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That shall float upon the river,

Stained them red and blue and yellow, Like a yellow leaf in Autumn,

With the juice of roots and berries; Like a yellow water-lily!

Into his canoe he wrought them, “ Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree!

Round its waist a shining girdle, Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,

Round its bows a gleaming necklace, For the Summer-time is coming,

On its breast two stars resplendent. And the sun is warm in heaven,

Thus the Birch-Canoe was builded

labai And you need no white-skin wrapper!"

In the valley, by the river, Thus aloud cried Hiawatha

In the bosom of the forest; In the solitary forest,

And the forest's life was in it By the rushing Taquamenaw,

All its mystery and its magic, When the birds were singing gaily,

All the lightness of the birch-tree, In the Moon of Leaves were singing,

All the toughness of the cedar, And the sun, from sleep awaking,

All the larch's supple sinews; Started up and said, "Behold me!

And it floated on the river Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"

Like a yellow leaf in Autum, And the tree with all its branches

Like a yellow water-lily. Rustled in the breeze of morning,

Paddles none had Hiawatha Saying, with a sigh of patience,

Paddles none he had or needed, "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"

For his thoughts as paddles served him, With his knife the tree he girdled;

And his wishes served to guide him: Just beneath its lowest branches,

Swift or slow at will he glided, Just above the roots, he cut it,

Veered to right or left at pleasure. Till the sap came oozing outward;

Then he called aloud to Kwasind, Down the trunk from top to bottom,

To his friend, the strong man, Kwasind,

cina Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,

Saying, "Help me clear this river With a wooden wedge he raised it,

Of its sunken logs and sand-bars." Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.

Straight into the river Kwasind "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar !

Plunged as if he were an otter, Of your strong and pliant branches,

Dived as if he were a beaver, My canoe to make more steady,

Stood up to his waist in water, Make more strong and firm beneath me!"

To his arm-pits in the river, Through the summit of the Cedar

Swam and shouted in the river, Went a sound, a cry of horror,

Tugged at sunken logs and branches, Went a murmur of resistance;

With his hands he scooped the sand-bars, But it whispered, bending downward,

With his feet the ooze and tangle. "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"

And thus sailed my Hiawatha Down he hewed the boughs of cedar,

Down the rushing Taquamenaw, Shaped them straight way to a framework,

Sailed through all its bends and windings, Like two bows he formed and shaped them,

Sailed through all its deeps and shallows, Like two bended bows together.

While his friend, the strong man, Kwasind, "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack !

Swam the deeps, the shallows waded. Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Treee!

Up and down the river went they, My canoe to bind together,

In and out among its islands, So to bind the ends together

Cleared its bed of root and sand-bar, That the water may not enter,

Dragged the dead trees from its channel That the river may not wet me!"

Made its passage safe and certain. And the Larch, with all its fibres,

Made a pathway for the people, Shivered in the air of morning,

From its springs among the mountain

to Touched his forehead with its tassels,

To the waters of Pauwating, Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,

To the bay of Taquamenaw. "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"

From the earth he tore the fibres,
Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree,
Closely sewed the bark together,

VIII.
Bound it closely to the framework.

HIAWATHA'S FISHING. “Give me of your balm, 0 Fir-Tree! Of your balsam and your resin,

FORTH upon the Gitche Gumee, So to close the seams together

On the shining Big-Sea Water, That the water may not enter,

With his fishing-line of cedar, That the river may not wet me!"

Of the twisted bark of cedar, And the Fir-Tree, tall and sombre,

Forth to catch the sturgeon Nahma, Sobbed through all its robes of darkness.

Nishe-Nahma, King of Fishes. Rattled like a shore with pebbles,

In his birch-canoe exulting Answered wailing, answered weeping,

All alone went Hiawatha. "Take my balm, Hiawatha!"

Through the clear transparent water And he took the tears of balsam,

He could see the fishes swimming Took the resin of the Fir-tree,

Far down in the depths below him

18 Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,

See the yellow perch, the Sahwa, Made each crevice safe from water.

Like a sunbeam in the water, "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog ;

See the Shaw gashee, the craw-lish,

Shaw gashee, the crawf All your quills, Kagh, the Hedgehog!

Like a spider on the bottom, I will make a necklace of them,

On the white and sandy bottom,

and sanay bollow, Make a girdle for my beauty,

At the stern sat Hiawatha, And two stars to deck her bosom!"

