Introduction

I should answer I should tell you
From the forests and the prairies,
From the great lakes of the Northland,
From the land of the Ojibways,
From the land of the Dacotahs,
From the mountains, moors, and fen-lands
Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Feeds among the reeds and rushes.
I repeat them as I heard them
From the lips of Nawadaha,
The musician, the sweet singer.

Should you ask where Nawadaha
Found these songs so wild and wayward
Found these legends and traditions
I should answer I should tell you
In the bird's-nests of the forest,
In the lodges of the beaver,
In the hoofprint of the bison,
In the eyry of the eagle!

All the wild-fowl sang them to him
In the moorlands and the fen-lands
In the melancholy marshes;
Chetowaik the plover sang them
Mahng the loon the wild-goose Wawa
The blue heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
And the grouse the Mushkodasa!"

If still further you should ask me
Saying Who was Nawadaha?
Tell us of this Nawadaha,
I should answer your inquiries
Straightway in such words as follow.

"In the vale of Tawasentha
In the green and silent valley
By the pleasant water-courses
Dwelt the singer Nawadaha.
Round about the Indian village
Spread the meadows and the corn-fields
And beyond them stood the forest
Stood the groves of singing pine-trees
Green in Summer white in Winter
Ever sighing ever singing.

"And the pleasant water-courses
You could trace them through the valley
By the rushing in the Spring-time
By the alders in the Summer
By the white fog in the Autumn
By the black line in the Winter;
And beside them dwelt the singer
In the vale of Tawasentha
In the green and silent valley.

"There he sang of Hiawatha
Sang the Song of Hiawatha
Sang his wondrous birth and being
How he prayed and how be fasted
How he lived and toiled and suffered
That the tribes of men might prosper
That he might advance his people!"

Ye who love the haunts of Nature
Love the sunshine of the meadow
Love the shadow of the forest
Love the wind among the branches
And the rain-shower and the snow-storm
And the rushing of great rivers
Through their palisades of pine-trees
And the thunder in the mountains
Whose innumerable echoes
Flap like eagles in their eyries;-
Listen to these wild traditions
To this Song of Hiawatha!

Ye who love a nation's legends
Love the ballads of a people
That like voices from afar off
Call to us to pause and listen
Speak in tones so plain and childlike
Scarcely can the ear distinguish
Whether they are sung or spoken;-
Listen to this Indian Legend
To this Song of Hiawatha!
Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple
Who have faith in God and Nature
Who believe that in all ages
Every human heart is human
That in even savage bosoms
There are longings yearnings strivings
For the good they comprehend not
That the feeble hands and helpless
Groping blindly in the darkness
Touch God's right hand in that darkness
And are lifted up and strengthened;-
Listen to this simple story
To this Song of Hiawatha!

Ye who sometimes in your rambles
Through the green lanes of the country
Where the tangled barberry-bushes
Hang their tufts of crimson berries
Over stone walls gray with mosses
Pause by some neglected graveyard
For a while to muse and ponder
On a half-effaced inscription
Written with little skill of song-craft
Homely phrases but each letter
Full of hope and yet of heart-break
Full of all the tender pathos
Of the Here and the Hereafter;
Stay and read this rude inscription
Read this Song of Hiawatha!

I: The Peace-Pipe

From his footprints flowed a river
Leaped into the light of morning
O'er the precipice plunging downward
Gleamed like Ishkoodah the comet.
And the Spirit stooping earthward
With his finger on the meadow
Traced a winding pathway for it
Saying to it Run in this way!

From the red stone of the quarry
With his hand he broke a fragment
Moulded it into a pipe-head
Shaped and fashioned it with figures;
From the margin of the river
Took a long reed for a pipe-stem
With its dark green leaves upon it;
Filled the pipe with bark of willow
With the bark of the red willow;
Breathed upon the neighboring forest
Made its great boughs chafe together
Till in flame they burst and kindled;
And erect upon the mountains
Gitche Manito the mighty
Smoked the calumet the Peace-Pipe
As a signal to the nations.

And the smoke rose slowly slowly
Through the tranquil air of morning
First a single line of darkness
Then a denser bluer vapor
Then a snow-white cloud unfolding
Like the tree-tops of the forest
Ever rising rising rising
Till it touched the top of heaven
Till it broke against the heaven
And rolled outward all around it.
From the Vale of Tawasentha
From the Valley of Wyoming
From the groves of Tuscaloosa
From the far-off Rocky Mountains
From the Northern lakes and rivers
All the tribes beheld the signal
Saw the distant smoke ascending
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe.

And the Prophets of the nations
Said: "Behold it the Pukwana!
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe
Bending like a wand of willow
Waving like a hand that beckons
Gitche Manito the mighty
Calls the tribes of men together
Calls the warriors to his council!"

Down the rivers o'er the prairies
Came the warriors of the nations
Came the Delawares and Mohawks
Came the Choctaws and Camanches
Came the Shoshonies and Blackfeet
Came the Pawnees and Omahas

Came the Mandans and Dacotahs
Came the Hurons and Ojibways
All the warriors drawn together
By the signal of the Peace-Pipe
To the Mountains of the Prairie
To the great Red Pipe-stone Quarry

And they stood there on the meadow
With their weapons and their war-gear
Painted like the leaves of Autumn
Painted like the sky of morning
Wildly glaring at each other;
In their faces stem defiance
In their hearts the feuds of ages
The hereditary hatred
The ancestral thirst of vengeance.

Gitche Manito the mighty
The creator of the nations
Looked upon them with compassion
With paternal love and pity;
Looked upon their wrath and wrangling
But as quarrels among children
But as feuds and fights of children!

Over them he stretched his right hand
To subdue their stubborn natures
To allay their thirst and fever
By the shadow of his right hand;
Spake to them with voice majestic
As the sound of far-off waters
Falling into deep abysses
Warning chiding spake in this wise :

"O my children! my poor children!
Listen to the words of wisdom
Listen to the words of warning
From the lips of the Great Spirit
From the Master of Life who made you!

"I have given you lands to hunt in
I have given you streams to fish in
I have given you bear and bison
I have given you roe and reindeer
I have given you brant and beaver
Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl
Filled the rivers full of fishes:
Why then are you not contented?
Why then will you hunt each other?

"I am weary of your quarrels
Weary of your wars and bloodshed
Weary of your prayers for vengeance
Of your wranglings and dissensions;
All your strength is in your union
All your danger is in discord;
Therefore be at peace henceforward
And as brothers live together.

"I will send a Prophet to you
A Deliverer of the nations
Who shall guide you and shall teach you
Who shall toil and suffer with you.
If you listen to his counsels
You will multiply and prosper;
If his warnings pass unheeded
You will fade away and perish!

"Bathe now in the stream before you
Wash the war-paint from your faces
Wash the blood-stains from your fingers
Bury your war-clubs and your weapons
Break the red stone from this quarry
Mould and make it into Peace-Pipes
Take the reeds that grow beside you
Deck them with your brightest feathers
Smoke the calumet together
And as brothers live henceforward!"

Then upon the ground the warriors
Threw their cloaks and shirts of deer-skin
Threw their weapons and their war-gear
Leaped into the rushing river
Washed the war-paint from their faces.
Clear above them flowed the water
Clear and limpid from the footprints
Of the Master of Life descending;
Dark below them flowed the water
Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson
As if blood were mingled with it!

From the river came the warriors
Clean and washed from all their war-paint;
On the banks their clubs they buried
Buried all their warlike weapons.
Gitche Manito the mighty
The Great Spirit the creator
Smiled upon his helpless children!

And in silence all the warriors
Broke the red stone of the quarry
Smoothed and formed it into Peace-Pipes
Broke the long reeds by the river
Decked them with their brightest feathers
And departed each one homeward
While the Master of Life ascending
Through the opening of cloud-curtains
Through the doorways of the heaven
Vanished from before their faces
In the smoke that rolled around him
The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe!

II: The Four Winds

He had stolen the Belt of Wampum
From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa
From the Great Bear of the mountains
From the terror of the nations
As he lay asleep and cumbrous
On the summit of the mountains
Like a rock with mosses on it
Spotted brown and gray with mosses.

Silently he stole upon him
Till the red nails of the monster
Almost touched him almost scared him
Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis
As he drew the Belt of Wampum
Over the round ears that heard not
Over the small eyes that saw not
Over the long nose and nostrils
The black muffle of the nostrils
Out of which the heavy breathing
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.

Then he swung aloft his war-club
Shouted loud and long his war-cry
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of the forehead
Right between the eyes he smote him.

With the heavy blow bewildered
Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
But his knees beneath him trembled
And he whimpered like a woman
As he reeled and staggered forward
As he sat upon his haunches;
And the mighty Mudjekeewis
Standing fearlessly before him
Taunted him in loud derision
Spake disdainfully in this wise:

"Hark you Bear! you are a coward;
And no Brave as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper
Like a miserable woman!
Bear! you know our tribes are hostile
Long have been at war together;
Now you find that we are strongest
You go sneaking in the forest
You go hiding in the mountains!
Had you conquered me in battle
Not a groan would I have uttered;
But you Bear! sit here and whimper
And disgrace your tribe by crying
Like a wretched Shaugodaya
Like a cowardly old woman!"

Then again he raised his war-club
Smote again the Mishe-Mokwa
In the middle of his forehead
Broke his skull as ice is broken
When one goes to fish in Winter.
Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa
He the Great Bear of the mountains
He the terror of the nations.

"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"
With a shout exclaimed the people
Honor be to Mudjekeewis!
Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind,
And hereafter and forever
Shall he hold supreme dominion
Over all the winds of heaven.
Call him no more Mudjekeewis,
Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!

Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen
Father of the Winds of Heaven.
For himself he kept the West-Wind
Gave the others to his children;
Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind
Gave the South to Shawondasee
And the North-Wind wild and cruel
To the fierce Kabibonokka.

Young and beautiful was Wabun;
He it was who brought the morning
He it was whose silver arrows
Chased the dark o'er hill and valley;
He it was whose cheeks were painted
With the brightest streaks of crimson
And whose voice awoke the village
Called the deer and called the hunter.

Lonely in the sky was Wabun;
Though the birds sang gayly to him
Though the wild-flowers of the meadow
Filled the air with odors for him;
Though the forests and the rivers
Sang and shouted at his coming
Still his heart was sad within him
For he was alone in heaven.

But one morning gazing earthward
While the village still was sleeping
And the fog lay on the river
Like a ghost that goes at sunrise
He beheld a maiden walking
All alone upon a meadow
Gathering water-flags and rushes
By a river in the meadow.

Every morning gazing earthward
Still the first thing he beheld there
Was her blue eyes looking at him
Two blue lakes among the rushes.
And he loved the lonely maiden
Who thus waited for his coming;
For they both were solitary
She on earth and he in heaven.

And he wooed her with caresses
Wooed her with his smile of sunshine
With his flattering words he wooed her
With his sighing and his singing
Gentlest whispers in the branches
Softest music sweetest odors
Till he drew her to his bosom
Folded in his robes of crimson
Till into a star he changed her
Trembling still upon his bosom;
And forever in the heavens
They are seen together walking
Wabun and the Wabun-Annung
Wabun and the Star of Morning.

But the fierce Kabibonokka
Had his dwelling among icebergs
In the everlasting snow-drifts
In the kingdom of Wabasso
In the land of the White Rabbit.
He it was whose hand in Autumn
Painted all the trees with scarlet
Stained the leaves with red and yellow;
He it was who sent the snow-flake
Sifting hissing through the forest
Froze the ponds the lakes the rivers
Drove the loon and sea-gull southward
Drove the cormorant and curlew
To their nests of sedge and sea-tang
In the realms of Shawondasee.

Once the fierce Kabibonokka
Issued from his lodge of snow-drifts
From his home among the icebergs
And his hair with snow besprinkled
Streamed behind him like a river
Like a black and wintry river
As he howled and hurried southward
Over frozen lakes and moorlands.

There among the reeds and rushes
Found he Shingebis the diver
Trailing strings of fish behind him
O'er the frozen fens and moorlands
Lingering still among the moorlands
Though his tribe had long departed
To the land of Shawondasee.

Cried the fierce Kabibonokka
Who is this that dares to brave me?
Dares to stay in my dominions,
When the Wawa has departed,
When the wild-goose has gone southward,
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Long ago departed southward?
I will go into his wigwam,
I will put his smouldering fire out!

And at night Kabibonokka
To the lodge came wild and wailing
Heaped the snow in drifts about it
Shouted down into the smoke-flue
Shook the lodge-poles in his fury
Flapped the curtain of the door-way.
Shingebis the diver feared not
Shingebis the diver cared not;
Four great logs had he for firewood
One for each moon of the winter
And for food the fishes served him.
By his blazing fire he sat there
Warm and merry eating laughing
Singing O Kabibonokka,
You are but my fellow-mortal!

Then Kabibonokka entered
And though Shingebis the diver
Felt his presence by the coldness
Felt his icy breath upon him
Still he did not cease his singing
Still he did not leave his laughing
Only turned the log a little
Only made the fire burn brighter
Made the sparks fly up the smoke-flue.

From Kabibonokka's forehead
From his snow-besprinkled tresses
Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy
Making dints upon the ashes
As along the eaves of lodges
As from drooping boughs of hemlock
Drips the melting snow in spring-time
Making hollows in the snow-drifts.

Till at last he rose defeated
Could not bear the heat and laughter
Could not bear the merry singing
But rushed headlong through the door-way
Stamped upon the crusted snow-drifts
Stamped upon the lakes and rivers
Made the snow upon them harder
Made the ice upon them thicker
Challenged Shingebis the diver
To come forth and wrestle with him
To come forth and wrestle naked
On the frozen fens and moorlands.

Forth went Shingebis the diver
Wrestled all night with the North-Wind
Wrestled naked on the moorlands
With the fierce Kabibonokka
Till his panting breath grew fainter
Till his frozen grasp grew feebler
Till he reeled and staggered backward
And retreated baffled beaten
To the kingdom of Wabasso
To the land of the White Rabbit
Hearing still the gusty laughter
Hearing Shingebis the diver
Singing O Kabibonokka,
You are but my fellow-mortal!

Shawondasee fat and lazy
Had his dwelling far to southward
In the drowsy dreamy sunshine
In the never-ending Summer.
He it was who sent the wood-birds
Sent the robin the Opechee
Sent the bluebird the Owaissa
Sent the Shawshaw sent the swallow
Sent the wild-goose Wawa northward
Sent the melons and tobacco
And the grapes in purple clusters.

From his pipe the smoke ascending
Filled the sky with haze and vapor
Filled the air with dreamy softness
Gave a twinkle to the water
Touched the rugged hills with smoothness
Brought the tender Indian Summer
To the melancholy north-land
In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.

Listless careless Shawondasee!
In his life he had one shadow
In his heart one sorrow had he.
Once as he was gazing northward
Far away upon a prairie
He beheld a maiden standing
Saw a tall and slender maiden
All alone upon a prairie;
Brightest green were all her garments
And her hair was like the sunshine.

Day by day he gazed upon her
Day by day he sighed with passion
Day by day his heart within him
Grew more hot with love and longing
For the maid with yellow tresses.
But he was too fat and lazy
To bestir himself and woo her.
Yes too indolent and easy
To pursue her and persuade her;
So he only gazed upon her
Only sat and sighed with passion
For the maiden of the prairie.

Till one morning looking northward
He beheld her yellow tresses
Changed and covered o'er with whiteness
Covered as with whitest snow-flakes.
Ah! my brother from the North-land,
From the kingdom of Wabasso,
From the land of the White Rabbit!
You have stolen the maiden from me,
You have laid your hand upon her,
You have wooed and won my maiden,
With your stories of the North-land!

Thus the wretched Shawondasee
Breathed into the air his sorrow;
And the South-Wind o'er the prairie
Wandered warm with sighs of passion
With the sighs of Shawondasee
Till the air seemed full of snow-flakes
Full of thistle-down the prairie
And the maid with hair like sunshine
Vanished from his sight forever;
Never more did Shawondasee
See the maid with yellow tresses!

Poor deluded Shawondasee!
'T was no woman that you gazed at
'T was no maiden that you sighed for
'T was the prairie dandelion
That through all the dreamy Summer
You had gazed at with such longing
You had sighed for with such passion
And had puffed away forever
Blown into the air with sighing.
Ah! deluded Shawondasee!

Thus the Four Winds were divided
Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis
Had their stations in the heavens
At the corners of the heavens;
For himself the West-Wind only
Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis.

III: Hiawatha's Childhood

She was sporting with her women
Swinging in a swing of grape-vines
When her rival the rejected
Full of jealousy and hatred
Cut the leafy swing asunder
Cut in twain the twisted grape-vines
And Nokomis fell affrighted
Downward through the evening twilight
On the Muskoday the meadow
On the prairie full of blossoms.
See! a star falls! said the people;
From the sky a star is falling!

There among the ferns and mosses
There among the prairie lilies
On the Muskoday the meadow
In the moonlight and the starlight
Fair Nokomis bore a daughter.
And she called her name Wenonah
As the first-born of her daughters.
And the daughter of Nokomis
Grew up like the prairie lilies
Grew a tall and slender maiden
With the beauty of the moonlight
With the beauty of the starlight.

And Nokomis warned her often
Saying oft and oft repeating
Oh, beware of Mudjekeewis,
Of the West-Wind, Mudjekeewis;
Listen not to what he tells you;
Lie not down upon the meadow,
Stoop not down among the lilies,
Lest the West-Wind come and harm you!

But she heeded not the warning
Heeded not those words of wisdom
And the West-Wind came at evening
Walking lightly o'er the prairie
Whispering to the leaves and blossoms
Bending low the flowers and grasses
Found the beautiful Wenonah
Lying there among the lilies
Wooed her with his words of sweetness
Wooed her with his soft caresses
Till she bore a son in sorrow
Bore a son of love and sorrow.

Thus was born my Hiawatha
Thus was born the child of wonder;
But the daughter of Nokomis
Hiawatha's gentle mother
In her anguish died deserted
By the West-Wind false and faithless
By the heartless Mudjekeewis.

For her daughter long and loudly
Wailed and wept the sad Nokomis;
Oh that I were dead! she murmured
Oh that I were dead, as thou art!
No more work, and no more weeping,
Wahonowin! Wahonowin!

By the shores of Gitche Gumee
By the shining Big-Sea-Water
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis
Daughter of the Moon Nokomis.
Dark behind it rose the forest
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees
Rose the firs with cones upon them;
Bright before it beat the water
Beat the clear and sunny water
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.

There the wrinkled old Nokomis
Nursed the little Hiawatha
Rocked him in his linden cradle
Bedded soft in moss and rushes
Safely bound with reindeer sinews;
Stilled his fretful wail by saying
Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!
Lulled him into slumber singing
Ewa-yea! my little owlet!
Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
With his great eyes lights the wigwam?
Ewa-yea! my little owlet!

Many things Nokomis taught him
Of the stars that shine in heaven;
Showed him Ishkoodah the comet
Ishkoodah with fiery tresses;
Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits
Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs
Flaring far away to northward
In the frosty nights of Winter;
Showed the broad white road in heaven
Pathway of the ghosts the shadows
Running straight across the heavens
Crowded with the ghosts the shadows.

At the door on summer evenings
Sat the little Hiawatha;
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees
Heard the lapping of the waters
Sounds of music words of wonder;
'Minne-wawa!" said the Pine-trees
Mudway-aushka!" said the water.

Saw the fire-fly Wah-wah-taysee
Flitting through the dusk of evening
With the twinkle of its candle
Lighting up the brakes and bushes
And he sang the song of children
Sang the song Nokomis taught him:
Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly,
Little, flitting, white-fire insect,
Little, dancing, white-fire creature,
Light me with your little candle,
Ere upon my bed I lay me,
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids!

Saw the moon rise from the water
Rippling rounding from the water
Saw the flecks and shadows on it
Whispered What is that, Nokomis?
And the good Nokomis answered:
Once a warrior, very angry,
Seized his grandmother, and threw her
Up into the sky at midnight;
Right against the moon he threw her;
'T is her body that you see there.

Saw the rainbow in the heaven
In the eastern sky the rainbow
Whispered What is that, Nokomis?
And the good Nokomis answered:
'T is the heaven of flowers you see there;
All the wild-flowers of the forest,
All the lilies of the prairie,
When on earth they fade and perish,
Blossom in that heaven above us.

