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Frode a banage caineed Hia wounge

There he waited till the deer came,

On his head his eagle-feathers, Till he saw two antlers lifted,

Round his waist his belt of wilinpum: Saw two eyes look from the thicket,

In his hand his bow of ash-wood, Saw two nostrils point to windward,

Strung with sinews of the reindeer; And a deer came down the pathway,

In his quiver oaken arrows, Flecked with leafy light and shadow.

Tipped with jasper, winged with feathers; And his heart within him fluttered,

With his mittens, Minjekahwun, Trembled like the leaves above him,

With his moccasins enchanted. Like the birch-leaf palpitated,

Warning said the old Nokomis, Is the deer came down the pathway.

"Go not forth, O Hiawatha! Then, upon one knee uprising,

To the kingdom of the West-Wind, Hiawatha aimed an arrow:

To the realms of Mudjekeewis, Scarce a twig moved with his motion,

Lest he harm you with his inagie, Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled,

Lest he kill you with his cunning!" But the wary roebuck started,

But the fearless Hiawatha Stamped with all his hoofs together

Heeded not her woman's warning: Listened with one foot uplifted,

Forth he strode into the forest, Leaped as if to meet the arrow

At each stride a mile he measured; Ah! the singing, fatal arrow,

Lurid seemed the sky above him, Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!

Lurid seemed the earth beneath hin, Dead he lay there in the forest,

Hot and close the air around him, By the ford across the river;

Filled with smoke and fiery vapours, Beat his timid heart no longer,

As of burning woods and prairies, But the heart of Hiawatha

For his heart was hot within him, Throbbed and shouted and exulted.

Like a living coal his heart was. As he bore the red deer homeward,

So he journeyed westward, westward, And lagoo and Nokomis

Left the feetest deer behind him, Hailed his coming with applauses.

Left the antelope and bison ; From the red deer's hide Nokomis

Crossed the rushing Esconawbaw, Made a cloak for Hiawatha,

Crossed the mighty Mississippi, From the red deer's flesh Nokomis

Passed the Mountains of the Prairie, Made a banquet in his honour.

Passed the land of Crows and Foxes, All the village came and feasted,

Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet, All the guests praised Hiawatha,

Came unto the Rocky Mountains, Called him Strong-Heart, Soange-ta-ha!

To the kingdom of the Wst-Wind,
Called him Loon-heart, Mahngo-taysce!

Where upon the gusty summits
Sat the ancient Mudjekeewis,
Ruler of the winds of heaven.

Filled with awe was Hiawatha

At the aspect of his father. HIAWATHA AND MUDJEKEEWIS.

On the air about him wildly

Tossed and streamed his cloudy tresses, Out of childhood into manhood

Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses, Now had grown my Hiawatha,

Glared like Ishkoodah the comet,

et Skilled in all the craft of hunters,

Like the star with fiery tresses. Learned in all the lore of old men,

Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis In all youthful sports and pastimes,

When he looked on Hiawatha, In all manly hearts and labours.

Saw his youth rise up before him Swift of foot was Hiawatha ;

In the face of Hiawatha, He could shoot an arrow from him,

Saw the beauty of Wenonah And run forward with such fieetness,

From the grave rise up before him. That the arrow fell behind him!

" Welcome!" said hê, "Hiawatha, Strong of arm was Hiawatha;

To the kingdom of the West Wind !
He could shoot ten arrows upward,

Long have I been waiting for you!
Shoot them with such strength and swiftness, Youth is lovely, age is lonely,
That the tenth had left the bow-string

Youth is fiery, age is frosty;
Ere the first to earth had fallen!

You bring back the days departed, He had mittens, Minjekahwiu,

You bring back my youth of passion, Magic mittens made of deer-skin;

And the beautiful Wenonah! When upon his hands he wore them,

Many days they talked together, He could smite the rocks asunder,

Questioned, listened, waited, answered; He could grind them into powder.

Nuch the mighty Mudjekeewis lle had moccasins enchanted,

Boasted of his ancient prowess, Magic moccasins of deer-skin;

Of his perilous adventures, When he bound them round his ankles,

His indomitable courage, When upon his feet he tied them,

His invulnerable body. At each stride a mile he measured!

