacco, too, which none then knew, 
(Though common now) brought  she: 
With charms, which made all Yauhahu 
Dread Arawânili. 
p. 21 
To her he owed the power he showed, 
None since like him could be—  
So rich the gifts her love bestowed 
On Arawânili! 
*  *  *  *  *
Still, to this day, in stream or bay, 
The Orehu men see.  
But "high above," grown old, they say, 
Rests Arawânili. 

When Numa, as was thought, 
A kind Egeria found,  
The sacred, mystic rites she taught 
The Roman people bound.  
Here red men hold what (they were told) 
The Spirit of the sea,  
By love constrained, in days of old, 
Taught Arawânili. 
The old man said, "That word 
We sorcerers received,  
Till of 'our Father's' love we heard, 
And some of us believed.  
"We knew before that all we see 
 He made, both great and small; 
But ne'er were taught to Him to flee, 
Whatever might befall." 
p. 22 
'Twas so. The heathen all 
Said, "God, above the sky,  
Can never listen to our call, 
He is so great and high.  
"But demons who, by day or night, 
Cause pain and sickness sore,  
We must propitiate, or 'fight,' 
For man can do no more!"
Teach them the Saviour's word: 
That God doth condescend  
To be to us a gracious Lord, 
A Father, and a Friend.  
When they believe He heareth men, 
Though suffering, weak, and poor,  
They (like Maraka-kore) then 
To demons seek no more. 

 
APPENDIX TO THE LEGEND.
Allusion was made   
To the tricks in their trade.   
Which those Indian sorcerers have commonly played. 
Now their   method we show 
In a   story we know 
Of what really happened a few years ago.
p. 23 
Two white men through our backwoods went, the Indian life to see, 
And much they wished of "piai-men" to learn the mystery. 
But 'twas in vain, till one declared that he was "taken sick;" 
And begged his friend to "lend a hand, to carry out the trick."
They knew a famous piai-man lived at a place near by; 
"Oh come and cure this sick white man!" He answered, "I will try." 
And so he brought his implements—no matter who might mock, 
He'd win the battle with the rattle Creoles call "shok-shok."
He first the females sternly bade to "take themselves away." 
They all forthwith fled like the wind, too much afraid to stay. 
He then made up his sacred fire, to burn the sacred weed, 
His patient thought, "I like a smoke, but this is waste indeed!"
His incantations then commenced, most terrible to hear, 
Both to the patient and the men who might be ling'ring near. 
He roared, he shouted at the fiends; perhaps he dared to curse; 
'Twas all in vain; the patient groaned, and said, "I'm getting worse!"
p. 24 
He next inhaled tobacco smoke, much as his mouth could hold: 
And blew it on the sick white man, who thought, "He's getting bold. 
It may be only want of sense—to fumigate my clothes; 
But must be downright impudence to blow it up my nose!"
He next on the affected part his hands began to rub; 
The patient grew convulsed at that, 'twas such a ticklish job. 
With strong, but stifled, laughter, soon his body shook all o'er; 
That tickling was too much for him—he could hold out no more!
He laughed outright, then feebly tried to make that laugh a groan; 
It would not do! the doctor knew the difference of tone. 
He saw that he was being tricked, yet went on with his work; 
Not altering a muscle, but as grave as any Turk.
According to their ancient rules, his mouth he next applied, 
To suck out what was Causing pain in that white man's inside. 
Then from his mouth he would have spit nail, thorn, a claw, or pin, 
And said, "From this sick man I've drawn what Yauhahu put in!"
p. 25 
Now when our white friend's flesh was sucked, he strove to turn away, 
But "red-skin" meant to earn his fee, and would not be said "nay." 
He seized him boldly with his teeth—it was a grip full sore— 
And, with a yell, the patient fell, out on the earthen floor!
Most cool the doctor was. By signs he made his meaning plain: 
"Get back into that hammock. I must operate again!" 
But the other shook his head, and said that that would "never do!" 
Then showed his friend his injured side, and said 'twas "bitten through."
But he replied, "This savage doctor knows a thing or two, 
So do not quarrel with him, it would be much worse for you; 
I'll tell him he has made a cure, and give a handsome fee." 
So he, with cash and fame secure, walked off triumphantly.
From this, gentle reader, you get a small view 
Of what those men make a sick person go through: 
The clash of the rattle, and shouts, causing fear, 
Must be most distressing and painful to hear. 
Then the fumes of tobacco, and smoke of the fire, 
Will scarcely allow the poor wretch to respire.
They spare not themselves! When a man's on probation, 
And learning the mysteries of his vocation, 
He's shut up, and half-starved; then, to take his degree, 
Drinks tobacco decoction, as strong as can be, 
Till he sinks in a trance: and revives—an M.D.!
p. 26 
 
THE MORAL.
If you near red-skinned sorcerers go, 
Though all things may seem  handy, 
Don't let them on your person show 
Their "modus  operandi." 
Speak always truth, and without fail 
 To doctors—wild or tame— 
Such are the lessons of our tale, 
Which "Biter  bit" we name.

 
ARAWIDI. 
(A Fragment.)
Our women have strong drink prepared, 
And view the gallant  show— 
Where, gaily crowned, our men advance; 
Bright feathers waving in the dance,1 
As round the house they go. 
There learnèd sorc'rers sit or stand, 
Who chant our ancient  lore: 
And, as they chant, responsive song 
Is heard in chorus, loud and long, 
Re-echoed o'er and o'er. 
*  *  *  *  *
p. 27 
 
THE LEGENDS.
"Adaili is the glorious sun" 
(Thus their first legend ran),  
"But when of old on earth he came, 
Then 'Arawidi' was his name: 
His fashion—that of  man.
"Once, fishing on a fav'rite stream, 
He made a dam, or weir,  
And said, 'This stream must not run dry, 
Lest, in my visits from the sky, 
I  find no fishes here.'
"The otters heard. They broke his dam, 
And let the waters flow.  
Then he, compelled to seek for aid, 
Its guardian the woodpecker made— 
His  watchman—here below.
"One day, while passing through the sky, 
Loud tapping cought his  ear. 
Swift darting to that spot below, 
He found a fierce and mailèd foe— 
The alligator—near. 
"He seized him with a mighty hand, 
Whose grip could never fail;  
Then smote, to make the reptile yield, 
With that hard club he well could wield, 
Upon his head and tail. 
p. 28 
"'Oh, Arawidi, slay me not!' 
The alligator cried:  
'Cease, cease to wound! Thy suppliant spare, 
And I will give a maiden fair 
To be thy  beauteous bride.'
"He called his friends, the water-sprites, 
The maiden to provide;  
And soon a girl, of wondrous charms, 
Was placed in Arawidi's arms, 
To be his  lovely bride.
*  *  *  *  *
"The reptile's wounds were healed. Those blows 
No more his hide  assail; 
But still their marks are seen, 'tis said, 
Indented on his battered head 
And  notched along his tail!"
*  *  *  *  *
Then tales were told of others' fate 
(Wild children of the sun),  
With song and dance, till evening late 
Their tuneful course would run.  
And when the third day closed the feast, 
When drink had failed and dancing ceased, 
Those legends scarce were done! 

 
NOTE TO ARAWIDI.
One apparent object of the great chain of legends, to which this belongs,  was to give a 
mythical origin to the peculiarities of the various animals of Guiana, in connection with the 
deeds of the heroic personages of their national folk-lore.
In the foregoing tale of Arawidi, those of the  alligator's personal p. 29 appearance are accounted 
for. In other legends, those of monkeys, jaguars, &c., were treated of. The fragmentary tale of the 
"Royal Vultures," of which the following outline was told to the writer by the Arawâks of 
Tapacuma, will show how they dealt with birds—real or fictitious.
"A bold young Arawâk hunter captures a beautiful royal vulture. She is the  daughter of 
Anuanima, sovereign of a race which has its country above the sky. When at home there, they 
cease to be birds, and assume the form and habits of human beings. The captive, smitten with 
love for her handsome captor, lays aside her feathers, and appears before him as a beautiful girl. 
She becomes his wife, bears him above the clouds, and, after much trouble, persuades her father 
and family to receive him. All then goes well, until he expresses a wish to visit his aged mother, 
when they discard him, and set him on the top of a very high tree, the trunk of which is covered 
with formidable prickles. He appeals pathetically to all the living creatures around. Then spiders 
spin cords to help him, and fluttering birds ease his descent, so that at last he reaches the ground 
in safety."
Then follow his efforts, extending over several years, to regain his wife,  whom he tenderly 
loves. "Her family seek to destroy him, but by his strength and sagacity he is victorious in every 
encounter. The birds at length espouse his cause, assemble their forces, and bear him as their 
commander above the sky. He is at last slain by a valiant young warrior, resembling himself in 
person and features. It is his own son, born after his expulsion from the upper regions, and 
brought up there in ignorance of his father."
The legend ends with the conflagration of the house of the royal vultures,  who, "hemmed in by 
crowds of hostile birds, are unable to use their wings, and forced to fight and die in their human 
forms."
The peculiarities of various birds common to the country are, in the  episodes of this wild 
legend, whimsically accounted for. The following are instances:—
The "kiskedee," though a valiant little bird, disliked the war, and bandaged  his head with white 
cotton, pretending to be sick. p. 30 Being detected by more resolute warriors, as the hawk, &c., he 
was sentenced to wear the bandage continually. In time it marked his plumage; and the white 
band is still conspicuous on the heads of his descendants, They are also noted for their hostility 
to hawks and other large birds, whom they attack incessantly when on the wing.
The "warracobba" (trumpeter bird) and another quarrelled over the spoil, and  knocked each 
other over into the ashes of the burnt house. The trumpeter arose with patches of grey, which are 
still seen on the plumage of his children. The other bird, which had been rolled in the ashes, 
became grey all over.
The  owl round among the spoil a package, done up with great care, which he thought would 
enrich him for life. It was a magical package, prepared by the foe for some emergency, and 
containing darkness. The darkness enveloped him as he opened it, and he has never since been 
able to endure the light of day!
Thus—often whimsical and puerile, but displaying much fertility and boldness  of invention, 
with here and there touches of romantic beauty—were the mythical tales of the Arawâk race in 
the days of yore. When the piai system began slowly to fade before Christianity, those legends, 
in their pure and connected shape, were no longer preserved. Their few remaining fragments are 
now distorted, intermixed, and in no two districts told alike.
 
III. 
HISTORICAL AND WARLIKE LEGENDS OF THE ARAWÂKS. 
(1865-66.)
 
THE CANNIBAL MOUNDS.
THERE are boats and canoes, with their gay colours flying, 
Whose strange motley crews oars and paddles are plying; 
They come from the sea, where a vessel is lying, 
p. 31  
Which has from our  city run down. 
Their course they are steering   
To this mission   "clearing," 
Where on our thatched chapel the cross is appearing, 
Above a  small Indian town.
There is firing of guns, where our people are standing, 
And multitudes welcome the Governor landing, 
Whose uniform glitters with gold.  
His   "aides" there attendant 
In helmets resplendent;   
Their smart handsome bets, and bright scabbards dependent, 
The red men, delighted,  behold. 
Then come other gentlemen, welcomed with cheering; 
But most the good Bishop—all hail his appearing 
Once more—at that Indian  fold.
Men of every tribe come, our summons obeying, 
And nearly two thousand  there stand. 
Helped by the Archdeacon, who with us is staying, 
We keep  the wild throng well in hand. 
They who stand in the front decent garments are wearing; 
While those sent behind have none such to appear in, 
And—gladly  obey the command.
Sun-pictures are taken, our ruler commanding 
Fair views of each scene to  provide— 
In one, squalid heathen are sitting or standing, 
With Christians  well dressed at their side. 
In another, a mound its tall head is uprearing, 
A cutting runs through it, which some men are clearing, 
Whilst  others are gazing inside.
p. 32 
*  *  *  *  *  *
That great "barrow" was seen when we first cleared the land; 
And it  differs from all things around. 
For elsewhere the land is a "reef" of white sand; 
That was made up of  fish-shells, we round. 
Bones of birds and land animals also were there, 
So at length I cut through it, to lay the whole bare, 
Which such mystery seemed to surround. 
There, among shells and rubbish, were curious stones, 
Broken axe-heads,  and implements rare. 
But few cared for stones; seeing layers of bones— 
 Human bones—of all sizes laid bare! 
Skulls, in fragments long buried, were cast up to view, 
And all the long bones had been split open too, 
For the  marrow, by savages there.
Soon the news spread abroad; and our company came 
To that great Waramuri  shell mound. 
But, meanwhile, other mounds, whose contents were the same, 
By the aid of our Indians, were found.  
None their history know—it was long, long ago— 
But cannibal habits the human bones show, 
Which in  those "kitchen middens" abound.
Our white friends have left us: their task being done, 
We see but our  Indians there. 
And, for our evensong, with the next setting sun, 
To the  wide-gaping shell-mound repair. 
We go in procession; where, taking the lead, 
School-children with banners their teachers precede, 
And the old  people bring up the rear.
p. 33 
Soon, the beautiful strain      
Of "Jesus shall reign"      
From     that grisly chasm ascends. 
From its edges above     
Wave the Lamb and     the Dove, 
As o'er it each school-banner bends.    
This—the emblem of     peace; 
May it spread and increase!     
That—of suffering     love, 
Shown by One now above,     
Who to man's supplication    attends.
And when praise and prayer     
We had thus offered there,     
The    "cutting" was filled in next day; 
But the human bones found     
Were     not placed in the mound, 
For all had been taken away,     
Then, to seek an old man, through the village I strayed, 
Who a bright feathered crown, of the toucans' breasts made, 
Gold and scarlet, was wont to display. 
Some had thought that photography was "not quite right;" 
And the artist's strange movements seemed magical quite 
So that old man had shifted his place on the sand, 
And caused a great deal of delay;  
For the camera's use he could not understand, 
Though he saw it was not meant for play.  
Some had   said 'twas "a gun:" 
And—though he would not run—   
To have it aimed at him seemed very queer fun; 
And he kept getting out of the way. 
p. 34 
Yet he was a wise elder upon his own ground, 
Where no such adventures  befel. 
There, with his tall son, my Cornelius I found, 
And other chief  leaders as well 
Of the wars of their nation those old men would speak, 
Legends such as in few years one vainly might seek; 
What I heard  from them I will here tell.
 