When he heard the owls at midnight
Hooting laughing in the forest
'What is that?" he cried in terror
What is that, he said Nokomis?
And the good Nokomis answered:
That is but the owl and owlet,
Talking in their native language,
Talking, scolding at each other.

Then the little Hiawatha
Learned of every bird its language
Learned their names and all their secrets
How they built their nests in Summer
Where they hid themselves in Winter
Talked with them whene'er he met them
Called them "Hiawatha's Chickens."

Of all beasts he learned the language
Learned their names and all their secrets
How the beavers built their lodges
Where the squirrels hid their acorns
How the reindeer ran so swiftly
Why the rabbit was so timid
Talked with them whene'er he met them
Called them "Hiawatha's Brothers."

Then Iagoo the great boaster
He the marvellous story-teller
He the traveller and the talker
He the friend of old Nokomis
Made a bow for Hiawatha;
From a branch of ash he made it
From an oak-bough made the arrows
Tipped with flint and winged with feathers
And the cord he made of deer-skin.

Then he said to Hiawatha:
Go, my son, into the forest,
Where the red deer herd together,
Kill for us a famous roebuck,
Kill for us a deer with antlers!

Forth into the forest straightway
All alone walked Hiawatha
Proudly with his bow and arrows;
And the birds sang round him o'er him
Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!
Sang the robin the Opechee
Sang the bluebird the Owaissa
Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!

Up the oak-tree close beside him
Sprang the squirrel Adjidaumo
In and out among the branches
Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree
Laughed and said between his laughing
Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!

And the rabbit from his pathway
Leaped aside and at a distance
Sat erect upon his haunches
Half in fear and half in frolic
Saying to the little hunter
Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!

But he heeded not nor heard them
For his thoughts were with the red deer;
On their tracks his eyes were fastened
Leading downward to the river
To the ford across the river
And as one in slumber walked he.

Hidden in the alder-bushes
There he waited till the deer came
Till he saw two antlers lifted
Saw two eyes look from the thicket
Saw two nostrils point to windward
And a deer came down the pathway
Flecked with leafy light and shadow.
And his heart within him fluttered
Trembled like the leaves above him
Like the birch-leaf palpitated
As the deer came down the pathway.

Then upon one knee uprising
Hiawatha aimed an arrow;
Scarce a twig moved with his motion
Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled
But the wary roebuck started
Stamped with all his hoofs together
Listened with one foot uplifted
Leaped as if to meet the arrow;
Ah! the singing fatal arrow
Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!

Dead he lay there in the forest
By the ford across the river;
Beat his timid heart no longer
But the heart of Hiawatha
Throbbed and shouted and exulted
As he bore the red deer homeward
And Iagoo and Nokomis
Hailed his coming with applauses.

From the red deer's hide Nokomis
Made a cloak for Hiawatha
From the red deer's flesh Nokomis
Made a banquet to his honor.
All the village came and feasted
All the guests praised Hiawatha
Called him Strong-Heart Soan-ge-taha!
Called him Loon-Heart Mahn-go-taysee!

IV: Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis

Swift of foot was Hiawatha;
He could shoot an arrow from him
And run forward with such fleetness
That the arrow fell behind him!
Strong of arm was Hiawatha;
He could shoot ten arrows upward
Shoot them with such strength and swiftness
That the tenth had left the bow-string
Ere the first to earth had fallen!

He had mittens Minjekahwun
Magic mittens made of deer-skin;
When upon his hands he wore them
He could smite the rocks asunder
He could grind them into powder.
He had moccasins enchanted
Magic moccasins of deer-skin;
When he bound them round his ankles
When upon his feet he tied them
At each stride a mile he measured!

Much he questioned old Nokomis
Of his father Mudjekeewis;
Learned from her the fatal secret
Of the beauty of his mother
Of the falsehood of his father;
And his heart was hot within him
Like a living coal his heart was.

Then he said to old Nokomis
I will go to Mudjekeewis,
See how fares it with my father,
At the doorways of the West-Wind,
At the portals of the Sunset!

From his lodge went Hiawatha
Dressed for travel armed for hunting;
Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings
Richly wrought with quills and wampum;
On his head his eagle-feathers
Round his waist his belt of wampum
In his hand his bow of ash-wood
Strung with sinews of the reindeer;
In his quiver oaken arrows
Tipped with jasper winged with feathers;
With his mittens Minjekahwun
With his moccasins enchanted.

Warning said the old Nokomis
Go not forth, O Hiawatha!
To the kingdom of the West-Wind,
To the realms of Mudjekeewis,
Lest he harm you with his magic,
Lest he kill you with his cunning!

But the fearless Hiawatha
Heeded not her woman's warning;
Forth he strode into the forest
At each stride a mile he measured;
Lurid seemed the sky above him
Lurid seemed the earth beneath him
Hot and close the air around him
Filled with smoke and fiery vapors
As of burning woods and prairies
For his heart was hot within him
Like a living coal his heart was.

So he journeyed westward westward
Left the fleetest deer behind him
Left the antelope and bison;
Crossed the rushing Esconaba
Crossed the mighty Mississippi
Passed the Mountains of the Prairie
Passed the land of Crows and Foxes
Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet
Came unto the Rocky Mountains
To the kingdom of the West-Wind
Where upon the gusty summits
Sat the ancient Mudjekeewis
Ruler of the winds of heaven.

Filled with awe was Hiawatha
At the aspect of his father.
On the air about him wildly
Tossed and streamed his cloudy tresses
Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses
Glared like Ishkoodah the comet
Like the star with fiery tresses.

Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis
When he looked on Hiawatha
Saw his youth rise up before him
In the face of Hiawatha
Saw the beauty of Wenonah
From the grave rise up before him.

"Welcome!" said he Hiawatha,
To the kingdom of the West-Wind
Long have I been waiting for you
Youth is lovely, age is lonely,
Youth is fiery, age is frosty;
You bring back the days departed,
You bring back my youth of passion,
And the beautiful Wenonah!

Many days they talked together
Questioned listened waited answered;
Much the mighty Mudjekeewis
Boasted of his ancient prowess
Of his perilous adventures
His indomitable courage
His invulnerable body.

Patiently sat Hiawatha
Listening to his father's boasting;
With a smile he sat and listened
Uttered neither threat nor menace
Neither word nor look betrayed him
But his heart was hot within him
Like a living coal his heart was.

Then he said O Mudjekeewis,
Is there nothing that can harm you?
Nothing that you are afraid of?
And the mighty Mudjekeewis
Grand and gracious in his boasting
Answered saying There is nothing,
Nothing but the black rock yonder,
Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!

And he looked at Hiawatha
With a wise look and benignant
With a countenance paternal
Looked with pride upon the beauty
Of his tall and graceful figure
Saying O my Hiawatha!
Is there anything can harm you?
Anything you are afraid of?

But the wary Hiawatha
Paused awhile as if uncertain
Held his peace as if resolving
And then answered There is nothing,
Nothing but the bulrush yonder,
Nothing but the great Apukwa!

And as Mudjekeewis rising
Stretched his hand to pluck the bulrush
Hiawatha cried in terror
Cried in well-dissembled terror
Kago! kago! do not touch it!
Ah, kaween! said Mudjekeewis
No indeed, I will not touch it!

Then they talked of other matters;
First of Hiawatha's brothers
First of Wabun of the East-Wind
Of the South-Wind Shawondasee
Of the North Kabibonokka;
Then of Hiawatha's mother
Of the beautiful Wenonah
Of her birth upon the meadow
Of her death as old Nokomis
Had remembered and related.

And he cried O Mudjekeewis,
It was you who killed Wenonah,
Took her young life and her beauty,
Broke the Lily of the Prairie,
Trampled it beneath your footsteps;
You confess it! you confess it!
And the mighty Mudjekeewis
Tossed upon the wind his tresses
Bowed his hoary head in anguish
With a silent nod assented.

Then up started Hiawatha
And with threatening look and gesture
Laid his hand upon the black rock
On the fatal Wawbeek laid it
With his mittens Minjekahwun
Rent the jutting crag asunder
Smote and crushed it into fragments
Hurled them madly at his father
The remorseful Mudjekeewis
For his heart was hot within him
Like a living coal his heart was.

But the ruler of the West-Wind
Blew the fragments backward from him
With the breathing of his nostrils
With the tempest of his anger
Blew them back at his assailant;
Seized the bulrush the Apukwa
Dragged it with its roots and fibres
From the margin of the meadow
From its ooze the giant bulrush;
Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!

Then began the deadly conflict
Hand to hand among the mountains;
From his eyry screamed the eagle
The Keneu the great war-eagle
Sat upon the crags around them
Wheeling flapped his wings above them.

Like a tall tree in the tempest
Bent and lashed the giant bulrush;
And in masses huge and heavy
Crashing fell the fatal Wawbeek;
Till the earth shook with the tumult
And confusion of the battle
And the air was full of shoutings
And the thunder of the mountains
Starting answered Baim-wawa!

Back retreated Mudjekeewis
Rushing westward o'er the mountains
Stumbling westward down the mountains
Three whole days retreated fighting
Still pursued by Hiawatha
To the doorways of the West-Wind
To the portals of the Sunset
To the earth's remotest border
Where into the empty spaces
Sinks the sun as a flamingo
Drops into her nest at nightfall
In the melancholy marshes.

"Hold!" at length cried Mudjekeewis
Hold, my son, my Hiawatha!
'T is impossible to kill me,
For you cannot kill the immortal
I have put you to this trial,
But to know and prove your courage;
Now receive the prize of valor!

Go back to your home and people
Live among them toil among them
Cleanse the earth from all that harms it
Clear the fishing-grounds and rivers
Slay all monsters and magicians
All the Wendigoes the giants
All the serpents the Kenabeeks
As I slew the Mishe-Mokwa
Slew the Great Bear of the mountains.

"And at last when Death draws near you
When the awful eyes of Pauguk
Glare upon you in the darkness
I will share my kingdom with you
Ruler shall you be thenceforward
Of the Northwest-Wind Keewaydin
Of the home-wind the Keewaydin."

Thus was fought that famous battle
In the dreadful days of Shah-shah
In the days long since departed
In the kingdom of the West-Wind.
Still the hunter sees its traces
Scattered far o'er hill and valley;
Sees the giant bulrush growing
By the ponds and water-courses
Sees the masses of the Wawbeek
Lying still in every valley.

Homeward now went Hiawatha;
Pleasant was the landscape round him
Pleasant was the air above him
For the bitterness of anger
Had departed wholly from him
From his brain the thought of vengeance
From his heart the burning fever.

Only once his pace he slackened
Only once he paused or halted
Paused to purchase heads of arrows
Of the ancient Arrow-maker
In the land of the Dacotahs
Where the Falls of Minnehaha
Flash and gleam among the oak-trees
Laugh and leap into the valley.

There the ancient Arrow-maker
Made his arrow-heads of sandstone
Arrow-heads of chalcedony
Arrow-heads of flint and jasper
Smoothed and sharpened at the edges
Hard and polished keen and costly.

With him dwelt his dark-eyed daughter
Wayward as the Minnehaha
With her moods of shade and sunshine
Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate
Feet as rapid as the river
Tresses flowing like the water
And as musical a laughter:
And he named her from the river
From the water-fall he named her
Minnehaha Laughing Water.

Was it then for heads of arrows
Arrow-heads of chalcedony
Arrow-heads of flint and jasper
That my Hiawatha halted
In the land of the Dacotahs?

Was it not to see the maiden
See the face of Laughing Water
Peeping from behind the curtain
Hear the rustling of her garments
From behind the waving curtain
As one sees the Minnehaha
Gleaming glancing through the branches
As one hears the Laughing Water
From behind its screen of branches?

Who shall say what thoughts and visions
Fill the fiery brains of young men?
Who shall say what dreams of beauty
Filled the heart of Hiawatha?
All he told to old Nokomis
When he reached the lodge at sunset
Was the meeting with his father
Was his fight with Mudjekeewis;
Not a word he said of arrows
Not a word of Laughing Water.

V: Hiawatha's Fasting

First he built a lodge for fasting
Built a wigwam in the forest
By the shining Big-Sea-Water
In the blithe and pleasant Spring-time
In the Moon of Leaves he built it
And with dreams and visions many
Seven whole days and nights he fasted.

On the first day of his fasting
Through the leafy woods he wandered;
Saw the deer start from the thicket
Saw the rabbit in his burrow
Heard the pheasant Bena drumming
Heard the squirrel Adjidaumo
Rattling in his hoard of acorns
Saw the pigeon the Omeme
Building nests among the pinetrees
And in flocks the wild-goose Wawa
Flying to the fen-lands northward
Whirring wailing far above him.
Master of Life! he cried desponding
Must our lives depend on these things?

On the next day of his fasting
By the river's brink he wandered
Through the Muskoday the meadow
Saw the wild rice Mahnomonee
Saw the blueberry Meenahga
And the strawberry Odahmin
And the gooseberry Shahbomin
And the grape.vine the Bemahgut
Trailing o'er the alder-branches
Filling all the air with fragrance!
Master of Life! he cried desponding
Must our lives depend on these things?

On the third day of his fasting
By the lake he sat and pondered
By the still transparent water;
Saw the sturgeon Nahma leaping
Scattering drops like beads of wampum
Saw the yellow perch the Sahwa
Like a sunbeam in the water
Saw the pike the Maskenozha
And the herring Okahahwis
And the Shawgashee the crawfish!
Master of Life! he cried desponding
Must our lives depend on these things?

On the fourth day of his fasting
In his lodge he lay exhausted;
From his couch of leaves and branches
Gazing with half-open eyelids
Full of shadowy dreams and visions
On the dizzy swimming landscape
On the gleaming of the water
On the splendor of the sunset.

And he saw a youth approaching
Dressed in garments green and yellow
Coming through the purple twilight
Through the splendor of the sunset;
Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead
And his hair was soft and golden.

Standing at the open doorway
Long he looked at Hiawatha
Looked with pity and compassion
On his wasted form and features
And in accents like the sighing
Of the South-Wind in the tree-tops
Said he O my Hiawatha!
All your prayers are heard in heaven,
For you pray not like the others;
Not for greater skill in hunting,
Not for greater craft in fishing,
Not for triumph in the battle,
Nor renown among the warriors,
But for profit of the people,
For advantage of the nations.

From the Master of Life descending
I the friend of man Mondamin
Come to warn you and instruct you
How by struggle and by labor
You shall gain what you have prayed for.
Rise up from your bed of branches
Rise O youth and wrestle with me!"

Faint with famine Hiawatha
Started from his bed of branches
From the twilight of his wigwam
Forth into the flush of sunset
Came and wrestled with Mondamin;
At his touch he felt new courage
Throbbing in his brain and bosom
Felt new life and hope and vigor
Run through every nerve and fibre.

So they wrestled there together
In the glory of the sunset
And the more they strove and struggled
Stronger still grew Hiawatha;
Till the darkness fell around them
And the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
From her nest among the pine-trees
Gave a cry of lamentation
Gave a scream of pain and famine.

"'T Is enough!" then said Mondamin
Smiling upon Hiawatha
But tomorrow, when the sun sets,
I will come again to try you.
And he vanished and was seen not;
Whether sinking as the rain sinks
Whether rising as the mists rise
Hiawatha saw not knew not
Only saw that he had vanished
Leaving him alone and fainting
With the misty lake below him
And the reeling stars above him.

On the morrow and the next day
When the sun through heaven descending
Like a red and burning cinder
From the hearth of the Great Spirit
Fell into the western waters
Came Mondamin for the trial
For the strife with Hiawatha;
Came as silent as the dew comes
From the empty air appearing
Into empty air returning
Taking shape when earth it touches
But invisible to all men
In its coming and its going.

Thrice they wrestled there together
In the glory of the sunset
Till the darkness fell around them
Till the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
From her nest among the pine-trees
Uttered her loud cry of famine
And Mondamin paused to listen.

Tall and beautiful he stood there
In his garments green and yellow;
To and fro his plumes above him
Waved and nodded with his breathing
And the sweat of the encounter
Stood like drops of dew upon him.

And he cried O Hiawatha!
Bravely have you wrestled with me,
Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me,
And the Master of Life, who sees us,
He will give to you the triumph!

Then he smiled and said: "To-morrow
Is the last day of your conflict
Is the last day of your fasting.
You will conquer and o'ercome me;
Make a bed for me to lie in
Where the rain may fall upon me
Where the sun may come and warm me;
Strip these garments green and yellow
Strip this nodding plumage from me
Lay me in the earth and make it
Soft and loose and light above me.

"Let no hand disturb my slumber
Let no weed nor worm molest me
Let not Kahgahgee the raven
Come to haunt me and molest me
Only come yourself to watch me
Till I wake and start and quicken
Till I leap into the sunshine"

And thus saying he departed;
Peacefully slept Hiawatha
But he heard the Wawonaissa
Heard the whippoorwill complaining
Perched upon his lonely wigwam;
Heard the rushing Sebowisha
Heard the rivulet rippling near him
Talking to the darksome forest;
Heard the sighing of the branches
As they lifted and subsided
At the passing of the night-wind
Heard them as one hears in slumber
Far-off murmurs dreamy whispers:
Peacefully slept Hiawatha.

On the morrow came Nokomis
On the seventh day of his fasting
Came with food for Hiawatha
Came imploring and bewailing
Lest his hunger should o'ercome him
Lest his fasting should be fatal.

But he tasted not and touched not
Only said to her Nokomis,
Wait until the sun is setting,
Till the darkness falls around us,
Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Crying from the desolate marshes,
Tells us that the day is ended.

Homeward weeping went Nokomis
Sorrowing for her Hiawatha
Fearing lest his strength should fail him
Lest his fasting should be fatal.
He meanwhile sat weary waiting
For the coming of Mondamin
Till the shadows pointing eastward
Lengthened over field and forest
Till the sun dropped from the heaven
Floating on the waters westward
As a red leaf in the Autumn
Falls and floats upon the water
Falls and sinks into its bosom.

And behold! the young Mondamin
With his soft and shining tresses
With his garments green and yellow
With his long and glossy plumage
Stood and beckoned at the doorway.
And as one in slumber walking
Pale and haggard but undaunted
From the wigwam Hiawatha
Came and wrestled with Mondamin.

Round about him spun the landscape
Sky and forest reeled together
And his strong heart leaped within him
As the sturgeon leaps and struggles
In a net to break its meshes.
Like a ring of fire around him
Blazed and flared the red horizon
And a hundred suns seemed looking
At the combat of the wrestlers.

Suddenly upon the greensward
All alone stood Hiawatha
Panting with his wild exertion
Palpitating with the struggle;
And before him breathless lifeless
Lay the youth with hair dishevelled
Plumage torn and garments tattered
Dead he lay there in the sunset.

And victorious Hiawatha
Made the grave as he commanded
Stripped the garments from Mondamin
Stripped his tattered plumage from him
Laid him in the earth and made it
Soft and loose and light above him;
And the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
From the melancholy moorlands
Gave a cry of lamentation
Gave a cry of pain and anguish!

Homeward then went Hiawatha
To the lodge of old Nokomis
And the seven days of his fasting
Were accomplished and completed.
But the place was not forgotten
Where he wrestled with Mondamin;
Nor forgotten nor neglected
Was the grave where lay Mondamin
Sleeping in the rain and sunshine
Where his scattered plumes and garments
Faded in the rain and sunshine.

Day by day did Hiawatha
Go to wait and watch beside it;
Kept the dark mould soft above it
Kept it clean from weeds and insects
Drove away with scoffs and shoutings
Kahgahgee the king of ravens.

Till at length a small green feather
From the earth shot slowly upward
Then another and another
And before the Summer ended
Stood the maize in all its beauty
With its shining robes about it
And its long soft yellow tresses;
And in rapture Hiawatha
Cried aloud It is Mondamin!
Yes, the friend of man, Mondamin!

Then he called to old Nokomis
And Iagoo the great boaster
Showed them where the maize was growing
Told them of his wondrous vision
Of his wrestling and his triumph
Of this new gift to the nations
Which should be their food forever.

And still later when the Autumn
Changed the long green leaves to yellow
And the soft and juicy kernels
Grew like wampum hard and yellow
Then the ripened ears he gathered
Stripped the withered husks from off them
As he once had stripped the wrestler
Gave the first Feast of Mondamin
And made known unto the people
This new gift of the Great Spirit.