Patiently sat Hiawatha, Much he questioned old Nokomis

Listening to his father's boasting; Of his father Mudjekeewis ;

With a smile he sat and listened, Learned from her the fatal secret

Uttered neither threat nor menace, Of the beauty of his mother,

Neither word nor look betrayed him, Of the falsehood of his father:

But his heart was hot within him, And his heart was hot within him,

Like a living coal his heart was. Like a living coal his heart was.

Then he said, “ Mudjekeewis, Then he said to old Nokomis,

Is there nothing that can harm you? "I will go to Mudjekeewis,

Nothing that you are afraid of ?" See how fares it with my father,

And the mighty Mudjekeewis, At the doorways of the West-Wind,

Grand and gracious in his boasting, At the portals of the Sunset!"

Answered, saying, “There is nothing, From his lodge went Hiawatha,

Nothing but the black rock yonder, Dressed for travel, armed for hunting;

Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!" Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings,

And he looked at Hiawatha Richly wrought with quills and wampum;

With a wise look and benignant,

back them, toom all th

With a countenance paternal,

Where into the empty spaces Looked with pride upon the beauty

Sinks the sun, as a flamingo Of his tall and graceful figure,

Drops into her nest at nightfall, Saying, “O my Hiawatha!

In the melancholy marshes. Is there anything can harm you?

* Hold!" at length cried Mudjekeewis, Anything you are afraid of?

"Hold, my son, my Hiawatha! But the wary Hiawatha

*Tis impossible to kill me, Paused awhile, as if uncertain,

For you cannot kill the immortal. Held his peace as if resolving,

I have put you to this trial, And then answered, “There is nothing,

But to know and prove your courage ; Nothing but the bulrush yonder,

Now receive the prize of valour! Nothing but the great Apukwa!"

"Go back to your home and people, And as Mudjekeewis, rising,

Live among them, toil among them, Stretched his hand to pluck the bulrush,

Cleanse the earth from all that harms it, Hiawatha cried in terror,

Clear the fishing-grounds and rivers, Cried in well-dissembled terror,

Slay all monsters and magicians, * Kago! kago! do not touch it!"

All the Wendigoes, the giants, "Ah, kaween!" said Mudjekeewis,

All the serpents the Kenabeeks, “No, indeed, I will not touch it!"

As I slew the Mishe-Mokwa, Then they talked of other matters;

Slew the Great Bear of the mountains. First of Hiawatha's brothers,

"And at last when Death draws near you, First of Wabun of the East-Wind,

When the awful eyes of Pauguk Of the South-Wind, Shawondasse,

Glare upon you in the darkness, Of the North, Cabibonokka ;

I will share my kingdom with you, Then of Hiawatha's mother,

Ruler shall you be thenceforward Of the beautiful Wenonah,

Of the Northwest-wind, Keewaydin, Of her birth apon the meadow,

Of the home-wind, the Keewaydin." Of her death, as old Nokomis,

Thus was fought that famous battle Had remembered and related.

In the dreadful days of Shah-shah, And he cried, "O Mudjekeewis,

In the days long since departed, It was you who killed Wenonah,

In the kingdom of the West-Wind. Took her young life and her beauty,

Still the hunter sees its traces, Broke the Lily of the Prairie,

Scattered far o'er hill and valley; Trampled it beneath your footsteps;

Sees the giant bulrush growing Yon confess it! yon confess it!"

By the ponds and water-courses, And the mighty Mudjekeewis

Sees the masses of the Wawbeek Tossed upon the wind his tresses,

Lying still in every valley. Bowed his hoary head in anguish

Homeward now went Hiawatha ; With a silent nod assented.

Pleasant was the landscape round him, Then up started Hiawatha,

Pleasant was the air above him, And with threatening look and gesture

For the bitterness of anger Laid his hand upon the black rock,

Had departed wholly from him, On the fatal Wawbeek laid it,

From his brain the thought of vengeance, With his mittens, Minjekahwin,

From his heart the burning fever. Rent the jutting crag asander,

Only once his pace he slackened, Smote and crushed it into fragments,

Only once he paused or halted, Harled them madly at his father,

Paused to purchase heads of arrows The remorseful Mudjekeewis,

Of the ancient Arrow-maker, For his heart was hot within him,

In the land of the Dacotahs, Like a living coal his heart was.

