The Legends of San Francisco | Page 4

and green, and decked with flowers.?And her willing feet were resting?Near the bay and new-made river;?While the Chief, her faithful lover,?Bending 'neath his sacred burden,?Stretched his arms out to the valleys?Where his people would find shelter.
Here for countless generations?We have lived in peace and safety,?Roaming through the wooded valleys,?Hunting on the grassy meadows,?Fishing in the bays and rivers.
Now you know the sacred story?Of the Maid of Tamalpais -?Why no Tamal ever ventured?To the holy crest above us.?Would we tread upon the features?Of the martyred Maid who saved us??Would we desecrate the rock-tomb?Of our Chief, her well beloved?
There she lies in all her beauty,?Sacred Maid of Tamalpais!?If her eyes should turn from heaven,?She would see across the waters?Piles of tumbled crags and boulders?In the Grove of Thousand Oak Trees,?Where the buckeye trees still blossom?Over mortar holes, half hidden.?Children play with merry laughter?Hide and seek among the boulders.?Even now perhaps, the Fairies?Dressed as butterflies may whisper?Secrets in the ears of children,?If they listen to the voices.
If her eyes should trace the steamers?As they thread the curving channel?Opened by the ancient earthquake,?She would see them pass an island?On whose red and barren summit?She was wounded in the battle.?White men call it Red Rock Island,?Knowing not the crimson color?Is from blood, shed in the battle?Fought upon the lofty summit?Of a mountain that was swallowed?When the mighty chasm opened,?Leaving but its peak projecting?Through the surface of the waters.
There she lies in queenly beauty,?Martyred Maid of Tamalpais,?With her face upturned to heaven,?As when praying, 'Take me, Father;?Save my people; Save the Tamals.'?On her head the snows of winter?Lay a crown of shining crystals.?Fog banks twine their arms about her?To embrace her and caress her.?Passing rainclouds bathe her features?With their tear drops, shed in sorrow,?And the rainbow arches over?With the glories of a halo.
She is first to have the greeting?Of the rising sun, and latest?To receive his goodnight kisses.?On her sides the purple shadows?Linger longest in the twilight.?For her robe the fairest wildflowers?Bloom throughout the changing seasons -?Violets, and pink wild roses,?Blue forget-me-nots, and lilies?Vie to give their sweetest perfumes?To the Maid of Tamalpais.
Lovers climb the sacred mountain,?Roam the hillsides, tread the wildwoods,?Finding there new inspiration,?Hope and happiness, not knowing?That the Maid of Tamalpais?Gives her spirit to all lovers?Who approach her mystic presence.
I, the last of all the Tamals,?Soon will turn my face to heaven?Where my own, my best beloved,?Waits with outstretched arms, to greet me.
Write the story for all people;?It is finished; I have spoken."?Thus she spoke, that ancient woman,?Lone survivor of the Tamals,?By the campfire in the redwoods,?On the slopes of Tamalpais.
The Twin Guardians of the Golden Gate.
Would you know the mystic legend?Of the peaks of San Francisco -?Of the Twin Peaks standing Guardian?Of the gay and careless city,?Ever laughing by the gateway?Of our Golden California?
Would you know what brings the westwind,?With its cool and filmy vapors?Trailing like a scarf of chiffon?Through the narrow Golden Gateway,?Screening shore and hills and harbor,?While the country all around it?Bathes in floods of golden sunshine?
Would you know why great Sea Lions?Flounder on the rocky islands,?Standing by the Golden Gateway??Why they fight in baffled fury,?Barking ever at the mainland?
Listen then, and I will tell you?As the legend was related?By an ancient Tamal woman,?As she sat beside the campfire?In a grove of giant redwoods?On the slopes of Tamalpais.
"It was long ago, my children,?Long ago, in mystic ages?When the Gods lived near the people,?Who, like infants newly mothered,?Needed care and help and guidance.?As the children call to parents?So the people called to Spirits.?Then the Gods were quick to listen,?Quick to teach them and protect them,?Quick to punish when they trespassed?On the rights of one another.
Near the place where Holy Fathers?Built the Mission of Dolores?Was a village of the Tamals,?Vanished now for many ages.?By it was a singing streamlet,?Where the willows waved their banners;?Round it giant redwoods clustered,?Redolent with forest odors;?Live oaks, bay trees, and madronas?Billowed over plains and hillsides.
Through the forest ranged the hunters,?Seeking game in glen and canyon,?Meat for food, and fur for raiment;?Vanquishing the forest creatures?With flint arrows and stone axes;?Seeking fish in bay and river?With the spear or net of sinew.?On the bay the warriors paddled?In canoes of bark or rawhide,?Or in mighty redwood dugouts?Dared the currents of the narrows?Training warriors to be ready?To defend their shores and harbor.
From the North the foemen threatened,?As an ever-present shadow.?O'er the water came the foemen,?In a mighty fleet of warboats;?Every summer came the foemen,?Came and fought and then retreated.
In his tepee sat the Chieftain?With the Old Men, wise in counsel;?All their hearts were solely troubled -?Every summer brought the foemen,?Those bronze men of fearless courage,?Waxing stronger every season -?Long they counseled with each other;?Would the foemen come and conquer??Could the Tamals long withstand them??Thus they questioned in the Council?While they planned their last defenses.
To the Council came the sisters,?Yana fair, and Tana