With his fishing-line of cedar; From a hollow tree the Hedgehog

In his plumes the breeze of morning With his sleepy eyes looked at him,

Played as in the hemlock branches; Shot his shining quills, like arrows,

On the bows, with tail erected, Saying, with a drowsy murmur,

Sat the squirrel, Ajidaumo; Through the tangle of his whiskers,

In his fur the breeze of morning "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"

Played as in the prairie grasses. From the ground the quills he gathered,

On the white sand of the bottom All the little shining arrows,

Lay the monster Mishe-Nahma,

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To take the line . Hiawathana tis!

Lay the sturgeon, King of Fishes;

Heard the shout of Hiawatha, Through his gills he breathed the water,

Heard his challenge of defiance, With his fins he fanned and winnowed,

The unnecessary tumult, With his tail he swept the sand-floor.

Ringing far across the water. There he lay in all his armour;

From the white sand of the bottom On each side a shield to guard him,

Up he rose with angry gesture, Plates of bone upon his forehead,

Quivering in each nerve and fibre, Down his sides and back and shoulders

Clashing all his plates of armour, Plates of bone with spines projecting;

Gleaming bright with all his war-paint; Painted was he with his war-paints,

In his wrath he darted upward, Stripes of yellow, red, and azure,

Fashing leaped into the sunshine, Spots of brown and spots of sable;

Opened his great jaws and swallowed And he lay there on the bottom,

Both canoe and Hiawatha. Fanning with his fins of purple,

Down into that darksome cavern As above him Hiawatha

Plunged the headlong Hiawatha. In his birch-canoe came sailing,

As a log on some black river, With his fishing-line of cedar.

Shoots and plunges down the rapids, "Take my bait !" cried Hiawatha,

Found himself in utter darkness, Down into the depths beneath him,

Groped about in helpless wonder, "Take my bait, О Sturgeon, Nahma !

Till he felt a great heart beating, Come up from below the water,

Throbbing in that utter darkness. Let us see which is the stronger!"

And he smote it in his anger, And he dropped his line of cedar

With his fist the heart of Nahma, Through the clear, transparent water,

Felt the mighty King of Fishes Waited vainly for an answer

Shudder through each nerve and fibre, Long sat waiting for an answer,

Heard the water gurgle round him And repeating loud and louder,

Hs he leaped and staggered through it, * Take idy bait, O King of Fishes!"

Sick at heart, and faint and weary Quiet lay the sturgeon Nahma,

Crosswise then did Hiawatha Fanning slowly in the water,

Drag his birch-canoe for safety, Looking up at Hiawatha,

Lert from out the jaws of Nahma, Listening to his call and clamour,

In the turmoil and confusion, His unnecessary tumult,

Forth he might be hurled and perish. Till he wearied of the shouting;

And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, And he said to the Kenozha,

Frisked and chatted very gaily, To the pike, the Maskenozha,

Toiled and tugged with Hiawatha "Take the bait of this rude fellow,

Till the labour was completed. Break the line of Hiawatha!"

Then said Hiawatha to him, In his fingers Hiawatha

"O my little friend, the squirrel, Felt the loose line jerk and tighten;

Bravely have you toiled to help me; As he drew it in, it tugged so

Take the thanks of Hiawatha, That the birch-canoe stood endwise,

And the name which now he gives you; Like a birch log in the water,

For hereafter and for ever, With the squirrel, Adjidaume.

Boys shall call you Adjidaumo, Perched and frisking on the summit.

Tail-in-air the boys shall call you!" Full of scorn was Hiawatha

And again the sturgeon, Nahma, When he saw the fish rise upward,

Gasped and quivered in the water, Saw the pike, the Maskenozha,

Then was still and drifted landward, Coming nearer, nearer to him,

Till he grated on the pebbles, And he shouted through the water,

Till the listening Hiawatha "Esa! esa! Shame upon you,

Heard him grate upon the margin, You are but the pike, Kenozha,

Felt him strand upon the pebbles, You are not the fish I wanted,

Knew that Nahma, King of Fishes, You are not the King of Fishes!"

Lay there dead upon the margin. Reeling downward to the bottom

Then he heard a clang and flapping, Sank the pike in great confusion,

As of many wings assembling, And the mighty sturgeon, Nahma,

Heard a screaming and confusion, Said to Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

As of birds of prey contending, To the bream with scales of crimsori,

Saw a gleam of light above him, “ Take the bait of this great boaster,

Shining through the ribs of Nahma, Break the line of Hiawatha!