Where the Falls of Minnehaha But the ruler of the West-Wind

Flash and gleam among the oak-trees, Blew the fragments backward from him,

Laugh and leap into the valley. With the breathing of his nostrils,

There the ancient Arrow-Maker With the tempest of his anger,

Made his arrow-heads of sandstone, Blew them back at his assailant:

Arrow-heads of chalcedony, Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,

Arrow-heads of flint and jasper, Dragged it with its roots and fibres

Smoothed and sharpened at the edges, From the margin of the meadow,

Hard and polished, keen and costly From its ooze the giant bulrush;

With him dwelt his dark-eyed daughter, Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!

Wayward as the Minnehaha, Then began the deadly conflict,

With her moods of shade and sunshine, Hand to hand among the mountains;

Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate, From his eyrie screamed the eagle,

Feet as rapid as the river. The Keneu, the great war-eagle;

Tresses flowing like the water, Sat upon the crags around them,

And as musical a laughter: Wheeling flapped his wings above them.

And he named her from the river, Like a tall tree in the tempest

From the water-fall he named her, Bent and lashed the giant burish;

Minnehaha, Laughing Water. And in masses huge and heavy

Was it then for heads of arrows, Crashing fell the fatal Wawbeek;

Arrow-heads of chalcedony, Till the earth shook with the tumult

Arrow-heads of flint and jasper, And confusion of the battle,

That my Hiawatha halted And the air was full of shoutings,

In the land of the Dacotahs ? And the thunder of the mountains,

Was it not to see the maiden, Starting, answered, “Baim-wawa!"

See the face of Laughing Water, Back retreated Mudjekeewis,

Peeping from behind the curtain, Rushing westward o'er the mountains.

Hear the rustling of her garments Stumbling westward down the mountains, From behind the waving curtain, Three whole days retreated fighting,

As one sees the Minnehaha Still pursued by Hiawatha

Gleaming, glancing through the branches, To the doorways of the West-Wind,

As one hears the Laughing Water To the portals of the Sunset,

From behind its screen of branches? To the earth's remotest border,

Who shall say what thonghts and visions

aicedoniaspel: edges,

creening wat brand

Not a worant with with hige ats

Fill the fiery brains of young men ?

Long he looked at Hiawatha, Who shall say what dreams of beauty

Looked with pity and compassion Filled the heart of Hiawatha?

On his wasted form and features, All he told to old Nokomis,

And, in accents like the sighing When he reached the lodge at sunset,

Of the South-Wind in the tree-tops, Was the meeting with his father,

Said he, "O my Hiawatha! Was his fight with Mudjekee wis;

All your prayers are heard in heaven, Not a word he said of arrows,

For you pray not like the others,
Not a word of Laughing Water!

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, You shall hear how Hiawatha

I, the friend of man, Mondamin, Prayed and fasted in the forest,

Come to warn you and instruct you, Not for greater skill in hunting,

How by struggle and by labour Not for greater craft in fishing,

You shall gain what you have prayed for. Not for triumphs in the battle,

Rise up from your bed of branches, And renown among the warriors,

Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me!" But for profit of the people,

Faint with famine, Hiawatha For advantage of the nations.

Startled from his bed of branches, First he built a lodge for fasting,

From the twilight of his wigwam Built a wigwam in the forest,

Forth into the finsh of sunset By the shining Big-Sea-Water,

Came, and wrestled with Mondamin: In the blithe and plesant Spring-time,

At his touch he felt new courage In the Moon of Leaves he built it,

Throbbing in his brain and bosom, And, with dreams and visions many,

Felt new life and hope and vigour Seven whole days and nights he fasted.

Run through every nerve and fibre. On the first day of his fasting

So they wrestled there together Through the leafy woods he wandered:

In the glory of the sunset, Saw the deer start from the thicket,

And the more they strove and struggled. Saw the rabbit in his burrow,

Stronger still grew Hiawatha : Heard the pheasant, Bena, drumming,

Till the darkness fell around them, Heard the squirrel, Adjidaunio,

And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Rattling in his hoard of acorns,

From her nest among the pine-trees, Saw the pigeon, the Omeme,

Gave a cry of lamentation, Building nests among the pine-trees.

Gave a scream of pain and famine. And in focks the wild goose, Wawa,

“ 'Tis enough!" then said Mondamin, Flying to the fen-lands northward,

Smiling upon Hiawatha, Whirring, wailing far above him.

