VII.
And now, to appease great Okee’s ire,
The priests with solemn care
Enter the sacred temple halls,
And mystic rites prepare—
Those sacred halls where priests perform
Their fearful mystery,
Places by far too holy deem’d
For other eyes to see—
Temples that shield from vulgar sight{[18]}
A thousand holy things,
Their idols, tombs, and images
Of great and ancient kings.
Out on a grassy, open spot,
Are fagots piled on high,
And leaping flame and rolling smoke
Are towering to the sky;
And there, to wait the priest’s return,
Hundreds are gather’d round,
To join the mystic revelry,
And dance on holy ground—
When lo! the solemn man comes forth{[19]}
With slow and measured tread;
A crown of snakes and weasel skins
Is borne upon his head;
Atop a tuft of feathers serves
To bind them in their place,
And serpent heads and weasel claws
Hang round his neck and face.
His naked shoulders and his breast
Are stain’d a blood-red hue,
And grim and blood-red is the mask
His fiery eyes look through.
The sacred weed is in his hand,{[20]}
That Okee’s favor wins,
Whose grateful odor hath the power
To expiate all sins;
He hurls it forth with sinewy arm
Into the hottest flame,
And thrice aloud in solemn tone
Invokes great Okee’s name.
At once they leap and form a ring,
With shout and hideous yell,
And round the flames they whirl and scream,
Like a thousand fiends of hell.
With strange contortions, flashing eyes,
And long and flying hair,
Around and round, for six long hours,{[21]}
They battle with the air.
And then again through every hall
The feast and song renew,
And all day long and all the night
Their festive mirth pursue.