THE LEGENDS.
"Our fathers, who at first lived here, fought with the Meyanow; 
A savage race, who ate mankind, of habits vile and low. 
They, long before, lived on this shore, if our old tales be true; 
Who else but they would make such mounds as you have now cut through?"
It was Cornelius who told this: the truth he may have found, 
For he was wise, and well he knew all the traditions round, 
His ancestors "prevailed," he said, "yet some perhaps had been 
Led captive by the cannibals—their bones we might have seen." 
But no one knew the certain truth; it was so long ago; 
And none with slayers, or with slain, would kindred claim or show.
p. 35 
Then said he, "When the Meyanow had all been overthrown, 
The Caribs came, and little peace by any race was known. 
They seized our goods, killed all who fought, young people took away, 
For food or slaves, across the seas, so ancient legends say.
"Those from the islands ceased to come; we for a time had peace; 
But Caribs on the mainland seemed in number to increase. 
On Orinoco numerous their warriors must have been: 
Many on Essequibo dwelt, many on Corentyn. 
And throughout Surinam we know they'd many fighting men; 
Others, beyond the Marowin, were living in Cayenne. 
But everywhere they are the same: they tinge their bodies red, 
And with annatto smear their brows, which seem with blood o'erspread."

 
THE FIGHT ON THE BOWRUMA.
"Caribs from Essequibo banks to our Bowruma came, 
In one special season; which was every year the same. 
And more and more they harried sore all who were living there, 
And made them cry, 'O let us die, 'tis more than man can bear!'
p. 36 
"Our fathers then a war chief made, whom all men should obey. 
And he, to rid them of the scourge, thought long, and found a way. 
He in the forest chose a place; his men then cleared the ground, 
And all the trees they cut were laid there, in a circle round, 
Their branches all were outwards turned, while in the midst there stood 
A strong built house, two arrows' flight from the surrounding wood.
"'Now every man give heed to me! we have some months to work, 
And then must fight, for no man henceforth shall in covert lurk! 
So have your weapons well prepared: of arrows get large store.' 
And each man make a buckler, as our fathers used before.1
"So on the day appointed, to that house they all repair, 
There made to be their citadel, and for the fight prepare. 
Canoes they at the river leave, for Caribs there to view, 
And men to draw them to the place and give the warning due.
"And they have lured now to that spot those warriors fierce and bold: 
Who chase their watchmen through the bush till they the house behold. 
p. 37  
The barricade there makes them pause—still they will not give in, 
Pride drives them on to take the place, so they the fight begin.
"Their men who try to clamber o'er the Arawâks shoot down; 
Still their resistance, which seems weak, the Caribs hope to drown, 
They bend their bows, their arrows keen by hundreds seem to fly, 
Our men are galled, for bucklers broad scarce put those arrows by.
"At length is heard their captain's voice—he cheers them with his call: 
'O comrades! ye have bravely borne, now fight, Lokono1 all! 
Fight bravely for your children dear—fight bravely for your wives; 
You fight now for your parents old—you're fighting for your lives, 
This day will clear those wretches from the face of this our land, 
Their arrows fail! Now pour in yours, then on them club in hand!'
"Forth from the house run boys—and wives, each to her husband's side, 
To hand him arrows, crouching low behind his buckler wide. 
p. 38  
Swiftly those arrows are poured in; they shoot with might and main, 
And all the foremost Caribs are by those keen arrows slain. 
The others to the river fly: but foes are there before; 
And sternly in the forest they pay off the ancient score, 
Till each red-painted warrior there lies redder in his gore!

That fight was on the Pomeroon, which we Bowruma call; 
A little stream there marks the spot, well known to Indians all."

To tell of victory is sweet, 
Defeats few care to name;  
But there invaders met defeat 
Who well deserved the same;  
For where the Arapaiaco, 
And fair Ituribisi, flow, 
Those Caribs had spread bitter woe 
With arrow, club, and flame. 
While their flotillas swept the sea 
None dared their power defy;  
But every canoe would flee 
The "Carinyach!" fierce cry;  
By that dread name their race they call; 
On those who heard it fear would fall; 
The swift might fly, the feeble all 
Would yield themselves to—die! 
Their cry, denoting savage power, 
Spread horror and dismay,  
On land too, at the midnight hour, 
At dawn or close of day.  
p. 39  
"Brave men," they sang, "our fathers were, 
And we their fame and valour share; 
Your lives are ours, your daughters fair 
And goods—must be our  prey!"
 
THE FIGHT ON THE HAIMÂRA-CADURA.
The tellers of this legend were the old man and his son, 
Who showed me, on the shady stream, how that fierce fight was won.
 
There is no need to tell again what has been told before; 
Of how we suffered, from the Caribs, wrongs both deep and sore. 
p. 40  
They who oppressed our fathers here from Orinoco came, 
Through Barima and Waiini, as we those rivers name. 
Each year their painted warriors came, each year those rivers swept; 
Poor captive women paddled them; and as they worked they wept. 
Long time the Waraus, who lived there, their stern oppression felt; 
Until they fled to "ita" swamps, where more secure they dwelt.
The Caribs wasted all that land; then said, "We'll plunder find, 
In those parts where Moruca and its tributaries wind." 
They came; but war canoes, too large, could not from Waiini pass: 
Too little water was there then to float them through the grass.
"O friends! ere next wet season comes we must for them prepare!" 
So spake our chief, and chose that hill, to make a refuge there. 
Then from all parts his brethren came until they mustered strong, 
To save their wives and children dear from violence and wrong.
"Now make a camp upon the hill, where women may abide; 
We, who are men, will meet our foes down at the river's side." 
p. 41  
So to the river down they went, and there the captain made 
A massive log of heavy wood, which in the stream he laid. 
He fixed it tightly in each bank; the spot we now can show— 
Just there—it near the surface crossed—not two hands'-breadth below.
"Now let each man prepare his club, his arrows, and his bow, 
And each a pole, with hook at end—its purpose I will show. 
Some go to warn our brethren dear, who near the Waraus dwell; 
While some as scouts must watch for foes, and of their coming tell."
As our good chief had told his men, e'en so it came to pass, 
When next, in those great swamps, the water overtopped the grass, 
Many canoes, with painted crews, all warriors stout and strong, 
Slow winding through those narrow streams, came paddling along.
They stopped at every village there, but could no people find; 
No people, and of property but little left behind. 
That all had down Moruca fled, by certain marks was shown, 
And sore displeased those Caribs were, because the birds had flown.
p. 42 
Yet still they paddle on and on, but no canoes can see; 
Until a fishing craft appears, with young men two or three. 
"O strive to catch that light canoe, which skims along so fast; 
These men we'll chase unto their place, and plunder gain at last!"
They raise on high their dreadful cry: "Carinyach!" echoes round, 
As if yon Waramuri hill hurled back the hateful sound. 
Onward they race until their "chase" is seen to disappear 
Up this small stream; and, without pause, the Caribs enter here. 
And here they have to wind about beneath the trees so high; 
Yet still they onward rush and shout, nor think an ambush nigh. 
The small craft slackens speed at length—it is not understood— 
But they tear on with all their strength, and strike the sunken wood.
That first canoe is broken: overthrown are all her crew! 
And as they rise, with savage cries, keen arrows strike them through. 
Their comrades hasten at their cry, that they may help afford; 
And forthwith, on the next canoe, a second shower is poured. 
A third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth—the small stream winding round— 
Allows no sight of that fierce fight, they only hear the sound,
p. 43 
"Now, forward with your long hooked poles! let no foe get away! 
They came without our asking, but we'll press them sore to stay!" 
They grapple with those great canoes, they drag them to the land; 
And there the brunt of battle is, all fighting hand to hand. 
Some use the single-handed club, some that broad hardwood blade, 
Two-edged, "sapakana" called, which by both hands is swayed.
With the last boats the chieftain came—Manarwa1 he was called;— 
His men could not retrieve the fight, the slaughter them appalled. 
And so, with two or three canoes, vowing revenge, he fled, 
While our men held the battle ground, and buried there the dead.

Not long ago a portion of this river's bank gave way, 
Exposing groups of human bones—sad relics of that fray.
p. 44 
 
THE FIGHT ON THE WAIINI.
Ere long the Caribs came in force, that they avenged might be, 
And our men, hearing, went to meet them on the Waiini. 
The Waraus would not help us fight, for they were sore afraid; 
But they would act as scouts and spies, so giving useful aid; 
Until we drew our foes again into an ambuscade.
Again we won the victory, again o'erthrew our foes, 
As each side fought with deadly hate, no cry for mercy rose. 
One champion on our side there was, Bohirasiri named 
(In old times oft his praise was heard, for in our songs he's famed); 
The Carib chieftain in the face with three-pronged shaft he shot; 
Struck down his warriors all around, and dragged him from the spot. 
The barbéd weapon from his face the wounded chieftain tore; 
But cruel was the gash it made, and he could fight no more.
Our men, when all was over, and our foemen crushed and slain, 
Said, "What must be Manarwa's doom? shall he alive remain?" 
p. 45  
So warriors and elders grave in council met next day, 
Where the old chieftain, wounded sore, was asked what he could say. 
"Oh why have rou, these many years, vexed cruelly this land?" 
To which he could no answer give, as most may understand. 
But this he said, "Lo, here I stand!—Arise, some one, and slay! 
I'm in your power. But if you spare, and let me go away, 
My people all will grateful be, and, for their leader's sake, 
Will not again invade your land, but peace for ever make."
Our race is not bloodthirsty. They resolved, our old men say, 
To take the Carib at his word, and let him go away. 
Four of his men alone still lived, they were with him set free; 
And their old chief the promise kept, which gained his liberty.
Perhaps those Orinoco Caribs found our swampy land 
Was not so easy, as it seemed, to ravage and command; 
Perhaps they learned what men can do who slaves will never be: 
Rememb'ring, too, that o'er picked men we'd gained the victory! 
But still that act of clemency, we think, availed us more 
Than if we'd slain ten thousand warriors on that bloody shore.
Whatever cause may be assigned, we found their inroads cease, 
And since those fights, of which I tell, this region has had peace.
p. 46 
 
ALLIANCE AND INTERCOURSE WITH WHITE MEN.
The Dutchmen to our fathers said, 
"Make peace with us, and let us trade, 
In firm alliance joined,   
In peace and plenty all may live, 
While you to us assistance give, 
Guarding the woods behind.   
Use your stone implements no more, 
Of iron tools we have great store, 
Which you will better find,   
Clothes, which your women ought to wear; 
Combs, shining bodkins for the hair; 
Beads, looking-glasses, bright and fair, 
To please the female mind."  
Our fathers to them made reply: 
"Your goods are pleasing to the eye, 
But men such things may dearly buy 
With loss of liberty!   
We all are hunters, free and brave; 
No Arawâk must be a slave, 
Make that your law, you then will have 
Faithful allies and   free!"
We thus maintained our liberty; 
The Dutchmen all declared us free, 
And well observed the same.   
But Christ's good word was never brought 
To us, nor were our children taught, 
Till other white men   came.
p. 47 
From them (Moravians), in Berbice, 
Our brethren heard the word of peace, 
Till trouble made their missions cease. 
  We still were left alone. 
At length to Essequibo came 
The English: and the Saviour's name 
To red men there made known.  
To us, then, came that Saviour's word, 
Which most opposed, but some few "heard," 
And helped to spread it round.   
To our old foes, the Caribisce, 
We paddled you, with words of peace, 
Which there acceptance   found. 
Then, with the red cross waving free, 
To Waraus went, along the sea, 
To plant it on new ground;   
That all red men might Christians be, 
And blesséd peace abound!
CONCLUSION.
Thus Sacibarra1 (such his name, 
Ere it "Cornelius" became) 
Wouldspeak, when growing old. 
Good chief! who, long before, to me, 
Of that "High" Lord "whom none can see," 
Their ancient legends told.  

p. 48 

And came alone, Christ's word to hear. 
Till others rallied  round; 
Who helped a mission church to rear, 
With cross and belfry  crowned, 
Reflected in the waters clear, 
With palms and feathery bamboos near, 
Where he had cleared the ground. 
All those who then met there, save one 
(Whose hand now writes), are dead and gone. 
The mission crowns a neighb'ring hill. 
That river's banks are hushed and still.
No children now, with sportive grace, 
There swim from shore to shore; 
But still the bamboos mark the place 
(Long since with "bush" grown o'er) 
Which still one mem'ry loves to trace, 
Where the chief sought his Maker's face, 
And told their ancient lore. 
And all who told, in their sweet tongue 
(Most sweet, as all allow), 
These tales, which to their race belong, 
Are still and silent now. 
They wait us on that other shore, 
Their voices here are heard no more!
Now turn we to the wilder lore 
Of the uncouth Warau.

