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| 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 fearless, Twins, and daughters of the Chieftain, Came and stood before the wise men, Came and bowed their heads and waited. Well the wise men knew the sisters, Maidens blooming into women, Loved them for their grace and beauty, For the joy they radiated, For the charm that emanated From their chaste and gentle spirits, As the perfume that is wafted From the rose buds newly opened. Yet the Wise Men gave no welcome, Turned their eyes from Maids to Chieftain. "Why, my Daughters, have you ventured Into this, the warrior's council? Well you know it is forbidden; Neither man nor woman enters When the warriors plan for battle." "Let us speak," the Maidens answered, "For we bring a warning message. As we wandered on the ridges Gathering the golden poppies To adorn our Mother's tepee, We were talking of the danger From the foemen of the Northland, When a Maiden stood before us, Strangely fair, with golden tresses, Eyes of deep blue like the lupins, Dressed in garlands made of poppies. Hand in hand we stood and wondered, Till the lovely apparition Smiled and caused our fears to vanish. 'I am the Spirit of the Country,' Said the Maiden of the Poppies, 'And I choose you, my Twin Daughters, For the beauty of your bodies, And the worth of soul within you, As the saviors of your people, As the guardians of my harbor. Take the message to your Chieftain, That the foe comes from the Northland; Yet they shall not harm your people If you stand upon the hilltop With the talisman I give you. Take this Magic Iris with you, Guard it well for every petal Has a charm that brings an answer To a prayer that is unselfish, To a prayer for all the people That will live around your harbor. Never, while you guard the hilltop, Shall a foe invade your country. Petals three there are; three wishes Shall be granted when you make them.' Then the Poppy Maiden vanished, And we hastened to our village. Hand in hand, we ran so swiftly That our feet but touched the flowers; While above our heads the wild ducks Flying southward clamored hoarsely, 'They are coming; They are coming!' Sea gulls, winging from the ocean, Shrieked their warning, 'They are coming!' Then we dared to brave your Council With the message of the Maiden, And the warning of the seabirds. 'It is well,' the Chieftain answered, 'Daughters with the eyes of springtime And the faces of the flowers, It is well. The Gods have marked you With their sign upon the forehead; You have stood before a Goddess, And her spirit is upon you.' Long the Old Men sat and pondered. Well they knew the ears of children Are attuned to hear the voices Of the Gods and Guardian Spirits. Well they knew that all wild creatures Speak to man if one is worthy To receive their friendly warning; Knew that seabirds, swift and cunning, See the foemen while their war boats Still are far beyond the sea-rim. Thus they reasoned in their council, Then they stood before the people While the Chieftain gave his orders. 'Beat the war drums. Call the warriors. Man the war canoes, and station Sentinels upon the headlands Up the coast-land to Bolinas. Let them light the lurid war fires, When they see the foemen coming.' Swiftly northward raced the sentries In their light canoes of deerskin - Through the narrows to Bonita, On the ocean to Bolinas. All was tumult in the village; To each warrior was given Long bows, strong bows, wrapped with sinews, Stores of arrows, eagle feathered, Newly tipped with sharpest flint-heads; Stone head war clubs, wrapped with rawhide; Shields of oakwood, tough and heavy. Women decked the braves with feathers, Robes of fur, and charms of seashell; Roused their courage with the stories Of the prowess of their Fathers; Cheered with songs of deeds of valor Of the heroes of the Tamals; While the children, heavy hearted, Watched the scene in wide-eyed wonder. Every day the Chieftain's daughters, As twin sentinels were standing On the hill between the valley And the blue expanse of ocean. Every day they watched the Morning Reach his rosy fingers upward, From behind the eastern mountains, Painting with an elfin fancy, Crimson edges on the cloudbanks; Then erasing and repainting Them with gold or mauve or amber; Always changing, as his fancy Swayed the child to blend the colors; Till Old Father Sun uprising, Drove his elfin son to shelter From the dazzle of his presence. All day long the faithful sisters Stood upon the ridge and waited - Waited while the Sun ascended, Crossed the zenith, then descended On his daily westward journey. Watched him sink into the ocean As a molten globe of metal; While the fleecy clouds above him Caught afire, and blazed in beauty, Radiating flaming colors Through the changing clouds, and lighting O'er the purple sea a pathway Glinting in a golden glory. Evening came, and still they waited - While the heavenly dome turned purple, And the twinkling stars were lighted, One by one, until the darkness Scintillated with their sparkle; And a milky way of star-dust Arched across, to hold the heavens High above the reach of mortals. Through the night they watched and waited - While the silver moon