Then the grateful HiawathaCalled the Mama, the woodpecker,From his perch among the branchesOf the melancholy pine-tree,And, in honor of his service,Stained with blood the tuft of feathersOn the little head of Mama;Even to this day he wears it,Wears the tuft of crimson feathers,As a symbol of his service.
Then he stripped the shirt of wampumFrom the back of Megissogwon,As a trophy of the battle,As a signal of his conquest.On the shore he left the body,Half on land and half in water,In the sand his feet were buried,And his face was in the water.And above him, wheeled and clamoredThe Keneu, the great war-eagle,Sailing round in narrower circles,Hovering nearer, nearer, nearer.
From the wigwam HiawathaBore the wealth of Megissogwon,All his wealth of skins and wampum,Furs of bison and of beaver,Furs of sable and of ermine,Wampum belts and strings and pouches,Quivers wrought with beads of wampum,Filled with arrows, silver-headed.
Homeward then he sailed exulting,Homeward through the black pitch-water,Homeward through the weltering serpents,With the trophies of the battle,With a shout and song of triumph.
On the shore stood old Nokomis,On the shore stood Chibiabos,And the very strong man, Kwasind,Waiting for the hero's coming,Listening to his songs of triumph.And the people of the villageWelcomed him with songs and dances,Made a joyous feast, and shouted:"Honor be to Hiawatha!He has slain the great Pearl-Feather,Slain the mightiest of Magicians,Him, who sent the fiery fever,Sent the white fog from the fen-lands,Sent disease and death among us!"
Ever dear to HiawathaWas the memory of Mama!And in token of his friendship,As a mark of his remembrance,He adorned and decked his pipe-stemWith the crimson tuft of feathers,With the blood-red crest of Mama.But the wealth of Megissogwon,All the trophies of the battle,He divided with his people,Shared it equally among them.
X. Hiawatha's Wooing
"As unto the bow the cord is,So unto the man is woman;Though she bends him, she obeys him,Though she draws him, yet she follows;Useless each without the other!"
Thus the youthful HiawathaSaid within himself and pondered,Much perplexed by various feelings,Listless, longing, hoping, fearing,Dreaming still of Minnehaha,Of the lovely Laughing Water,In the land of the Dacotahs.
"Wed a maiden of your people,"Warning said the old Nokomis;"Go not eastward, go not westward,For a stranger, whom we know not!Like a fire upon the hearth-stoneIs a neighbor's homely daughter,Like the starlight or the moonlightIs the handsomest of strangers!"
Thus dissuading spake Nokomis,And my Hiawatha answeredOnly this: "Dear old Nokomis,Very pleasant is the firelight,But I like the starlight better,Better do I like the moonlight!"
Gravely then said old Nokomis:"Bring not here an idle maiden,Bring not here a useless woman,Hands unskilful, feet unwilling;Bring a wife with nimble fingers,Heart and hand that move together,Feet that run on willing errands!"
Smiling answered Hiawatha:"In the land of the DacotahsLives the Arrow-maker's daughter,Minnehaha, Laughing Water,Handsomest of all the women.I will bring her to your wigwam,She shall run upon your errands,Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight,Be the sunlight of my people!"
Still dissuading said Nokomis:"Bring not to my lodge a strangerFrom the land of the Dacotahs!Very fierce are the Dacotahs,Often is there war between us,There are feuds yet unforgotten,Wounds that ache and still may open!"
Laughing answered Hiawatha:"For that reason, if no other,Would I wed the fair Dacotah,That our tribes might be united,That old feuds might be forgotten,And old wounds be healed forever!"
Thus departed HiawathaTo the land of the Dacotahs,To the land of handsome women;Striding over moor and meadow,Through interminable forests,Through uninterrupted silence.
With his moccasins of magic,At each stride a mile he measured;Yet the way seemed long before him,And his heart outran his footsteps;And he journeyed without resting,Till he heard the cataract's laughter,Heard the Falls of MinnehahaCalling to him through the silence."Pleasant is the sound!" he murmured,"Pleasant is the voice that calls me!"
On the outskirts of the forests,'Twixt the shadow and the sunshine,Herds of fallow deer were feeding,But they saw not Hiawatha;To his bow he whispered, "Fail not!"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.
At the doorway of his wigwamSat the ancient Arrow-maker,In the land of the Dacotahs,Making arrow-heads of jasper,Arrow-heads of chalcedony.At his side, in all her beauty,Sat the lovely Minnehaha,Sat his daughter, Laughing Water,Plaiting mats of flags and rushesOf the past the old man's thoughts were,And the maiden's of the future.