VI: Hiawatha's Friends

Straight between them ran the pathway
Never grew the grass upon it;
Singing birds that utter falsehoods
Story-tellers mischief-makers
Found no eager ear to listen
Could not breed ill-will between them
For they kept each other's counsel
Spake with naked hearts together
Pondering much and much contriving
How the tribes of men might prosper.

Most beloved by Hiawatha
Was the gentle Chibiabos
He the best of all musicians
He the sweetest of all singers.
Beautiful and childlike was he
Brave as man is soft as woman
Pliant as a wand of willow
Stately as a deer with antlers.

When he sang the village listened;
All the warriors gathered round him
All the women came to hear him;
Now he stirred their souls to passion
Now he melted them to pity.

From the hollow reeds he fashioned
Flutes so musical and mellow
That the brook the Sebowisha
Ceased to murmur in the woodland
That the wood-birds ceased from singing
And the squirrel Adjidaumo
Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree
And the rabbit the Wabasso
Sat upright to look and listen.

Yes the brook the Sebowisha
Pausing said O Chibiabos,
Teach my waves to flow in music,
Softly as your words in singing!

Yes the bluebird the Owaissa
Envious said O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as wild and wayward,
Teach me songs as full of frenzy!

Yes the robin the Opechee
Joyous said O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as sweet and tender,
Teach me songs as full of gladness!

And the whippoorwill Wawonaissa
Sobbing said O Chibiabos,
Teach me tones as melancholy,
Teach me songs as full of sadness!

All the many sounds of nature
Borrowed sweetness from his singing;
All the hearts of men were softened
By the pathos of his music;
For he sang of peace and freedom
Sang of beauty love and longing;
Sang of death and life undying
In the Islands of the Blessed
In the kingdom of Ponemah
In the land of the Hereafter.

Very dear to Hiawatha
Was the gentle Chibiabos
He the best of all musicians
He the sweetest of all singers;
For his gentleness he loved him
And the magic of his singing.

Dear too unto Hiawatha
Was the very strong man Kwasind
He the strongest of all mortals
He the mightiest among many;
For his very strength he loved him
For his strength allied to goodness.

Idle in his youth was Kwasind
Very listless dull and dreamy
Never played with other children
Never fished and never hunted
Not like other children was he;
But they saw that much he fasted
Much his Manito entreated
Much besought his Guardian Spirit.

"Lazy Kwasind!" said his mother
In my work you never help me!
In the Summer you are roaming
Idly in the fields and forests;
In the Winter you are cowering
O'er the firebrands in the wigwam!
In the coldest days of Winter
I must break the ice for fishing;
With my nets you never help me!
At the door my nets are hanging,
Dripping, freezing with the water;
Go and wring them, Yenadizze!
Go and dry them in the sunshine!

Slowly from the ashes Kwasind
Rose but made no angry answer;
From the lodge went forth in silence
Took the nets that hung together
Dripping freezing at the doorway;
Like a wisp of straw he wrung them
Like a wisp of straw he broke them
Could not wring them without breaking
Such the strength was in his fingers.

"Lazy Kwasind!" said his father
In the hunt you never help me;
Every bow you touch is broken,
Snapped asunder every arrow;
Yet come with me to the forest,
You shall bring the hunting homeward.

Down a narrow pass they wandered
Where a brooklet led them onward
Where the trail of deer and bison
Marked the soft mud on the margin
Till they found all further passage
Shut against them barred securely
By the trunks of trees uprooted
Lying lengthwise lying crosswise
And forbidding further passage.

"We must go back said the old man,
O'er these logs we cannot clamber;
Not a woodchuck could get through them
Not a squirrel clamber o'er them!"
And straightway his pipe he lighted
And sat down to smoke and ponder.
But before his pipe was finished
Lo! the path was cleared before him;
All the trunks had Kwasind lifted
To the right hand to the left hand
Shot the pine-trees swift as arrows
Hurled the cedars light as lances.

"Lazy Kwasind!" said the young men
As they sported in the meadow:
Why stand idly looking at us,
Leaning on the rock behind you?
Come and wrestle with the others,
Let us pitch the quoit together!

Lazy Kwasind made no answer
To their challenge made no answer
Only rose and slowly turning
Seized the huge rock in his fingers
Tore it from its deep foundation
Poised it in the air a moment
Pitched it sheer into the river
Sheer into the swift Pauwating
Where it still is seen in Summer.

Once as down that foaming river
Down the rapids of Pauwating
Kwasind sailed with his companions
In the stream he saw a beaver
Saw Ahmeek the King of Beavers
Struggling with the rushing currents
Rising sinking in the water.

Without speaking without pausing
Kwasind leaped into the river
Plunged beneath the bubbling surface
Through the whirlpools chased the beaver
Followed him among the islands
Stayed so long beneath the water
That his terrified companions
Cried Alas! good-by to Kwasind!
We shall never more see Kwasind!
But he reappeared triumphant
And upon his shining shoulders
Brought the beaver dead and dripping
Brought the King of all the Beavers.

And these two as I have told you
Were the friends of Hiawatha
Chibiabos the musician
And the very strong man Kwasind.
Long they lived in peace together
Spake with naked hearts together
Pondering much and much contriving
How the tribes of men might prosper.

VII: Hiawatha's Sailing

Lay aside your cloak O Birch-tree!
Lay aside your white-skin wrapper
For the Summer-time is coming
And the sun is warm in heaven
And you need no white-skin wrapper!"

Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
In the solitary forest
By the rushing Taquamenaw
When the birds were singing gayly
In the Moon of Leaves were singing
And the sun from sleep awaking
Started up and said Behold me!
Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me!

And the tree with all its branches
Rustled in the breeze of morning
Saying with a sigh of patience
Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!

With his knife the tree he girdled;
Just beneath its lowest branches
Just above the roots he cut it
Till the sap came oozing outward;
Down the trunk from top to bottom
Sheer he cleft the bark asunder
With a wooden wedge he raised it
Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.

"Give me of your boughs O Cedar!
Of your strong and pliant branches
My canoe to make more steady
Make more strong and firm beneath me!"

Through the summit of the Cedar
Went a sound a cry of horror
Went a murmur of resistance;
But it whispered bending downward
'Take my boughs O Hiawatha!"

Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
Shaped them straightway to a frame-work
Like two bows he formed and shaped them
Like two bended bows together.

"Give me of your roots O Tamarack!
Of your fibrous roots O Larch-tree!
My canoe to bind together
So to bind the ends together
That the water may not enter
That the river may not wet me!"

And the Larch with all its fibres
Shivered in the air of morning
Touched his forehead with its tassels
Slid with one long sigh of sorrow.
Take them all, O Hiawatha!

From the earth he tore the fibres
Tore the tough roots of the Larch-tree
Closely sewed the hark together
Bound it closely to the frame-work.

"Give me of your balm O Fir-tree!
Of your balsam and your resin
So to close the seams together
That the water may not enter
That the river may not wet me!"

And the Fir-tree tall and sombre
Sobbed through all its robes of darkness
Rattled like a shore with pebbles
Answered wailing answered weeping
Take my balm, O Hiawatha!

And he took the tears of balsam
Took the resin of the Fir-tree
Smeared therewith each seam and fissure
Made each crevice safe from water.

"Give me of your quills O Hedgehog!
All your quills O Kagh the Hedgehog!
I will make a necklace of them
Make a girdle for my beauty
And two stars to deck her bosom!"

From a hollow tree the Hedgehog
With his sleepy eyes looked at him
Shot his shining quills like arrows
Saying with a drowsy murmur
Through the tangle of his whiskers
Take my quills, O Hiawatha!

From the ground the quills he gathered
All the little shining arrows
Stained them red and blue and yellow
With the juice of roots and berries;
Into his canoe he wrought them
Round its waist a shining girdle
Round its bows a gleaming necklace
On its breast two stars resplendent.

Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
In the valley by the river
In the bosom of the forest;
And the forest's life was in it
All its mystery and its magic
All the lightness of the birch-tree
All the toughness of the cedar
All the larch's supple sinews;
And it floated on the river
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn
Like a yellow water-lily.

Paddles none had Hiawatha
Paddles none he had or needed
For his thoughts as paddles served him
And his wishes served to guide him;
Swift or slow at will he glided
Veered to right or left at pleasure.

Then he called aloud to Kwasind
To his friend the strong man Kwasind
Saying Help me clear this river
Of its sunken logs and sand-bars.

Straight into the river Kwasind
Plunged as if he were an otter
Dived as if he were a beaver
Stood up to his waist in water
To his arm-pits in the river
Swam and scouted in the river
Tugged at sunken logs and branches
With his hands he scooped the sand-bars
With his feet the ooze and tangle.

And thus sailed my Hiawatha
Down the rushing Taquamenaw
Sailed through all its bends and windings
Sailed through all its deeps and shallows
While his friend the strong man Kwasind
Swam the deeps the shallows waded.

Up and down the river went they
In and out among its islands
Cleared its bed of root and sand-bar
Dragged the dead trees from its channel
Made its passage safe and certain
Made a pathway for the people
From its springs among the mountains
To the waters of Pauwating
To the bay of Taquamenaw.

VII: Hiawatha's Fishing

Through the clear transparent water
He could see the fishes swimming
Far down in the depths below him;
See the yellow perch the Sahwa
Like a sunbeam in the water
See the Shawgashee the craw-fish
Like a spider on the bottom
On the white and sandy bottom.

At the stern sat Hiawatha
With his fishing-line of cedar;
In his plumes the breeze of morning
Played as in the hemlock branches;
On the bows with tail erected
Sat the squirrel Adjidaumo;
In his fur the breeze of morning
Played as in the prairie grasses.

On the white sand of the bottom
Lay the monster Mishe-Nahma
Lay the sturgeon King of Fishes;
Through his gills he breathed the water
With his fins he fanned and winnowed
With his tail he swept the sand-floor.

There he lay in all his armor;
On each side a shield to guard him
Plates of bone upon his forehead
Down his sides and back and shoulders
Plates of bone with spines projecting
Painted was he with his war-paints
Stripes of yellow red and azure
Spots of brown and spots of sable;
And he lay there on the bottom
Fanning with his fins of purple
As above him Hiawatha
In his birch canoe came sailing
With his fishing-line of cedar.

"Take my bait cried Hiawatha,
Dawn into the depths beneath him,
Take my bait O Sturgeon Nahma!
Come up from below the water
Let us see which is the stronger!"
And he dropped his line of cedar
Through the clear transparent water
Waited vainly for an answer
Long sat waiting for an answer
And repeating loud and louder
Take my bait, O King of Fishes!

Quiet lay the sturgeon Nahma
Fanning slowly in the water
Looking up at Hiawatha
Listening to his call and clamor
His unnecessary tumult
Till he wearied of the shouting;
And he said to the Kenozha
To the pike the Maskenozha
Take the bait of this rude fellow,
Break the line of Hiawatha!

In his fingers Hiawatha
Felt the loose line jerk and tighten
As he drew it in it tugged so
That the birch canoe stood endwise
Like a birch log in the water
With the squirrel Adjidaumo
Perched and frisking on the summit.
Full of scorn was Hiawatha
When he saw the fish rise upward
Saw the pike the Maskenozha
Coming nearer nearer to him
And he shouted through the water
Esa! esa! shame upon you!
You are but the pike, Kenozha,
You are not the fish I wanted,
You are not the King of Fishes!

Reeling downward to the bottom
Sank the pike in great confusion
And the mighty sturgeon Nahma
Said to Ugudwash the sun-fish
To the bream with scales of crimson
Take the bait of this great boaster,
Break the line of Hiawatha!

Slowly upward wavering gleaming
Rose the Ugudwash the sun-fish
Seized the line of Hiawatha
Swung with all his weight upon it
Made a whirlpool in the water
Whirled the birch canoe in circles
Round and round in gurgling eddies
Till the circles in the water
Reached the far-off sandy beaches
Till the water-flags and rushes
Nodded on the distant margins.

But when Hiawatha saw him
Slowly rising through the water
Lifting up his disk refulgent
Loud he shouted in derision
Esa! esa! shame upon you!
You are Ugudwash, the sun-fish,
You are not the fish I wanted,
You are not the King of Fishes!

Slowly downward wavering gleaming
Sank the Ugudwash the sun-fish
And again the sturgeon Nahma
Heard the shout of Hiawatha
Heard his challenge of defiance
The unnecessary tumult
Ringing far across the water.

From the white sand of the bottom
Up he rose with angry gesture
Quivering in each nerve and fibre
Clashing all his plates of armor
Gleaming bright with all his war-paint;
In his wrath he darted upward
Flashing leaped into the sunshine
Opened his great jaws and swallowed
Both canoe and Hiawatha.

Down into that darksome cavern
Plunged the headlong Hiawatha
As a log on some black river
Shoots and plunges down the rapids
Found himself in utter darkness
Groped about in helpless wonder
Till he felt a great heart beating
Throbbing in that utter darkness.

And he smote it in his anger
With his fist the heart of Nahma
Felt the mighty King of Fishes
Shudder through each nerve and fibre
Heard the water gurgle round him
As he leaped and staggered through it
Sick at heart and faint and weary.

Crosswise then did Hiawatha
Drag his birch-canoe for safety
Lest from out the jaws of Nahma
In the turmoil and confusion
Forth he might be hurled and perish.
And the squirrel Adjidaumo
Frisked and chatted very gayly
Toiled and tugged with Hiawatha
Till the labor was completed.

Then said Hiawatha to him
O my little friend, the squirrel,
Bravely have you toiled to help me;
Take the thanks of Hiawatha,
And the name which now he gives you;
For hereafter and forever
Boys shall call you Adjidaumo,
Tail-in-air the boys shall call you!

And again the sturgeon Nahma
Gasped and quivered in the water
Then was still and drifted landward
Till he grated on the pebbles
Till the listening Hiawatha
Heard him grate upon the margin
Felt him strand upon the pebbles
Knew that Nahma King of Fishes
Lay there dead upon the margin.

Then he heard a clang and flapping
As of many wings assembling
Heard a screaming and confusion
As of birds of prey contending
Saw a gleam of light above him
Shining through the ribs of Nahma
Saw the glittering eyes of sea-gulls
Of Kayoshk the sea-gulls peering
Gazing at him through the opening
Heard them saying to each other
'T is our brother, Hiawatha!

And he shouted from below them
Cried exulting from the caverns:
O ye sea-gulls! O my brothers!
I have slain the sturgeon, Nahma;
Make the rifts a little larger,
With your claws the openings widen,
Set me free from this dark prison,
And henceforward and forever
Men shall speak of your achievements,
Calling you Kayoshk, the sea-gulls,
Yes, Kayoshk, the Noble Scratchers!

And the wild and clamorous sea-gulls
Toiled with beak and claws together
Made the rifts and openings wider
In the mighty ribs of Nahma
And from peril and from prison
From the body of the sturgeon
From the peril of the water
They released my Hiawatha.

He was standing near his wigwam
On the margin of the water
And he called to old Nokomis
Called and beckoned to Nokomis
Pointed to the sturgeon Nahma
Lying lifeless on the pebbles
With the sea-gulls feeding on him.

"I have slain the Mishe-Nahma
Slain the King of Fishes!" said he'
Look! the sea-gulls feed upon him,
Yes, my friends Kayoshk, the sea-gulls;
Drive them not away, Nokomis,
They have saved me from great peril
In the body of the sturgeon,
Wait until their meal is ended,
Till their craws are full with feasting,
Till they homeward fly, at sunset,
To their nests among the marshes;
Then bring all your pots and kettles,
And make oil for us in Winter.

And she waited till the sun set
Till the pallid moon the Night-sun
Rose above the tranquil water
Till Kayoshk the sated sea-gulls
From their banquet rose with clamor
And across the fiery sunset
Winged their way to far-off islands
To their nests among the rushes.

To his sleep went Hiawatha
And Nokomis to her labor
Toiling patient in the moonlight
Till the sun and moon changed places
Till the sky was red with sunrise
And Kayoshk the hungry sea-gulls
Came back from the reedy islands
Clamorous for their morning banquet.

Three whole days and nights alternate
Old Nokomis and the sea-gulls
Stripped the oily flesh of Nahma
Till the waves washed through the rib-bones
Till the sea-gulls came no longer
And upon the sands lay nothing
But the skeleton of Nahma.

IX: Hiawatha and the Pearl-Feather

Fiercely the red sun descending
Burned his way along the heavens
Set the sky on fire behind him
As war-parties when retreating
Burn the prairies on their war-trail;
And the moon the Night-sun eastward
Suddenly starting from his ambush
Followed fast those bloody footprints
Followed in that fiery war-trail
With its glare upon his features.

And Nokomis the old woman
Pointing with her finger westward
Spake these words to Hiawatha:
Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather,
Megissogwon, the Magician,
Manito of Wealth and Wampum,
Guarded by his fiery serpents,
Guarded by the black pitch-water.
You can see his fiery serpents,
The Kenabeek, the great serpents,
Coiling, playing in the water;
You can see the black pitch-water
Stretching far away beyond them,
To the purple clouds of sunset!

He it was who slew my father
By his wicked wiles and cunning
When he from the moon descended
When he came on earth to seek me.
He the mightiest of Magicians
Sends the fever from the marshes
Sends the pestilential vapors
Sends the poisonous exhalations
Sends the white fog from the fen-lands
Sends disease and death among us!

"Take your bow O Hiawatha
Take your arrows jasper-headed
Take your war-club Puggawaugun
And your mittens Minjekahwun
And your birch-canoe for sailing
And the oil of Mishe-Nahma
So to smear its sides that swiftly
You may pass the black pitch-water;
Slay this merciless magician
Save the people from the fever
That he breathes across the fen-lands
And avenge my father's murder!"

Straightway then my Hiawatha
Armed himself with all his war-gear
Launched his birch-canoe for sailing;
With his palm its sides he patted
Said with glee Cheemaun, my darling,
O my Birch-canoe! leap forward,
Where you see the fiery serpents,
Where you see the black pitch-water!

Forward leaped Cheemaun exulting
And the noble Hiawatha
Sang his war-song wild and woful
And above him the war-eagle
The Keneu the great war-eagle
Master of all fowls with feathers
Screamed and hurtled through the heavens.

Soon he reached the fiery serpents
The Kenabeek the great serpents
Lying huge upon the water
Sparkling rippling in the water
Lying coiled across the passage
With their blazing crests uplifted
Breathing fiery fogs and vapors
So that none could pass beyond them.

But the fearless Hiawatha
Cried aloud and spake in this wise
Let me pass my way, Kenabeek,
Let me go upon my journey!
And they answered hissing fiercely
With their fiery breath made answer:
Back, go back! O Shaugodaya!
Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!

Then the angry Hiawatha
Raised his mighty bow of ash-tree
Seized his arrows jasper-headed
Shot them fast among the serpents;
Every twanging of the bow-string
Was a war-cry and a death-cry
Every whizzing of an arrow
Was a death-song of Kenabeek.

Weltering in the bloody water
Dead lay all the fiery serpents
And among them Hiawatha
Harmless sailed and cried exulting:
Onward, O Cheemaun, my darling!
Onward to the black pitch-water!

Then he took the oil of Nahma
And the bows and sides anointed
Smeared them well with oil that swiftly
He might pass the black pitch-water.

All night long he sailed upon it
Sailed upon that sluggish water
Covered with its mould of ages
Black with rotting water-rushes
Rank with flags and leaves of lilies
Stagnant lifeless dreary dismal
Lighted by the shimmering moonlight
And by will-o'-the-wisps illumined
Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled
In their weary night-encampments.

All the air was white with moonlight
All the water black with shadow
And around him the Suggema
The mosquito sang his war-song
And the fire-flies Wah-wah-taysee
Waved their torches to mislead him;
And the bull-frog the Dahinda
Thrust his head into the moonlight
Fixed his yellow eyes upon him
Sobbed and sank beneath the surface;
And anon a thousand whistles
Answered over all the fen-lands
And the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
Far off on the reedy margin
Heralded the hero's coming.

