The Legend of La Brea.
This myth about the famous Pitch Lake of Trinidad was told almost word for
word to a M. Joseph by an aged half-caste Indian, who went by the name of Señor
Trinidada. The manners and customs which the ballad describes, and the cruel
and dangerous destruction of the beautiful birds of Trinidad, are facts which may
be easily verified by any one who will take the trouble to visit the West Indies.
                     
                     word to a M. Joseph by an aged half-caste Indian, who went by the name of Señor
Trinidada. The manners and customs which the ballad describes, and the cruel
and dangerous destruction of the beautiful birds of Trinidad, are facts which may
be easily verified by any one who will take the trouble to visit the West Indies.

Down beside the loathly Pitch Lake,1
                        
                        In the stately Morichal,12
                        
                        Sat an ancient Spanish Indian,3
                        
                        Peering through the columns tall.4
                        Watching vainly for the flashing5
                        
                        Of the jewelled colibris ;26
                        
                        Listening vainly for their humming7
                        
                        Round the honey-blossomed trees.8
                        “ Few,” he sighed,  “ they come, and fewer,9
                        
                        To the cocorite3
                              bowers ;10
                        
                        Murdered, madly, through the forests11
                        
                        Which of yore were theirs—and ours.”12
                        By there came a negro hunter,13
                        
                        Lithe and lusty, sleek and strong,14
                        
                        Rolling round his sparkling eyeballs,15
                        
                        As he loped and lounged along.16
                        Rusty firelock on his shoulder ;17
                        
                        Rusty cutlass on his thigh ;18
                        
                        Never jollier British subject19
                        
                        Rollicked underneath the sky.20
                        British law to give him safety,21
                        
                        British fleets to guard his shore,22
                        
                        And a square of British freehold—23
                        
                        He had all we have, and more.24
                        
                        1 A magnificent wood of the Mauritia Fanpalm, on the south shore of the Pitch Lake.
                     
                     
                        2 Humming-birds.
                     
                     
                        3 Maximiliana palms.
                     
                     
Fattening through the endless summer,25
                        
                        Like his own provision ground,26
                        
                        He had reached the summum bonum27
                        
                        Which our latest wits have found.28
                        So he thought ;  and in his hammock29
                        
                        Gnawed his junk of sugar-cane,30
                        
                        Toasted plantains at the fire-stick,31
                        
                        Gnawed, and dozed, and gnawed again.32
                        Had a wife in his ajoupa1—33
                        
                        Or, at least, what did instead ;34
                        
                        Children, too, who died so early,35
                        
                        He’d no need to earn their bread.36
                        Never stole, save what he needed,37
                        
                        From the Crown woods round about ;38
                        
                        Never lied, except when summoned—39
                        
                        Let the warden find him out.40
                        Never drank, except at market ;41
                        
                        Never beat his sturdy mate ;42
                        
                        She could hit as hard as he could,43
                        
                        And had just as hard a pate.44
                        Had no care for priest nor parson,45
                        
                        Hope of heaven nor fear of hell ;46
                        
                        And in all his views of nature47
                        
                        Held with Comte and Peter Bell.48
                        Healthy, happy, silly, kindly,49
                        
                        Neither care nor toil had he,50
                        
                        Save to work an hour at sunrise,51
                        
                        And then hunt the colibri.52
                        Not a bad man ;  not a good man :53
                        
                        Scarce a man at all, one fears,54
                        
                        If the Man be that within us55
                        
                        Which is born of fire and tears.56
                        Round the palm-stems, round the creepers,57
                        
                        Flashed a feathered jewel past,58
                        
                        Ruby-crested, topaz-throated,59
                        
                        Plucked the cocorite bast,60
                        
                        1 Hut of timber and palm leaves.
                     
                     
                        2 From the Eriodendron, or giant silk-cotton.
                     
                     
Plucked the fallen ceiba-cotton,61
                        
                        Whirred away to build his nest,62
                        
                        Hung at last, with happy humming,63
                        
                        Round some flower he fancied best.64
                        Up then went the rusty muzzle,65
                        
                        “ Dat de tenth I shot to-day :”66
                        
                        But out sprang the Indian shouting,67
                        
                        Balked the negro of his prey.68
                        “ Eh, you Señor Trinidada !69
                        
                        What dis new ondacent plan ?70
                        
                        Spoil a genl’man’s chance ob shooting ?71
                        
                        I as good as any man.72
                        “ Dese not your woods ;  dese de Queen’s woods :73
                        
                        You seem not know whar you ar,74
                        
                        Gibbin’ yuself dese buckra airs here,75
                        
                        You black Indian Papist ! Dar !”76
                        Stately, courteous, stood the Indian ;77
                        
                        Pointed through the palm-tree shade :78
                        
                        “ Does the gentleman of colour79
                        
                        Know how yon Pitch Lake was made ?”80
                        Grinned the negro, grinned and trembled—81
                        