Footnotes

p. 6 
1 Aiomun Kondi.
2 Ifilici W'acinaci.
3 W'amurreti-kwonci.
p. 7 
1 The Ceiba, or silk-cotton tree.
p. 18 
1 Literally, "island." Some one of the Antilles. This most ancient legend is the only one I know 
in which their former possession of the West India islands is mentioned.
p. 19 
1 "Yauhahu simaira," a common expression denoting severe pain.
p. 26 
1 The Arawâks have various dances. In one, the men challenge each other to give and receive 
alternate lashes round the bare calf or the leg, with a severe whip called "Maquarri," which is the 
name of the dance. This is a sort of funeral game, or commemoration of some departed male 
relative or friend, held some time after his death. It differs from the purely festive dance 
mentioned above.
p. 36 
1 The crew of the first canoe which approached the fleet of Columbus on the shore of the 
southern continent were Arawâks, armed with bows and arrows, and bucklers. I have heard no 
other legend, however, of any aboriginal tribe, in which the latter are mentioned.
p. 37 
1 Arawâks call themselves "Lokono."
p. 43 
1 A common name or title among Carib chiefs.
p. 47 
1 Lit., "beautiful hair:" name given in infancy.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 50 
CONTENTS OF PART II.
	PAGE
INTRODUCTION	52
MYTHOLOGICAL TALES	53
I.	LEGEND OF OKONORÓTÉ	55
II.	LEGEND OF THE DROUGHT	60
III.	LEGEND OF THE GREAT WATERS	62
IV.	LEGEND OF KOROBONA (1)	64
	LEGEND OF KOROBONA (2)	66
	LEGEND OF KOROBONA (3)	69
	LEGEND OF KOROBONA (4)	72
V.	WARAU IDEAS OF DEPARTED SOULS	74
VI.	LEGEND OF ABORÉ (the Warau Father of Inventions) 76
	 SEQUEL TO THE ANCIENT LEGEND	84

The Waraus (Guamons, or Guaranos) were dwelling where they now are at the  time of the 
discovery of the southern continent. The early Spanish explorers, and Sir Walter Raleigh, who 
followed them, gazed with wonder at their fires, seen at night half way up the trees, as their 
expeditions passed by.

The writer, searching for some traditions or their ancient faith or history,  came, to his surprise, 
on the wildly romantic mythological legends which are here given.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
p. 52 
Legends of the Waraus.
 
 
INTRODUCTION.
WHERE Orinoco, through his delta wide, 
By numerous channels, seeks the ocean tide; 
Where, annually, his waters flood the ground, 
And wide lagoons, with muddy isles, abound, 
The fan-like branches of the ita palm 
By thousands wave above his waters calm. 
Those stately trees supply the rude abode 
Which the poor Warau makes above the rising flood.
That race, of old from other regions driven, 
Could not have lived, but for that shelter given. 
Unwarlike, they could not their foes withstand, 
But had to yield to them the higher land. 
On fish and crabs those Waraus chiefly live, 
Which in abundance there the waters give. 
Their palm-tree1 pith a kind of bread affords, 
Its leaves give thatch and cords, the split trunk serves for boards.
p. 53 
Yet some provision grounds those Waraus have, 
Where land appears above the tidal wave; 
And from their swampy refuges they come, 
Beneath our rule to find a peaceful home. 
>From Orinoco to Moruca's stream, 
More numerous than other tribes they seem. 
And farther east, where ita swamps abound, 
Even in Surinam, the Warau race is found.
We called the tribes—a mission space to clear 
At Waramuri, for the Waraus near. 
Unkempt, unclad, their women there we found; 
Their naked children wallowed on the ground, 
With filth and ashes grimed—sad sight to see: 
We wondered how such way of life could be! 
Most wild and gaunt the men, who took no care, 
And only wished to be—just what they were. 
Lower than others, as he would allow, 
And satisfied to be so, was the poor Warau!1
 
 
MYTHOLOGICAL TALES.
THEIR ancient belief we had long wished to hear: 
Some had said 'twas "romantic," while others said "queer." 
But, from shyness or   fear, 
Till the twenty-first year,   
Of their most knowing sorcerers none would come near. 
Then, at last, a friend told me to send for "McLeod," 
p. 54  
Who to be their most learned by all was allowed. 
And that Warau of fame   
(With   the highland Scotch name), 
After long hesitation, consented, and came.
His visit to us was a favour most rare: 
So myself, our good teacher, and other friends there, 
With honour received him, and offered—a chair. 
But   he sat on the ground, 
With his Waraus around,   
Whose costume was most "light and airy" we found. 
They—with long, matted hair,   
And bare   skins—squatted there, 
While their chief a striped shirt condescended to wear.
Their traditional "word"   
A good friend there had heard;   
Partly Warau was he, and to him we referred. 
For a mixture most strange through some tales seemed to run; 
Their most serious matters so blended with fun, 
That (though none of the red men there thought it absurd) 
We could scarcely believe it the "Old people's word."
"Oh tell me, McLeod, did not slaughter and woe 
First cause the Waraus to that swamp-land to go? 
Did you not live inland, where the clear waters flow, 
Ere the fortune of war sternly drove you below?"
"Stern foes have indeed caused the Waraus to fly: 
But they first lived   on high, 
Above yonder blue sky,   
Ere they came down the good things of this world to try. 
p. 55  
Such, such is the tale of our forefathers given, 
Who thus rashly lost their high station in heaven!"
We opened our eyes;   
But he, calm and wise,   
Superior smiled, and enjoyed our surprise. 
Then resumed: "What I tell you, you will not believe, 
Yet hear now the legend our elders receive."
 
I. 
LEGEND OF OKONORÓTÉ.
"Say, Okonoróté, thou archer so gay, 
With bright feathered ornaments, whither away? 
Let the birds now beware or thy clear, glancing eye; 
For thine arrows bear death to all creatures that fly!"
"With my arrows so keen I pursue a rare bird, 
Of whose lovely plumage we often have heard; 
That bird I must find, though I cannot tell where; 
But its flesh I must eat, and its plumage must wear."
So Okonoróté went forth on his way, 
To seek that rare bird with its plumage so gay. 
He could only shoot birds, for above the blue sky 
Were no living creatures, save those that could fly, 
And the young Warau race, who in that high abode 
Had been placed by their Maker, the Wise and the Good.
That search he engaged in for many a day; 
But still, as it saw him, the bird flew away, 
Till (surely some evil one brought it to pass) 
He saw it alight in a clump of high grass.
p. 56 
Then, lying flat down, he slid over the ground, 
Like tiger or snake which some victim has found; 
The distance diminished, yet still he crawled on, 
Saying, "Oh for one shot ere the bird shall be gone!"
At length he had crawled within shot of that bird, 
When lo! it flew up, as some movement it heard. 
With keen arrow transfixed the bright beauty was slain, 
And, with quivering wing, fluttered down to the plain.
Glad Okonoróté sprang up with a bound, 
And, shouting for joy, made the meadows resound. 
"No longer," said he, "need I rise with the sun 
To pursue this bright bird, for my prize now is won!"
Then he searched all the ground—    
Walked around and    around; 
Strange!—arrow and bird were nowhere to be found! 
Such a loss    who could bear? 
He looked everywhere,    
Till he saw a deep pit, and said, "Both must be there;" 
And the sides being steep, he approached it with care.
But gone was his arrow for ever and aye; 
Gone too that bright bird with its plumage so gay. 
And he, fascinated, unable to move, 
Saw daylight beneath, him, as well as above! 
There, far, far below,    
He    could see forests grow; 
Wide plains, and savannahs, where rivulets flow. 
And he looked down for hours those new wonders to view, 
Thinking, "All is a dream, sure it cannot be true! 
p. 57  
"Some charm fills    mine eye, 
Or do I espy    
On the green plains below, living creatures pass by?" 
He could see there the deer and the peccary  go, 
The choice paca, and others, which now we all know; 
While birds    which soar high, 
Rising near to th   e sky, 
And some, nearer earth, his clear vision could spy!
*  *  *  *  *  *
"Now hear, Waraus all! You know what I have seen; 
And many here present to view it have been. 
Prepare a rope ladder; I must go below 
And see if those creatures are useful or no. 
If it be as I hope, 'tis our people's great gain, 
And if I lose my life, one man only is slain."
Oh, great was their fear lest his life he should lose; 
But Okonoróté none e'er could refuse. 
So all to the woods, picking cotton, would go, 
For forests of cotton were there, as we know. 
(Perhaps they used "bush-ropes" the cotton to aid). 
It took many months, but the ladder they made. 
It was lengthened above when too short it was found, 
Till it grappled the trees upon this lower ground; 
And it then, tight above, with strong braces was bound.
Bold Okonoróté, determined to go, 
Strong-limbed, and brave-hearted, then ventured below. 
'Twas a perilous venture, to come from above 
By a ladder so frail, which light currents could move. 
p. 58  
And when he was down, he stood gazing around 
In utter amazement at all things he found; 
The fire, so abundant, he saw with surprise, 
The quadrupeds strange, and their wonderful size: 
For all seemed most wonderful then to his eyes.
He must have seen wild beasts devouring their prey, 
For jaguars and snakes then had all their own way. 
And he thought he would venture to taste some large game, 
So he shot a young deer, and soon kindled a flame, 
In the Indian style, with two pieces of wood; 
And the ven'son he found to be excellent food.
Ascending again!—Oh, what labour and pain 
To the quick-heaving chest!—to the limbs, what a strain! 
It was hard to come down; but to climb up again! 
(Though we came from the sky,    
   I had rather not try: 
Some people turn giddy when mounting too high.) 
It was done but that once, as you'll find by and by.
A portion of game he brought up from below; 
Not much, but sufficient his people to show: 
His words (and its flavour) put all in a glow. 
"Oh! we cannot stay here; for there is little good 
In the small birds around us: but animal food 
We know to abound    
On that lower ground,    
Which Okonoroté for Waraus has found!"
So they asked no permission, but said, "We will go!" 
And came down the rope ladder to this world below. 
p. 59  
All things then were young—no old people were found; 
Small children they carried, and all reached the ground 
In safety, save one—a poor woman, the last, 
Who got wedged in the hole which the others had passed.
Her husband below her sore trouble could view, 
And climbed back to give help, but could not get her through; 
Then, his head turning giddy, he went down below, 
Where his people all thought it a terrible blow, 
And in clamorous talking gave vent to their woe. 
They all asked how it happened. He could not tell how; 
So the thing was mysterious to ev'ry Warau.
Then the women, upbraiding, would ask, "Is it right 
For that man to come down, and not stay up all night? 
Brave Okonoróté! he climbed up before; 
Will he not go up now, with a man or two more, 
Since the husband, resigned, has quite given it o'er!"
They all shrunk from the task, for a man there had said, 
Whom they straightway discovered to have a wise head, 
"Supposing you reach her, and can pull her through, 
Will she not be the death of you all, if you do? 
You    will find it no fun— 
She will come with a run;    
Consider how you, in that case, can hold on? 
You must be swept off, and our best men be gone."
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
p. 60 
So the woman remains (though the ladder gave way), 
And will always remain there, our old Waraus say, 
She fills up the hole; and, good friends, that is why 
We never can get a fair peep though the sky!"
*  *  *  *  *  *
He paused. Some were laughing, and all the rest smiled 
At a "descent from heaven" so grotesque and wild, 
Then the old Warau said, "You all think I 'make fun;' 
But it is in this way that the legend must run, 
And so I must tell it. If not, I have done!"
Being soothed, he resumed, in a different tone, 
For the course of his legends more serious had grown.
 