Westward thus fared Hiawatha
Toward the realm of Megissogwon
Toward the land of the Pearl-Feather
Till the level moon stared at him
In his face stared pale and haggard
Till the sun was hot behind him
Till it burned upon his shoulders
And before him on the upland
He could see the Shining Wigwam
Of the Manito of Wampum
Of the mightiest of Magicians.

Then once more Cheemaun he patted
To his birch-canoe said Onward!
And it stirred in all its fibres
And with one great bound of triumph
Leaped across the water-lilies
Leaped through tangled flags and rushes
And upon the beach beyond them
Dry-shod landed Hiawatha.

Straight he took his bow of ash-tree
On the sand one end he rested
With his knee he pressed the middle
Stretched the faithful bow-string tighter
Took an arrow jasperheaded
Shot it at the Shining Wigwam
Sent it singing as a herald
As a bearer of his message
Of his challenge loud and lofty:
Come forth from your lodge, Pearl-Feather!
Hiawatha waits your coming!

Straightway from the Shining Wigwam
Came the mighty Megissogwon
Tall of stature broad of shoulder
Dark and terrible in aspect
Clad from head to foot in wampum
Armed with all his warlike weapons
Painted like the sky of morning
Streaked with crimson blue and yellow
Crested with great eagle-feathers
Streaming upward streaming outward.

"Well I know you Hiawatha!"
Cried he in a voice of thunder
In a tone of loud derision.
Hasten back, O Shaugodaya!
Hasten back among the women,
Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!
I will slay you as you stand there,
As of old I slew her father!

But my Hiawatha answered
Nothing daunted fearing nothing:
Big words do not smite like war-clubs,
Boastful breath is not a bow-string,
Taunts are not so sharp as arrows,
Deeds are better things than words are,
Actions mightier than boastings!

Then began the greatest battle
That the sun had ever looked on
That the war-birds ever witnessed.
All a Summer's day it lasted
From the sunrise to the sunset;
For the shafts of Hiawatha
Harmless hit the shirt of wampum
Harmless fell the blows he dealt it
With his mittens Minjekahwun
Harmless fell the heavy war-club;
It could dash the rocks asunder
But it could not break the meshes
Of that magic shirt of wampum.

Till at sunset Hiawatha
Leaning on his bow of ash-tree
Wounded weary and desponding
With his mighty war-club broken
With his mittens torn and tattered
And three useless arrows only
Paused to rest beneath a pine-tree
From whose branches trailed the mosses
And whose trunk was coated over
With the Dead-man's Moccasin-leather
With the fungus white and yellow.

Suddenly from the boughs above him
Sang the Mama the woodpecker:
Aim your arrows, Hiawatha,
At the head of Megissogwon,
Strike the tuft of hair upon it,
At their roots the long black tresses;
There alone can he be wounded!

Winged with feathers tipped with jasper
Swift flew Hiawatha's arrow
Just as Megissogwon stooping
Raised a heavy stone to throw it.
Full upon the crown it struck him
At the roots of his long tresses
And he reeled and staggered forward
Plunging like a wounded bison
Yes like Pezhekee the bison
When the snow is on the prairie.

Swifter flew the second arrow
In the pathway of the other
Piercing deeper than the other
Wounding sorer than the other;
And the knees of Megissogwon
Shook like windy reeds beneath him
Bent and trembled like the rushes.

But the third and latest arrow
Swiftest flew and wounded sorest
And the mighty Megissogwon
Saw the fiery eyes of Pauguk
Saw the eyes of Death glare at him
Heard his voice call in the darkness;
At the feet of Hiawatha
Lifeless lay the great Pearl-Feather
Lay the mightiest of Magicians.

Then the grateful Hiawatha
Called the Mama the woodpecker
From his perch among the branches
Of the melancholy pine-tree
And in honor of his service
Stained with blood the tuft of feathers
On the little head of Mama;
Even to this day he wears it
Wears the tuft of crimson feathers
As a symbol of his service.

Then he stripped the shirt of wampum
From the back of Megissogwon
As a trophy of the battle
As a signal of his conquest.
On the shore he left the body
Half on land and half in water
In the sand his feet were buried
And his face was in the water.
And above him wheeled and clamored
The Keneu the great war-eagle
Sailing round in narrower circles
Hovering nearer nearer nearer.

From the wigwam Hiawatha
Bore the wealth of Megissogwon
All his wealth of skins and wampum
Furs of bison and of beaver
Furs of sable and of ermine
Wampum belts and strings and pouches
Quivers wrought with beads of wampum
Filled with arrows silver-headed.

Homeward then he sailed exulting
Homeward through the black pitch-water
Homeward through the weltering serpents
With the trophies of the battle
With a shout and song of triumph.

On the shore stood old Nokomis
On the shore stood Chibiabos
And the very strong man Kwasind
Waiting for the hero's coming
Listening to his songs of triumph.
And the people of the village
Welcomed him with songs and dances
Made a joyous feast and shouted:
'Honor be to Hiawatha!
He has slain the great Pearl-Feather
Slain the mightiest of Magicians
Him who sent the fiery fever
Sent the white fog from the fen-lands
Sent disease and death among us!"

Ever dear to Hiawatha
Was the memory of Mama!
And in token of his friendship
As a mark of his remembrance
He adorned and decked his pipe-stem
With the crimson tuft of feathers
With the blood-red crest of Mama.
But the wealth of Megissogwon
All the trophies of the battle
He divided with his people
Shared it equally among them.

X: Hiawatha's Wooing

Thus the youthful Hiawatha
Said within himself and pondered
Much perplexed by various feelings
Listless longing hoping fearing
Dreaming still of Minnehaha
Of the lovely Laughing Water
In the land of the Dacotahs.

"Wed a maiden of your people
Warning said the old Nokomis;
Go not eastward go not westward
For a stranger whom we know not!
Like a fire upon the hearth-stone
Is a neighbor's homely daughter
Like the starlight or the moonlight
Is the handsomest of strangers!"

Thus dissuading spake Nokomis
And my Hiawatha answered
Only this: "Dear old Nokomis
Very pleasant is the firelight
But I like the starlight better
Better do I like the moonlight!"

Gravely then said old Nokomis:
Bring not here an idle maiden,
Bring not here a useless woman,
Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;
Bring a wife with nimble fingers,
Heart and hand that move together,
Feet that run on willing errands!

Smiling answered Hiawatha:
'In the land of the Dacotahs
Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter
Minnehaha Laughing Water
Handsomest of all the women.
I will bring her to your wigwam
She shall run upon your errands
Be your starlight moonlight firelight
Be the sunlight of my people!"

Still dissuading said Nokomis:
Bring not to my lodge a stranger
From the land of the Dacotahs!
Very fierce are the Dacotahs,
Often is there war between us,
There are feuds yet unforgotten,
Wounds that ache and still may open!

Laughing answered Hiawatha:
For that reason, if no other,
Would I wed the fair Dacotah,
That our tribes might be united,
That old feuds might be forgotten,
And old wounds be healed forever!

Thus departed Hiawatha
To the land of the Dacotahs
To the land of handsome women;
Striding over moor and meadow
Through interminable forests
Through uninterrupted silence.

With his moccasins of magic
At each stride a mile he measured;
Yet the way seemed long before him
And his heart outran his footsteps;
And he journeyed without resting
Till he heard the cataract's laughter
Heard the Falls of Minnehaha
Calling to him through the silence.
Pleasant is the sound! he murmured
Pleasant is the voice that calls me!

On the outskirts of the forests
'Twixt the shadow and the sunshine
Herds of fallow deer were feeding
But they saw not Hiawatha;
To his bow he whispered Fail not!
To his arrow whispered Swerve not!
Sent it singing on its errand
To the red heart of the roebuck;
Threw the deer across his shoulder
And sped forward without pausing.

At the doorway of his wigwam
Sat the ancient Arrow-maker
In the land of the Dacotahs
Making arrow-heads of jasper
Arrow-heads of chalcedony.
At his side in all her beauty
Sat the lovely Minnehaha
Sat his daughter Laughing Water
Plaiting mats of flags and rushes
Of the past the old man's thoughts were
And the maiden's of the future.

He was thinking as he sat there
Of the days when with such arrows
He had struck the deer and bison
On the Muskoday the meadow;
Shot the wild goose flying southward
On the wing the clamorous Wawa;
Thinking of the great war-parties
How they came to buy his arrows
Could not fight without his arrows.
Ah no more such noble warriors
Could be found on earth as they were!
Now the men were all like women
Only used their tongues for weapons!

She was thinking of a hunter
From another tribe and country
Young and tall and very handsome
Who one morning in the Spring-time
Came to buy her father's arrows
Sat and rested in the wigwam
Lingered long about the doorway
Looking back as he departed.
She had heard her father praise him
Praise his courage and his wisdom;
Would he come again for arrows
To the Falls of Minnehaha?
On the mat her hands lay idle
And her eyes were very dreamy.

Through their thoughts they heard a footstep
Heard a rustling in the branches
And with glowing cheek and forehead
With the deer upon his shoulders
Suddenly from out the woodlands
Hiawatha stood before them.

Straight the ancient Arrow-maker
Looked up gravely from his labor
Laid aside the unfinished arrow
Bade him enter at the doorway
Saying as he rose to meet him
'Hiawatha you are welcome!"

At the feet of Laughing Water
Hiawatha laid his burden
Threw the red deer from his shoulders;
And the maiden looked up at him
Looked up from her mat of rushes
Said with gentle look and accent
You are welcome, Hiawatha!

Very spacious was the wigwam
Made of deer-skins dressed and whitened
With the Gods of the Dacotahs
Drawn and painted on its curtains
And so tall the doorway hardly
Hiawatha stooped to enter
Hardly touched his eagle-feathers
As he entered at the doorway.

Then uprose the Laughing Water
From the ground fair Minnehaha
Laid aside her mat unfinished
Brought forth food and set before them
Water brought them from the brooklet
Gave them food in earthen vessels
Gave them drink in bowls of bass-wood
Listened while the guest was speaking
Listened while her father answered
But not once her lips she opened
Not a single word she uttered.

Yes as in a dream she listened
To the words of Hiawatha
As he talked of old Nokomis
Who had nursed him in his childhood
As he told of his companions
Chibiabos the musician
And the very strong man Kwasind
And of happiness and plenty
In the land of the Ojibways
In the pleasant land and peaceful.

"After many years of warfare
Many years of strife and bloodshed
There is peace between the Ojibways
And the tribe of the Dacotahs."
Thus continued Hiawatha
And then added speaking slowly
That this peace may last forever,
And our hands be clasped more closely,
And our hearts be more united,
Give me as my wife this maiden,
Minnehaha, Laughing Water,
Loveliest of Dacotah women!

And the ancient Arrow-maker
Paused a moment ere he answered
Smoked a little while in silence
Looked at Hiawatha proudly
Fondly looked at Laughing Water
And made answer very gravely:
Yes, if Minnehaha wishes;
Let your heart speak, Minnehaha!

And the lovely Laughing Water
Seemed more lovely as she stood there
Neither willing nor reluctant
As she went to Hiawatha
Softly took the seat beside him
While she said and blushed to say it
I will follow you, my husband!

This was Hiawatha's wooing!
Thus it was he won the daughter
Of the ancient Arrow-maker
In the land of the Dacotahs!

From the wigwam he departed
Leading with him Laughing Water;
Hand in hand they went together
Through the woodland and the meadow
Left the old man standing lonely
At the doorway of his wigwam
Heard the Falls of Minnehaha
Calling to them from the distance
Crying to them from afar off
Fare thee well, O Minnehaha!

And the ancient Arrow-maker
Turned again unto his labor
Sat down by his sunny doorway
Murmuring to himself and saying:
Thus it is our daughters leave us,
Those we love, and those who love us!
Just when they have learned to help us,
When we are old and lean upon them,
Comes a youth with flaunting feathers,
With his flute of reeds, a stranger
Wanders piping through the village,
Beckons to the fairest maiden,
And she follows where he leads her,
Leaving all things for the stranger!

Pleasant was the journey homeward
Through interminable forests
Over meadow over mountain
Over river hill and hollow.
Short it seemed to Hiawatha
Though they journeyed very slowly
Though his pace he checked and slackened
To the steps of Laughing Water.

Over wide and rushing rivers
In his arms he bore the maiden;
Light he thought her as a feather
As the plume upon his head-gear;
Cleared the tangled pathway for her
Bent aside the swaying branches
Made at night a lodge of branches
And a bed with boughs of hemlock
And a fire before the doorway
With the dry cones of the pine-tree.

All the travelling winds went with them
O'er the meadows through the forest;
All the stars of night looked at them
Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber;
From his ambush in the oak-tree
Peeped the squirrel Adjidaumo
Watched with eager eyes the lovers;
And the rabbit the Wabasso
Scampered from the path before them
Peering peeping from his burrow
Sat erect upon his haunches
Watched with curious eyes the lovers.

Pleasant was the journey homeward!
All the birds sang loud and sweetly
Songs of happiness and heart's-ease;
Sang the bluebird the Owaissa
Happy are you, Hiawatha,
Having such a wife to love you!
Sang the robin the Opechee
Happy are you, Laughing Water,
Having such a noble husband!

From the sky the sun benignant
Looked upon them through the branches
Saying to them O my children,
Love is sunshine, hate is shadow,
Life is checkered shade and sunshine,
Rule by love, O Hiawatha!

From the sky the moon looked at them
Filled the lodge with mystic splendors
Whispered to them O my children,
Day is restless, night is quiet,
Man imperious, woman feeble;
Half is mine, although I follow;
Rule by patience, Laughing Water!

Thus it was they journeyed homeward;
Thus it was that Hiawatha
To the lodge of old Nokomis
Brought the moonlight starlight firelight
Brought the sunshine of his people
Minnehaha Laughing Water
Handsomest of all the women
In the land of the Dacotahs
In the land of handsome women.

XI: Hiawatha's Wedding-Feast

Sumptuous was the feast Nokomis
Made at Hiawatha's wedding;
All the bowls were made of bass-wood
White and polished very smoothly
All the spoons of horn of bison
Black and polished very smoothly.

She had sent through all the village
Messengers with wands of willow
As a sign of invitation
As a token of the feasting;
And the wedding guests assembled
Clad in all their richest raiment
Robes of fur and belts of wampum
Splendid with their paint and plumage
Beautiful with beads and tassels.

First they ate the sturgeon Nahma
And the pike the Maskenozha
Caught and cooked by old Nokomis;
Then on pemican they feasted
Pemican and buffalo marrow
Haunch of deer and hump of bison
Yellow cakes of the Mondamin
And the wild rice of the river.

But the gracious Hiawatha
And the lovely Laughing Water
And the careful old Nokomis
Tasted not the food before them
Only waited on the others
Only served their guests in silence.

And when all the guests had finished
Old Nokomis brisk and busy
From an ample pouch of otter
Filled the red-stone pipes for smoking
With tobacco from the South-land
Mixed with bark of the red willow
And with herbs and leaves of fragrance.

Then she said O Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Dance for us your merry dances,
Dance the Beggar's Dance to please us,
That the feast may be more joyous,
That the time may pass more gayly,
And our guests be more contented!

Then the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis
He the idle Yenadizze
He the merry mischief-maker
Whom the people called the Storm-Fool
Rose among the guests assembled.

Skilled was he in sports and pastimes
In the merry dance of snow-shoes
In the play of quoits and ball-play;
Skilled was he in games of hazard
In all games of skill and hazard
Pugasaing the Bowl and Counters
Kuntassoo the Game of Plum-stones.
Though the warriors called him Faint-Heart
Called him coward Shaugodaya
Idler gambler Yenadizze
Little heeded he their jesting
Little cared he for their insults
For the women and the maidens
Loved the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis.

He was dressed in shirt of doeskin
White and soft and fringed with ermine
All inwrought with beads of wampum;
He was dressed in deer-skin leggings
Fringed with hedgehog quills and ermine
And in moccasins of buck-skin
Thick with quills and beads embroidered.
On his head were plumes of swan's down
On his heels were tails of foxes
In one hand a fan of feathers
And a pipe was in the other.

Barred with streaks of red and yellow
Streaks of blue and bright vermilion
Shone the face of Pau-Puk-Keewis.
From his forehead fell his tresses
Smooth and parted like a woman's
Shining bright with oil and plaited
Hung with braids of scented grasses
As among the guests assembled
To the sound of flutes and singing
To the sound of drums and voices
Rose the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis
And began his mystic dances.

First he danced a solemn measure
Very slow in step and gesture
In and out among the pine-trees
Through the shadows and the sunshine
Treading softly like a panther.
Then more swiftly and still swifter
Whirling spinning round in circles
Leaping o'er the guests assembled
Eddying round and round the wigwam
Till the leaves went whirling with him
Till the dust and wind together
Swept in eddies round about him.

Then along the sandy margin
Of the lake the Big-Sea-Water
On he sped with frenzied gestures
Stamped upon the sand and tossed it
Wildly in the air around him;
Till the wind became a whirlwind
Till the sand was blown and sifted
Like great snowdrifts o'er the landscape
Heaping all the shores with Sand Dunes
Sand Hills of the Nagow Wudjoo!

Thus the merry Pau-Puk-Keewis
Danced his Beggar's Dance to please them
And returning sat down laughing
There among the guests assembled
Sat and fanned himself serenely
With his fan of turkey-feathers.

Then they said to Chibiabos
To the friend of Hiawatha
To the sweetest of all singers
To the best of all musicians
Sing to us, O Chibiabos!
Songs of love and songs of longing,
That the feast may be more joyous,
That the time may pass more gayly,
And our guests be more contented!

And the gentle Chibiabos
Sang in accents sweet and tender
Sang in tones of deep emotion
Songs of love and songs of longing;
Looking still at Hiawatha
Looking at fair Laughing Water
Sang he softly sang in this wise:

"Onaway! Awake beloved!
Thou the wild-flower of the forest!
Thou the wild-bird of the prairie!
Thou with eyes so soft and fawn-like!

"If thou only lookest at me
I am happy I am happy
As the lilies of the prairie
When they feel the dew upon them!

"Sweet thy breath is as the fragrance
Of the wild-flowers in the morning
As their fragrance is at evening
In the Moon when leaves are falling.

"Does not all the blood within me
Leap to meet thee leap to meet thee
As the springs to meet the sunshine
In the Moon when nights are brightest?

"Onaway! my heart sings to thee
Sings with joy when thou art near me
As the sighing singing branches
In the pleasant Moon of Strawberries!

"When thou art not pleased beloved
Then my heart is sad and darkened
As the shining river darkens
When the clouds drop shadows on it!

"When thou smilest my beloved
Then my troubled heart is brightened
As in sunshine gleam the ripples
That the cold wind makes in rivers.

"Smiles the earth and smile the waters
Smile the cloudless skies above us
But I lose the way of smiling
When thou art no longer near me!

"I myself myself! behold me!
Blood of my beating heart behold me!
Oh awake awake beloved!
Onaway! awake beloved!"

Thus the gentle Chibiabos
Sang his song of love and longing;
And Iagoo the great boaster
He the marvellous story-teller
He the friend of old Nokomis
Jealous of the sweet musician
Jealous of the applause they gave him
Saw in all the eyes around him
Saw in all their looks and gestures
That the wedding guests assembled
Longed to hear his pleasant stories
His immeasurable falsehoods.

Very boastful was Iagoo;
Never heard he an adventure
But himself had met a greater;
Never any deed of daring
But himself had done a bolder;
Never any marvellous story
But himself could tell a stranger.

Would you listen to his boasting
Would you only give him credence
No one ever shot an arrow
Half so far and high as he had;
Ever caught so many fishes
Ever killed so many reindeer
Ever trapped so many beaver!

None could run so fast as he could
None could dive so deep as he could
None could swim so far as he could;
None had made so many journeys
None had seen so many wonders
As this wonderful Iagoo
As this marvellous story-teller!
Thus his name became a by-word
And a jest among the people;
And whene'er a boastful hunter
Praised his own address too highly
Or a warrior home returning
Talked too much of his achievements
All his hearers cried Iagoo!
Here's Iagoo come among us!

He it was who carved the cradle
Of the little Hiawatha
Carved its framework out of linden
Bound it strong with reindeer sinews;
He it was who taught him later
How to make his bows and arrows
How to make the bows of ash-tree
And the arrows of the oak-tree.
So among the guests assembled
At my Hiawatha's wedding
Sat Iagoo old and ugly
Sat the marvellous story-teller.