Saw the glittering eyes of sea-gulls, Slowly upward, wavering, gleaming,

Of Kayoshk, the sea-gulls, peering, Rose the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

Gazing at him through the opening, Seized the line of Hiawatha,

Heard them saying to each other, Swing with all its weight upon it,

" 'Tis our brother, Hiawatha!" Made a whirlpool in the water,

And he shorted from below them, Whirled the birch-canoe in circles,

Cried exulting from the caverns: Round and round in gurgling eddies,

"O ye sea-gulls! O my brothers! Till the circles in the water

I have slain the sturgeon, Nahma: Reached the far-off sandy beaches,

Make the rifts a little larger, Till the water-flags and rushes

With your claws the openings widen, Nodded on the distant margins.

Set me free from this dark prison, But when Hiawatha saw him

And henceforward and for ever Slowly rising through the water,

Men shall speak of your achievements, Lifting his great disc refulgent,

Calling you Kayoshk, the sea-gulls, Loud he shouted in derision,

Yes, Kayoshk, the Noble Scratchers!" “Esa! esa! shame upon you!

And the wild and clamorous sen-gulls You are Ugud wash, the sa-fish,

Toiled with beak and claws together, You are not the fish I wanted,

Made the rifts and openings wider You are not the King of Fishes!"

In the mighty ribs of Nahina, Slowly d wnward, wavering, gleaming,

And from peril and from pri on, Sank the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

From the body of the sturgeon, And again the sturgeon, Nahma,

From the peril of the water,

They released my Hiawatha.

lle, the mightiest of Magicians, He was standing near his wigwam,

Sends the fever from the marshes, On the margin of the water,

Senels the pestilential vapours, And be called to old Nokomis,

Sends the poisonous exhalations, Called and beckoned to Nokomis,

Sends the white fox from the fen-lands, Pointed to the sturgeon, Nahma,

Sends disease and death among us! Lying lifeless on the pebbles,

"Take your bow, O Hiawatha, With the sea-gulls feeding on him.

Take your arrows, Jasper-headed, I have slain the Mishe-Nahua.

Take your war-club, Puggawaugun, Slain the King of Fishes!" said he:

.Ind your mittens, Minjekahwun, "Look! the sea-gulls feed upon him,

Ind your birch-canoe for sailing, Yes, my friend Kayoshk, the sea-gulls;

And the oil of Mishe-Nahma, Drive them not away, Nokomis,

So to smear its sides, that swiftly They have saved me from great peril

You may pass the black pitch-water; In the body of the sturgeon.

Slay this merciless magician, Wait until their meal is ended,

Save the people from the fever Till their craws are full with feasting,

That he breathes across the fen-lands, Till they homeward fly at sunset,

And avenge my father's murder!" To their nests among the marshes;

Straightway then my Hiawatha Then bring all your pots and kettles,

Armed himself with all his war-gear, And make oil for us in Winter.

Launched his birch-canoe for sailing; And she waited till the sun set,

With his palm its sides he patted, Till the pallid moon the night-sun,

Said with glee, “ Cheemaun, my darling, Rose above the tranquil water,

O my Birch-Canoe ! leap forward, Till Kayoshk, the sated sea-gulls,

Where you see the fiery serpents, From their banquet rose with clamour,

Where you see the black pitch-water!" And across the fiery sunset,

Forward leaped Cheemaun exulting, Winged their way to far-off islands,

And the noble Hiawatha To their nests among the rushes.

Sang his war-song wild and woeful, To his sleep went Hiawatha,

And above him the war-eagle, And Nokomis to her labour,

The Keneu, the great war-eagle, Toiling patient in the moonlight,

Master of all fowls with feathers, Till the sun and moon changed places,

Screamed and hurtled through the hcavens. Till the sky was red with sunrise,

Soon he reached the fiery serpents, And Kayoshk, the hungry sea-gulls,

The Kenabeek, the great serpents, Came back from the reedy islands,

Lying huge upon the water, Clamorous for their morning banquet.

Sparkling, rippling in the water, Three whole days and nights alternate

Lying coiled across the passage, Old Nokomis and the sea-gulls

With their blazing crests uplifted,
Stripped the oily flech of Nahma,

Breathing fiery fogs and vapours,
Till the waves washed through the rib-bones, So that none could pass beyond them.
Till the sea-gulls came no longer,

But the fearless Hiawatha
And upon the sands lay nothing

Cried aloud, and spake in this wise:
But the skeleton of Nahma.

