In the dreadful days of Shah-shah, In the days long since departed,
In the kingdom of the WestWind. 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;
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And he named her from the river, From the waterfall 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
You shall hear how Hiawatha Prayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumphs in the battle, And renown among the warriors, But for profit of the people,
For advantage of the nations. First he built a lodge for fasting, Built a wigwam in the forest,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
In the blithe and pleasant Springtime, 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 pine-trees, And in flocks the wild-goose, Wawa, Flying to the fen-lands northward, Whirring, wailing far above him.
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"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 grapevine, 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,
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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