"But to-morrow, when the sun sets, “Master of Life!” he cried, desponding,

I will come again to try you." "Must onr lives depend on these things ?"

And he vanished, and was seen not; On the next day of his fasting

Whether sinking as the rain sinks, By the river's bank he wandered,

Whether rising as the mists rise, Through the Muskoday, the meadow,

Hiawatha saw not, knew not, Saw the wild rice, Mahnomonee,

Only saw that he had vanished, Saw the blueberry, Meenahga,

Leaving him alone and fainting, And the strawberry, Odanmin,

With the misty lake below him, And the gooseberry, Shahbomin,

And the reeling stars above him. And the grape-vine, the Bemahgut,

On the morrow and the next day, Trailing o'er the alder-branches,

When the sun through heaven descending, Filling all the air with fragrance !

Like a red and burning cinder "Master of Life !" he cried, desponding,

From the hearth of the Great Spirit, “Must our lives depend on these things ?"

Fell into the western waters, On the third day of his fasting

Came Mondamin for the trial, By the lake he sat and pondered,

For the sfrife with Hiawatha; By the still, transparent water;

Came as silent as the dew comes, Saw the sturgeon, Nahma, leaping,

From the empty air appearing, Scattering drops like beads of wampum,

Into empty air returning, Saw the yellow perch, the Sahwa,

Taking shape when earth it touches, Like a sunbeam in the water.

But invisible to all men Saw the pike, the Maskenozha,

In its coming and its going. And the herring, Okahahwis,

Thrice they wrestled there together And the Shawgashee, the craw-fish!

In the glory of the sunset, “Master of Life!" he cried, desponding,

Till the darkness fell around them, "Must our lives depend on these things ?"

Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, On the fourth day of his fasting

From her nest among the pine-trees, In his lodge he lay exhausted;

Uttered her loud cry of famine, From his couch of leaves and branches

And Mondamin paused to listen. Gazing with half-open eyelids,

Tall and beautiful he stood there, Full of shadowy dreams and visions,

In his garments green and yellow; On the dizzy, swimming landscape,

To and fro his plumes above him On the gleaming of the water,

Waved and nodded with his breathing, On the splendour of the sunset.

And the sweat of the encounter And he saw a youth approaching,

Stood like drops of dew upon him. Dressed in garments green and yellow,

And he cried, “O Hiawatha! Coming through the purple twilight,

Bravely have you wrestled with me, Through the splendour of the sunset;

Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me,

il me, Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead,

And the Master of Life, who sees us, And his hair was soft and golden.

He will give to you the triumph!" Standing at the open doorway,

Then he smiled, and said: "To-morrow


Is the last day of your conflict,

And victorious Hiawatha Is the last day of your fasting.

Made the grave as he commanded, You will conquer and o'ercome me;

Stripped the garments from Mondamin, Make a bed for me to lie in,

Stripped his tattered plumage from him, Where the rain may fall upon me,

Laid him in the earth, and made it Where the sun may come and warm me;

Soft and loose and light above him ; Strip these garments, green and yellow,

And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Strip this nodding plumage from me,

From the melancholy moor-lands, Lay me in the earth, and make it

Gave a cry of lamentation, Soft and loose and light above me.

Gave a cry of pain and anguish! "Let no hand disturb my slumber,

Homeward then went Hiawatha Let no weed nor worm molest me,

To the lodge of old Nokomis, Let not Kahgahgee, the raven,

And the seven days of his fasting Come to haunt me and molest me,

Were accomplished and completed. Only come yourself to watch me,

But the place was not forgotten Till I wake, and start, and quicken,

Where he wrestled with Mondamin; Till I leap into the sunshine."

Nor forgotten nor neglected And thus saying, he departed;

Was the grave where lay Mondamin, Peacefully slept Hiawatha,

Sleeping in the rain and sunshine, But he heard the Wawonaissa,

Where his scattered plumes and garments Heard the whippoorwill complaining,

Faded in the rain and sunshine. Perched upon his lonely wigwam;

Day by day did Hiawatha Heard the rushing Sebowisha,

Go to wait and watch beside it ; Heard the rivulet rippling near him,

Kept the dark mould soft above it, Talking to the darksome forest;

Kept it clean from weeds and insects, Heard the sighing of the branches,

Drove away, with scoffs and shoutings, As they lifted and subsided

Kahgahgee, the king of ravens. At the passing of the night-wind,

Till at length a small green feather Heard them, as one hears in slumber

From the earth shot slowly upward, Far-off murmurs, dreamy whispers :

Then another and another, Peacefully slept Hiawatha.