“Let me pass my way, Kenabeek,
Let me go upon my journey!"
And they answered, hissing fiercely,

With their fiery breath made answer:
IX.

** Back, go back! O Shaugodaya ! HIAWATHA AND THE PEARL-FEATHER.

Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!'

Then the angry Hiawatha On the shores of Gitche Gumee,

Raised his mighty bow of ash-tree, Of the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Seized his arrows, jasper-headed, Stood Nokomis, the old woman,

Shot them fast among the serpents; Pointing with her finger westward,

Every twanging of the bow-string O'er the water pointing westward,

Was a war-cry and a death-cry, To the purple clouds of sunset.

Every whizzing of an arrow Fiercely the red sun descending,

Was a death-song of Kenabeek. Burned his way along the heavens,

Weltering in the bloody water, Set the sky on fire behind him,

Dead lay all the fiery serpents, As war-parties, when retreating,

And among them Hiawatha Burn the prairies on their war-trail ;

Harmless sailed, and cried exulting: And the moon, the Night-Sun, eastward,

"Onward, O Cheemau, my darling; Suddenly starting from his ambush,

Onward to the black pitch-water!" Followed fast those bloody footprints,

Then he took the oil of Nahia, Followed in that fiery war-trail,

And the bows and sides anointed, With its glare upon his features.

Smeared them well with oil, that swiftly And Nokomis, the old woman,

He might pass the black pitch-water. Pointing with her finger westward,

All night long he sailed upon it, Spake these words to Hiawatha:

Sailed upon that sluggish water, "Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Neather,

Covered with its mould of ages, Megissogwon, the Magician,

Black with rotting water-rushes, Manito of Wealth and Wampum,

Rank with flags and leaves of lilies. Guarded by his fiery serpents,

Stagnant, lifeless, dreary, dismal, Guarded by the black pitch-water,

Lighted by the shimmering moonlight, You can see his fiery serpents,

And by will-o'-the-wisps illumined, The Kenabeek, the great serpents,

Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled, Coiling, playing in the water;

In their weary night-encampments You can see the black pitch-water

All the air was white with moonlight, Stretching far away beyond them,

All the water black with shadow, To the purple clouds of sunset!

And around him the Suggema, "He it was who slew my father.

The mosquitos, sang their war-song, By his wicked wiles and cunning,

And the fire-flies, Wah-wah-taysee, When he came on earth to seek me.

Waved their torches to mislead him;

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And the bull-frog, the Dahinda,

Pansed to rest beneath a pine-tree, Thrust his head into the moonlight,

From whose branches trailed the mosses, Fixed his yellow eyes upon him,

And whose trunk was coated over Sobbed and sank beneath the surface;

With the Dead-man's Moccasin-leather, And anon a thousand whistles,

With the fungus white and yellow. Answered over all the fen-lands,

Suddenly from the boughs above him And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

Sang the Mama, the woodpecker: Far off on the reedy margin,

" Aim your arrows, Hiawatha, Heralded the hero's coming.

At the head of Megissogwon, Westward thus fared Hiawatha,

Strike the tuft of hair upon it, Toward the realm of Megissogwon,

At their roots the long black tresses. Toward the land of the Pearl-Feather,

There alone can he be wounded!" Till the level moon stared at hiin,

Winged with feathers, tipped with jasper, In his face stared pale and haggard,

Swift few Hiawatha's arrow, Till the sun was hot behind him,

Just as Megissogwon, stooping, Till it burned upon his shoulders,

Raised a heavy stone to throw it. And before him on the upland

Full upon the crown it struck him, He could see the Shining Wigwam

At the roots of his long tresses, Of the Manito of Wampum,

And he reeled and staggered forward, Of the mightiest of Magicians.

Plunging like a wounded bison, Then once more Cheemaun he patted,

Yes, like Pezhekee, the bison, To his birch-canoe said, “ Onward!"

When the snow is on the prairie. And it stirred in all its fibres,

Swifter flew the second arrow, And with one great bound of triumph

In the pathway of the other, Leaped across the water-lilies,

Piercing deeper than the other, Leaped through tangled flags and rushes,

Wounding sorer than the other, And upon the beach beyond them

And the knees of Megissogwon Dry-shod landed Hiawatha.