He was thinking, as he sat there,Of the days when with such arrowsHe had struck the deer and bison,On the Muskoday, the meadow;Shot the wild goose, flying southwardOn the wing, the clamorous Wawa;Thinking of the great war-parties,How they came to buy his arrows,Could not fight without his arrows.Ah, no more such noble warriorsCould be found on earth as they were!Now the men were all like women,Only used their tongues for weapons!
She was thinking of a hunter,From another tribe and country,Young and tall and very handsome,Who one morning, in the Spring-time,Came to buy her father's arrows,Sat and rested in the wigwam,Lingered long about the doorway,Looking back as he departed.She had heard her father praise him,Praise his courage and his wisdom;Would he come again for arrowsTo the Falls of Minnehaha?On the mat her hands lay idle,And her eyes were very dreamy.
Through their thoughts they heard a footstep,Heard a rustling in the branches,And with glowing cheek and forehead,With the deer upon his shoulders,Suddenly from out the woodlandsHiawatha stood before them.
Straight the ancient Arrow-makerLooked up gravely from his labor,Laid aside the unfinished arrow,Bade him enter at the doorway,Saying, as he rose to meet him,"Hiawatha, you are welcome!"
At the feet of Laughing WaterHiawatha laid his burden,Threw the red deer from his shoulders;And the maiden looked up at him,Looked up from her mat of rushes,Said with gentle look and accent,"You are welcome, Hiawatha!"
Very spacious was the wigwam,Made of deer-skins dressed and whitened,With the Gods of the DacotahsDrawn and painted on its curtains,And so tall the doorway, hardlyHiawatha stooped to enter,Hardly touched his eagle-feathersAs he entered at the doorway.
Then uprose the Laughing Water,From the ground fair Minnehaha,Laid aside her mat unfinished,Brought forth food and set before them,Water brought them from the brooklet,Gave them food in earthen vessels,Gave them drink in bowls of bass-wood,Listened while the guest was speaking,Listened while her father answered,But not once her lips she opened,Not a single word she uttered.
Yes, as in a dream she listenedTo the words of Hiawatha,As he talked of old Nokomis,Who had nursed him in his childhood,As he told of his companions,Chibiabos, the musician,And the very strong man, Kwasind,And of happiness and plentyIn the land of the Ojibways,In the pleasant land and peaceful.
"After many years of warfare,Many years of strife and bloodshed,There is peace between the OjibwaysAnd the tribe of the Dacotahs."Thus continued Hiawatha,And then added, speaking slowly,"That this peace may last forever,And our hands be clasped more closely,And our hearts be more united,Give me as my wife this maiden,Minnehaha, Laughing Water,Loveliest of Dacotah women!"
And the ancient Arrow-makerPaused a moment ere he answered,Smoked a little while in silence,Looked at Hiawatha proudly,Fondly looked at Laughing Water,And made answer very gravely:"Yes, if Minnehaha wishes;Let your heart speak, Minnehaha!"
And the lovely Laughing WaterSeemed more lovely as she stood there,Neither willing nor reluctant,As she went to Hiawatha,Softly took the seat beside him,While she said, and blushed to say it,"I will follow you, my husband!"
This was Hiawatha's wooing!Thus it was he won the daughterOf the ancient Arrow-maker,In the land of the Dacotahs!
From the wigwam he departed,Leading with him Laughing Water;Hand in hand they went together,Through the woodland and the meadow,Left the old man standing lonelyAt the doorway of his wigwam,Heard the Falls of MinnehahaCalling to them from the distance,Crying to them from afar off,"Fare thee well, O Minnehaha!"
And the ancient Arrow-makerTurned again unto his labor,Sat down by his sunny doorway,Murmuring to himself, and saying:"Thus it is our daughters leave us,Those we love, and those who love us!Just when they have learned to help us,When we are old and lean upon them,Comes a youth with flaunting feathers,With his flute of reeds, a strangerWanders piping through the village,Beckons to the fairest maiden,And she follows where he leads her,Leaving all things for the stranger!"
Pleasant was the journey homeward,Through interminable forests,Over meadow, over mountain,Over river, hill, and hollow.Short it seemed to Hiawatha,Though they journeyed very slowly,Though his pace he checked and slackenedTo the steps of Laughing Water.
Over wide and rushing riversIn his arms he bore the maiden;Light he thought her as a feather,As the plume upon his head-gear;Cleared the tangled pathway for her,Bent aside the swaying branches,Made at night a lodge of branches,And a bed with boughs of hemlock,And a fire before the doorwayWith the dry cones of the pine-tree.
All the travelling winds went with them,O'er the meadows, through the forest;All the stars of night looked at them,Watched with sleepless eyes their slumber;From his ambush in the oak-treePeeped the squirrel, Adjidaumo,Watched with eager eyes the lovers;And the rabbit, the Wabasso,Scampered from the path before them,Peering, peeping from his burrow,Sat erect upon his haunches,Watched with curious eyes the lovers.