And before the Summer ended On the morrow came Nokomis,

Stood the maize in all its beanty, On the seventh day of his fasting,

With its shining robes about it, Came with food for Hiawatha,

And its long, soft, yellow tresses! Came imploring and bewailng,

And in rapture Hiawatha

resses: Lest his hunger should o'ercome him,

Cried aloud, "Is it Mondamin! Lest his fasting should be fatal.

Yes, the friend of man, Mondamin!" But he tasted not, and touched not,

Then he called to old Nokomis Only said to her, Nokomis,

And lagoo, the great boaster, Wait until the sun is setting,

Showed them where the maize was growing, Till the darkness falls around us,

Told them of his wondrous vision, Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

Of his wrestling and his triumph, Crying from the desolate marshes,

Of this new gift to the nations, Tells us that the day is ended."

Which should be their food for ever. Homeward weeping went Nokomis,

And still later, when the Autumn Sorrowing for her Hiawatha,

Changed the long green leaves to yellow, Fearing lest his strength should fail him,

And the soft and juicy kernels Lest his fasting should be fatal.

Grew like wampum hard and yellow, He meanwhile sat weary waiting

Then the ripened ears he gathered, For the coming of Mondamin,

Stripped the withered husks from off them, Till the shadows, pointing eastward,

As he once had stripped the wrestler, Lengthened over field, and forest,

Gave the first Feast of Mondamin, Till the sun dropped from the heaven,

And made known unto the people
Floating on the waters westward,

This new gift of the Great Spirit.
As a red leaf in the Autumn
Falls and floats upon the water,
Falls and sinks into its bosom.

And behold! the young Mondamin,
With his soft and shining tresses,

With his garments green and yellow
With his long and glossy plumage,

Two good friends had Hiawatha,
Stood and beckoned at the doorway,

Singled out from all the others, And as one in slumber walking,

Bound to him in closest union, Pale and haggard, but unda tinted,

And to whom he gave the right hand From the wigwam Hiawatha

Of his heart, in joy and sorrow; Came and wrestled with Mondamin.

Chibiabos the musician, Round about him spun the landscape,

And the very strong man, Kwasind. Sky and forest reeled together,

Straight between them ran the pathway, And his strong heart leaped within him,

Never grew the grass upon it; As the sturgeon leaps and struggles

Singing birds, that atter falsehoods, In a net to break its meshes.

Story-tellers, mischief-makers, Like a ring of fire around him

Found no eager ear to listen, Blazed and flared the red horizon,

Could not breed ill-will between them, And a hundred suns seemed looking

For they kept each other's counsel, At the combat of the wrestlers.

Spake with naked hearts together, Suddenly upon the greensward

Pondering much and much contriving All alone stood Hiawatha,

Now the tribes of men might prosper. Panting with his wild exertion,

Most beloved by Hiawatha Palpitating with the struggle ;

Was the gentle Chibiabos, And before him, breathless, lifeless,

He the best of all musicians, Lay the youth, with hair dishevelled,

He the sweetest of all singers. Plumage torn, and garments tattered,

Beautiful and childlike was he, Dead he lay there in the sunset.

Brave as man is, soft as woman,


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Now he stirred time to he

Pliant as a wand of willow,

Such the strength was in his fingers, Stately as a deer with antlers.

"Lazy Kwasind!" said his father, When he sang, the village listened;

"In the hunt you never help me; All the warriors gathered round him,

Every bow you touch is broken, All the women came to hear him;

Snapped asunder every arrow! Now he stirred their souls to passion,

Yet come with me to the forest, Now he melted them to pity.

You shall bring the hunting homeward." From the hollow reeds he fashioned

Down a narrow pass they wandered, Flutes so musical and mellow,

Where a brooklet led them onward, That the brook, the Sebowisha,

Where the trail of deer and bison Ceased to murmur in the woodlandi,

Marked the soft mud on the margin, That the wood-birds ceased from singing,

Till they found all further passage And the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

Shut against them, barred securely Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree,

By the trunks of trees uprooted, And the rabbit, the Wabasso,

Lying lengthwise, lying crosswise, Sat upright to look and listen.