was racing Through the silken clouds, and flooding All the bay and hills and ocean With a pale illumination, Casting moving shadows earthward When a dark cloud passed before her. Wild Coyotes broke the silence Of the midnight with their barking, And the prowling Wolves crept nearer, Till the patter of their footsteps Could be heard in stealthy rushes. Still the fearless Sisters waited, Watched the north for signal fires, And in eager alternation Held the Magic Yellow Iris. Came at last the welcome singing Of the Meadow Lark and Robin, And above the eastern mountains Flushed the rose-light of the morning; Then again the sky was tinted By the Elf who plays with colors, And the sleeping poppies wakened When the sunbeams kissed their eyelids. From the Heights of Point Bonita Rose a thread of smoke that lengthened, Broadened, flaunted like a banner, Black and ominous of evil. "They are coming!" Yana whispered, "See, the signal fires are lighted! They are coming. Guardian Spirit Of our native country, save us!" And she pressed the Yellow Iris Closely to her throbbing bosom. Over northern rim of ocean Came the war canoes by hundreds, Came until the waters darkened With the number of the warboats. Never could the Tamals conquer Such a multitude of foemen. Swiftly rose and fell their paddles, Flashing in the brilliant sunshine, Trailing scarfs of foam behind them, As they raced toward the harbor. Tana searched the far horizon, Saw the signal fires blazing On the mountain tops and headlands, Heard the war drums in the village Roll in constant wild alarum. Yana held the Yellow Iris With the Magic in its petals, Held and gazed with adoration On the velvet mystic markings. Then she plucked a magic petal, Held it high, and ere it fluttered To the breeze this prayer was uttered: 'Spirit of our Native Country, Goddess guarding home and harbor, Roll the fog-banks o'er the headlands, Hide the narrows from the foemen; Bring the west-wind from the ocean, Drive their boats to crash and shatter On the rocky surf-bound islands. Bring the west-wind! Bring the fogbanks!' From the ocean came the west-wind, Blowing stronger, growing cooler, Bringing in protecting fog-banks, Sweeping landward o'er gray waters, Flooding through the Golden Gateway, Rolling over shore and headlands. Through the fog the boats were racing For the entrance to the harbor, When they plunged into the smother Of the breakers round the islands - Crashed upon the rocks and splintered. From the surf the foemen struggled To the rocks and scrambled on them. Then the Maiden plucked another Petal from the Magic Iris, And she prayed again, 'Oh, Spirit Of our Native Country, hear us, Change the foemen to Sea-creatures, That they never more attack us.' As the magic petal fluttered To the ground the foe was changing. Arms and paddles changed to flippers; Legs were bound as in a bandage, And their brown and hairy bodies Wriggled on the rocks, and crowded, Barking, fighting one another. When the danger was averted, When the enemy was helpless, Sisters wept, embraced each other, Thanked the Gods for their deliverance. Still remained another petal Of the Magic Yellow Iris. 'One more wish we have, one only.' Said one sister to the other, 'Would we might remain forever, As the guardians of the harbor, To protect it from all foemen, To invoke the fog and west-wind.' Then, again The Poppy Maiden Stood triumphantly before them. 'You have chosen well, my children, Had you wished for wealth or beauty, Robes or jewels for adornment, Or for any selfish purpose, Then the petals would have fallen To the earth and lost their Magic. My twin daughters, ever faithful, All your thoughts are for your people; Therefore, you shall be immortal, Standing on the heights forever, As the Guardians of the Harbor. Draw your mantles around your shoulders, Furs they are, but flowers they shall be. As my garments are of flowers, So shall yours be, golden poppies, Lupins, blue, shall deck your mantle. Blue and gold shall be your colors - Blue, for purity of purpose; Gold, for worth of soul and spirit. While you stand above the harbor, While you call the fog and west-wind, While you wear your cloak of poppies, Never shall a foeman enter Through the Golden Gate with war-boats. Pluck the petal, let it flutter To the ground. Your wish is granted. Stand forever, native daughters, As Twin Peaks, to guard the harbor.' That was long ago, my children, When the earth was young, and people Heard the voices of the Spirits - Knew the language of the sea-birds. To this day the ancient warriors Flounder on the Sea Rock Islands, Barking, roaring, crowding, fighting, Near the gateway of the harbor. Still the Sisters, as the Twin Peaks, Guard the city and the harbor. In the summer, at the season When the ancient foes came southward, They invoke the cooling west-wind With its fog, to screen the harbor; Yet, the sunlight seeks the valley Where the ancient tepees clustered, Beaming there in benediction, While around it lie the shadows.' That, my children, is the legend Told beside the evening campfire By the ancient Tamal woman, In a grove of giant redwoods, On the slopes of Tamalpais. |
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