The Song of Hiawatha

And the people of the village Listened to him as he told them Of his marvellous adventures, Laughing answered him in this wise : 4 Ugh ! it is indeed Iagoo ! No one else beholds such wonders ! "

He had seen, he said, a water Bigger than the Big-Sea-Water,

Broader than the Gitche Gumee, Bitter so that none could drink it! At each other looked the warriors, Looked the women at each other, Smiled, and said, " It cannot be so! Kaw !" they said, " it cannot be so !"

O'er it, said he, o'er this water Came a great canoe with pinions, A canoe with wings came flying, Bigger than a grove of pine-trees, Taller than the tallest tree-tops! And the old men and the women Looked and tittered at each other; " Kaw! " they said, " we don't believe it!"

From its mouth, he said, to greet him, Came Waywassimo, the lightning, Came the thunder, Annemeekee! And the warriors and the women Laughed aloud at poor Iagoo ; " Kaw ! " they said, " what tales you tell us !"

In it, said he, came a people, In the great canoe with pinions Came, he said, a hundred warriors; Painted white were all their faces And with hair their chins were covered! And the warriors and the women Laughed and shouted in derision,

Like the ravens on the tree-tops, Like the crows upon the hemlocks. " Kaw ! " they said, " what lies you tell us 1 Do not think that we believe them! "

Only Hiawatha laughed not, But he gravely spake and answered To their jeering and their jesting: " True is all Iagoo tells us ; I have seen it in a vision, Seen the great canoe with pinions, Seen the people with white faces, Seen the coming of this bearded People of the wooden vessel From the regions of the morning, From the shining land of Wabun.

" Gitche Manito, the Mighty, The Great Spirit, the Creator, Sends them hither on his errand, Sends them to us with his message. Wheresoe'er they move, before them Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo, Swarms the bee, the honey-maker; Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath them Springs a flower unknown among us, Springs the White-man's Foot in blossom.

" Let us welcome, then, the strangers, Hail them as our friends and brothers,

And the heart's right hand of friendship Give them when they come to see us. Gitche Manito, the Mighty, Said this to me in my vision.

" I beheld, too, in that vision All the secrets of the future, Of the distant days that shall be. I beheld the westward marches Of the unknown, crowded nations. All the land was full of people, Restless, struggling, toiling, striving, Speaking many tongues, yet feeling But one heart-beat in their bosoms. In the woodlands rang their axes, Smoked their towns in all the valleys, Over all the lakes and rivers Rushed their great canoes of thunder.

" Then a darker, drearier vision Passed before me, vague and cloud-like; I beheld our nation scattered, All forgetful of my counsels, Weakened, warring with each other: Saw the remnants of our people Sweeping westward, wild and woful, Like the cloud-rack of a tempest, Like the withered leaves of Autumn!

By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining BigSea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited. All the air was full of freshness, All the earth was bright and joyous, And before him, through the sunshine, Westward toward the neighboring forest Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,

Passed the bees, the honey-makers, Burning, singing in the sunshine.

Bright above him shone the heavens, Level spread the lake before him; From its bosom leaped the sturgeon, Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine; On its margin the great forest Stood reflected in the water, Every tree-top had its shadow, Motionless beneath the water.

From the brow of Hiawatha Gone was every trace of sorrow, As the fog from off the water, As the mist from off the meadow. With a smile of joy and triumph, With a look of exultation, As of one who in a vision Sees what is to be, but is not, Stood and waited Hiawatha.

Toward the sun his hands were lifted, Both the palms spread out against it, And between the parted fingers Fell the sunshine on his features, Flecked with light his naked shoulders, As it falls and flecks an oak-tree Through the rifted leaves and branches.

O'er the water floating, flying,

Something in the hazy distance, Something in the mists of morning, Loomed and lifted from the water, Now seemed floating, now seemed flying, Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.

Was it Shingebis the diver ? Or the pelican, the Shada ? Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah ? Or the white goose, Waw-be-wawa, With the water dripping, flashing, From its glossy neck and feathers ?