In the thickets and the meadowsPiped the bluebird, the Owaissa,On the summit of the lodgesSang the robin, the Opechee,In the covert of the pine-treesCooed the pigeon, the Omemee;And the sorrowing Hiawatha,Speechless in his infinite sorrow,Heard their voices calling to him,Went forth from his gloomy doorway,Stood and gazed into the heaven,Gazed upon the earth and waters.
From his wanderings far to eastward,From the regions of the morning,From the shining land of Wabun,Homeward now returned Iagoo,The great traveller, the great boaster,Full of new and strange adventures,Marvels many and many wonders.
And the people of the villageListened to him as he told themOf his marvellous adventures,Laughing answered him in this wise:"Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo!No one else beholds such wonders!"
He had seen, he said, a waterBigger 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 waterCame 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 womenLooked 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 womenLaughed aloud at poor Iagoo;"Kaw!" they said, "what tales you tell us!"
In it, said he, came a people,In the great canoe with pinionsCame, he said, a hundred warriors;Painted white were all their facesAnd with hair their chins were covered!And the warriors and the womenLaughed 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!Do not think that we believe them!"
Only Hiawatha laughed not,But he gravely spake and answeredTo 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 beardedPeople of the wooden vesselFrom 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 themSwarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo,Swarms the bee, the honey-maker;Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath themSprings 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 friendshipGive them when they come to see us.Gitche Manito, the Mighty,Said this to me in my vision.
"I beheld, too, in that visionAll the secrets of the future,Of the distant days that shall be.I beheld the westward marchesOf the unknown, crowded nations.All the land was full of people,Restless, struggling, toiling, striving,Speaking many tongues, yet feelingBut one heart-beat in their bosoms.In the woodlands rang their axes,Smoked their towns in all the valleys,Over all the lakes and riversRushed their great canoes of thunder.
"Then a darker, drearier visionPassed 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 peopleSweeping westward, wild and woful,Like the cloud-rack of a tempest,Like the withered leaves of Autumn!"
XXII
Hiawatha's Departure
By the shore of Gitche Gumee,By the shining Big-Sea-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 forestPassed 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 forestStood reflected in the water,Every tree-top had its shadow,Motionless beneath the water.
From the brow of HiawathaGone 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 visionSees 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 fingersFell the sunshine on his features,Flecked with light his naked shoulders,As it falls and flecks an oak-treeThrough 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?
It was neither goose nor diver,Neither pelican nor heron,O'er the water floating, flying,Through the shining mist of morning,But a birch canoe with paddles,Rising, sinking on the water,Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;And within it came a peopleFrom the distant land of Wabun,From the farthest realms of morningCame the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet,He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face,With his guides and his companions.
And the noble Hiawatha,With his hands aloft extended,Held aloft in sign of welcome,Waited, full of exultation,Till the birch canoe with paddlesGrated on the shining pebbles,Stranded on the sandy margin,Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,With the cross upon his bosom,Landed on the sandy margin.
Then the joyous HiawathaCried aloud and spake in this wise:"Beautiful is the sun, O strangers,When you come so far to see us!All our town in peace awaits you,All our doors stand open for you;You shall enter all our wigwams,For the heart's right hand we give you.
"Never bloomed the earth so gayly,Never shone the sun so brightly,As to-day they shine and blossomWhen you come so far to see us!Never was our lake so tranquil,Nor so free from rocks, and sand-bars;For your birch canoe in passingHas removed both rock and sand-bar."Never before had our tobaccoSuch a sweet and pleasant flavor,Never the broad leaves of our cornfieldsWere so beautiful to look on,As they seem to us this morning,When you come so far to see us!'