II. 
LEGEND OF THE DROUGHT.
"See the Warau race begin 
Life in this new world below. 
With their bows the hunters win 
Plenteous food—no want they know; 
Yet they feel within them grow 
Anxious dread of future woe.
Safety, which in heaven they had, 
Here on earth cannot be found; 
Good is mingled here with bad; 
Savage beasts of prey abound. 
Reptiles coil in trees around, 
Or lurk, deadly, on the ground.
p. 61 
One thing then filled all with fear, 
Scanty water and unclean! 
'Twas not as we now see here, 
Where large streams have long time been; 
Streamlets small, in marshes green, 
Then were all that could be seen.
"Oh, where shall we water find, 
Till the wished-for rain shall fall? 
Other woes we bear, resigned, 
But this thirst consumes us all! 
Let us now, both great and small, 
On our mighty Maker call.
"We forsook our Father-friend: 
We forsook His place on high; 
Death by thirst He now will send; 
Through his wrath these pools are dry. 
To Him, brethren, let us cry, 
He may hear above the sky!
"O Karima (Father) Thou! 
We Thy place no more shall see. 
Once in heaven each Warau 
Happy was near thee to be. 
But we have forsaken thee, 
Thence proceeds our misery!
"Ka-idamo (Master) Thou! 
All things are at Thy command; 
Seeking water vainly now 
p. 62  
We may roam through this dry land. 
Must we perish 'neath Thy hand? 
Wretched, miserable band!"
Kanonatu, throned on high 
(So Waraus the Maker call), 
Heard, and from the dark'ning sky 
Caused the welcome rain to fall; 
Made the rivers great and small, 
Which abundance bring to all.
Women then, with happy glee, 
Filled their vessells to the brim: 
While the men saw joyfuIly 
Glitt'ring fish in rivers swim.. 
Strange it seemed, and, like a dream, 
Food and drink in every stream!
 
From my tale you now have heard 
How Waraus came from on high. 
What remains still of this "word" 
I will tell you by and by. 
Now the sun hath left the sky, 
And your hour of prayer is nigh!
 
III. 
LEGEND OF THE GREAT WATERS.
Years rolled on, and men, grown hateful, 
Ceased their passions  to restrain; 
Took their Maker's gifts; ungrateful, 
p. 63  
Thanked him not for  sun and rain; 
But forsook Him once again, 
When they ceased to suffer pain.
"Kanonatu," seeing slaughter, 
Acts of rapine, deeds unclean,  
Sent their punishment by water, 
Which had once their blessing  been. 
Floods, obeying Him, were seen 
O'er the hills and valleys green.
Eight poor men, in that disaster, 
With six women, trembling  stood. 
Pausing in His wrath, the Master 
Saw their hearts still true and  good, 
Bade them take the "bahbi" wood, 
Safe to float amidst the flood.
Evil spirits of the waters 
Saw them then float past undrowned.  
They were saved that sons and daughters 
Might again on earth be found,  
And from them mankind abound, 
Fish, and hunt, and till the ground.
*  *  *  *  *  *
He who saved them had provided 
Land, to which they might  repair. 
Streams appeared as floods subsided, 
One small lake shone bright  and fair. 
Yet of that he said, "Beware! 
Shun its waters, bathe not there!"
p. 64 
Well our sires obeyed the warning; 
Some to guard that lake they  chose, 
Lest some bather, danger scorning, 
There should meet with deadly  foes. 
Ages pass. No Warau goes 
Where those waters calm repose!
 
IV. 
LEGEND OF KOROBONA.
Two Warau maidens sweetly sang, 
"O waters calm and clear!  
We love our happy walks to take 
By thy sweet margin, woodland lake, 
And find our  pleasure here."
Those maidens, from the hills at first 
That guarded spot would  spy. 
Then, though their brothers said, "Beware, 
The lake is fatal, bathe not there!" 
They dared to venture nigh. 
At length fair Korobona said 
(The elder sister she),  
"We, by an idle threat restrained, 
>From these clear waters have refrained; 
Come,  sister, bathe with me.
p. 65 
"For what is here to do us harm? 
We maidens are alone.  
Waraus, with superstitious awe, 
Both old and young obey the law; 
Intruders here are  none."
Straight she plunged in; for scant attire 
Our maidens wore, I  trow; 
Though wild beasts' teeth, with woven seeds, 
And shining stones (they had no beads) 
Adorned each young Warau. 
Then both, through waters fair and clear, 
Began to dive and swim;  
The elder sister, void of fear, 
Went first; the other followed near, 
Obeying  every whim.
Before her Korobona saw 
A rod of charméd wood.  
Oh that some power had stayed her hand, 
And forced the maid to let it stand— 
Her safeguard while  it stood!
But, wild with glee, she shook the rod, 
And broke the mighty  charm. 
They saw a man-like form arise, 
And Korobona was his prize, 
Held by a powerful arm. 
p. 66 
(A water spirit, 'neath the wave, 
Lay bound by mightier power;  
Till some one, swimming in the lake, 
Should dare that charméd rod to shake. 
 That was the destined hour.)
"O Warau maid!" the spirit said, 
"Thy sister there may go;"  
But thee I hold. O woman fair! 
Thou for a time my home must share, 
And  come with me below."
 
II.
Sad Korobona weeps at home 
Upon her sister's breast.  
It had been comfort in her woe 
That her four brothers did not know: 
 Now she is more distressed.
*  *  *  *  *
O Korobona! time has passed; 
Thou art a mother now!  
And lo! thy brothers, as they stand, 
(The eldest with his club in hand), 
To slay  thine infant vow.
"Kill not my baby girl," she cries; 
"Slay  me—the mad and wild! 
But she a gentle maid will be, 
And serve you all most lovingly. 
O spare the helpless child!" 
p. 67 
Why should I dwell upon this woe, 
With greater far to tell?  
Their hearts were softened by her prayer, 
They gave the infant to her care: 
Though grieved, they loved her well. 
*  *  *  *  *
Of that young child we hear no more, 
And think she must have  died. 
Meanwhile the spirit of the lake 
Most strangely would his pastime take, 
Near that bad waterside. 
A snake immense, from tree to tree 
Disporting he was seen;  
Or, in his human form, would stand 
Where gentle ripplets mark the sand, 
Beneath the  branches green;
And sometimes as a man above, 
With serpent form below;  
Until the keepers said, "What hand 
Can this dread 'Wahma's' power withstand? 
His  nature who can know?"
And Korobona hears the tale 
Of him who fills her mind;  
Then, heeding not her sister's prayer, 
Steals to the lake, and watches there, 
Resolved  the truth to find.
p. 68 
And long she waits beneath the trees 
Filled with strange hope and  fear; 
Whilst he, who can her presence spy, 
In serpent form eludes her eye, 
Yet still is drawing near. 
His head seems like a floating seed, 
By gentle breezes blown;  
The tail, like filmy scum, is near 
(Thus, seeking prey, such snakes appear), 
No other part is shown. 
*  *  *  *  *
p. 69 
Why, Korobona, dost thou stoop, 
That floating seed to view?  
He cries, triumphant, "Thou art mine! 
Unto thy fate thyself resign!" 
And captures  her anew.
 
III.
The hapless Korobona now 
Lives in the woods alone;  
Another babe there hides from view; 
For if her fault her brothers knew 
Blood only could  atone.
She weepeth sore for woes in store, 
Which she can well foresee;  
But that fair boy her tears now warm, 
Who shares in part his father's form, 
Her greatest grief is he. 
She, in the day which gave him birth, 
At first essayed to fly,  
But soon returned to that deep glade, 
In which the helpless one was laid, 
Drawn by his feeble cry. 
And by her sister, kind and true, 
Who o'er her errors wept,  
That secret (soon to be revealed, 
For eyes and ears cannot be sealed) 
Hath  faithfully been kept.
*  *  *  *  *
p. 70 
One, passing by, the infant's cry 
Heard, and upon her came.  
Then told her brethren, hunting near; 
And soon she saw the four appear, 
All wild  with rage and shame!
Two of them dragged their sister home; 
Two turned the child to  slay, 
There lying, helpless, in their view: 
They with an arrow pierced him through, 
And left him where he lay. 
"The child is dead," the slayers said, 
"The mother mad and  wild!" 
They let her go to make his grave. 
But knew not that the care she gave 
Revived that hapless child. 
*  *  *  *  *
He grew far more than other babes 
In wisdom and in size;  
And, still concealed in some thick tree, 
Till he his mother's form could see, 
Would  shun all other eyes.
With food she daily sought the woods 
Where he was doomed to stay,  
And there held converse with her child; 
Till sorrow, by their talk beguiled, 
Would seem to pass away. 
p. 71 
But Korobona quite forgot 
That some her track might know—  
Her track—by those small footprints shown! 
Each brother then, her secret known, 
Prepared the shaft and bow. 
"Oh, why," she said, "these arrows made, 
And these stone weapons  too?" 
The brothers gave her short reply, 
Then through the woods they saw her fly, 
And hastened to pursue. 
*  *  *  *  *
"Oh, hide me, mother, from their eyes," 
The wretched victim  said; 
"Alas! why didst thou give me birth? 
For I have found no place on earth, 
And now shall soon be dead!" 
The mother, clinging to her son, 
Then screened him from his foes,  
And left small space at which to aim, 
Yet to its mark each arrow came 
From  their unerring bows.
They cut him into pieces small, 
She cursed their cruelty:  
"Vile slayers of the innocent! 
The woes you fear will now be sent— 
And come  through you, not me!
p. 72 
"See here your Korobona lie! 
This spot shall be her tomb,  
Where this poor blood o'erspreads the ground. 
Think on it when your woes abound, 
And  Waraus meet their doom!"
 
IV.
Of her who watched her outcast dead 
(In mournful "Bible word"),  
And "suffered neither bird nor beast" 
Upon the loved remains to feast, 
My  Warau never heard.
He never heard! yet in his tale 
We seemed the like to bear,  
How vultures and wild beasts could see 
A mother in her misery, 
And none would  venture near;
While food her loving sister brought; 
She, that the heap might  bloom. 
Laid bright green leaves and flow'rets red 
Upon the body of her dead, 
Which had no other tomb. 
There, sweet and fragrant, still was found 
That spot, by blood  defiled. 
A mighty wonder happened then, 
For that great change which waits all men 
Touched not the serpent child. 
*  *  *  *  *
p. 73 
At length that heap, with flowers bedecked, 
Began with life to  heave: 
She seemed these words to hear, "Thy son 
Shall now avenge his murder done: 
O mother, cease to grieve!" 
And first a head and shoulders rose, 
Slow growing from that  mound: 
She saw a mighty form appear, 
Well armed, to fill all foes with fear, 
With limbs complete and sound. 
With weighty club the warrior stood, 
With bow and arrows keen;  
White down adorned his short black hair, 
His skin like copper shone, more fair 
Than with Waraus had been. 
And with vermilion were besmeared, 
Like blood, his cheeks and  brow. 
Thus the first CARIB stern arose, 
A warrior strong to smite his foes, 
Dread sight to each Warau! 
*  *  *  *  *
The brethren four their warriors called, 
Appalled that sight to  see; 
But few to face his club would dare, 
All those who did he slaughtered there, 
And forced the rest to flee. 
p. 74 
No Warau could his strength withstand; 
Their arrows turned  away. 
Their warriors fled to save their lives, 
While he their daughters took for wives. 
And all their goods for prey. 
And as his children still increased, 
They took the Warau's  place. 
Invincible, from Wahma sprung! 
Though still (by mother) they belong 
To  our despiséd race."
 
And now my tale is done at last; 
My people's fate you know,  
Who from the heavens, in days long past, 
Came down to earth below,  
And since to swamps were driven, where now 
You may behold the poor Warau!"
 
V. 
WARAU IDEAS CONCERNING DEPARTED SOULS.
When Waraus were, as we have shown, 
Oppressed by stronger foes,  
The fears which they through life had known 
Beset them at its close.  
Each charged his children when he died 
To place his weapons at his side.
p. 75 
"Lay bow and arrows in my grave, 
That I may keep at bay  
The souls of foemen fierce and brave, 
And all who bar my way.  
My soul, thus armed, none dare withstand, 
To keep it from the spirit land!"
How different was the legend told 
On Trinidad's fair isle;  
Where Waraus gathered fruits of old 
And rested there awhile;  
Where souls of good men they could find 
In glittering humming birds enshrined!
Those birds, like flashing jewels seen, 
Bedecked each lovely  bower. 
As ruby, topaz, emerald green, 
They kissed each fragrant  flower, 
And saw fair hills and forests rise 
Around their blissful paradise.
But Chaymas dared those birds molest, 
Then—sank beneath the  ground! 
And now, where happy souls had rest, 
The lake of pitch is  found. 
Wild Warau myth of ages past— 
To English readers told "at last!"1
p. 76 
 
VI. 
LEGEND OF ABORÉ 
(The Warau Father of Inventions).
In those Warau traditions it moved our surprise, 
That beneath their coarse veil of mythology lies 
A lesson, which Christians deem holy and wise. 
For those first legends show how mankind suffer woe, 
Who their Maker forsake, in their own way to go, 
And they differ in this from most others we know.
Ere McLeod went away,     
Our good teacher one day     
Said, "I ask one more story, you must not say nay, 
Of all Warau legends you are the narrator; 
Pray tell of Aboré, your first navigator."
So the old man his store of strange legends thought o'er, 
And told this of which fragments had reached us before.
"In this world, we know     
That for weal, or for woe,     
Good spirits and bad ever move to and fro; 
And all our old men will most strongly avow 
That some help, but more hinder, the suff'ring Warau."
 