And they said O good Iagoo,
Tell us now a tale of wonder,
Tell us of some strange adventure,
That the feast may be more joyous,
That the time may pass more gayly,
And our guests be more contented!

And Iagoo answered straightway
You shall hear a tale of wonder,
You shall hear the strange adventures
Of Osseo, the Magician,
From the Evening Star descending.

XII: The Son of the Evening Star

Yes; it is the sun descending
Sinking down into the water;
All the sky is stained with purple
All the water flushed with crimson!
No; it is the Red Swan floating
Diving down beneath the water;
To the sky its wings are lifted
With its blood the waves are reddened!

Over it the Star of Evening
Melts and trembles through the purple
Hangs suspended in the twilight.
No; it is a bead of wampum
On the robes of the Great Spirit
As he passes through the twilight
Walks in silence through the heavens.

This with joy beheld Iagoo
And he said in haste: "Behold it!
See the sacred Star of Evening!
You shall hear a tale of wonder
Hear the story of Osseo
Son of the Evening Star Osseo!

"Once in days no more remembered
Ages nearer the beginning
When the heavens were closer to us
And the Gods were more familiar
In the North-land lived a hunter
With ten young and comely daughters
Tall and lithe as wands of willow;
Only Oweenee the youngest
She the wilful and the wayward
She the silent dreamy maiden
Was the fairest of the sisters.

"All these women married warriors
Married brave and haughty husbands;
Only Oweenee the youngest
Laughed and flouted all her lovers
All her young and handsome suitors
And then married old Osseo
Old Osseo poor and ugly
Broken with age and weak with coughing
Always coughing like a squirrel.

"Ah but beautiful within him
Was the spirit of Osseo
From the Evening Star descended
Star of Evening Star of Woman
Star of tenderness and passion!
All its fire was in his bosom
All its beauty in his spirit
All its mystery in his being
All its splendor in his language!

"And her lovers the rejected
Handsome men with belts of wampum
Handsome men with paint and feathers.
Pointed at her in derision
Followed her with jest and laughter.
But she said: 'I care not for you
Care not for your belts of wampum
Care not for your paint and feathers
Care not for your jests and laughter;
I am happy with Osseo!'

'Once to some great feast invited
Through the damp and dusk of evening
Walked together the ten sisters
Walked together with their husbands;
Slowly followed old Osseo
With fair Oweenee beside him;
All the others chatted gayly
These two only walked in silence.

"At the western sky Osseo
Gazed intent as if imploring
Often stopped and gazed imploring
At the trembling Star of Evening
At the tender Star of Woman;
And they heard him murmur softly
'Ah showain nemeshin Nosa!
Pity pity me my father!'

'Listen!' said the eldest sister
'He is praying to his father!
What a pity that the old man
Does not stumble in the pathway
Does not break his neck by falling!'
And they laughed till all the forest
Rang with their unseemly laughter.

"On their pathway through the woodlands
Lay an oak by storms uprooted
Lay the great trunk of an oak-tree
Buried half in leaves and mosses
Mouldering crumbling huge and hollow.
And Osseo when he saw it
Gave a shout a cry of anguish
Leaped into its yawning cavern
At one end went in an old man
Wasted wrinkled old and ugly;
From the other came a young man
Tall and straight and strong and handsome.

"Thus Osseo was transfigured
Thus restored to youth and beauty;
But alas for good Osseo
And for Oweenee the faithful!
Strangely too was she transfigured.
Changed into a weak old woman
With a staff she tottered onward
Wasted wrinkled old and ugly!
And the sisters and their husbands
Laughed until the echoing forest
Rang with their unseemly laughter.

"But Osseo turned not from her
Walked with slower step beside her
Took her hand as brown and withered
As an oak-leaf is in Winter
Called her sweetheart Nenemoosha
Soothed her with soft words of kindness
Till they reached the lodge of feasting
Till they sat down in the wigwam
Sacred to the Star of Evening
To the tender Star of Woman.

"Wrapt in visions lost in dreaming
At the banquet sat Osseo;
All were merry all were happy
All were joyous but Osseo.
Neither food nor drink he tasted
Neither did he speak nor listen;
But as one bewildered sat he
Looking dreamily and sadly
First at Oweenee then upward
At the gleaming sky above them.

"Then a voice was heard a whisper
Coming from the starry distance
Coming from the empty vastness
Low and musical and tender;
And the voice said: 'O Osseo!
O my son my best beloved!
Broken are the spells that bound you
All the charms of the magicians
All the magic powers of evil;
Come to me; ascend Osseo!

"'Taste the food that stands before you:
It is blessed and enchanted
It has magic virtues in it
It will change you to a spirit.
All your bowls and all your kettles
Shall be wood and clay no longer;
But the bowls be changed to wampum
And the kettles shall be silver;
They shall shine like shells of scarlet
Like the fire shall gleam and glimmer.

"'And the women shall no longer
Bear the dreary doom of labor
But be changed to birds and glisten
With the beauty of the starlight
Painted with the dusky splendors
Of the skies and clouds of evening!'

"What Osseo heard as whispers
What as words he comprehended
Was but music to the others
Music as of birds afar off
Of the whippoorwill afar off
Of the lonely Wawonaissa
Singing in the darksome forest.

"Then the lodge began to tremble
Straight began to shake and tremble
And they felt it rising rising
Slowly through the air ascending
From the darkness of the tree-tops
Forth into the dewy starlight
Till it passed the topmost branches;
And behold! the wooden dishes
All were changed to shells of scarlet!
And behold! the earthen kettles
All were changed to bowls of silver!
And the roof-poles of the wigwam
Were as glittering rods of silver
And the roof of bark upon them
As the shining shards of beetles.
Then Osseo gazed around him,
And he saw the nine fair sisters,
All the sisters and their husbands,
Changed to birds of various plumage.
Some were jays and some were magpies,
Others thrushes, others blackbirds;
And they hopped, and sang, and twittered,
Perked and fluttered all their feathers,
Strutted in their shining plumage,
And their tails like fans unfolded.
Only Oweenee the youngest
Was not changed but sat in silence
Wasted wrinkled old and ugly
Looking sadly at the others;
Till Osseo gazing upward
Gave another cry of anguish
Such a cry as he had uttered
By the oak-tree in the forest.
Then returned her youth and beauty,
And her soiled and tattered garments
Were transformed to robes of ermine,
And her staff became a feather,
Yes, a shining silver feather!
And again the wigwam trembled
Swayed and rushed through airy currents
Through transparent cloud and vapor
And amid celestial splendors
On the Evening Star alighted
As a snow-flake falls on snow-flake
As a leaf drops on a river
As the thistledown on water.

"Forth with cheerful words of welcome
Came the father of Osseo
He with radiant locks of silver
He with eyes serene and tender.
And he said: `My son Osseo
Hang the cage of birds you bring there
Hang the cage with rods of silver
And the birds with glistening feathers
At the doorway of my wigwam.'

"At the door he hung the bird-cage
And they entered in and gladly
Listened to Osseo's father
Ruler of the Star of Evening
As he said: `O my Osseo!
I have had compassion on you
Given you back your youth and beauty
Into birds of various plumage
Changed your sisters and their husbands;
Changed them thus because they mocked you
In the figure of the old man
In that aspect sad and wrinkled
Could not see your heart of passion
Could not see your youth immortal;
Only Oweenee the faithful
Saw your naked heart and loved you.

"`In the lodge that glimmers yonder
In the little star that twinkles
Through the vapors on the left hand
Lives the envious Evil Spirit
The Wabeno the magician
Who transformed you to an old man.
Take heed lest his beams fall on you
For the rays he darts around him
Are the power of his enchantment
Are the arrows that he uses.'

"Many years in peace and quiet
On the peaceful Star of Evening
Dwelt Osseo with his father;
Many years in song and flutter
At the doorway of the wigwam
Hung the cage with rods of silver
And fair Oweenee the faithful
Bore a son unto Osseo
With the beauty of his mother
With the courage of his father.

"And the boy grew up and prospered
And Osseo to delight him
Made him little bows and arrows
Opened the great cage of silver
And let loose his aunts and uncles
All those birds with glossy feathers
For his little son to shoot at.

"Round and round they wheeled and darted
Filled the Evening Star with music
With their songs of joy and freedom
Filled the Evening Star with splendor
With the fluttering of their plumage;
Till the boy the little hunter
Bent his bow and shot an arrow
Shot a swift and fatal arrow
And a bird with shining feathers
At his feet fell wounded sorely.

"But O wondrous transformation!
`T was no bird he saw before him
`T was a beautiful young woman
With the arrow in her bosom!

"When her blood fell on the planet
On the sacred Star of Evening
Broken was the spell of magic
Powerless was the strange enchantment
And the youth the fearless bowman
Suddenly felt himself descending
Held by unseen hands but sinking
Downward through the empty spaces
Downward through the clouds and vapors
Till he rested on an island
On an island green and grassy
Yonder in the Big-Sea-Water.

"After him he saw descending
All the birds with shining feathers
Fluttering falling wafted downward
Like the painted leaves of Autumn;
And the lodge with poles of silver
With its roof like wings of beetles
Like the shining shards of beetles
By the winds of heaven uplifted
Slowly sank upon the island
Bringing back the good Osseo
Bringing Oweenee the faithful.
Then the birds, again transfigured,
Reassumed the shape of mortals,
Took their shape, but not their stature;
They remained as Little People,
Like the pygmies, the Puk-Wudjies,
And on pleasant nights of Summer,
When the Evening Star was shining,
Hand in hand they danced together
On the island's craggy headlands,
On the sand-beach low and level.

Still their glittering lodge is seen there
On the tranquil Summer evenings
And upon the shore the fisher
Sometimes hears their happy voices
Sees them dancing in the starlight !"

When the story was completed
When the wondrous tale was ended
Looking round upon his listeners
Solemnly Iagoo added:
There are great men, I have known such,
Whom their people understand not,
Whom they even make a jest of,
Scoff and jeer at in derision.
From the story of Osseo
Let us learn the fate of jesters!

All the wedding guests delighted
Listened to the marvellous story
Listened laughing and applauding
And they whispered to each other:
Does he mean himself, I wonder?
And are we the aunts and uncles?

Then again sang Chibiabos
Sang a song of love and longing
In those accents sweet and tender
In those tones of pensive sadness
Sang a maiden's lamentation
For her lover her Algonquin.
When I think of my beloved,
Ah me! think of my beloved,
When my heart is thinking of him,
O my sweetheart, my Algonquin!

Ah me! when I parted from him
Round my neck he hung the wampum
As a pledge the snow-white wampum
O my sweetheart my Algonquin!

"`I will go with you he whispered
Ah me! to your native country;
Let me go with you he whispered
O my sweetheart my Algonquin!
Far away, away, I answered,
Very far away, I answered,
Ah me! is my native country,
O my sweetheart, my Algonquin!

When I looked back to behold him
Where we parted to behold him
After me he still was gazing
O my sweetheart my Algonquin!

"By the tree he still was standing
By the fallen tree was standing
That had dropped into the water
O my sweetheart my Algonquin!
When I think of my beloved,
Ah me! think of my beloved,
When my heart is thinking of him,
O my sweetheart, my Algonquin!
Such was Hiawatha's Wedding
Such the dance of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Such the story of Iagoo
Such the songs of Chibiabos;
Thus the wedding banquet ended
And the wedding guests departed
Leaving Hiawatha happy
With the night and Minnehaha.

XII: Blessing the Cornfields

Buried was the bloody hatchet
Buried was the dreadful war-club
Buried were all warlike weapons
And the war-cry was forgotten.
There was peace among the nations;
Unmolested roved the hunters
Built the birch canoe for sailing
Caught the fish in lake and river
Shot the deer and trapped the beaver;
Unmolested worked the women
Made their sugar from the maple
Gathered wild rice in the meadows
Dressed the skins of deer and beaver.

All around the happy village
Stood the maize-fields green and shining
Waved the green plumes of Mondamin
Waved his soft and sunny tresses
Filling all the land with plenty.
`T was the women who in Spring-time
Planted the broad fields and fruitful
Buried in the earth Mondamin;
`T was the women who in Autumn
Stripped the yellow husks of harvest
Stripped the garments from Mondamin
Even as Hiawatha taught them.

Once when all the maize was planted
Hiawatha wise and thoughtful
Spake and said to Minnehaha
To his wife the Laughing Water:
You shall bless to-night the cornfields,
Draw a magic circle round them,
To protect them from destruction,
Blast of mildew, blight of insect,
Wagemin, the thief of cornfields,
Paimosaid, who steals the maize-ear

In the night when all Is silence '
In the night when all Is darkness
When the Spirit of Sleep Nepahwin
Shuts the doors of all the wigwams
So that not an ear can hear you
So that not an eye can see you
Rise up from your bed in silence
Lay aside your garments wholly
Walk around the fields you planted
Round the borders of the cornfields
Covered by your tresses only
Robed with darkness as a garment.

"Thus the fields shall be more fruitful
And the passing of your footsteps
Draw a magic circle round them
So that neither blight nor mildew
Neither burrowing worm nor insect
Shall pass o'er the magic circle;
Not the dragon-fly Kwo-ne-she
Nor the spider Subbekashe
Nor the grasshopper Pah-puk-keena;
Nor the mighty caterpillar
Way-muk-kwana with the bear-skin
King of all the caterpillars!"

On the tree-tops near the cornfields
Sat the hungry crows and ravens
Kahgahgee the King of Ravens
With his band of black marauders.
And they laughed at Hiawatha
Till the tree-tops shook with laughter
With their melancholy laughter
At the words of Hiawatha.
Hear him! said they; "hear the Wise Man
Hear the plots of Hiawatha!"

When the noiseless night descended
Broad and dark o'er field and forest
When the mournful Wawonaissa
Sorrowing sang among the hemlocks
And the Spirit of Sleep Nepahwin
Shut the doors of all the wigwams
From her bed rose Laughing Water
Laid aside her garments wholly
And with darkness clothed and guarded
Unashamed and unaffrighted
Walked securely round the cornfields
Drew the sacred magic circle
Of her footprints round the cornfields.

No one but the Midnight only
Saw her beauty in the darkness
No one but the Wawonaissa
Heard the panting of her bosom
Guskewau the darkness wrapped her
Closely in his sacred mantle
So that none might see her beauty
So that none might boast I saw her!

On the morrow as the day dawned
Kahgahgee the King of Ravens
Gathered all his black marauders
Crows and blackbirds jays and ravens
Clamorous on the dusky tree-tops
And descended fast and fearless
On the fields of Hiawatha
On the grave of the Mondamin.

"We will drag Mondamin said they,
From the grave where he is buried
Spite of all the magic circles
Laughing Water draws around it
Spite of all the sacred footprints
Minnehaha stamps upon it!"
But the wary Hiawatha
Ever thoughtful careful watchful
Had o'erheard the scornful laughter
When they mocked him from the tree-tops.
Kaw! he said my friends the ravens!
Kahgahgee, my King of Ravens!
I will teach you all a lesson
That shall not be soon forgotten!

He had risen before the daybreak
He had spread o'er all the cornfields
Snares to catch the black marauders
And was lying now in ambush
In the neighboring grove of pine-trees
Waiting for the crows and blackbirds
Waiting for the jays and ravens.

Soon they came with caw and clamor
Rush of wings and cry of voices
To their work of devastation
Settling down upon the cornfields
Delving deep with beak and talon
For the body of Mondamin.
And with all their craft and cunning
All their skill in wiles of warfare
They perceived no danger near them
Till their claws became entangled
Till they found themselves imprisoned
In the snares of Hiawatha.

From his place of ambush came he
Striding terrible among them
And so awful was his aspect
That the bravest quailed with terror.
Without mercy he destroyed them
Right and left by tens and twenties
And their wretched lifeless bodies
Hung aloft on poles for scarecrows
Round the consecrated cornfields
As a signal of his vengeance
As a warning to marauders.

Only Kahgahgee the leader
Kahgahgee the King of Ravens
He alone was spared among them
As a hostage for his people.
With his prisoner-string he bound him
Led him captive to his wigwam
Tied him fast with cords of elm-bark
To the ridge-pole of his wigwam.

"Kahgahgee my raven!" said he
You the leader of the robbers,
You the plotter of this mischief,
The contriver of this outrage,
I will keep you, I will hold you,
As a hostage for your people,
As a pledge of good behavior!

And he left him grim and sulky
Sitting in the morning sunshine
On the summit of the wigwam
Croaking fiercely his displeasure
Flapping his great sable pinions
Vainly struggling for his freedom
Vainly calling on his people!

Summer passed and Shawondasee
Breathed his sighs o'er all the landscape
From the South-land sent his ardor
Wafted kisses warm and tender;
And the maize-field grew and ripened
Till it stood in all the splendor
Of its garments green and yellow
Of its tassels and its plumage
And the maize-ears full and shining
Gleamed from bursting sheaths of verdure.

Then Nokomis the old woman
Spake and said to Minnehaha:

`T is the Moon when leaves are falling;
All the wild rice has been gathered
And the maize is ripe and ready;
Let us gather in the harvest
Let us wrestle with Mondamin
Strip him of his plumes and tassels
Of his garments green and yellow!"

And the merry Laughing Water
Went rejoicing from the wigwam
With Nokomis old and wrinkled
And they called the women round them
Called the young men and the maidens
To the harvest of the cornfields
To the husking of the maize-ear.

On the border of the forest
Underneath the fragrant pine-trees
Sat the old men and the warriors
Smoking in the pleasant shadow.
In uninterrupted silence
Looked they at the gamesome labor
Of the young men and the women;
Listened to their noisy talking
To their laughter and their singing
Heard them chattering like the magpies
Heard them laughing like the blue-jays
Heard them singing like the robins.

And whene'er some lucky maiden
Found a red ear in the husking
Found a maize-ear red as blood is
Nushka! cried they all together
Nushka! you shall have a sweetheart,
You shall have a handsome husband!
Ugh! the old men all responded
From their seats beneath the pine-trees.

And whene'er a youth or maiden
Found a crooked ear in husking
Found a maize-ear in the husking
Blighted mildewed or misshapen
Then they laughed and sang together
Crept and limped about the cornfields
Mimicked in their gait and gestures
Some old man bent almost double
Singing singly or together:
Wagemin, the thief of cornfields!
Paimosaid, who steals the maize-ear!

Till the cornfields rang with laughter
Till from Hiawatha's wigwam
Kahgahgee the King of Ravens
Screamed and quivered in his anger
And from all the neighboring tree-tops
Cawed and croaked the black marauders.
Ugh! the old men all responded
From their seats beneath the pine-trees!

XIV:Picture-Writing

Great men die and are forgotten
Wise men speak; their words of wisdom
Perish in the ears that hear them
Do not reach the generations
That as yet unborn are waiting
In the great mysterious darkness
Of the speechless days that shall be!

"On the grave-posts of our fathers
Are no signs no figures painted;
Who are in those graves we know not
Only know they are our fathers.
Of what kith they are and kindred
From what old ancestral Totem
Be it Eagle Bear or Beaver
They descended this we know not
Only know they are our fathers.

"Face to face we speak together
But we cannot speak when absent
Cannot send our voices from us
To the friends that dwell afar off;
Cannot send a secret message
But the bearer learns our secret
May pervert it may betray it
May reveal it unto others."
Thus said Hiawatha walking
In the solitary forest
Pondering musing in the forest
On the welfare of his people.

From his pouch he took his colors
Took his paints of different colors
On the smooth bark of a birch-tree
Painted many shapes and figures
Wonderful and mystic figures
And each figure had a meaning
Each some word or thought suggested.

Gitche Manito the Mighty
He the Master of Life was painted
As an egg with points projecting
To the four winds of the heavens.
Everywhere is the Great Spirit
Was the meaning of this symbol.

Gitche Manito the Mighty
He the dreadful Spirit of Evil
As a serpent was depicted
As Kenabeek the great serpent.
Very crafty very cunning
Is the creeping Spirit of Evil
Was the meaning of this symbol.

Life and Death he drew as circles
Life was white but Death was darkened;
Sun and moon and stars he painted
Man and beast and fish and reptile
Forests mountains lakes and rivers.