                        Through his nerves a shudder ran—82
                        
                        Saw a snake-like eye that held him ;83
                        
                        Saw—he’d met an Obeah man.84
                        Saw a fêtish—such a bottle—85
                        
                        Buried at his cottage door ;86
                        
                        Toad and spider, dirty water,87
                        
                        Rusty nails, and nine charms more.88
                        Saw in vision such a cock’s head89
                        
                        In the path—and it was white !90
                        
                        Saw Brinvilliers1 in his pottage :91
                        
                        Faltered, cold and damp with fright.92
                        Fearful is the chance of poison :93
                        
                        Fearful, too, the great unknown :94
                        
                        Magic brings some positivists95
                        
                        Humbly on their marrow-bone.96
                        Like the wedding-guest enchanted,97
                        
                        There he stood, a trembling cur ;98
                        
                        While the Indian told his story,99
                        
                        Like the Ancient Mariner.100
                        
                        1 Spigelia anthelmia, a too well-known poison-plant.
                     
                     
Told how— “ Once that loathly Pitch Lake101
                        
                        Was a garden bright and fair ;102
                        
                        How the Chaymas off the mainland103
                        
                        Built their palm ajoupas there.104
                        “ How they throve, and how they fattened,105
                        
                        Hale and happy, safe and strong ;106
                        
                        Passed the livelong days in feasting ;107
                        
                        Passed the nights in dance and song.108
                        “ Till they cruel grew, and wanton :109
                        
                        Till they killed the colibris.110
                        
                        Then outspake the great Good Spirit,111
                        
                        Who can see through all the trees.112
                        “ Said— ‘ And what have I not sent you,113
                        
                        Wanton Chaymas, many a year ?114
                        
                        Lapp,1 agouti,2 cachicame,3115
                        
                        Quenc4 and guazu-pita deer.116
                        “ ʽFish I sent you, sent you turtle,117
                        
                        Chip-chip,5 conch, flamingo red,118
                        
                        Woodland paui,6 horned screamer,7119
                        
                        And blue ramier8 overhead.120
                        “ ʽPlums from balata9 and mombin,10121
                        
                        Tania,11 manioc,12 water-vine ;13122
                        
                        Let you fell my slim manacques,14123
                        
                        Tap my sweet morichè wine.15124
                        “ Sent rich plantains,16 food of angels ;125
                        
                        Rich ananas,17 food of kings ;126
                        
                        Grudged you none of all my treasures :127
                        
                        Save these lovely useless things.’128
                        “ But the Chaymas’ ears were deafened ;129
                        
                        Blind their eyes, and could not see130
                        
                        How a blissful Indian’s spirit131
                        
                        Lived in every colibri.132
                        “ Lived, forgetting toil and sorrow,133
                        
                        Ever fair and ever new ;134
                        
                        Whirring round the dear old woodland,135
                        
                        Feeding on the honey-dew.136
                        
                        1 Cœlogenys Paca.
                     
                     
                        2 Wild cavy.
                     
                     
                        3 Armadillo.
                     
                     
                        4 Peccary hog.
                     
                        5 Trigonia.
                     
                     
                        6 Penelope.
                     
                     
                        7 Palamedca.
                     
                     
                        8 Dove.
                     
                        9 Mimusops.
                     
                     
                        10 Spondias.
                     
                     
                        11 An esculent Arum.
                     
                        12 Jatropha manihot,  “ Cassava.”
                     
                     
                        13 Vitis Caribæa.
                     
                        14 Euterpe,  “ mountain cabbage” palm.
                     
                     
                        15 Mauritia palm.
                     
                        16 Musa.
                     
                     
                        17 Pine-apple.
                     
                     
“ Till one evening roared the earthquake :137
                        
                        Monkeys howled, and parrots screamed :138
                        
                        And the Guaraons at morning139
                        
                        Gathered here, as men who dreamed.140
                        “ Sunk were gardens, sunk ajoupas ;141
                        
                        Hut and hammock, man and hound :142
                        
                        And above the Chayma village143
                        
                        Boiled with pitch the cursed ground.144
                        “ Full, and too full ;  safe, and too safe ;145
                        
                        Negro man, take care, take care.146
                        
                        He that wantons with God’s bounties147
                        
                        Of God’s wrath had best beware.148
                        “ For the saucy, reckless, heartless,149
                        
                        Evil days are sure in store.150
                        
                        You may see the Negro sinking151
                        
                        As the Chayma sank of yore.”152
                        Loudly laughed that stalwart hunter—153
                        
                        “ Eh, what superstitious talk !154
                        
                        Nyam1 am nyam, an’ maney maney ;155
                        
                        Birds am birds, like park am park ;156
                        
                        An’ dere’s twenty thousand birdskins157
                        
                        Ardered jes’ now fram New Yark.”158
                        
                        1 Food.