The Song of Hiawatha | Page 9

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 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