The Song of Hiawatha | Page 5

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
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