THE LEGEND.
"Aboré, away!     
No longer delay,     
Nor, loitering, stay to waste here half the day. 
Men must hunt for wild bees while the sun says they may." 
p. 77  
She who thus chid the youth was a fine, handsome dame, 
Who from childhood had reared him.—Wowtáh was her name.
Aboré the clever, Aboré the brave, 
Had served her caprices like some household slave. 
To follow her wishes the youth was content, 
Although his keen mind on inventions was bent. 
Bows, arrows, and such things he strove to improve; 
But she was most jealous lest aught he should love 
More than her, and from all his works sent him away, 
To search the dense forests for bees, day by day.
"Sometimes he had ventured resistance to try, 
But Wowtáh had quelled that by a glance of her eye; 
And he had to obey, though he could not tell why.
That day through the forest quite gloomy he went, 
To search out the honey for which he was sent, 
When he saw, sitting down on the root of a tree, 
A young Indian maid—fair and graceful was she. 
"Oh, who can she be? I ne'er met her before; 
She must be some stranger come down to our shore."
He passed without notice, as good Indians do, 
But she said, "Aboré! thy parents I knew, 
And this day I am glad their tall son here to view. 
But what canst thou see     
In that huge hollow tree,     
Where serpents and scorpions hiding may be?" 
p. 78  
"I search these     old trees 
For the nests of wild bees,     
That I may with their honey my kinswoman please."
"Aboré I the truth will appear by and by. 
Wowtáh is a spirit. Such also am I! 
We spirits assume any figure we please; 
We change as we like, and we do it with ease. 
Some appear as bush-hogs,     
Some as jaguars     or dogs; 
While some, as large snakes, love the rivers and bogs: 
But Wowtáh chose to be the great queen of the frogs. 
By day or by night,     
It     was then her delight, 
With a terrible croak, other creatures to fright. 
(Sometimes to Waraus she would cause some alarm.) 
A strange taste it was, though it did little harm."
Then the kind spirit told him how, "when a young boy, 
He was seen by Wowtáh, and became her chief joy; 
How she, in the form of a woman, deceived 
His parents, and was in their cottage received. 
How his parents soon died, and no mortal knew how, 
But Wowtáh was suspected by every Warau."
She told him how "soon, from an infant in arms, 
He had grown a tall youth through Wowtáh's mighty charms. 
How, save to fetch honey, he scarce left her side, 
And how he would soon have to make her his bride."
Then, pondered Aboré, "This tale may be right; 
When Wowtáh is much pleased she will croak with delight. 
She croaks at the honey, she croaks upon me; 
p. 79  
But bride to Aboré she never will be! 
Oh, tell me, kind spirit, and I will obey; 
Shall I go back and slay her, or flee far away?"
"O seek not to slay!     
But heed well what I say,     
'Twould be vain to shed blood, nor canst thou flee away, 
Having grown 'neath her charm, still her slave thou must be, 
Unless thou canst flee from her o'er the wide sea!"
She paused. The young man wished her still to go on, 
But when he looked round the good spirit was gone.
The honey he found, and soon robbed the poor bees 
(Where bees have no stings one can do that with ease), 
Then returned to the house; where Wowtáh kindly spoke, 
And welcomed him home with her most gentle croak. 
As she had been cross in the morning, at night 
She became doubly kind, just to put matters right.
But the young man was gloomy, and wrapped up in thought; 
He said to himself, "Into bondage I'm brought, 
But with the first dawn will escape far away, 
And if this bad spirit can find me—she may!"
From morning till night then he marched through the wood, 
But with the next daylight before him she stood!
Again he would roam,     
And again be brought home;     
He could flee to no place whither she would not come; 
And the moment he caught the stern glance of her eye, 
He was forced to return, though he could not tell why.
p. 80 
Since, baffled and shamed, he could not get away, 
He made up his mind his hard mistress to slay; 
And he felt no alarm     
At the thought of the     harm, 
For the death of his parents his vengeance would warm.
Then a cocorite palm he found, somewhat decayed; 
It suited his purpose, and forthwith he made 
A deep cut, that its fall might no more be delayed. 
A small prop he then placed its great pressure to bear, 
And removed that support when he saw her come there.
It fell on her head,     
And he thought she was dead,     
Saying, "Now I am free from the life I have led!" 
But she from the ground     
Rose,     uninjured and sound, 
For she could not be killed, as Aboré then found.
Almost in despair, he then thought on the day 
When the good spirit said to him, "Seek not to slay!" 
And then he remembered her words, "The wide sea;" 
Oh, how can I cross it, that I may be free?"
He thought on all ways which the Waraus then knew 
To float on the deep, and found none that would do. 
There were then logs of wood on which men used to go, 
With their feet hanging down in the water below; 
And rafts of light branches, which sometimes were made, 
When over smooth streams they their children conveyed. 
But rafts of light wood     
Could by no means have     stood, 
Or danced over the waves of that great rolling flood. 
And he saw that for his purpose they were not good.
p. 81 
The half of a gourd he could readily float, 
But its shape, he soon found, would not do for a boat. 
>From an oblong seed-pod his best model he drew, 
Which he strove to improve by all methods he knew.
He formed a large vessel of wax—which, though drained 
Of its former contents, in abundance remained; 
He improved on its shape till our people might view 
What they call "woibáka," but others "canoe." 
Then his     frail craft be tried 
At the next "waterside;"     
But his mistress came there, and severely she eyed— 
Then broke it, and scattered the wax far and wide!
Determined to go, though in waxen canoe, 
(He dared not work in wood, which far better would do). 
He sought a young cousin, whom "brother" we call, 
And begged him to help him, whate'er might befall.
"Aboré, with thee     
I will brave the salt sea.     
I should fear to remain, lest she next bewitch me! 
We will work in the bush, where no Warau can see."
They must have used then a stone chisel or axe, 
To cut wood, to make paddles, or strengthen the wax. 
Food, and gourds to hold water, they had to provide, 
Though forced, for the time, their equipment to hide.
Aboré then thought, "If Wowtáh chance to spy 
Our flight, she will stay me with her evil eye. 
I must prevent that, or, at least, I will try."
p. 82 
So he took her a nest of fine honey to see; 
Which was deep in the heart of a large hollow tree; 
He'd before taken care a great wedge to prepare, 
Which he drove tightly in, and Wowtáh was kept there, 
Whose great love of sweets led her into the snare.
"Now, now we must fly—     
To look back is to spy,     
And be fixed by the power of that evil eye! 
Brother, off and away;     
Let us launch     while we may! 
We must pull for our lives now by night and by day."
"Ho, Waraus!" he then to his countrymen cried, 
Who that waxen craft with astonishment eyed; 
"This, this is the shape which your vessels must have, 
With this they will readily dance o'er the wave. 
Observe well this form, you will all find it good; 
Make your woibákas so, friends; but make them of wood."
Thus be quitted the strand     
Of our poor Warau land.     
Men and women, regretting, were ranged on the sand. 
And thus they beheld, from the wild ocean shore, 
Their last of Aboré—they saw him no more!
*  *  *  *  *  *
Now, when he was gone,     
Wowtáh, quite alone     
In that huge hollow tree, began loudly to moan. 
Some passers-by heard her, and, finding her plight, 
p. 83  
They would not let her out, for they said, "She's served right. 
The young man of most     brains 
(For none like him remains)     
She has driven away; let her die for her pains.
"The things he could make,     
Which this female would     break! 
>From her he was right his departure to take. 
We have seen     his canoe, 
And know what he could do;     
Which, but for her malice, he would have done too. 
He said he knew how     
To clothe every     Warau; 
Not in such strips of bark as we're forced to wear now, 
With a few shells and teeth strung to make a small show; 
But in fair woven fibres from shoulder to toe. 
And now—how to make such, we never may know."
No mercy was shown, though she still made her moan; 
And she found by the silence the people were gone. 
She knew that, as woman, she could not get free; 
But near to her feet a small op'ning could see; 
So, again as a frog, through that crevice crept she.
*  *  *  *  *  *
That was long, long ago;     
How long none can know;     
But ever since that she has gone to and fro. 
Of late in the swamps, o'er our evening fire, 
We talked of Aboré, when nigher and nigher 
She came. We all knew by the sad croak she gave; 
And we said, "She still grieves for her runaway slave!"
p. 84 
 
SEQUEL TO THE ANCIENT LEGEND.
We offered our thanks to our old Warau friend, 
And thought that his story there came to an end— 
As doubtless it did, in the ages long past, 
But he said, "Waraus heard of Aboré at last.
"He went o'er a smooth sea; and, ere long, be found land— 
Some island—and landed upon that new strand. 
There, discarding the wax, he a craft made of wood, 
And visited places, just as he thought good.
At last he arrived where white people abound, 
Whom poor and distressed above all men be found. 
They did support life, he could hardly tell how; 
Far more wretched were they than the lowest Warau. 
When he saw them his heart with compassion flowed o'er, 
And he said, 'I will make my abode on this shore.'"
So he made up his mind the white people to raise; 
And the way be has done so deserves their best praise. 
They, squalid and bare,     
Had no     garments to wear, 
Till taught by Aboré good clothes to prepare.
He taught the white people to weave and to sew, 
To be skilful in wood and in iron, we know, 
From a nail to a gun.—     
(Ah, you may think it     fun— 
But you owe to Aboré the things you have done!)
p. 85 
And to this pray attend!     
To the     whole world a friend, 
The good things he had made in large ships he would send. 
He thus obtained wealth, though he cared not for pelf, 
But strove to help others while helping himself. 
He improved the rough plan of his first waxen boat 
To the huge ships we see now—great monsters afloat— 
Which bring you all things, from a pin to a coat.
'Tis said that Aboré still lives, though no tree 
That grows in our woods can be older than he. 
The magical power which, when he was young, 
That spirit imparted, has made his life long, 
If he were to return she would claim him again; 
So he's forced in the white people's land to remain.
Yet presents he used to send every year; 
>From the time the Dutch told him they found Waraus here. 
Those presents they gave in their colony's name; 
That was nonsense! We knew from Aboré they came. 
But they all at once ceased, and some must be to blame.
We think that in Georgetown they still are received; 
That he would cease to send them cannot be believed. 
Knife and gun, ammunition, a cutlass and hoe, 
Rum, needles and pins, with some coarse calico, 
Were once freely given to each. Alas! now 
There is payment demanded from ev'ry Warau!"
The presents here mentioned, as every year made, 
Were the price of assistance to Indians paid. 
When slavery ceas'd their help was not required, 
So the custom of annual "presents" expired. 
p. 86  
No loss to the Indians, but great moral gain; 
For now they must work for the goods they obtain.
Such opinion may be     
Held by you or by me,     
But with that the old Warau would never agree.
We gave him some clothes; he had earned them full well; 
Having come six days' voyage these legends to tell. 
And we strove in his language Christ's words to explain, 
That some better gain     
He might thereby     obtain; 
But in Warau traditions he chose to remain. 
He returned to his place near the Barima's shore, 
And we saw old "McLeod" at our missions no more.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
The creed of his race he had shown in these tales; 
Shown, too, how their faith in strange spirits prevails. 
In their service alone the Waraus used to live; 
But now to their Maker due worship they give. 
Though the     bones which we found 
In the cannibal mound     
Made them think Waramuri a weird haunted ground; 
Now around that huge heap Christian Waraus abound.
And civilisation first showed itself there, 
In their women's neat hair and the clothing they wear. 
For much better off now,     
As all races     allow, 
Than his forefathers were, is the Christian Warau.

