Sang the Song of Hiawatha,

Sang his wondrous birth and being, How he prayed and how he fasted, How he lived, and toiled, and suffered,

That the tribes of men might prosper, 65 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!

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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,

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Speak in tones so plain and childlike, Scarcely can the ear distinguish

Whether they are sung or spoken; Listen to this Indian Legend,

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Who believe that in all ages

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Every human heart is human,

That in even savage bosoms

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There are longings, yearnings, strivings For the good they comprehend not,

I should answer your inquiries

That the feeble hands and helpless,

Straightway in such words as follow.

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Groping blindly in the darkness,

In the green and silent valley,

'In the Vale of Tawasentha,

By the pleasant water-courses,

Dwelt the singer Nawadaha. Round about the Indian village

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

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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,

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Full of hope and yet of heart-break. Full of all the tender pathos

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;

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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,

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Safely bound with reindeer sinews; Stilled his fretful wail by saying,

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'Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!' 80 Lulled him into slumber, singing,

'Ewa-yea! my little owlet!

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Who is this, that lights the wigwam? With his great eyes lights the wigwam? Ewa-yea! my little owlet!'

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Many things Nokomis taught him Of the stars that shine in heaven;

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Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet,

Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;

Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits,

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Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,

Flaring far away to northward

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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, Tou
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:

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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 nest in Summer, Where they hid themselves in Winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them 'Hiawatha's Chickens.'

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Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree, Laughed, and said between his laughing, 185 '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,

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For his thoughts were with the red deer;
On their tracks his eyes were fastened, 195
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,

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HIAWATHA'S SAILING

'Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree
Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree!
Growing by the rushing river,
Tall and stately in the valley!

I a light canoe will build me,
Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
That shall float upon the river,
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily!

'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,

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And the Fir-Tree, tall and somber,

And you need no white-skin wrapper!' Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

'Take my balm, O Hiawatha!'

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And he took the tears of balsam,

Took the resin of the Fir-Tree,

Smeared therewith each seam and fissure, 75 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 ! '

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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,

From the ground the quills he gathered, All the little shining arrows,

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Make more strong and firm beneath me!' Through the summit of the Cedar

Stained them red and blue and yellow, With the juice of roots and berries; Into his canoe he wrought them, Round its bows a gleaming necklace, On its breast two stars resplendent. Thus the Birch Canoe was builded In the valley, by the river,

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In the bosom of the forest;