For the earth he drew a straight line
For the sky a bow above it;
White the space between for daytime
Filled with little stars for night-time;
On the left a point for sunrise
On the right a point for sunset
On the top a point for noontide
And for rain and cloudy weather
Waving lines descending from it.

Footprints pointing towards a wigwam
Were a sign of invitation
Were a sign of guests assembling;
Bloody hands with palms uplifted
Were a symbol of destruction
Were a hostile sign and symbol.

All these things did Hiawatha
Show unto his wondering people
And interpreted their meaning
And he said: "Behold your grave-posts
Have no mark no sign nor symbol
Go and paint them all with figures;
Each one with its household symbol
With its own ancestral Totem;
So that those who follow after
May distinguish them and know them."

And they painted on the grave-posts
On the graves yet unforgotten
Each his own ancestral Totem
Each the symbol of his household;
Figures of the Bear and Reindeer
Of the Turtle Crane and Beaver
Each inverted as a token
That the owner was departed
That the chief who bore the symbol
Lay beneath in dust and ashes.

And the Jossakeeds the Prophets
The Wabenos the Magicians
And the Medicine-men the Medas
Painted upon bark and deer-skin
Figures for the songs they chanted
For each song a separate symbol
Figures mystical and awful
Figures strange and brightly colored;
And each figure had its meaning
Each some magic song suggested.

The Great Spirit the Creator
Flashing light through all the heaven;
The Great Serpent the Kenabeek
With his bloody crest erected
Creeping looking into heaven;
In the sky the sun that listens
And the moon eclipsed and dying;
Owl and eagle crane and hen-hawk
And the cormorant bird of magic;
Headless men that walk the heavens
Bodies lying pierced with arrows
Bloody hands of death uplifted
Flags on graves and great war-captains
Grasping both the earth and heaven!

Such as these the shapes they painted
On the birch-bark and the deer-skin;
Songs of war and songs of hunting
Songs of medicine and of magic
All were written in these figures
For each figure had its meaning
Each its separate song recorded.

Nor forgotten was the Love-Song
The most subtle of all medicines
The most potent spell of magic
Dangerous more than war or hunting!
Thus the Love-Song was recorded
Symbol and interpretation.

First a human figure standing
Painted in the brightest scarlet;
`T Is the lover the musician
And the meaning is My painting
Makes me powerful over others.

Then the figure seated singing
Playing on a drum of magic
And the interpretation Listen!
`T Is my voice you hear, my singing!

Then the same red figure seated
In the shelter of a wigwam
And the meaning of the symbol
I will come and sit beside you
In the mystery of my passion!

Then two figures man and woman
Standing hand in hand together
With their hands so clasped together
That they seemed in one united
And the words thus represented
Are I see your heart within you,
And your cheeks are red with blushes!

Next the maiden on an island
In the centre of an Island;
And the song this shape suggested
Was Though you were at a distance,
Were upon some far-off island,
Such the spell I cast upon you,
Such the magic power of passion,
I could straightway draw you to me!

Then the figure of the maiden
Sleeping and the lover near her
Whispering to her in her slumbers
Saying Though you were far from me
In the land of Sleep and Silence,
Still the voice of love would reach you!

And the last of all the figures
Was a heart within a circle
Drawn within a magic circle;
And the image had this meaning:
Naked lies your heart before me,
To your naked heart I whisper!

Thus it was that Hiawatha
In his wisdom taught the people
All the mysteries of painting
All the art of Picture-Writing
On the smooth bark of the birch-tree
On the white skin of the reindeer
On the grave-posts of the village.

XV: Hiawatha's Lamentation

Hiawatha wise and wary
Often said to Chibiabos
O my brother! do not leave me,
Lest the Evil Spirits harm you!
Chibiabos young and heedless
Laughing shook his coal-black tresses
Answered ever sweet and childlike
Do not fear for me, O brother!
Harm and evil come not near me!

Once when Peboan the Winter
Roofed with ice the Big-Sea-Water
When the snow-flakes whirling downward
Hissed among the withered oak-leaves
Changed the pine-trees into wigwams
Covered all the earth with silence
Armed with arrows shod with snow-shoes
Heeding not his brother's warning
Fearing not the Evil Spirits
Forth to hunt the deer with antlers
All alone went Chibiabos.

Right across the Big-Sea-Water
Sprang with speed the deer before him.
With the wind and snow he followed
O'er the treacherous ice he followed
Wild with all the fierce commotion
And the rapture of the hunting.

But beneath the Evil Spirits
Lay in ambush waiting for him
Broke the treacherous ice beneath him
Dragged him downward to the bottom
Buried in the sand his body.
Unktahee the god of water
He the god of the Dacotahs
Drowned him in the deep abysses
Of the lake of Gitche Gumee.

From the headlands Hiawatha
Sent forth such a wail of anguish
Such a fearful lamentation
That the bison paused to listen
And the wolves howled from the prairies
And the thunder in the distance
Starting answered "Baim-wawa!"

Then his face with black he painted
With his robe his head he covered
In his wigwam sat lamenting
Seven long weeks he sat lamenting
Uttering still this moan of sorrow:

"He is dead the sweet musician!
He the sweetest of all singers!
He has gone from us forever
He has moved a little nearer
To the Master of all music
To the Master of all singing!
O my brother Chibiabos!"

And the melancholy fir-trees
Waved their dark green fans above him
Waved their purple cones above him
Sighing with him to console him
Mingling with his lamentation
Their complaining their lamenting.

Came the Spring and all the forest
Looked in vain for Chibiabos;
Sighed the rivulet Sebowisha
Sighed the rushes in the meadow.

From the tree-tops sang the bluebird
Sang the bluebird the Owaissa
Chibiabos! Chibiabos!
He is dead, the sweet musician!

From the wigwam sang the robin
Sang the robin the Opechee
Chibiabos! Chibiabos!
He is dead, the sweetest singer!

And at night through all the forest
Went the whippoorwill complaining
Wailing went the Wawonaissa
Chibiabos! Chibiabos!
He is dead, the sweet musician!
He the sweetest of all singers!

Then the Medicine-men the Medas
The magicians the Wabenos
And the Jossakeeds the Prophets
Came to visit Hiawatha;
Built a Sacred Lodge beside him
To appease him to console him
Walked in silent grave procession
Bearing each a pouch of healing
Skin of beaver lynx or otter
Filled with magic roots and simples
Filled with very potent medicines.

When he heard their steps approaching~
Hiawatha ceased lamenting
Called no more on Chibiabos;
Naught he questioned naught he answered
But his mournful head uncovered
From his face the mourning colors
Washed he slowly and in silence
Slowly and in silence followed
Onward to the Sacred Wigwam.

There a magic drink they gave him
Made of Nahma-wusk the spearmint
And Wabeno-wusk the yarrow
Roots of power and herbs of healing;
Beat their drums and shook their rattles;
Chanted singly and in chorus
Mystic songs like these they chanted.

"I myself myself! behold me!
`T Is the great Gray Eagle talking;
Come ye white crows come and hear him!
The loud-speaking thunder helps me;
All the unseen spirits help me;
I can hear their voices calling
All around the sky I hear them!
I can blow you strong my brother
I can heal you Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus
Wayha-way! the mystic chorus.

Friends of mine are all the serpents!
Hear me shake my skin of hen-hawk!
Mahng the white loon I can kill him;
I can shoot your heart and kill it!
I can blow you strong my brother
I can heal you Hiawatha !"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus
Wayhaway! the mystic chorus.

"I myself myself! the prophet!
When I speak the wigwam trembles
Shakes the Sacred Lodge with terror
Hands unseen begin to shake it!
When I walk the sky I tread on
Bends and makes a noise beneath me!
I can blow you strong my brother!
Rise and speak O Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus
Way-ha-way! the mystic chorus.

Then they shook their medicine-pouches
O'er the head of Hiawatha
Danced their medicine-dance around him;
And upstarting wild and haggard
Like a man from dreams awakened
He was healed of all his madness.
As the clouds are swept from heaven
Straightway from his brain departed
All his moody melancholy;
As the ice is swept from rivers
Straightway from his heart departed
All his sorrow and affliction.

Then they summoned Chibiabos
From his grave beneath the waters
From the sands of Gitche Gumee
Summoned Hiawatha's brother.
And so mighty was the magic
Of that cry and invocation
That he heard it as he lay there
Underneath the Big-Sea-Water;
From the sand he rose and listened
Heard the music and the singing
Came obedient to the summons
To the doorway of the wigwam
But to enter they forbade him.

Through a chink a coal they gave him
Through the door a burning fire-brand;
Ruler in the Land of Spirits
Ruler o'er the dead they made him
Telling him a fire to kindle
For all those that died thereafter
Camp-fires for their night encampments
On their solitary journey
To the kingdom of Ponemah
To the land of the Hereafter.

From the village of his childhood
From the homes of those who knew him
Passing silent through the forest
Like a smoke-wreath wafted sideways
Slowly vanished Chibiabos!
Where he passed the branches moved not
Where he trod the grasses bent not
And the fallen leaves of last year
Made no sound beneath his footstep.

Four whole days he journeyed onward
Down the pathway of the dead men;
On the dead-man's strawberry feasted
Crossed the melancholy river
On the swinging log he crossed it
Came unto the Lake of Silver
In the Stone Canoe was carried
To the Islands of the Blessed
To the land of ghosts and shadows.

On that journey moving slowly
Many weary spirits saw he
Panting under heavy burdens
Laden with war-clubs bows and arrows
Robes of fur and pots and kettles
And with food that friends had given
For that solitary journey.

"Ay! why do the living said they,
Lay such heavy burdens on us!
Better were it to go naked
Better were it to go fasting
Than to bear such heavy burdens
On our long and weary journey!"
Forth then issued Hiawatha
Wandered eastward wandered westward
Teaching men the use of simples
And the antidotes for poisons
And the cure of all diseases.
Thus was first made known to mortals
All the mystery of Medamin
All the sacred art of healing.

XVI: Pau-Puk-Keewis

On the shores of Gitche Gumee
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo
By the shining Big-Sea-Water
Stood the lodge of Pau-Puk-Keewis.
It was he who in his frenzy
Whirled these drifting sands together
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo
When among the guests assembled
He so merrily and madly
Danced at Hiawatha's wedding
Danced the Beggar's Dance to please them.

Now in search of new adventures
From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis
Came with speed into the village
Found the young men all assembled
In the lodge of old Iagoo
Listening to his monstrous stories
To his wonderful adventures.

He was telling them the story
Of Ojeeg the Summer-Maker
How he made a hole in heaven
How he climbed up into heaven
And let out the summer-weather
The perpetual pleasant Summer;
How the Otter first essayed it;
How the Beaver Lynx and Badger
Tried in turn the great achievement
From the summit of the mountain
Smote their fists against the heavens
Smote against the sky their foreheads
Cracked the sky but could not break it;
How the Wolverine uprising
Made him ready for the encounter
Bent his knees down like a squirrel
Drew his arms back like a cricket.

"Once he leaped said old Iagoo,
Once he leaped and lo! above him
Bent the sky as ice in rivers
When the waters rise beneath it;
Twice he leaped and lo! above him
Cracked the sky as ice in rivers
When the freshet is at highest!
Thrice he leaped and lo! above him
Broke the shattered sky asunder
And he disappeared within it
And Ojeeg the Fisher Weasel
With a bound went in behind him!"

"Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis
As he entered at the doorway;
I am tired of all this talking,
Tired of old Iagoo's stories,
Tired of Hiawatha's wisdom.
Here is something to amuse you,
Better than this endless talking.

Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin
Forth he drew with solemn manner
All the game of Bowl and Counters
Pugasaing with thirteen pieces.
White on one side were they painted
And vermilion on the other;
Two Kenabeeks or great serpents
Two Ininewug or wedge-men
One great war-club Pugamaugun
And one slender fish the Keego
Four round pieces Ozawabeeks
And three Sheshebwug or ducklings.
All were made of bone and painted
All except the Ozawabeeks;
These were brass on one side burnished
And were black upon the other.

In a wooden bowl he placed them
Shook and jostled them together
Threw them on the ground before him
Thus exclaiming and explaining:
Red side up are all the pieces,
And one great Kenabeek standing
On the bright side of a brass piece,
On a burnished Ozawabeek;
Thirteen tens and eight are counted.

Then again he shook the pieces
Shook and jostled them together
Threw them on the ground before him
Still exclaiming and explaining:
White are both the great Kenabeeks,
White the Ininewug, the wedge-men,
Red are all the other pieces;
Five tens and an eight are counted.

Thus he taught the game of hazard
Thus displayed it and explained it
Running through its various chances
Various changes various meanings:
Twenty curious eyes stared at him
Full of eagerness stared at him.

"Many games said old Iagoo,
Many games of skill and hazard
Have I seen in different nations
Have I played in different countries.
He who plays with old Iagoo
Must have very nimble fingers;
Though you think yourself so skilful
I can beat you Pau-Puk-Keewis
I can even give you lessons
In your game of Bowl and Counters!"

So they sat and played together
All the old men and the young men
Played for dresses weapons wampum
Played till midnight played till morning
Played until the Yenadizze
Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Of their treasures had despoiled them
Of the best of all their dresses
Shirts of deer-skin robes of ermine
Belts of wampum crests of feathers
Warlike weapons pipes and pouches.
Twenty eyes glared wildly at him
Like the eyes of wolves glared at him.

Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis:
In my wigwam I am lonely,
In my wanderings and adventures
I have need of a companion,
Fain would have a Meshinauwa,
An attendant and pipe-bearer.
I will venture all these winnings,
All these garments heaped about me,
All this wampum, all these feathers,
On a single throw will venture
All against the young man yonder!
`T was a youth of sixteen summers
`T was a nephew of Iagoo;
Face-in-a-Mist the people called him.

As the fire burns in a pipe-head
Dusky red beneath the ashes
So beneath his shaggy eyebrows
Glowed the eyes of old Iagoo.
Ugh! he answered very fiercely;
Ugh! they answered all and each one.

Seized the wooden bowl the old man
Closely in his bony fingers
Clutched the fatal bowl Onagon
Shook it fiercely and with fury
Made the pieces ring together
As he threw them down before him.

Red were both the great Kenabeeks
Red the Ininewug the wedge-men
Red the Sheshebwug the ducklings
Black the four brass Ozawabeeks
White alone the fish the Keego;
Only five the pieces counted!

Then the smiling Pau-Puk-Keewis
Shook the bowl and threw the pieces;
Lightly in the air he tossed them
And they fell about him scattered;
Dark and bright the Ozawabeeks
Red and white the other pieces
And upright among the others
One Ininewug was standing
Even as crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis
Stood alone among the players
Saying Five tens! mine the game is,

Twenty eyes glared at him fiercely
Like the eyes of wolves glared at him
As he turned and left the wigwam
Followed by his Meshinauwa
By the nephew of Iagoo
By the tall and graceful stripling
Bearing in his arms the winnings
Shirts of deer-skin robes of ermine
Belts of wampum pipes and weapons.

"Carry them said Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Pointing with his fan of feathers,
To my wigwam far to eastward
On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo!"

Hot and red with smoke and gambling
Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis
As he came forth to the freshness
Of the pleasant Summer morning.
All the birds were singing gayly
All the streamlets flowing swiftly
And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Sang with pleasure as the birds sing
Beat with triumph like the streamlets
As he wandered through the village
In the early gray of morning
With his fan of turkey-feathers
With his plumes and tufts of swan's down
Till he reached the farthest wigwam
Reached the lodge of Hiawatha.

Silent was it and deserted;
No one met him at the doorway
No one came to bid him welcome;
But the birds were singing round it
In and out and round the doorway
Hopping singing fluttering feeding
And aloft upon the ridge-pole
Kahgahgee the King of Ravens
Sat with fiery eyes and screaming
Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis.

"All are gone! the lodge Is empty!"
Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis
In his heart resolving mischief
Gone is wary Hiawatha,
Gone the silly Laughing Water,
Gone Nokomis, the old woman,
And the lodge is left unguarded!

By the neck he seized the raven
Whirled it round him like a rattle
Like a medicine-pouch he shook it
Strangled Kahgahgee the raven
From the ridge-pole of the wigwam
Left its lifeless body hanging
As an insult to its master
As a taunt to Hiawatha.

With a stealthy step he entered
Round the lodge in wild disorder
Threw the household things about him
Piled together in confusion
Bowls of wood and earthen kettles
Robes of buffalo and beaver
Skins of otter lynx and ermine
As an insult to Nokomis
As a taunt to Minnehaha.

Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis
Whistling singing through the forest
Whistling gayly to the squirrels
Who from hollow boughs above him
Dropped their acorn-shells upon him
Singing gayly to the wood birds
Who from out the leafy darkness
Answered with a song as merry.

Then he climbed the rocky headlands
Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee
Perched himself upon their summit
Waiting full of mirth and mischief
The return of Hiawatha.

Stretched upon his back he lay there;
Far below him splashed the waters
Plashed and washed the dreamy waters;
Far above him swam the heavens
Swam the dizzy dreamy heavens;
Round him hovered fluttered rustled
Hiawatha's mountain chickens
Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him
Almost brushed him with their pinions.

And he killed them as he lay there
Slaughtered them by tens and twenties
Threw their bodies down the headland
Threw them on the beach below him
Till at length Kayoshk the sea-gull
Perched upon a crag above them
Shouted: "It is Pau-Puk-Keewis!
He is slaying us by hundreds!
Send a message to our brother
Tidings send to Hiawatha!"

XVII: The Hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Hard his breath came through his nostrils
Through his teeth he buzzed and muttered
Words of anger and resentment
Hot and humming like a hornet.
I will slay this Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Slay this mischief-maker! said he.
Not so long and wide the world is,
Not so rude and rough the way is,
That my wrath shall not attain him,
That my vengeance shall not reach him!

Then in swift pursuit departed
Hiawatha and the hunters
On the trail of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Through the forest where he passed it
To the headlands where he rested;
But they found not Pau-Puk-Keewis
Only in the trampled grasses
In the whortleberry-bushes
Found the couch where he had rested
Found the impress of his body.

From the lowlands far beneath them
From the Muskoday the meadow
Pau-Puk-Keewis turning backward
Made a gesture of defiance
Made a gesture of derision;
And aloud cried Hiawatha
From the summit of the mountains:
Not so long and wide the world is,
Not so rude and rough the way is,
But my wrath shall overtake you,
And my vengeance shall attain you!

Over rock and over river
Through bush and brake and forest
Ran the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis;
Like an antelope he bounded
Till he came unto a streamlet
In the middle of the forest
To a streamlet still and tranquil
That had overflowed its margin
To a dam made by the beavers
To a pond of quiet water
Where knee-deep the trees were standing
Where the water lilies floated
Where the rushes waved and whispered.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis
On the dam of trunks and branches
Through whose chinks the water spouted
O'er whose summit flowed the streamlet.
From the bottom rose the beaver
Looked with two great eyes of wonder
Eyes that seemed to ask a question
At the stranger Pau-Puk-Keewis.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis
O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet
Flowed the bright and silvery water
And he spake unto the beaver
With a smile he spake in this wise:

"O my friend Ahmeek the beaver
Cool and pleasant Is the water;
Let me dive into the water
Let me rest there in your lodges;
Change me too into a beaver!"

Cautiously replied the beaver
With reserve he thus made answer:
Let me first consult the others,
Let me ask the other beavers.
Down he sank into the water
Heavily sank he as a stone sinks
Down among the leaves and branches
Brown and matted at the bottom.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis
O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet
Spouted through the chinks below him
Dashed upon the stones beneath him
Spread serene and calm before him
And the sunshine and the shadows
Fell in flecks and gleams upon him
Fell in little shining patches
Through the waving rustling branches.

From the bottom rose the beavers
Silently above the surface
Rose one head and then another
Till the pond seemed full of beavers
Full of black and shining faces.

To the beavers Pau-Puk-Keewis
Spake entreating said in this wise:
Very pleasant Is your dwelling,
O my friends! and safe from danger;
Can you not, with all your cunning,
All your wisdom and contrivance,
Change me, too, into a beaver?

"Yes!" replied Ahmeek the beaver
He the King of all the beavers
Let yourself slide down among us,
Down into the tranquil water.

Down into the pond among them
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis;
Black became his shirt of deer-skin
Black his moccasins and leggings
In a broad black tail behind him
Spread his fox-tails and his fringes;
He was changed into a beaver.

