The Song of Hiawatha   ::   Longfellow Henry Wadsworth

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

Downward through the evening twilight,

In the days that are forgotten,

In the unremembered ages,

From the full moon fell Nokomis,

Fell the beautiful Nokomis,

She a wife, but not a mother.

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.