Footnotes

p. 52 
1 The mauritia (or morische) palm, called by the Arawâks "ité."
p. 53 
1 Warau—pronounce the latter syllable like "row," a quarrel.
p. 75 
1 C. Kingsley's "At Last," chap. viii. One can imagine the delight with which the author of 
"Westward Ho," with the tropical scenery he had long read and dreamed of in all its glorious 
reality around him, must have listened to the legend of "the humming birds"—the sweetest myth 
of the western world.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 88 
CONTENTS OF PART III.
	PAGE
I.	HISTORICAL SKETCH	90
	 Struggles with Early Colonists	92
II.	WARLIKE LEGENDS.	
	 The Carib War-path	95
	 The War on the Orinoco	99
III.	MYTHOLOGICAL LEGENDS OF THE ANCIENT WORLD 	102
	 1. The First People	103
	 2. The First Cultivation	104
	 3. The Rock and the Wood	106
IV.	LEGEND OF AMALIVACA	110
	LEGEND OF MANAROWA (1)	115
	LEGEND OF MANAROWA (2)	117
CONCLUSION	120

The Caribs, when discovered by Columbus, were in possession of the smaller  West Indian 
islands, and had begun to attack the larger.
Of their origin nothing certain is known. Humboldt states that the opinion  common amongst 
Europeans in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was that they came from the vicinity of 
Darien, and that more recently they were supposed to have come from the northern continent.
But the constant tradition of the  Caribs themselves, both in the islands and on the main, claims 
Guiana as the cradle of their race, and the Orinoco as the point from which they started on their 
career of conquest.
A comparison of their language with that of the Orinoco Tamanacs, and with  that of the 
Chaymas to the north of that river, will confirm, as far as language can, the truth of their 
tradition.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 90 
Legends of the Caribs.
 
 
I. 
HISTORICAL SKETCH.
FROM Orinoque, in days of old, 
The Caribs (so their legends told) 
Came forth, to ravage and command, 
And spread their power o'er sea and land.
By conquest they the isles possessed, 
Those lesser gems which stud the West. 
Where no male Arawâks remained, 
They made, of ev'ry isle thus gained, 
A cannibal stronghold.  
Then, 'gainst the larger islands went— 
Or to the southern continent— 
Their warriors strong and  bold! 
Famous for valour and for wiles, 
Those seas, for near five hundred miles, 
Their red Vikings would roam;  
And warlike women guard their isles 
While they were far from home. 
When white men came, and conquered all, 
The milder race was doomed to fall: 
In Cuba—as in fair Hayti— 
Enslaved by Spanish cruelty, 
p. 91  
Or slain— all passed away! 
But Caribs made a fiercer stand: 
Fighting till death, that for their land 
Invaders dear might pay.  
None thought of yielding—few of flight; 
Then women, maddened with the sight 
Of their brave husbands  slain, 
Would rush on pikes and swords—to fight 
The battle o'er  again!
Meanwhile their race upon the "main" 
Had fought, supremacy to gain. 
And this became their nation's boast— 
"From Orinoco to the coast, 
We hold the tribes in terror all, 
And lord it over great and small!"
All those who near the ocean dwelt, 
Friendship for English Raleigh felt. 
"A naked race," wrote he, "but I 
Have met none braver 'neath the sky." 
They fought a common foe:  
So on Caronit Corentyn, 
And Essequibo wide between, 
His boats might freely go—  
E'en to white Rupununi's wave: 
For Caribs loved that warrior brave 
Who wrought the Spaniards  woe; 
And long they kept the flag he gave, 
That they his ships might  know.1
p. 92 
 
STRUGGLES WITH EARLY COLONISTS.
Where Caribs held the sovereign sway, 
White colonists they kept away. 
The Spaniards and the Portuguese 
Fell, by their weapons and disease. 
The Dutch, with Arawâks allied, 
Might in their settlements abide, 
On Essequibo and Berbice; 
Importing negroes, they had peace. 
But from the Surinam, men say, 
The English twice were driv'n away— 
And Frenchmen likewise from Cayenne— 
By those same "brave, though naked men." 
One story of those times will show 
How they could strike a fatal blow.
 
"Bretigny—man of evil fame— 
First Governor to Cayenne came. 
Frenchmen  were there before, 
Living as Indians there in peace— 
Their wives and language 'Caribisce'; 
Thinking of France no more. 
"Stern their new ruler, harsh his deeds, 
For trifling acts the white man bleeds; 
Most cruel was his sway.  
p. 93  
The natives, too, he dared oppress. 
Then Caribs vowed, in stern redress, 
That tyrant chief to  slay!
"But Indian women often love 
The European far above 
Their own red  countrymen. 
So Cortez found in Mexico. 
And thus Bretigny came to know 
His danger in Cayenne. 
"Soon as, from female lips, he heard 
The Carib plan, he gave the word 
To 'seize all Caribs' there.  
Each casts himself into the wave, 
And in a shark will find his grave, 
Ere bondage he will  bear.
"'Ho! hasten, Frenchmen, all of you; 
Bring quickly forth my large canoe— 
Myself will take command.  
Upon those wretches we must fall, 
And slay forthwith, or drown them all, 
Ere they can reach the  land!'
"Swim now, ye Caribs, for your lives! 
Or you your children and your wives 
Will nevermore behold.  
That great canoe can swiftly run; 
Her crew have halberd, sword, and gun; 
All Frenchmen, strong and  bold!
p. 94 
"They gain the shore. Then, in pursuit, 
Bretigny lands—for without fruit 
He will not turn again.  
'Tis evening. Still he searches there; 
And finds an Indian cabin, where 
He may all night  remain.
"Ah!—little does Bretigny know 
The tactics of an Indian foe! 
The  trees have eyes to see 
Where he abides; and all the night 
The Carib warriors, armed for fight, 
Are coming noiselessly. 
"With morning light they all appear, 
Hundreds of painted warriors near, 
Each with his bended bow.  
Vain will the sword and musket be 
Against their rapid archery; 
And that the guardsmen  know.
"Then, roused from sleep, Bretigny sees 
Their forms, red gleaming through the trees, 
Surround him everywhere.  
Wrapped in his cloak, he silent stands 
To meet his fate from Carib hands 
By club and arrow  there.
"They slay his guards, then rage around 
Wherever colonists are found; 
Destroying all white men.   
p. 95  
The Frenchmen come again, but fail; 
'Tis twenty years ere they prevail 
And settle in  Cayenne."1
*  *  *  *  *
At length each colony became 
Too strong to dread the club and flame; 
While the fierce Caribs had, we know, 
A native and more savage foe. 
On Orinoco fierce the strife— 
Many a warrior lost his life. 
Then the brave Eastern clans would go 
To fight and crush that native foe.
 
 
II. 
WARLIKE LEGENDS.
 
THE CARIB WAR PATH.
THE way they marched to all was known, 
Custom had made that track their own. 
'Twas to those rovers mere child's play 
To plunder there, sometimes to slay, 
And often to enslave.  
And all the peaceful tribes, who dwelt 
Around—the heavy hand had felt— 
Of Caribs, fierce and  brave.
p. 96 
Their large canoes were often seen 
As they sailed round from Marowin 
And Surinam to Corentyn, 
Then towards that river's head.  
Above the falls they cross Berbice, 
And march where all is perfect peace 
(For  peaceful are the dead). 
That region they have swept quite bare, 
And all the people who lived there 
Are captive, slain, or fled. 
O'er Essequibo then they go; 
Plunder Macusis, or, below, 
Sweep the  Brazilian plain. 
Or towards those mountains bend their course 
Where noble rivers have their source— 
The Pacaraima chain. 
Then, northward of that mountain line, 
With the Caroni men they join. 
There many rivers have their rise. 
Descending one, they soon surprise, 
Near Orinoco's tide,  
Some peaceful village; or destroy 
A warlike band, and thus annoy 
Their foes who there reside. 
On rafts concealed they float near shore, 
With grass or branches covered o'er. 
Sometimes on fallen trees they glide, 
Such as come downward with the tide. 
Woe to the victims they surprise! 
p. 98  
All adults slain, each girl a prize 
Must in their hands remain.  
Then with the plunder of the place, 
Their own far distant homes to grace, 
They eastward turn  again.
*  *  *  *  *
Once from those parts a message came 
That tarnished was their ancient fame, 
And from their nation's warlike name 
The glory had been rent.  
To reassert the Carib might, 
Her thousand warriors for the fight 
Then  Essequibo sent. 
That number largely was increased 
By Caribs who lived farther east; 
By Surinam's bold fighting men, 
By warriors even from Cayenne; 
And they all westward went.  
For sore was then the nation's need, 
And every Carib man made speed.
Gay ornaments they cast aside, 
War's stern equipment to provide. 
Weapons and hammock each man bore, 
Cassava bread, and meal in store; 
With paint each face was reddened o'er, 
To terrify their  foes. 
All left their families that day 
The stern war summons to obey. 
Burning their enemies to slay, 
None could in peace  repose.
p. 99 
 
THE WAR ON THE ORINOCO.
Now when they reach Caroni's banks, 
They find additions to their ranks. 
From fair Barahma, Waiini, 
And Amacuru, men they see; 
Some from  Bowruma's head. 
All come to fight the Cabré race, 
In Cabré blood wash out disgrace, 
And thus avenge their dead. 
By desultory fights enraged, 
Both sides in earnest had engaged. 
The Cabrés made their clans unite 
Under one leader for that fight, 
And dealt  a deadly blow. 
The Caribs, who till then believed 
Themselves invincible, received 
A total overthrow! 
Most of them were in battle slain, 
Many were drowned, and few remain 
To tell how went the fight.  
But there is one1 remembers well, 
Who has been spared that he may tell 
Of the succeeding  night.
p. 100 
He then was forced to climb a tree, 
That thence he might the better see 
The savage victors eat the slain; 
And there the wretch had to remain 
Till morning, legends say.  
The chieftain, Tep, released him then, 
And bade him "bring his countrymen 
For food some other  day."
Ah! better had the victors spared 
That horrid deed and taunt, which, heard, 
Inspired with deadly hate their foe, 
Who vowed to strike a mortal blow.
They vowed, and had it in their power, 
Their strength increasing every hour.— 
Allies by hundreds came.  
At length ten thousand men, they say, 
The Caribs mustered for the fray, 
To wipe away their  shame.
In deadly fight they met again; 
Each meant to conquer or be slain. 
The Caribs victors were.  
Their fury nothing could withstand— 
Though Cabrés met them hand to hand, 
And fought with wild  despair— 
Nor thought of turning from the fight: 
They found the memory of that night 
Was heavy then to bear.  
p. 101  
They saw the numbers of their foe, 
Which seemed continually to grow; 
And so—returning blow for blow— 
They fought; and perished there! 
Their warriors then in battle fell: 
And stern the fate, as legends tell, 
Of  all who bore their name. 
For, soon as that grim fight was done, 
Extermination was begun; 
Soiling the victor's fame. 
The conquering Caribs then could go 
Where Orinoco's torrents flow;1 
Where castellated rocks are seen, 
O'er the vast foam, with summits green; 
Whose graceful palms and forest trees 
Seem shadows, till the wished-for breeze 
Disperse the mists around.  
Returning home, each Carib brave 
Would pass by many a bloody grave: 
But, from those falls to ocean's wave, 
 No living foe was found!
p. 102 
 
III. 
MYTHOLOGICAL LEGENDS 
OF THE ANCIENT WORLD.
THE Caribs now from foes are free, 
Enjoying feast and revelry. 
A large canoe is brought on shore, 
And with "paiwari" running o'er. 
Gay feathers crown each warrior's head, 
Each has his body tinged with red; 
And each, with strip of cotton dressed, 
Disposes it o'er back and breast.
Their women, who most wild appear, 
Less clothing than their husbands wear, 
Yet each herself adorns.  
For anklets, woven bands we see; 
Another band below each knee. 
(Pins now through lower lips project, 
As if each would her face protect, 
But  then they all wore thorns.) 
Some stain their skin with spots of blue, 
And thus, attractive to the view, 
They watch the dance, and join it too.
Men beat the drum, or sound the flute 
(The thigh-bone of some human  foe); 
But all at length are hushed and mute, 
And empty is the large  canoe.
p. 103 
The feast is o'er; but old men stay, 
And pass in talk another day. 
Of wise old chieftains, warriors bold, 
And battles in the days of old, 
They tell. While some, from eastern streams, 
Discourse on these more ancient themes.
 
1. THE FIRST PEOPLE.
From on high mankind descended; 
Not (as some would say) for  food: 
They to cleanse this world intended, 
That it might be fair  and good, 
Bright and free from soil or stain, 
As the moon, or starry train.
While they toiled, the clouds receded, 
Which had borne them from on  high: 
Vainly for their help they pleaded; 
None restored them to the  sky. 
Thus mankind remained below, 
In a world of toil and woe.
*  *  *  *  *
As they wandered, pangs of hunger 
Forced them clayey earth to  take; 
Which, that they might starve no longer, 
Making fire, they tried to  bake. 
But their cakes, when they were "done," 
Were like sand, or crumbling stone.
p. 104 
Tamosi1 had there provided 
Wild fruits, suiting beast or  bird. 
By those creatures kindly guided 
To the trees which each  preferred, 
Men partook: but still would sigh 
For the food they left on high.
 
