HAOKAH, THE STORM-SPIRIT FROM THE ROCKIES.
Now glancing fiercely at Unktaha, he
The giant king, Haokah, forward came,
One side his face was lurid red, and one
An ashen gray. His hands held thunderbolts.
Forked lightnings played around his horned head.
He glared with wrath, as though unwilling he
Acknowledged aught above: Then thus began:
"O Wakan, where the Western breezes dwell I live and brew the storms which terrify. Dread famine, wars, and pestilence, and fire, My children are. On wings of mighty wind, I traveled to and fro through this broad land Contending for it with thine other gods. I dried the streams and drove away the game. The Indian, forced by want of food, made war Upon his brother brave. I told him then To murder thy white children, and to shed The blood of women and of babes. I blew With my hot breath upon the prairie grass, And tall flames through the country swept, the trees, The food, the houses burning. Homeless then The people were cast out, with all the slow Increase of years in one fell moment lost. Ha! How I laughed as the mad flame swept along, And with its fiery arm embraced to death The helpless mother and her babes. In scorn I said, 'Where now is Wakan? he has given This land to me/
"Then by a strong west wind I brought from mountains far the locust fierce, I blew them o'er the land, so that the sun Was darkened, and they covered the whole earth, Destroying every herb, and all the fruit, And all green things, so naught to eat was left; And Famine, with gaunt face, stalked in the homes, And drove from thence the suffering, starving men.