"Make me large said Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Make me large and make me larger
Larger than the other beavers."
Yes, the beaver chief responded
When our lodge below you enter,
In our wigwam we will make you
Ten times larger than the others.

Thus into the clear brown water
Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis:
Found the bottom covered over
With the trunks of trees and branches
Hoards of food against the winter
Piles and heaps against the famine;
Found the lodge with arching doorway
Leading into spacious chambers.

Here they made him large and larger
Made him largest of the beavers
Ten times larger than the others.
You shall be our ruler, said they;
Chief and King of all the beavers.

But not long had Pau-Puk-Keewis
Sat in state among the beavers
When there came a voice of warning
From the watchman at his station
In the water-flags and lilies
Saying Here Is Hiawatha!
Hiawatha with his hunters!

Then they heard a cry above them
Heard a shouting and a tramping
Heard a crashing and a rushing
And the water round and o'er them
Sank and sucked away in eddies
And they knew their dam was broken.

On the lodge's roof the hunters
Leaped and broke it all asunder;
Streamed the sunshine through the crevice
Sprang the beavers through the doorway
Hid themselves in deeper water
In the channel of the streamlet;
But the mighty Pau-Puk-Keewis
Could not pass beneath the doorway;
He was puffed with pride and feeding
He was swollen like a bladder.

Through the roof looked Hiawatha
Cried aloud O Pau-Puk-Keewis
Vain are all your craft and cunning,
Vain your manifold disguises!
Well I know you, Pau-Puk-Keewis!
With their clubs they beat and bruised him
Beat to death poor Pau-Puk-Keewis
Pounded him as maize is pounded
Till his skull was crushed to pieces.

Six tall hunters lithe and limber
Bore him home on poles and branches
Bore the body of the beaver;
But the ghost the Jeebi in him
Thought and felt as Pau-Puk-Keewis
Still lived on as Pau-Puk-Keewis.

And it fluttered strove and struggled
Waving hither waving thither
As the curtains of a wigwam
Struggle with their thongs of deer-skin
When the wintry wind is blowing;
Till it drew itself together
Till it rose up from the body
Till it took the form and features
Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Vanishing into the forest.

But the wary Hiawatha
Saw the figure ere it vanished
Saw the form of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Glide into the soft blue shadow
Of the pine-trees of the forest;
Toward the squares of white beyond it
Toward an opening in the forest.
Like a wind it rushed and panted
Bending all the boughs before it
And behind it as the rain comes
Came the steps of Hiawatha.

To a lake with many islands
Came the breathless Pau-Puk-Keewis
Where among the water-lilies
Pishnekuh the brant were sailing;
Through the tufts of rushes floating
Steering through the reedy Islands.
Now their broad black beaks they lifted
Now they plunged beneath the water
Now they darkened in the shadow
Now they brightened in the sunshine.

"Pishnekuh!" cried Pau-Puk-Keewis
Pishnekuh! my brothers! said he
Change me to a brant with plumage,
With a shining neck and feathers,
Make me large, and make me larger,
Ten times larger than the others.

Straightway to a brant they changed him
With two huge and dusky pinions
With a bosom smooth and rounded
With a bill like two great paddles
Made him larger than the others
Ten times larger than the largest
Just as shouting from the forest
On the shore stood Hiawatha.

Up they rose with cry and clamor
With a whir and beat of pinions
Rose up from the reedy Islands
From the water-flags and lilies.
And they said to Pau-Puk-Keewis:
In your flying, look not downward,
Take good heed and look not downward,
Lest some strange mischance should happen,
Lest some great mishap befall you!

Fast and far they fled to northward
Fast and far through mist and sunshine
Fed among the moors and fen-lands
Slept among the reeds and rushes.

On the morrow as they journeyed
Buoyed and lifted by the South-wind
Wafted onward by the South-wind
Blowing fresh and strong behind them
Rose a sound of human voices
Rose a clamor from beneath them
From the lodges of a village
From the people miles beneath them.

For the people of the village
Saw the flock of brant with wonder
Saw the wings of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Flapping far up in the ether
Broader than two doorway curtains.

Pau-Puk-Keewis heard the shouting
Knew the voice of Hiawatha
Knew the outcry of Iagoo
And forgetful of the warning
Drew his neck in and looked downward
And the wind that blew behind him
Caught his mighty fan of feathers
Sent him wheeling whirling downward!

All in vain did Pau-Puk-Keewis
Struggle to regain his balance!
Whirling round and round and downward
He beheld in turn the village
And in turn the flock above him
Saw the village coming nearer
And the flock receding farther
Heard the voices growing louder
Heard the shouting and the laughter;
Saw no more the flocks above him
Only saw the earth beneath him;
Dead out of the empty heaven
Dead among the shouting people
With a heavy sound and sullen
Fell the brant with broken pinions.

But his soul his ghost his shadow
Still survived as Pau-Puk-Keewis
Took again the form and features
Of the handsome Yenadizze
And again went rushing onward
Followed fast by Hiawatha
Crying: "Not so wide the world is
Not so long and rough the way Is
But my wrath shall overtake you
But my vengeance shall attain you!"

And so near he came so near him
That his hand was stretched to seize him
His right hand to seize and hold him
When the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Whirled and spun about in circles
Fanned the air into a whirlwind
Danced the dust and leaves about him
And amid the whirling eddies
Sprang into a hollow oak-tree
Changed himself into a serpent
Gliding out through root and rubbish.

With his right hand Hiawatha
Smote amain the hollow oak-tree
Rent it into shreds and splinters
Left it lying there in fragments.
But in vain; for Pau-Puk-Keewis
Once again in human figure
Full in sight ran on before him
Sped away in gust and whirlwind
On the shores of Gitche Gumee
Westward by the Big-Sea-Water
Came unto the rocky headlands
To the Pictured Rocks of sandstone
Looking over lake and landscape.

And the Old Man of the Mountain
He the Manito of Mountains
Opened wide his rocky doorways
Opened wide his deep abysses
Giving Pau-Puk-Keewis shelter
In his caverns dark and dreary
Bidding Pau-Puk-Keewis welcome
To his gloomy lodge of sandstone.

There without stood Hiawatha
Found the doorways closed against him
With his mittens Minjekahwun
Smote great caverns in the sandstone
Cried aloud in tones of thunder
Open! I am Hiawatha!
But the Old Man of the Mountain
Opened not and made no answer
From the silent crags of sandstone
From the gloomy rock abysses.

Then he raised his hands to heaven
Called imploring on the tempest
Called Waywassimo the lightning
And the thunder Annemeekee;
And they came with night and darkness
Sweeping down the Big-Sea-Water
From the distant Thunder Mountains;
And the trembling Pau-Puk-Keewis
Heard the footsteps of the thunder
Saw the red eyes of the lightning
Was afraid and crouched and trembled.

Then Waywassimo the lightning
Smote the doorways of the caverns
With his war-club smote the doorways
Smote the jutting crags of sandstone
And the thunder Annemeekee
Shouted down into the caverns
Saying Where is Pau-Puk-Keewis!
And the crags fell and beneath them
Dead among the rocky ruins
Lay the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Lay the handsome Yenadizze
Slain in his own human figure.

Ended were his wild adventures
Ended were his tricks and gambols
Ended all his craft and cunning
Ended all his mischief-making
All his gambling and his dancing
All his wooing of the maidens.

Then the noble Hiawatha
Took his soul his ghost his shadow
Spake and said: "O Pau-Puk-Keewis
Never more in human figure
Shall you search for new adventures'
Never more with jest and laughter
Dance the dust and leaves in whirlwinds;
But above there in the heavens
You shall soar and sail in circles;
I will change you to an eagle
To Keneu the great war-eagle
Chief of all the fowls with feathers
Chief of Hiawatha's chickens."

And the name of Pau-Puk-Keewis
Lingers still among the people
Lingers still among the singers
And among the story-tellers;
And in Winter when the snow-flakes
Whirl in eddies round the lodges
When the wind in gusty tumult
O'er the smoke-flue pipes and whistles
There, they cry comes Pau-Puk-Keewis,
He is dancing through the village,
He is gathering in his harvest!

XVIII: The Death of Kwasind

"If this hateful Kwasind said they,
If this great outrageous fellow
Goes on thus a little longer
Tearing everything he touches
Rending everything to pieces
Filling all the world with wonder
What becomes of the Puk-Wudjies?
Who will care for the Puk-Wudjies?
He will tread us down like mushrooms
Drive us all into the water
Give our bodies to be eaten
By the wicked Nee-ba-naw-baigs
By the Spirits of the water!

So the angry Little People
All conspired against the Strong Man
All conspired to murder Kwasind
Yes to rid the world of Kwasind
The audacious overbearing
Heartless haughty dangerous Kwasind!

Now this wondrous strength of Kwasind
In his crown alone was seated;
In his crown too was his weakness;
There alone could he be wounded
Nowhere else could weapon pierce him
Nowhere else could weapon harm him.

Even there the only weapon
That could wound him that could slay him
Was the seed-cone of the pine-tree
Was the blue cone of the fir-tree.
This was Kwasind's fatal secret
Known to no man among mortals;
But the cunning Little People
The Puk-Wudjies knew the secret
Knew the only way to kill him.

So they gathered cones together
Gathered seed-cones of the pine-tree
Gathered blue cones of the fir-tree
In the woods by Taquamenaw
Brought them to the river's margin
Heaped them in great piles together
Where the red rocks from the margin
Jutting overhang the river.
There they lay in wait for Kwasind
The malicious Little People.

`T was an afternoon in Summer;
Very hot and still the air was
Very smooth the gliding river
Motionless the sleeping shadows:
Insects glistened in the sunshine
Insects skated on the water
Filled the drowsy air with buzzing
With a far resounding war-cry.

Down the river came the Strong Man
In his birch canoe came Kwasind
Floating slowly down the current
Of the sluggish Taquamenaw
Very languid with the weather
Very sleepy with the silence.

From the overhanging branches
From the tassels of the birch-trees
Soft the Spirit of Sleep descended;
By his airy hosts surrounded
His invisible attendants
Came the Spirit of Sleep Nepahwin;
Like a burnished Dush-kwo-ne-she
Like a dragon-fly he hovered
O'er the drowsy head of Kwasind.

To his ear there came a murmur
As of waves upon a sea-shore
As of far-off tumbling waters
As of winds among the pine-trees;
And he felt upon his forehead
Blows of little airy war-clubs
Wielded by the slumbrous legions
Of the Spirit of Sleep Nepahwin
As of some one breathing on him.

At the first blow of their war-clubs
Fell a drowsiness on Kwasind;
At the second blow they smote him
Motionless his paddle rested;
At the third before his vision
Reeled the landscape Into darkness
Very sound asleep was Kwasind.

So he floated down the river
Like a blind man seated upright
Floated down the Taquamenaw
Underneath the trembling birch-trees
Underneath the wooded headlands
Underneath the war encampment
Of the pygmies the Puk-Wudjies.

There they stood all armed and waiting
Hurled the pine-cones down upon him
Struck him on his brawny shoulders
On his crown defenceless struck him.
Death to Kwasind! was the sudden
War-cry of the Little People.

And he sideways swayed and tumbled
Sideways fell into the river
Plunged beneath the sluggish water
Headlong as an otter plunges;
And the birch canoe abandoned
Drifted empty down the river
Bottom upward swerved and drifted:
Nothing more was seen of Kwasind.

But the memory of the Strong Man
Lingered long among the people
And whenever through the forest
Raged and roared the wintry tempest
And the branches tossed and troubled
Creaked and groaned and split asunder
Kwasind! cried they; "that is Kwasind!
He is gathering in his fire-wood!"

XIX: The Ghosts

So disasters come not singly;
But as if they watched and waited
Scanning one another's motions
When the first descends the others
Follow follow gathering flock-wise
Round their victim sick and wounded
First a shadow then a sorrow
Till the air is dark with anguish.

Now o'er all the dreary North-land
Mighty Peboan the Winter
Breathing on the lakes and rivers
Into stone had changed their waters.
From his hair he shook the snow-flakes
Till the plains were strewn with whiteness
One uninterrupted level
As if stooping the Creator
With his hand had smoothed them over.
Through the forest wide and wailing
Roamed the hunter on his snow-shoes;
In the village worked the women
Pounded maize or dressed the deer-skin;
And the young men played together
On the ice the noisy ball-play
On the plain the dance of snow-shoes.

One dark evening after sundown
In her wigwam Laughing Water
Sat with old Nokomis waiting
For the steps of Hiawatha
Homeward from the hunt returning.

On their faces gleamed the firelight
Painting them with streaks of crimson
In the eyes of old Nokomis
Glimmered like the watery moonlight
In the eyes of Laughing Water
Glistened like the sun in water;
And behind them crouched their shadows
In the corners of the wigwam
And the smoke In wreaths above them
Climbed and crowded through the smoke-flue.

Then the curtain of the doorway
From without was slowly lifted;
Brighter glowed the fire a moment
And a moment swerved the smoke-wreath
As two women entered softly
Passed the doorway uninvited
Without word of salutation
Without sign of recognition
Sat down in the farthest corner
Crouching low among the shadows.

From their aspect and their garments
Strangers seemed they in the village;
Very pale and haggard were they
As they sat there sad and silent
Trembling cowering with the shadows.

Was it the wind above the smoke-flue
Muttering down into the wigwam?
Was it the owl the Koko-koho
Hooting from the dismal forest?
Sure a voice said in the silence:
These are corpses clad in garments,
These are ghosts that come to haunt you,
From the kingdom of Ponemah,
From the land of the Hereafter!

Homeward now came Hiawatha
From his hunting in the forest
With the snow upon his tresses
And the red deer on his shoulders.
At the feet of Laughing Water
Down he threw his lifeless burden;
Nobler handsomer she thought him
Than when first he came to woo her
First threw down the deer before her
As a token of his wishes
As a promise of the future.

Then he turned and saw the strangers
Cowering crouching with the shadows;
Said within himself Who are they?
What strange guests has Minnehaha?
But he questioned not the strangers
Only spake to bid them welcome
To his lodge his food his fireside.

When the evening meal was ready
And the deer had been divided
Both the pallid guests the strangers
Springing from among the shadows
Seized upon the choicest portions
Seized the white fat of the roebuck
Set apart for Laughing Water
For the wife of Hiawatha;
Without asking without thanking
Eagerly devoured the morsels
Flitted back among the shadows
In the corner of the wigwam.

Not a word spake Hiawatha
Not a motion made Nokomis
Not a gesture Laughing Water;
Not a change came o'er their features;
Only Minnehaha softly
Whispered saying They are famished;
Let them do what best delights them;
Let them eat, for they are famished.

Many a daylight dawned and darkened
Many a night shook off the daylight
As the pine shakes off the snow-flakes
From the midnight of its branches;
Day by day the guests unmoving
Sat there silent in the wigwam;
But by night in storm or starlight
Forth they went into the forest
Bringing fire-wood to the wigwam
Bringing pine-cones for the burning
Always sad and always silent.

And whenever Hiawatha
Came from fishing or from hunting
When the evening meal was ready
And the food had been divided
Gliding from their darksome corner
Came the pallid guests the strangers
Seized upon the choicest portions
Set aside for Laughing Water
And without rebuke or question
Flitted back among the shadows.

Never once had Hiawatha
By a word or look reproved them;
Never once had old Nokomis
Made a gesture of impatience;
Never once had Laughing Water
Shown resentment at the outrage.
All had they endured in silence
That the rights of guest and stranger
That the virtue of free-giving
By a look might not be lessened
By a word might not be broken.

Once at midnight Hiawatha
Ever wakeful ever watchful
In the wigwam dimly lighted
By the brands that still were burning
By the glimmering flickering firelight
Heard a sighing oft repeated

From his couch rose Hiawatha
From his shaggy hides of bison
Pushed aside the deer-skin curtain
Saw the pallid guests the shadows
Sitting upright on their couches
Weeping in the silent midnight.

And he said: "O guests! why is it
That your hearts are so afflicted
That you sob so in the midnight?
Has perchance the old Nokomis
Has my wife my Minnehaha
Wronged or grieved you by unkindness
Failed in hospitable duties?"

Then the shadows ceased from weeping
Ceased from sobbing and lamenting
And they said with gentle voices:
We are ghosts of the departed,
Souls of those who once were with you.
From the realms of Chibiabos
Hither have we come to try you,
Hither have we come to warn you.

Cries of grief and lamentation
Reach us in the Blessed Islands;
Cries of anguish from the living
Calling back their friends departed
Sadden us with useless sorrow.
Therefore have we come to try you;
No one knows us no one heeds us.
We are but a burden to you
And we see that the departed
Have no place among the living.
Think of this, O Hiawatha!
Speak of it to all the people,
That henceforward and forever
They no more with lamentations
Sadden the souls of the departed
In the Islands of the Blessed.
Do not lay such heavy burdens
In the graves of those you bury
Not such weight of furs and wampum
Not such weight of pots and kettles
For the spirits faint beneath them.
Only give them food to carry
Only give them fire to light them.

"Four days is the spirit's journey
To the land of ghosts and shadows
Four its lonely night encampments;
Four times must their fires be lighted.
Therefore when the dead are buried
Let a fire as night approaches
Four times on the grave be kindled
That the soul upon its journey
May not lack the cheerful firelight
May not grope about in darkness.

"Farewell noble Hiawatha!
We have put you to the trial
To the proof have put your patience
By the insult of our presence
By the outrage of our actions.
We have found you great and noble.
Fail not in the greater trial
Faint not In the harder struggle."

When they ceased a sudden darkness
Fell and filled the silent wigwam.
Hiawatha heard a rustle
As of garments trailing by him
Heard the curtain of the doorway
Lifted by a hand he saw not
Felt the cold breath of the night air
For a moment saw the starlight;
But he saw the ghosts no longer
Saw no more the wandering spirits
From the kingdom of Ponemah
From the land of the Hereafter.

XX: The Famine

Oh the famine and the fever!
Oh the wasting of the famine!
Oh the blasting of the fever!
Oh the wailing of the children!
Oh the anguish of the women!

All the earth was sick and famished;
Hungry was the air around them
Hungry was the sky above them
And the hungry stars in heaven
Like the eyes of wolves glared at them!

Into Hiawatha's wigwam
Came two other guests as silent
As the ghosts were and as gloomy
Waited not to be invited
Did not parley at the doorway
Sat there without word of welcome
In the seat of Laughing Water;
Looked with haggard eyes and hollow
At the face of Laughing Water.

And the foremost said: "Behold me!
I am Famine Bukadawin!"
And the other said: "Behold me!
I am Fever Ahkosewin!"

And the lovely Minnehaha
Shuddered as they looked upon her
Shuddered at the words they uttered
Lay down on her bed in silence
Hid her face but made no answer;
Lay there trembling freezing burning
At the looks they cast upon her
At the fearful words they uttered.

Forth into the empty forest
Rushed the maddened Hiawatha;
In his heart was deadly sorrow
In his face a stony firmness;
On his brow the sweat of anguish
Started but it froze and fell not.

Wrapped in furs and armed for hunting
With his mighty bow of ash-tree
With his quiver full of arrows
With his mittens Minjekahwun
Into the vast and vacant forest
On his snow-shoes strode he forward.

"Gitche Manito the Mighty!"
Cried he with his face uplifted
In that bitter hour of anguish
Give your children food, O father!
Give us food, or we must perish!
Give me food for Minnehaha,
For my dying Minnehaha!

Through the far-resounding forest
Through the forest vast and vacant
Rang that cry of desolation
But there came no other answer
Than the echo of his crying
Than the echo of the woodlands
Minnehaha! Minnehaha!

All day long roved Hiawatha
In that melancholy forest
Through the shadow of whose thickets
In the pleasant days of Summer
Of that ne'er forgotten Summer
He had brought his young wife homeward
From the land of the Dacotahs;
When the birds sang in the thickets
And the streamlets laughed and glistened
And the air was full of fragrance
And the lovely Laughing Water
Said with voice that did not tremble
I will follow you, my husband!

In the wigwam with Nokomis
With those gloomy guests that watched her
With the Famine and the Fever
She was lying the Beloved
She the dying Minnehaha.