Shook like windy reeds beneath him, Straight he took his bow of ash-tree,

Bent and trembled like the rushes. On the sand one end he rested,

But the third and latest arrow With his knee he pressed the middle,

Swiftest flew and wounded sorest, Stretched the faithful bow-string tighter,

And the mighty Megissogwon Took an arrow, jasper-headed,

Saw the fiery eyes of Pauguk, Shot it at the Shining Wigwam,

Saw the eyes of Death glare at him, Sent it singing as a herald,

Heard his voice call in the darkness As a bearer of his message,

At the feet of Hiawatha Of his challenge loud and lofty

Lifeless lay the great Pearl-Feather, " Come forth from your lodge, Pearl-Feather ! Lay the mightiest of Magicians. Hiawatha waits your coming!"

Then the grateful Hiawatha Straightway from the Shining Wigwam

Called the Mama, the woodpecker, Came the mighty Megissogwon,

From his perch among the branches Tall of stature, broad of shoulder,

Of the melancholy pine-tree, Dark and terrible in aspect,

And, in honour of his service, Clad from head to foot in wampum,

Stained with blood the tuft of feathers Armed with all his warlike weapons,

On the little head of Mama: Painted like the sky of morning,

Even to this day he wears it, Streaked with crimson, blue and yellow,

Wears the tuft of crimson feathers, Crested with great eagle-feathers,

As a symbol of his service. Streaming upward, streaming outward

Then he stripped the shirt of wampum "Well I know you, Hiawatha!"

From the back of Megissogwon, Cried he, in a voice of thunder,

As a trophy of the battle, In a tone of loud derision.

As a signal of his conquest. * Hasten back, O Shaugodaya !

On the shore he left the body, Hasten back among toe women,

Half on land and half on water, Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!

In the sand his feet were buried, I will slay you as you stand there,

And his face was in the water. As of old I slew her father!"

And above him, wheeled and clamoured But my Hiawatha answered,

The Kenen, the great war-engle, Nothing daunted, fearing nothing:

Sailing round in narrow circles, “Big words do not smite like war-clubs,

Hovering nearer, nearer, nearer. Boastful breath is not a bow-string,

From the wigwam Hiawatha Taunts are not so sharp as arrows,

Bore the wealth of Megissogwon, Deeds are better things than words are,

All his wealth of skins and wanpum, Actions mightier than boastings!"

Fars of bison and of beaver, Then began the greatest battle

Furs of sable and of ermine, That the sun had ever looked on,

Wampum belts and strings and pouches, That the war-birds ever witnessed.

Filled with arrows, silver-headed. Alla Summer's day it lasted,

Homeward then he sailed exulting, From the sunrise to the sunset;

Homeward through the black-pitch water, For the shafts of Hiawatha

Homeward through the weltering serpents, Harmless hit the shirt of wampum,

With the trophies of the battle, Harmless fell the blows he dealt it

With a shont and song of triumph. With his mittens, Minjekahwun,

On the shore stood old Nokomis, Harmless fell the heavy war-club;

On the shore stood Chibiabos, It could dash the rocks asunder,

And the very strong man, Kwasind, But It could not break the meshes

Waiting for the hero's coming, of that magic shirt of wampuum.

Listening to his song of triumph. Till at sunset Hiawatha,

And the people of the village Leaning on his bow of ash-tree,

Welcomed him with songs and dances, Wounded, weary, and desponding,

Made a joyous feast, and shouted: With his mighty war-club broken,

* Honour be to Hiawatha! With his mittens torn and tattered,

He has slain the great Pearl-Feather, And three useless arrows only,

| Slain the mightiest of Magicians,

Evene men of his membris pipes,

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Him, who sent the fiery fever,

Yet the way seemed long before him, Sent the white fog from the fen-lands,

And his heart outrun his footsteps; Sent disease and death amongst us!"

And he journeyed without resting, Ever dear to Iliawatha

Till he heard the cataract's laughter, Was the memory of Mama!

Heard the falls of Minnehaha And in token of his friendship,

Calling to him through the silence. As a mark of his remembrance,

“Pleasant is the sound!" he murmured, He adorned and decked his pipe-stem

"Pleasant is the voice that calls me!" With the crimson tuft of feathers,

On the outskirts of the forest, With the blood-red crest of Maina.