2. THE FIRST CULTIVATION.
Tamosi, the Mighty Maker 
(Whom no mortal eye can see),  
Made, that man might be partaker 
Of His gifts, a wondrous tree.  
Though on earth huge trees have grown, 
None like that was ever known.
High o'er all its head uprearing, 
Cloudlike mass of brilliant  green! 
On its noble branches bearing 
Fruits, which none before had  seen. 
Each a different kind would bear; 
Beauteous clusters, high in air!
Lower down—its trunk surrounding, 
Plaintains grew, bananas sweet:  
All choice plants were there abounding 
Which we now (in gardens) meet.  
p. 105  
Golden maize, so fresh and fair, 
Waved its plumy tresses there.
Sweet cassava one might find there, 
With the bitter, 'neath the  fruits; 
Yams, potatoes, every kind, where 
Widely spread its mighty  roots. 
There was found, in pristine state, 
All that men now cultivate.
*  *  *  *  *
'Twas Maipuri, that way roaming 
(Whom some white men "Tapir"  call); 
From the river's margin coming, 
He observed it first of all;  
In the woodlands, where it grew; 
While no other creature knew.
Daily, through the forest stealing, 
He devoured its fruits which  fell; 
Its existence still concealing: 
What he fed on none could  tell. 
Men, who saw him fat and sleek, 
Sent forth scouts the truth to seek.
First, "Woodpecker." He kept tapping 
(From long habit) each old  tree. 
Shrewd Maipuri heard him rapping, 
And another way went he.  
But the Rat, with silent toil, 
Tracked his steps—then shared the spoil.
p. 106 
Shared it—till some food, delicious, 
Sticking to his lips was  found; 
And mankind, become suspicious, 
Made him show that feeding  ground. 
All exclaimed, "O noble tree! 
Precious gift of Tamosi!"
*  *  *  *  *
Then an oracle commanded— 
"Cut it down!"—They wondered all;  
Yet sharp stones, as fate demanded, 
Caused it in ten months to fall;  
Crashing, thund'ring to the ground, 
While they fly, or tremble round!
Then, a fair division making, 
For his field each man provides;  
Slips and cuttings freely taking 
From its branches, roots, and sides.  
"Gaining thus at once," 'tis said, 
"Precious fruits and daily bread."
 
3. THE ROCK AND THE WOOD.
Pleasant as the breath of morning 
Was the life which all lived  then. 
But misfortune came; a warning 
Of still greater ills to  men. 
'Neath the roots of that great tree 
Some a sacred grot could see.
p. 107 
Saw they there the Water-Mother 
Bathing in her loved abode?  
That it was her form, none other, 
Soon the swelling waters showed.  
Men had all been swept away 
By a gushing flood that day—
But a rugged rock, befriending 
(By what power none can know),  
Closed the fountain. They, attending, 
Saw it stop the mighty flow;  
And drew near that rock, which then 
Gave forth oracles to men:
Saying, "Though I from the waters 
Save you, there may come a day  
When yourselves, your sons and daughters, 
In a flood will pass away.  
Listen, then, mankind, to me, 
That your years like mine may be.
"In yon wood are spirits dwelling, 
Who will tempt you day by day.  
If you dread the waters swelling, 
Answer not, whate'er they say!  
You are safe while you obey, 
Heeding well your rock-stone grey.
"And if age bring evils on you, 
Wrinkled skin, and whitening  hair, 
You at will may cast them from you, 
Youth renewing, bright and  fair: 
p. 108  
As the serpent glideth clear 
From the slough he scorns to wear!"
*  *  *  *  *
Time has passed. Deteriorating, 
Men grow careless day by day.  
Till their hearts, long hesitating, 
Voices from the wood obey.  
Heeding what those demons say, 
They despise their rock-stone grey.
From the grove then comes, beguiling 
(Sent by man's malignant  foes), 
Yarrekáru.1 Men, all smiling, 
See, as towards the rock he  goes. 
None prevent; whilst he, alone, 
Undermines their guardian stone.
As the shades of night close o'er them, 
To their hammocks all  repair. 
Little reck they that before them 
Stand grim death and dark  despair. 
From the grove come, mockingly, 
Cries of "Waters cover me!"
They respond, "O friend, we hear them!" 
Laugh, and turn to slumber  on; 
Till the rush of waters near them 
Terrifies the stoutest one.  
p. 109  
And these words, in solemn tone, 
Issue from the outraged stone:
"Lo! the swelling floods before you, 
See their  waters cover me! 
Soon they will be closing o'er you; 
I no more your help can  be. 
Yet had you but faithful been, 
Death no man would e'er have seen!"
*  *  *  *  *
Swell the mighty floods, prevailing, 
Death's approach in them they  see. 
Loud their cries, but unavailing, 
"Climb the hill!" or "Climb the  tree!" 
Tempests rage and torrents flow, 
O'er mankind wild waters go!
Yet to three or four is given 
Safety till the floods subside,  
For a "komoo" palm (by heaven 
Made to grow) surmounts the tide.  
All whom that tree does not save 
Sink, as rocks, beneath the wave.1
p. 110 
Thus they—while, round the evening fire, 
All in their hammocks  swing. 
Some curious youth might then inquire, 
"Who made some wondrous  thing?" 
"What mighty hand could ever trace 
Those figures on the lofty face 
Of rocks, which now our eyes  
View—near the Orinoco head, 
And elsewhere (they are widely spread)— 
With wondering surprise?" 
And then some western sorcerer old 
Would to the young the tale unfold 
Of him who held high place, we see, 
In Tamanac mythology. 
No hand but his, they think, could trace 
Those carvings of an ancient race, 
Which vanished long ago;  
Where savage Indians, in their place, 
Now wander t o and fro.
 
 
IV. 
LEGEND OF AMALIVACA.
WHILE the deluge was subsiding 
From some land of unknown  name, 
O'er the mighty waters gliding, 
Great Amalivaca came.  
Sailing on where now are seen 
Widespread plains and forests green.
Ocean waves he had crossed over, 
Sailing in his large canoe;  
p. 111  
From that other side a rover, 
Seeking lands and people new.  
Doubtless sent our race to raise, 
Helping men in many ways.
In the sculptures I am showing, 
Now so high, his work you see!  
Waters at that height were flowing, 
So he carved them easily.  
Carved them from his great canoe, 
Taught mankind to carve them too.
Each device and time-worn figure 
Had, of old, its well-known  lore; 
Voiceless all—they spake with vigour 
To the  eye in days of yore. 
But our wisest all allow 
None can read their lessons now.
*  *  *  *  *
When the mighty floods were failing, 
And the land again was  seen, 
There were not (as now) prevailing 
Widespread plains and forests  green. 
Wildly rugged all the ground, 
Then Amalivaca found.
But his brother gave assistance, 
And by that good brother's  aid, 
Overcoming all resistance, 
Smooth and gentle slopes he made.  
p. 112  
Many rocks and cliffs, men say, 
By their power were charmed away.
Thus the earth for habitation 
Much more suitable was found:  
Then said he, "Communication 
There must be with all around.  
In a forest path or road, 
Each perforce must bear his load.
"But when a canoe is bearing, 
Heavy burdens light become;  
So let each man make his 'clearing' 
Near some stream, and fix his home.  
All around us streams we see; 
On them let your traffic be."
Men, who heard him thus advising, 
Said, "Amalivaca, hear!  
With the falling tide, or rising, 
Easy is our course, and clear.  
We the current then obey, 
Going with it either way.
"When we pass the tidal power, 
Going up, no help is found:  
Heavy is the work each hour, 
Weariness and toil abound.  
Now exert thy wondrous skill— 
Strive to remedy this ill."
p. 113 
Then he spent much toil and trouble 
On great Orinoco's flood;  
Strove to make its current double; 
Grand idea—wise and good!  
But that stubborn stream, they say, 
Would persist in its own way.
With a double current flowing, 
One side up, the other down,  
We might either way be going 
Swiftly from each little town.  
Would the river not do so?" 
Orinoco answered, "No!"
Then he strove the tides of ocean 
To the upper stream to bring;  
But the river, with emotion, 
Said, "You seek a fatal thing:  
If the tide should higher go, 
All will be submerged below!"
Water seems a yielding creature, 
Mov'd by passing breeze or  shower; 
None can change its stubborn nature 
Who has not its Maker's  power. 
This Amalivaca learned; 
And from fruitless labour turned.
*  *  *  *  *  *
When he from this land departed, 
Having done what he could do,  
p. 114  
Some with tears, and all sad-hearted, 
Watched his lessening canoe.  
And from that time nevermore 
Comes he to this Western shore!
When the black-robed teachers found us, 
We inquired "if they had  seen 
Him, who left such marks around us, 
Who had our Great Teacher  been; 
Who those high rocks sculptured so?"1 
And we grieved when all said, "No!"
 
The Caribs, in their conq'ring hour, 
Had reached the zenith of their power. 
A few years pass; and then we see 
Those who were near the Caroni 
Beneath the monks live peacefully; 
Till revolution shatters all, 
And in the crash those missions fall!
p. 115 
 
LEGEND OF MANÁROWA.
 
I.
SWEET is his Essequibo home: 
Yet still Manárowa will roam 
To gain more power and fame.  
Though, from that river's sources—south— 
To Dutch plantations near its mouth, 
The tribes all fear  his name.
From Orinoque to Corentyn, 
Fighting and plund'ring he has been, 
The  bold Manárowa! 
The Indians round him own his sway. 
And slaves, as tribute, to him pay: 
All, save the Tarumá. 
They on that stream above are found; 
But he, to reach them, must go round, 
Ascending the Rewa.  
For the great Essequibo Fans, 
Never yet passed, like mighty walls, 
Confront Manárowa. 
The chief has pondered long, and said, 
"Those Tarumas we must invade, 
And take them by surprise.  
O'er those grim cat'racts we will haul 
Our light canoes; and on them fall, 
As coming from the  skies!"
p. 116 
Now he has scaled one wat'ry wall, 
Where a small island in the fall 
Precarious footing gave.  
With toil they hoist and carry o'er 
Their craft; which float where none before 
E'er danced upon the  wave.
With that great fall they scarce have done, 
Ere they come to a greater one. 
No footing there is found.  
Their chieftain says, "We now must clear 
A pathway through the forest here, 
And drag our vessels  round."
Thus they, still toiling day by day, 
O'er falls and rapids work their way 
With labour most severe.  
They pass the mouth of Cuyuwine— 
Some woodskins are before them seen; 
"The Tarumas appear!" 
The rocks are high, the Caribs nigh, 
No power is theirs to fight or fly; 
They sink beneath the tide.  
The Caribs line each rocky shore, 
But those poor Tarumas no more 
Will be by them espied! 
"Have we," the chief exclaims, "thus far 
Come through such perils to make war 
On an amphibious race?  
p. 117  
Themselves and woodskins they now hide, 
In caverns deep beneath the tide: 
And thus elude  our chase!"
Abandoning that river then, 
The Carib chieftain leads his men 
By  land, to hunt their prey. 
Returning homewards (says our tale), 
With captives, to the Dutch for sale, 
By a less dangerous way. 
*  *  *  *  *
To all on Essequibo known, 
The tale had to a legend grown, 
Of that  "amphibious race" 
Eluding him, "who ventured o'er 
A path no mortal man before, 
Or after, dared to trace!" 
Thus they, for near one hundred years:— 
A white explorer1 then appears; 
Who to the Taruma  
Crosses, o'er every dangerous fall, 
Giving thar highest, worst of all, 
Its name—"Manárowa." 
 
II.
The rule of Holland passed away, 
"Stabroek"2 now owns the British sway. 
Manárowa has come  
p. 118  
The British governor to see, 
With his red-coated soldiery, 
And hear the fife and  drum.
Stout Caribs, chosen from his band, 
Attendant on their chieftain stand, 
Each with his feathered crown,  
Red paint, and scarf, of cotton made 
(Six yards), o'er back and breast displayed, 
With tassels hanging  down.
The governor receives him well; 
For one is there the tale to tell 
From Aruabisi shore;  
"How Arawâks and Caribisce 
Had both prepared to break the peace, 
And fight it out once more. 
"But when the British magistrate 
Had called their chiefs—to mediate 
At 'Henrietta' there,  
All Caribs, by Manárowa, 
Were ordered (and his word was law) 
From fighting to forbear." 
'Twas so. An aged man told me, 
When he made peace, I went to see 
(Though then a little thing),  
His stately form I viewed with awe, 
And white men said, 'Manárowa. 
The Caribisi King!'" 
p. 119 
In Demerara 'twas the same; 
When he before white rulers came, 
The  savage he could hide. 
Young officers, prepared to laugh, 
Found him no object for their "chaff," 
But calm and dignified. 
Some wished for an experiment, 
And gained the governor's consent 
To  test the Carib's nerve. 
A well-rammed cannon, placed near by, 
Was, without warning, fired, to try 
If he would shrink or swerve. 
It startled some of them (the "bang" 
Shook the whole house with fearful clang); 
Manárowa was calm.  
Nor limb nor muscle moved he then. 
The governor said, "Gentlemen, 
For, nerve—who bears the  palm?"
Loaded with gifts, see him return 
(Allies of white men such can earn); 
And his glad tribe behold  
A crescent on his breast appear, 
Not silver, such as "captains" wear— 
Manárowa's is  gold!
Yet glory is but for a day, 
Prosperity will pass away, 
Old age must  still come on. 
p. 120  
And when Great Britain, with a frown, 
Viewed the slave-trade, and put it down, 
His  business was gone.
(Then to the governor, a slave— 
A Carib—for a present, gave, 
As  chiefs of old would give. 
Refused, he clave the young man's head, 
Turned to his men, and sternly said, 
"Let no more captives live!") 
And when, for such, a sale was found, 
In Surinam, upon new ground; 
Manárowa was dead.  
Small-pox and rum consumed his clan; 
He saw them dying, man by man; 
Grieved, and his spirit  fled!
 