Pleasant was the journey homeward!All the birds sang loud and sweetlySongs of happiness and heart's-ease;Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,"Happy are you, Hiawatha,Having such a wife to love you!"Sang the robin, the Opechee,"Happy are you, Laughing Water,Having such a noble husband!"
From the sky the sun benignantLooked upon them through the branches,Saying to them, "O my children,Love is sunshine, hate is shadow,Life is checkered shade and sunshine,Rule by love, O Hiawatha!"
From the sky the moon looked at them,Filled the lodge with mystic splendors,Whispered to them, "O my children,Day is restless, night is quiet,Man imperious, woman feeble;Half is mine, although I follow;Rule by patience, Laughing Water!"
Thus it was they journeyed homeward;Thus it was that HiawathaTo the lodge of old NokomisBrought the moonlight, starlight, firelight,Brought the sunshine of his people,Minnehaha, Laughing Water,Handsomest of all the womenIn the land of the Dacotahs,In the land of handsome women.
XI. Hiawatha's Wedding-Feast
You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,How the handsome YenadizzeDanced at Hiawatha's wedding;How the gentle Chibiabos,He the sweetest of musicians,Sang his songs of love and longing;How Iagoo, the great boaster,He the marvellous story-teller,Told his tales of strange adventure,That the feast might be more joyous,That the time might pass more gayly,And the guests be more contented.
Sumptuous was the feast NokomisMade at Hiawatha's wedding;All the bowls were made of bass-wood,White and polished very smoothly,All the spoons of horn of bison,Black and polished very smoothly.
She had sent through all the villageMessengers with wands of willow,As a sign of invitation,As a token of the feasting;And the wedding guests assembled,Clad in all their richest raiment,Robes of fur and belts of wampum,Splendid with their paint and plumage,Beautiful with beads and tassels.
First they ate the sturgeon, Nahma,And the pike, the Maskenozha,Caught and cooked by old Nokomis;Then on pemican they feasted,Pemican and buffalo marrow,Haunch of deer and hump of bison,Yellow cakes of the Mondamin,And the wild rice of the river.
But the gracious Hiawatha,And the lovely Laughing Water,And the careful old Nokomis,Tasted not the food before them,Only waited on the othersOnly served their guests in silence.
And when all the guests had finished,Old Nokomis, brisk and busy,From an ample pouch of otter,Filled the red-stone pipes for smokingWith tobacco from the South-land,Mixed with bark of the red willow,And with herbs and leaves of fragrance.
Then she said, "O Pau-Puk-Keewis,Dance for us your merry dances,Dance the Beggar's Dance to please us,That the feast may be more joyous,That the time may pass more gayly,And our guests be more contented!"
Then the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis,He the idle Yenadizze,He the merry mischief-maker,Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,Rose among the guests assembled.
Skilled was he in sports and pastimes,In the merry dance of snow-shoes,In the play of quoits and ball-play;Skilled was he in games of hazard,In all games of skill and hazard,Pugasaing, the Bowl and Counters,Kuntassoo, the Game of Plum-stones.Though the warriors called him Faint-Heart,Called him coward, Shaugodaya,Idler, gambler, Yenadizze,Little heeded he their jesting,Little cared he for their insults,For the women and the maidensLoved the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis.
He was dressed in shirt of doeskin,White and soft, and fringed with ermine,All inwrought with beads of wampum;He was dressed in deer-skin leggings,Fringed with hedgehog quills and ermine,And in moccasins of buck-skin,Thick with quills and beads embroidered.On his head were plumes of swan's down,On his heels were tails of foxes,In one hand a fan of feathers,And a pipe was in the other.
Barred with streaks of red and yellow,Streaks of blue and bright vermilion,Shone the face of Pau-Puk-Keewis.From his forehead fell his tresses,Smooth, and parted like a woman's,Shining bright with oil, and plaited,Hung with braids of scented grasses,As among the guests assembled,To the sound of flutes and singing,To the sound of drums and voices,Rose the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis,And began his mystic dances.
First he danced a solemn measure,Very slow in step and gesture,In and out among the pine-trees,Through the shadows and the sunshine,Treading softly like a panther.Then more swiftly and still swifter,Whirling, spinning round in circles,Leaping o'er the guests assembled,Eddying round and round the wigwam,Till the leaves went whirling with him,Till the dust and wind togetherSwept in eddies round about him.
Then along the sandy marginOf the lake, the Big-Sea-Water,On he sped with frenzied gestures,Stamped upon the sand, and tossed itWildly in the air around him;Till the wind became a whirlwind,Till the sand was blown and siftedLike great snowdrifts o'er the landscape,Heaping all the shores with Sand Dunes,Sand Hills of the Nagow Wudjoo!