Twixt the shadow and the sunshine, But the wealth of Megissogwon,

Herds of fallow deer were feeding, All the trophies of the battle,

But they saw not Hiawatha; He divided with his people,

To his bow he whispered Fail not!"
Shared it equally among them.

To his arrow whispered "Swerve not!"
Sent it singing on its errand,
To the red heart of the roebuck;
Threw the deer across his shoulder,

And sped forward without pausing.
HIAWATHA'S WOOING.

At the doorway of his wigwam

Sat the ancient Arrow-maker " As unto the bow the cord is,

In the land of the Dacotahs, So unto the man is woman,

Making arrow-heads of jasper, Thongh she bends him, she obeys him,

Arrow-heads of chalcedony. Though she draws him, yet she follows,

At his side in all her beauty, Cseless each without the other!"

Sat the lovely Minnehaha, Thus the youthful Hiawatha,

Sat his daughter, Laughing Water, Said within himself and pondered,

Plaiting mats of flags and rushes; Much perplexed by various feelings,

Of the past the old man's thoughts were, Listless, longing, hoping, fearing,

And the Maiden's of the future. Dreaming still of Minnehaha,

He was thinking, as he sat there, Of the lovely Laughing Water,

Of the days when with such arrows In the land of the Dacotahs.

He had struck the deer and bison, ** Wed a maiden of your people,"

On the Muskoday, the meadow; Warning said the old Nokomis;

Shot the wild goose, flying southward, "Go not eastward, go not westward,

On the wing, the clamorous Wawa; For a stranger, whom we know not!

Thinking of the great war-parties, Like a fire upon the hearthstone

How they came to buy his arrows, Is a neighbour's homely daughter,

Could not fight without his arrows. Like the starlight or the moonlight

Ah, no more such noble warriors Is the handsomest of strangers !

Could be found on carth as they were ! Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,

Now the men were all like women, And my Hiawatha answered

Only used their tongues for weapons! Only this: "Dear old Nokomis,

She was thinking of a hunter, Very pleasant is the firelight,

From another tribe and country, But I like the starlight better,

Young and tall and very handsome, Better do I like the moonlight!"

Who one morning, in the Spring-tiine, Gravely then said old Nokomis

Came to buy her father's arrows, "Bring not here an idle maiden,

Sat and rested in the wigwam, Bring not here a useless woman,

Lingered long about the doorway, llands rinskilful, feet unwilling;

Looking back as he departed. Bring a wife with nimble fingers,

She had heard her father praise him, Heart and hand that move together,

Praise his courage and his wisdom; Feet that run on willing errands !"

Would he come again for arrows, Smiling answered Hiawatha:

To the falls of Minnehaha ? "In the land of the Dacotahs

On the mat her hands lay idle, Lives the Arrow-maker's daughter,

And her cyes were very dreamy. Minnehaha, Laughing Water,

Through their thoughts they heard a footstep, Handsomest of all the women.

Heard a rustling in the branches, I will bring her to your wigwam,

And with glowing cheek and forehead, She shall run upon your errands,

With the deer upon his shoulders, Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight, .

Suddenly from out the woodlands Be the sunlight of my people.

Hiawatha stood before them. Still dissuading said Nokomis:

Straight the ancient Arrow-maker Bring not to my lodge a stranger

Looked up gravely from his labour, From the land of the Dacotahs!

Laid aside the unfinished arrow, Very fierce are the Dacotahs,

Bade him enter at the doorway, Often is there war between 119,

Saying as he rose to meet him, There are feuds yet unforgotten,

"Hiawatha, you are welcome!" Wounds that ache and still may open!"

At the feet of Laughing Water Laughing answered Hiawatha:

Hiawatha laid his burden, For that reason, if no other,

Threw the red deer from his shoulders ; Would I wed the fair Dacotah.

And the maiden looked up at him, That our tribes might be united,

Looked up from her mat of rushes, That old feuds might be forgotten.

Said with gentle look and accent, And old wounds be healed for ever!"

"You are welcome, Hiawatha!"" Thus departed Hiawatha

Very spacions was the wigwam, To the land of the Dacotahs,

Made of deer-skin dressed and whitened, To the land of the handsome women:

With the gods of the Dacotahs Striding over moor and meadow,

Drawn and painted on its curtains, Through interminable forests,

And so tall the doorway, hardly Through ininterrupted silence.

Hiawatha stooped to enter, With his moccasins of magic,

Hardly touched his eagle-feathers At each stride a mile he measured:

As he entered at the doorway.

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