 
CONCLUSION.
THE remnant of his once great clan, 
Which held its head  so high; 
Then withered, as by deadly ban, 
Brazilians forced to  fly. 
For they an English teacher heard, 
And learned from him the Saviour's word.
They came to Georgetown with their grief, 
For who such grief could  hide? 
And there I saw their youthful chief 
Walk by his pastor's  side, 
With that broad crescent on his breast 
p. 121  
His grandsire wore  of old. 
In sad procession came the rest 
And their sad story  told. 
Macusis mingled with the band, 
All driven from Macusi land.
And here it boots not to relate 
How war almost befell;  
Nor that good Christian teacher's fate, 
Which mission records tell.  
His work and he have passed away; 
Both will be found another day!1
 
On other rivers Caribs live; 
To whom we long have sought to give 
The  knowledge of our Lord. 
And courteous they have ever been 
To us amidst their forests green. 
Some think their ancient ways the best, 
But many Christians are, professed, 
And learn the Saviour's word;  
Which taught and held in Christian love 
(That gentle power—all powers above) 
Is mightier than their club of old, 
Wielded by warriors strong and bold; 
More piercing than their arrows keen, 
More glorious in its triumphs seen, 
Than  white man's conquering sword!

Footnotes

p. 91 
1 Bancroft (1769) mentions it as still preserved by them.
p. 95 
1 In 1664, under M. de La Barre. The English had by that time made a settlement on the Coma, 
or Surinam, which, in 1667, was exchanged with the Dutch for "New Holland," the present New 
York. Essequibo and Berbice (now English) were colonised by the Dutch in the early part of the 
seventeenth century, and remained in their possession nearly two hundred years. Demerara was 
also founded by them, though at a much later period.
p. 99 
1 Humboldt's account, Some of our Caribs say that two men were thus spared.
p. 101 
1 The great cataracts (or Raudales) af Atures and Maypures.
As the Caribs themselves have always been accused of cannibalism, it is but fair to the survivors 
of that race in Guiana, to say that all those whom I have spoken with deny that their fathers ever 
were guilty of it, save in mimic action, as a vaunt or threat, to terrify a foe.
Humboldt, who treats the subject fully in his "Narrative," acquits the continental Caribs of the 
charge, while admitting the cannibalism of the Cabrés (as stated above), of various other inland 
tribes, and of the Caribs of the islands in former days.
p. 104 
1 "Tamosi Kabo-tano" (Ancient one of Heaven), The Supreme Being.
p. 108 
1 I-arreka-ru (Acawoio, "Iwarreka"), the monkey.
p. 109 
1 There is an episode, usually given here, of a "cocorite" palm, which mankind strove to ascend, 
because its top reached the heavens. A poor woman, not in a condition to climb, led the way. 
When halfway up she was turned into stone by terror and exhaustion. None could help her, and 
none could pass over her. All who tried to do so became rocks likewise. The terrified survivors 
then climbed the komoo, and were saved.
p. 114 
1 Humboldt, who records the legend of Amalivaca, considers those rock-carvings to be "traces 
of an ancient civilisation, which may have belonged to an epoch when the tribes, which we now 
distinguish by various names and races, were still unknown."
Whether the mystery attached to those rude sculptures will ever be solved, even in part, it is at 
present impossible to say. In the interest of science, it is desirable that a collection of 
photographs of the most remarkable—not only on the Orinaco, but (if possible) from the Rio 
Negro to the Corentyn—should be made and compared.
p. 117 
1 Mr. C. B. Brown, 1870.
2 The present Georgetown.
p. 121 
1 Rev. T. Youd. Founded Pirara Mission, 1838. Driven from it, 1839. Died (at sea), 1842.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 124 
CONTENTS OF PART IV.
		PAGE
INTRODUCTION	125
I.	MYTHOLOGICAL LEGENDS	126
The First Man and Animals.
	 1. Primitive State	126
	 2. The Monkey's Exploit	127
	 3. Mishaps	131
	 4. End of Primitive State	133
II.	HISTORICAL AND WARLIKE LEGENDS	135
Their War with the Caribs.
	 1. First Inroad of the Caribs	135
	 2. The Surprise on the Cuyuni	137
	 3. Siege of the Fortified House	138
Civil Strife.
	 1. The Aged Friends	141
	 2. The Massacre and the Pursuit	143
	 3. The Duel	146
	 4. Blood Feuds and Dispersion	151
III.	KANÁIMA.	152
	 Blood Revenge (1)	155
	 Blood Revenge (2)	158

The settlements of the Acawoio clans extend from the vicinity of Mount  Romima eastward to 
the Berbice, and to the Orinoco on the north.

Closely connccted with them—in langunge, and probably in origin—are their  neighbours, the 
Macusis and Aracunas, with their various branches and subdivisions.

Of the history of those races we know very little beyond what their family  traditions may 
supply. Schomburgk thought that the Macusis formerly lived on the Orinoco. He states also, on 
historic evidence, that the Arecunas formerly dwelt on the Uaupes, or Ucayari, a tributary of the 
Rio Negro. All beyond is enveloped in the mist of ages.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

p. 125 
Legends of the Acawoios.
 
 
INTRODUCTION.
WERE that which seems a dream accomplished now, 
And mortal man to tread Roráima's brow, 
He, from that mighty wall, the homes would see 
Of scattered clans—a people wild and free. 
From one old parent stock those races all 
Have sprung, which we the "Kapohn-yamu" call.
One, whose forefathers were their chiefs of old, 
At my request, their ancient legends told; 
p. 126  
Their quaint mythology—(its op'ning page 
Like some sweet idyl of the "golden age"), 
And old-time wars, 'twixt those whose children come 
To find, on mission land, a peaceful Christian home!
 
I. 
MYTHOLOGICAL LEGENDS.
 
THE FIRST MAN AND ANIMALS
1. PRIMITIVE STATE.
FIRST, my Acawoi narrator 
Told how beasts and birds were  made; 
How the Mighty, their Creator, 
Gave them Laws to be obeyed.  
Made them of one speech to be, 
Bade them live in unity.
That there might be no oppression, 
Man was made, and placed o'er  all. 
That first man, of wise discretion, 
"Makonáima's son" we  call, 
Just, as well as kind, was he: 
All obeyed him lovingly.
Ere the sun's bright rays were burning, 
All dispersed in forests  near; 
With the cool of day returning, 
Glad his loving call to  hear. 
Each one of his food would bring; 
Homage paid to man—their king.
p. 127 
No great trouble or disaster 
Could oppress them or annoy;  
For the man, their gentle master, 
In their good placed all his joy.  
Surely, we no more shall see— 
In this world—such unity.
*  *  *  *  *
Then, 'tis said, great Makonáima, 
Made for them a wondrous  tree, 
Capp'd with clouds, like high Roráima, 
Bearing fruits  abundantly— 
Every kind—the meed to be 
Of their love and  loyalty!
 
2. THE MONKEY'S EXPLOIT.
What the Caribs may tell of that wonderful tree, 
With our own native legend would mainly agree; 
But we say that "Ahkoo"1 the noble tree found— 
That our first man alone brought it down to the ground, 
And the animals helped him in planting around.
For the beasts and the birds were industrious all, 
Till "Iwarreka" (so the brown monkey we call) 
p. 128  
To the spirit of    play 
And sheer mischief gave way;    
Then he plagued and tormented the rest all the day. 
His work was not done,    
For he thought but of    fun, 
And into the wildest excesses would run.
He grinned when they begged him to let them alone, 
So they to the master complained—every one. 
He pulls at our tails,    
Or nips with his    nails, 
And will bite us severely when any trick fails."
So the master passed sentence on that wicked elf— 
"Iwarreka, leave us, and work by thyself; 
It will keep thee from mischief to go to yon spring, 
And thence, in a basket, fresh water to bring."
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
When the tree was cut down, the good master soon found 
Swelling waters within: and he saw there abound 
Those fishes which now swim in rivers around. 
"Though more labour for me,    
This a blessing will be,    
To have fishes in fresh water, as in the sea. 
"I will spread them," said he; "every river shall share: 
For all rivers have equal right to my care."
Then, addressing the well,    
He said, "Wilt thou tell    
For what purpose thy wonderful waters now swell?" 
And he found that those waters, ere next rise of sun, 
O'er the world, all around, were preparing to run.
p. 129 
Then with dexterous hands a wide basket he made, 
Which, inverted, he over the hollow stump laid; 
And such was its virtue that, while it remained 
As he placed it, the fountain within was restrained.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
Iwarreka, meanwhile, obedience shirking, 
Had given up working,    
And near to the spot at that time he was lurking. 
He, seeing the basket thus placed with such care, 
Said, "The choicest of fruits our sly master hides there. 
I will take while I may,    
Now they all are away,    
Such a fine chance as this will not come ev'ry day."
So, with a light spring, on the margin he stands; 
The basket he raises with pilfering hands— 
One moment, no more—for a terrible flood 
Bursting forth, sends him rolling in water and mud. 
With splutter and    scream, 
He is borne down the stream:    
A warning to all the dishonest, we deem.
His screams are sufficient the others to scare, 
They all come in affright, and the master is there; 
But more for themselves than the monkey they care.
"See the water!" they cried,    
"Pouring over the side.    
See! the fishes are all swimming down with the tide. 
See, the stump and the roots are all forced from the ground, 
And the land disappears as the waters flow round. 
O man, our good leader! we cleave to thy side, 
And thou for the safety of all must provide."
p. 130 
So the man leads the way, till before him he sees 
A tall hill, with high rocks; and some cocorite trees. 
Then says, "We may find a last refuge in these. 
You, who rest in a tree,    
Here may climb up with me;    
And in yonder high cave all the others must be."
So the birds fly up first; and then up the tree go 
The opossum, coati, and others you know. 
Black monkeys and brown soon the master surround, 
All striving to get farthest off from the ground. 
There the queer spider monkey, with long limbs, is seen. 
"Sakuwinki's" lithe form, and his fur olive green; 
The red-bearded one, which "Arowta"1 we call; 
The marmosets small—and, in fact, monkeys all, 
There sit, in the palm, to be kept safe from harm, 
With their tails round their neck, curled, to keep themselves warm.
Such a rain then succeeded as none before knew, 
Nor has such been experienced by me or by you. 
Fierce lightning, loud thunder; no sight of the sun 
Till three or four nights into one night had run.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
The man sat with patience, for, do what he would, 
He knew that he never could stay that great flood; 
But he let fall the seeds of the cocorite tree, 
To tell, by the splash, where the water might be. 
He at length found it lower; at last it seemed gone; 
Then they ate of the palm-fruits, and welcomed the dawn.
p. 131 
 
3. MISHAPS.
Thus the man, beasts, and birds were preserved, as we see, 
Though cold, wet, and hungry, of course they would be. 
But some met with troubles, of which, sages say, 
Their children bear tokens to this very day.
And first, the "baboon," as your creoles now call 
The great howling monkey, the reddest of all. 
His voice, we are told, ere he climbed up that tree, 
Was more pleasant to hear than his person to see. 
He began first to roar, as he felt his heart fail, 
When those waters were wetting his feet and his tail, 
And he knew they would drown him if they should prevail.
With his cries sore distressed,     
All began to protest,     
But he louder and louder his terrors expressed. 
Though his throat did not burst with the strain of those cries, 
It then grew to be twice its original size! 
And its shape we may see when his sons meet our eyes.
*  *  *  *  *  *  *
The man bore up bravely, our old legends say, 
But his flock, grown unruly, gave trouble that day; 
Few cared to obey,     
And each, like the monkey, desired his own way.
He bade all keep their places till he should have found 
If danger awaited them on the damp ground; 
And the trumpeter bird     
With the others     then heard, 
Yet he would not from getting down first be deterred.
p. 132 
"Yahgahmi, beware!" said the man, with a frown, 
As into a nest of fierce ants he flew down. 
Alas, for the bird! for that raverious swarm, 
Ere the master could capture him, did him great harm, 
Each leg was a     stick 
(Though once fairly thick),     
For those ants had deprived it of all they could pick.
Having cleared off the ants, the long-suffering man 
Said, "I'll kindle a fire, if I possibly can." 
The sticks which he carried, though not kept quite dry, 
Would, by friction incessant, yield fire by and by. 
It was kindled at