"Hark!" she said; "I hear a rushing
Hear a roaring and a rushing
Hear the Falls of Minnehaha
Calling to me from a distance!"
No, my child! said old Nokomis
`T is the night-wind in the pine-trees!
Look! she said; "I see my father
Standing lonely at his doorway
Beckoning to me from his wigwam
In the land of the Dacotahs!"
No, my child! said old Nokomis.
`T is the smoke, that waves and beckons!
Ah! said she the eyes of Pauguk
Glare upon me in the darkness,
I can feel his icy fingers
Clasping mine amid the darkness!
Hiawatha! Hiawatha!

And the desolate Hiawatha
Far away amid the forest
Miles away among the mountains
Heard that sudden cry of anguish
Heard the voice of Minnehaha
Calling to him in the darkness
Hiawatha! Hiawatha!

Over snow-fields waste and pathless
Under snow-encumbered branches
Homeward hurried Hiawatha
Empty-handed heavy-hearted
Heard Nokomis moaning wailing:
Wahonowin! Wahonowin!
Would that I had perished for you,
Would that I were dead as you are!
Wahonowin!. Wahonowin!

And he rushed into the wigwam
Saw the old Nokomis slowly
Rocking to and fro and moaning
Saw his lovely Minnehaha
Lying dead and cold before him
And his bursting heart within him
Uttered such a cry of anguish
That the forest moaned and shuddered
That the very stars in heaven
Shook and trembled with his anguish.

Then he sat down still and speechless
On the bed of Minnehaha
At the feet of Laughing Water
At those willing feet that never
More would lightly run to meet him
Never more would lightly follow.

With both hands his face he covered
Seven long days and nights he sat there
As if in a swoon he sat there
Speechless motionless unconscious
Of the daylight or the darkness.

Then they buried Minnehaha;
In the snow a grave they made her
In the forest deep and darksome
Underneath the moaning hemlocks;
Clothed her in her richest garments
Wrapped her in her robes of ermine
Covered her with snow like ermine;
Thus they buried Minnehaha.

And at night a fire was lighted
On her grave four times was kindled
For her soul upon its journey
To the Islands of the Blessed.
From his doorway Hiawatha
Saw it burning In the forest
Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks;
From his sleepless bed uprising
From the bed of Minnehaha
Stood and watched it at the doorway
That it might not be extinguished

Might not leave her in the darkness.
Farewell! said he Minnehaha!
Farewell, O my Laughing Water!
All my heart is buried with you,
All my thoughts go onward with you!
Come not back again to labor,
Come not back again to suffer,
Where the Famine and the Fever
Wear the heart and waste the body.
Soon my task will be completed,
Soon your footsteps I shall follow
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter!

XXI: The White Man's Foot

All the coals were white with ashes
And the fire was slowly dying
As a young man walking lightly
At the open doorway entered.
Red with blood of youth his cheeks were
Soft his eyes as stars In Spring-time
Bound his forehead was with grasses;
Bound and plumed with scented grasses
On his lips a smile of beauty
Filling all the lodge with sunshine
In his hand a bunch of blossoms
Filling all the lodge with sweetness.

"Ah my son!" exclaimed the old man
Happy are my eyes to see you.
Sit here on the mat beside me,
Sit here by the dying embers,
Let us pass the night together,
Tell me of your strange adventures,
Of the lands where you have travelled;
I will tell you of my prowess,
Of my many deeds of wonder.

From his pouch he drew his peace-pipe
Very old and strangely fashioned;
Made of red stone was the pipe-head
And the stem a reed with feathers;
Filled the pipe with bark of willow
Placed a burning coal upon it
Gave it to his guest the stranger
And began to speak in this wise:
When I blow my breath about me,
When I breathe upon the landscape,
Motionless are all the rivers,
Hard as stone becomes the water!
And the young man answered smiling:
When I blow my breath about me,
When I breathe upon the landscape,
Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows,
Singing, onward rush the rivers!

"When I shake my hoary tresses
Said the old man darkly frowning,
All the land with snow is covered;
All the leaves from all the branches
Fall and fade and die and wither
For I breathe and lo! they are not.
From the waters and the marshes
Rise the wild goose and the heron
Fly away to distant regions
For I speak and lo! they are not.
And where'er my footsteps wander
All the wild beasts of the forest
Hide themselves in holes and caverns
And the earth becomes as flintstone!"

"When I shake my flowing ringlets
Said the young man, softly laughing,
Showers of rain fall warm and welcome
Plants lift up their heads rejoicing
Back Into their lakes and marshes
Come the wild goose and the heron
Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow
Sing the bluebird and the robin
And where'er my footsteps wander
All the meadows wave with blossoms
All the woodlands ring with music
All the trees are dark with foliage!"

While they spake the night departed:
From the distant realms of Wabun
From his shining lodge of silver
Like a warrior robed and painted
Came the sun and said Behold me
Gheezis, the great sun, behold me!

Then the old man's tongue was speechless
And the air grew warm and pleasant
And upon the wigwam sweetly
Sang the bluebird and the robin
And the stream began to murmur
And a scent of growing grasses
Through the lodge was gently wafted.

And Segwun the youthful stranger
More distinctly in the daylight
Saw the icy face before him;
It was Peboan the Winter!

From his eyes the tears were flowing
As from melting lakes the streamlets
And his body shrunk and dwindled
As the shouting sun ascended
Till into the air it faded
Till into the ground it vanished
And the young man saw before him
On the hearth-stone of the wigwam
Where the fire had smoked and smouldered
Saw the earliest flower of Spring-time
Saw the Beauty of the Spring-time
Saw the Miskodeed in blossom.

Thus it was that in the North-land
After that unheard-of coldness
That intolerable Winter
Came the Spring with all its splendor
All its birds and all its blossoms
All its flowers and leaves and grasses.

Sailing on the wind to northward
Flying in great flocks like arrows
Like huge arrows shot through heaven
Passed the swan the Mahnahbezee
Speaking almost as a man speaks;
And in long lines waving bending
Like a bow-string snapped asunder
Came the white goose Waw-be-wawa;
And in pairs or singly flying
Mahng the loon with clangorous pinions
The blue heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
And the grouse the Mushkodasa.

In the thickets and the meadows
Piped the bluebird the Owaissa
On the summit of the lodges
Sang the robin the Opechee
In the covert of the pine-trees
Cooed the pigeon the Omemee;
And the sorrowing Hiawatha
Speechless in his infinite sorrow
Heard their voices calling to him
Went forth from his gloomy doorway
Stood and gazed into the heaven
Gazed upon the earth and waters.

From his wanderings far to eastward
From the regions of the morning
From the shining land of Wabun
Homeward now returned Iagoo
The great traveller the great boaster
Full of new and strange adventures
Marvels many and many wonders.

And the people of the village
Listened to him as he told them
Of his marvellous adventures
Laughing answered him in this wise:
Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo!
No one else beholds such wonders!

He had seen he said a water
Bigger than the Big-Sea-Water
Broader than the Gitche Gumee
Bitter so that none could drink it!
At each other looked the warriors
Looked the women at each other
Smiled and said It cannot be so!
Kaw!" they said it cannot be so!"

O'er it said he o'er this water
Came a great canoe with pinions
A canoe with wings came flying
Bigger than a grove of pine-trees
Taller than the tallest tree-tops!
And the old men and the women
Looked and tittered at each other;
Kaw! they said we don't believe it!

From its mouth he said to greet him
Came Waywassimo the lightning
Came the thunder Annemeekee!
And the warriors and the women
Laughed aloud at poor Iagoo;
Kaw! they said what tales you tell us!

In it said he came a people
In the great canoe with pinions
Came he said a hundred warriors;
Painted white were all their faces
And with hair their chins were covered!
And the warriors and the women
Laughed and shouted in derision
Like the ravens on the tree-tops
Like the crows upon the hemlocks.
Kaw! they said what lies you tell us!
Do not think that we believe them!

Only Hiawatha laughed not
But he gravely spake and answered
To their jeering and their jesting:
True is all Iagoo tells us;
I have seen it in a vision,
Seen the great canoe with pinions,
Seen the people with white faces,
Seen the coming of this bearded
People of the wooden vessel
From the regions of the morning,
From the shining land of Wabun.

Gitche Manito the Mighty
The Great Spirit the Creator
Sends them hither on his errand.
Sends them to us with his message.
Wheresoe'er they move before them
Swarms the stinging fly the Ahmo
Swarms the bee the honey-maker;
Wheresoe'er they tread beneath them
Springs a flower unknown among us
Springs the White-man's Foot in blossom.

"Let us welcome then the strangers
Hail them as our friends and brothers
And the heart's right hand of friendship
Give them when they come to see us.
Gitche Manito the Mighty
Said this to me in my vision.

"I beheld too in that vision
All the secrets of the future
Of the distant days that shall be.
I beheld the westward marches
Of the unknown crowded nations.
All the land was full of people
Restless struggling toiling striving
Speaking many tongues yet feeling
But one heart-beat in their bosoms.
In the woodlands rang their axes
Smoked their towns in all the valleys
Over all the lakes and rivers
Rushed their great canoes of thunder.

"Then a darker drearier vision
Passed before me vague and cloud-like;
I beheld our nation scattered
All forgetful of my counsels
Weakened warring with each other:
Saw the remnants of our people
Sweeping westward wild and woful
Like the cloud-rack of a tempest
Like the withered leaves of Autumn!"

XXII: Hiawatha's Departure

Bright above him shone the heavens
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon
Sparkling flashing in the sunshine;
On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water
Every tree-top had its shadow
Motionless beneath the water.

From the brow of Hiawatha
Gone was every trace of sorrow
As the fog from off the water
As the mist from off the meadow.
With a smile of joy and triumph
With a look of exultation
As of one who in a vision
Sees what is to be but is not
Stood and waited Hiawatha.

Toward the sun his hands were lifted
Both the palms spread out against it
And between the parted fingers
Fell the sunshine on his features
Flecked with light his naked shoulders
As it falls and flecks an oak-tree
Through the rifted leaves and branches.

O'er the water floating flying
Something in the hazy distance
Something in the mists of morning
Loomed and lifted from the water
Now seemed floating now seemed flying
Coming nearer nearer nearer.

Was it Shingebis the diver?
Or the pelican the Shada?
Or the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah?
Or the white goose Waw-be-wawa
With the water dripping flashing
From its glossy neck and feathers?

It was neither goose nor diver
Neither pelican nor heron
O'er the water floating flying
Through the shining mist of morning
But a birch canoe with paddles
Rising sinking on the water
Dripping flashing in the sunshine;
And within it came a people
From the distant land of Wabun
From the farthest realms of morning
Came the Black-Robe chief the Prophet
He the Priest of Prayer the Pale-face
With his guides and his companions.

And the noble Hiawatha
With his hands aloft extended
Held aloft in sign of welcome
Waited full of exultation
Till the birch canoe with paddles
Grated on the shining pebbles
Stranded on the sandy margin
Till the Black-Robe chief the Pale-face
With the cross upon his bosom
Landed on the sandy margin.

Then the joyous Hiawatha
Cried aloud and spake in this wise:
Beautiful is the sun, O strangers,
When you come so far to see us!
All our town in peace awaits you,
All our doors stand open for you;
You shall enter all our wigwams,
For the heart's right hand we give you.

Never bloomed the earth so gayly
Never shone the sun so brightly
As to-day they shine and blossom
When you come so far to see us!
Never was our lake so tranquil
Nor so free from rocks and sand-bars;
For your birch canoe in passing
Has removed both rock and sand-bar.
Never before had our tobacco
Such a sweet and pleasant flavor,
Never the broad leaves of our cornfields
Were so beautiful to look on,
As they seem to us this morning,
When you come so far to see us!'
And the Black-Robe chief made answer,
Stammered In his speech a little,
Speaking words yet unfamiliar:
Peace be with you Hiawatha
Peace be with you and your people
Peace of prayer and peace of pardon
Peace of Christ and joy of Mary!"

Then the generous Hiawatha
Led the strangers to his wigwam
Seated them on skins of bison
Seated them on skins of ermine
And the careful old Nokomis
Brought them food in bowls of basswood
Water brought in birchen dippers
And the calumet the peace-pipe
Filled and lighted for their smoking.

All the old men of the village
All the warriors of the nation
All the Jossakeeds the Prophets
The magicians the Wabenos
And the Medicine-men the Medas
Came to bid the strangers welcome;
It is well they said O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!

In a circle round the doorway
With their pipes they sat In silence
Waiting to behold the strangers
Waiting to receive their message;
Till the Black-Robe chief the Pale-face
From the wigwam came to greet them
Stammering in his speech a little
Speaking words yet unfamiliar;
It Is well, they said O brother,
That you come so far to see us!

Then the Black-Robe chief the Prophet
Told his message to the people
Told the purport of his mission
Told them of the Virgin Mary
And her blessed Son the Saviour
How in distant lands and ages
He had lived on earth as we do;
How he fasted prayed and labored;
How the Jews the tribe accursed
Mocked him scourged him crucified him;
How he rose from where they laid him
Walked again with his disciples
And ascended into heaven.

And the chiefs made answer saying:
We have listened to your message,
We have heard your words of wisdom,
We will think on what you tell us.
It is well for us, O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!

Then they rose up and departed
Each one homeward to his wigwam
To the young men and the women
Told the story of the strangers
Whom the Master of Life had sent them
From the shining land of Wabun.

Heavy with the heat and silence
Grew the afternoon of Summer;
With a drowsy sound the forest
Whispered round the sultry wigwam
With a sound of sleep the water
Rippled on the beach below it;
From the cornfields shrill and ceaseless
Sang the grasshopper Pah-puk-keena;
And the guests of Hiawatha
Weary with the heat of Summer
Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.

Slowly o'er the simmering landscape
Fell the evening's dusk and coolness
And the long and level sunbeams
Shot their spears into the forest
Breaking through its shields of shadow
Rushed into each secret ambush
Searched each thicket dingle hollow;
Still the guests of Hiawatha
Slumbered In the silent wigwam.

From his place rose Hiawatha
Bade farewell to old Nokomis
Spake in whispers spake in this wise
Did not wake the guests that slumbered.

"I am going O Nokomis
On a long and distant journey
To the portals of the Sunset.
To the regions of the home-wind
Of the Northwest-Wind Keewaydin.
But these guests I leave behind me
In your watch and ward I leave them;
See that never harm comes near them
See that never fear molests them
Never danger nor suspicion
Never want of food or shelter
In the lodge of Hiawatha!"

Forth into the village went he
Bade farewell to all the warriors
Bade farewell to all the young men
Spake persuading spake in this wise:

I am going O my people
On a long and distant journey;
Many moons and many winters
Will have come and will have vanished
Ere I come again to see you.
But my guests I leave behind me;
Listen to their words of wisdom
Listen to the truth they tell you
For the Master of Life has sent them
From the land of light and morning!"

On the shore stood Hiawatha
Turned and waved his hand at parting;
On the clear and luminous water
Launched his birch canoe for sailing
From the pebbles of the margin
Shoved it forth into the water;
Whispered to it Westward! westward!
And with speed it darted forward.

And the evening sun descending
Set the clouds on fire with redness
Burned the broad sky like a prairie
Left upon the level water
One long track and trail of splendor
Down whose stream as down a river
Westward westward Hiawatha
Sailed into the fiery sunset
Sailed into the purple vapors
Sailed into the dusk of evening:

And the people from the margin
Watched him floating rising sinking
Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
High into that sea of splendor
Till it sank into the vapors
Like the new moon slowly slowly
Sinking in the purple distance.

And they said Farewell forever!
Said Farewell, O Hiawatha!
And the forests dark and lonely
Moved through all their depths of darkness
Sighed Farewell, O Hiawatha!
And the waves upon the margin
Rising rippling on the pebbles
Sobbed Farewell, O Hiawatha!
And the heron the Shuh-shuh-gah
From her haunts among the fen-lands
Screamed Farewell, O Hiawatha!

Thus departed Hiawatha
Hiawatha the Beloved
In the glory of the sunset .
In the purple mists of evening
To the regions of the home-wind
Of the Northwest-Wind Keewaydin
To the Islands of the Blessed
To the Kingdom of Ponemah
To the Land of the Hereafter!

VOCABULARY

West-Wind and Wenonah daughter of Nokomis
Ia'goo a great boaster and story-teller
Inin'ewug men or pawns in the Game of the Bowl
Ishkoodah' fire a comet
Jee'bi a ghost a spirit
Joss'akeed a prophet
Kabibonok'ka the North-Wind
Ka'go do not
Kahgahgee' the raven
Kaw no
Kaween' no indeed
Kayoshk' the sea-gull
Kee'go a fish
Keeway'din the Northwest wind the Home-wind
Kena'beek a serpent
Keneu' the great war-eagle
Keno'zha the pickerel
Ko'ko-ko'ho the owl
Kuntasoo' the Game of Plumstones
Kwa'sind the Strong Man
Kwo-ne'-she or Dush-kwo-ne'-she the dragon-fly
Mahnahbe'zee the swan
Mahng the loon
Mahnomo'nee wild rice
Ma'ma the woodpecker
Me'da a medicine-man
Meenah'ga the blueberry
Megissog'won the great Pearl-Feather a magician and the Manito
of Wealth
Meshinau'wa a pipe-bearer
Minjekah'wun Hiawatha's mittens
Minneha'ha Laughing Water; wife of Hiawatha; a water-fall in a
stream running into the Mississippi between Fort Snelling and the
Falls of St. Anthony
Minne-wa'wa a pleasant sound as of the wind in the trees
Mishe-Mo'kwa the Great Bear
Mishe-Nah'ma the Great Sturgeon
Miskodeed' the Spring-Beauty the Claytonia Virginica
Monda'min Indian corn
Moon of Bright Nights April
Moon of Leaves May
Moon of Strawberries June
Moon of the Falling Leaves September
Moon of Snow-shoes November
Mudjekee'wis the West-Wind; father of Hiawatha
Mudway-aush'ka sound of waves on a shore
Mushkoda'sa the grouse
Nah'ma the sturgeon
Nah'ma-wusk spearmint
Na'gow Wudj'oo the Sand Dunes of Lake Superior
Nee-ba-naw'-baigs water-spirits
Nenemoo'sha sweetheart
Nepah'win sleep
Noko'mis a grandmother mother of Wenonah
No'sa my father
Nush'ka look! look!
Odah'min the strawberry
Okahha'wis the fresh-water herring
Ome'mee the pigeon
Ona'gon a bowl
Opechee' the robin
Osse'o Son of the Evening Star
Owais'sa the blue-bird
Oweenee' wife of Osseo
Ozawa'beek a round piece of brass or copper in the Game of the
Bowl
Pah-puk-kee'na the grasshopper
Pau'guk death
Pau-Puk-Kee'wis the handsome Yenadizze the son of Storm Fool
Pe'boan Winter
Pem'ican meat of the deer or buffalo dried and pounded
Pezhekee' the bison
Pishnekuh' the brant
Pone'mah hereafter
Puggawau'gun a war-club
Puk-Wudj'ies little wild men of the woods; pygmies
Sah-sah-je'wun rapids
Segwun' Spring
Sha'da the pelican
Shahbo'min the gooseberry
Shah-shah long ago
Shaugoda'ya a coward
Shawgashee' the craw-fish
Shawonda'see the South-Wind
Shaw-shaw the swallow
Shesh'ebwug ducks; pieces in the Game of the Bowl
Shin'gebis the diver or grebe
Showain'neme'shin pity me
Shuh-shuh-gah' the blue heron
Soan-ge-ta'ha strong-hearted
Subbeka'she the spider
Sugge'me the mosquito
To'tem family coat-of-arms
Ugh yes
Ugudwash' the sun-fish
Unktahee' the God of Water
Wabas'so the rabbit the North
Wabe'no a magician a juggler
Wabe'no-wusk yarrow
Wa'bun the East-Wind
Wa'bun An'nung the Star of the East the Morning Star
Wahono'win a cry of lamentation
Wah-wah-tay'see the fire-fly
Waubewy'on a white skin wrapper
Wa'wa the wild goose
Waw-be-wa'wa the white goose
Wawonais'sa the whippoorwill
Way-muk-kwa'na the caterpillar
Weno'nah the eldest daughter; Hiawatha's mother daughter of
Nokomis
Yenadiz'ze an idler and gambler; an Indian dandy

Home | Best Sellers | Library | Discussion | Contribute | Links | Contact Us