And forbidding further passage. Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha,

" We must go back," said the old man, Pausing, said, "O Chibiabos,

"O'er those logs we cannot clamber: Teach my waves to flow in music,

Not a woodchuck conld get through them, Softly as your words in singing!"

Not a squirrel clamber o'er them! Yes, the blue bird, the Owaissa,

And straightway his pipe he lighted, Envious, said, “ O Chibiabos,

And sat down to smoke and ponder. Teach me tones as wild and wayward,

But before his pipe was finished, Teach me songs as full of frenzy!"

Lo! the path was cleared before him : Yes, the robin, the Opechee,

All the trunks had Kwasind lifted, Joyous said, “ O Chibiabos,

To the right hand, to the left hand, Teach me tones as sweet and tender,

Shot the pine-trees swift as arrows, Teach me songs as full of gladness!"

Hurled the cedars light as lances. And the whipoorwill, Wawonaissa,

"Lazy Kwasind !" said the young men, Sobbing, said, "O Chibiabos,

As they sported in the meadow; Teach me tones as melancholy,

" Why stand idly looking at us, Teach me songs as full of sadness!"

Leaning on the rock behind you ? All the many sounds of nature

Come and wrestle with the others, Borrowed sweetness from his singing;

Let us pitch the quoit together!" All the hearts of men were softened

Lazy Kwasind made no answer, By the pathos of his music ;

To their challenge made no answer, For he sang of peace, and freedom,

Only rose, and, slowly turning, Sang of beauty, love, and longing;

Seized the huge rock in his fingers, Sang of death, and life undying

Tore it from its deep foundation, In the Islands of the Blessed,

Poised it in the air a moment, In the kingdom of Ponemah,

Pitched it sheer into the river, In the land of the Hereafter.

Sheer into the swift Pauwating, Very dear to Hiawatha

Where it still is seen in Summer. Was the gentle Chibiabos,

Once as down that foaming river, He the best of all musicians,

Down the rapids of Pauwating, He the sweetest of all singers ;

Kwasind sailed with his companions, For his gentleness he loved him.

In the stream he saw a beaver, And the magic of his singing.

Saw Ahmeek, the King of Beavers, Dear, too, unto Hiawatha

Struggling with the rushing currents, Was the very strong man, Kwasind,

Rising, sinking in the water. He the strongest of all mortals,

Without speaking, without pausing, He the mightiest among many;

Kwasind leaped into the river, For his very strength he loved him,

Plunged beneath the bubbling surface, For his strength allied to goodness.

Through the whirlpools chased the beaver, Idle in his youth was Kwasind,

Followed hiin among the islands, Very listless, dull, and dreamy,

Staid so long beneath the water, Never played with other children,

That his terrified companions Never fished and never hunted,

Cried, “ Alas! good bye to Kwasind! Nor like other children was he;

We shall never more see Kwasind!" But they saw that much he fasted,

But he reappeared triumphant, Much his Manito entreated,

And upon his shining shoulders Much besought his Guardian Spirit.

Brought the beaver, dead and dripping, "Lazy Kwasind !" said his mother,

Brought the King of all the Beavers. “In my work you never help me!

And these two, as I have told you, In the Summer you are roaming

Were the friends of Hiawatha, Idly in the fields and forests;

Chibiabos, the musician, In the Winter you are cowering

And the very strong man, Kwesind. O'er the firebrands in the Wigwam !

Long they lived in peace together, In the coldest days of Winter

Spake with naked hearts together, I must break the ice for fishing :

Pondering much and much contriving With my nets you never help me!

How the tribes of men might prosper. At the door my nets are hanging, Dripping, freezing with the water: Go and wring them, Yenadize! Go and dry them in the sunshine!"

VII. Slowly, from the ashes, Kwasind

HIAWATHA'S SAILING. Rose, but made no angry answer; From the lodge went forth in silence,

"Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree! Took the nets, that hung together,

Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree! Dripping, freezing at the doorway,

Growing by the rushing river, Like a wisp of straw he wrurg them,

Tall and stately in the valley! Like a wisp of straw he broke them,

In a light canoe will build ine, Could not wring them without breaking,

Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,

Wi the doo freezingn, Yena

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