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Words and Phrases for Study VOCABULARY: kēên-piercing; sharp.

swift'-ly—with speed; quickly.

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A sudden rush from the stairway,

A sudden raid from the hall ! By three doors left unguarded

They enter my castle wall !

They climb up into my turret

O’er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me;

They seem to be everywhere.

They almost devour me with kisses,

Their arms about me entwine, Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen

In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine !

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,

Because you have scaled the wall, Such an old moustache as I am

Is not a match for you all!

I have you fast in my fortress,

And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon

In the round-tower of my heart.

10 And there will I keep you forever,

Yes, forever and a day, Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

And moulder in dust away!


Notes and Questions What is the time "Between the | To what does he compare the

dark and the daylight” usually rush made by the children in called .

I stanza five, What do you suppose Longfellow What does he call them in the

had been doing in his study L eighth stanza | before the children came down What wall did they scale in order to him

to reach him What reasons can you give for Where does Longfellow say he

the “pause in the day's occu- | will put the children now that pations''!

he has captured them Who were the children whom How long will he keep them

the poet saw "Descending the there? broad hall stair” to enter the How could he keep the children poet's "castle''g

so long? What were these children whis Which stanza of this poem do pering about?

you like best? What does Longfellow mean by | Tell what you know about the his “turret''?

life of Longfellow.

Words and Phrases for Study


low'-er (lou-ēr)

mous-tache (müs-tish)

mõuld'-er (mõld)


de-pärt'—to go away; to leave.
pause--a brief stop or rest; hesitation.
grāve-thoughtful; serious.


"round-tower of my heart. fortress" "such an old moustache

"crumble to ruin” "raid from the hall”

"moulder in dust" scaled the wall”

"plotting and planning" "dungeon"

forever and a day" “Bishop of Bingen"-referring to the legend that Hatto, Arch

bishop of Mainz, was eaten by mice in the Mouse-Tower on the Rhine, near Bingen. The story has been told in poetry by the English poet, Southey, but is without foundation in history.



INTRODUCTION Should you ask me, whence these stories ? Whence these legends and traditions, With the odors of the forest, With the dew and damp of meadows, With the curling smoke of wigwams, With the rushing of great rivers, With their frequent repetitions, And their wild reverberations, As of thunder in the mountains ?

I should answer, I should tell you, “From the forests and the prairies, From the great lakes of the Northland, From the land of the Ojibways, From the land of the Dacotahs, From the mountains, moors, and fenlands, Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Feeds among the reeds and rushes. I repeat them as I heard them From the lips of Nawadaha, The musician, the sweet singer.”

Should you ask where Nawadaha
Found these songs, so wild and wayward,
Found these legends and traditions ?

I should answer, I should tell you,
“In the bird's-nests of the forests,
In the lodges of the beaver,
In the hoof-prints of the bison,
In the eyry of the eagle !"

If still further you should ask me, Saying, "Who was Nawadaha ?

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Tell us of this Nawadaha,”
I should answer your inquiries
Straightway in such words as follow.

"In the Vale of Tawasentha,
In the green and silent valley,
By the pleasant water-courses,
Dwelt the singer Nawadaha.
Round about the Indian village
Spread the meadows and the cornfields,
And beyond them stood the forest,
Stood the groves of singing pine-trees,
Green in Summer, white in Winter,
Ever sighing, ever singing.


“There he sang of Hiawatha,
Sang the Song of Hiawatha,
Sang his wondrous birth and being,
How he prayed and how he fasted.
How he lived, and toiled, and suffered,
That the tribes of men might prosper,
That he might advance his people!"

Ye who love the haunts of Nature,
Love the sunshine of the meadow,
Love the shadow of the forest,
Love the wind among the branches,
And the rain-shower and the snow-storm,
And the rushing of great rivers
Through their palisades of pine-trees,
And the thunder in the mountains,

Listen to this Indian Legend,
To this Song of Hiawatha!

Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,
Who have faith in God and Nature,

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