Cooed the pigeon, the Omemee,
And the sorrowing Hiawatha,
Speechless in his infinite sorrow,
Heard their voices calling to him,
Went forth from his gloomy door-
way.
Stood and gazed into the heaven,
Gazed upon the earth and waters.
From his wanderings far to east-
ward,
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 village
Listened to him as he told them
Of 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 water,
Bigger 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
O'er it, said he, o'er this water Came 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 women Look 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 women Laughed aloud at poor Iagoo;
Kaw!" they said, "what tales you tell us!"
In it, said he, came a people, In the great canoe with pinions Came, he said, a hundred warriors; Painted white were all their faces And with hair their chins were covered!
Do not think that we believe them !"
Only Hiawatha laughed not,
But he gravely spake and answered
To 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 bearded
People of the wooden vessel
From 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 them
Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo.
Swarms the bee, the honey-maker;
Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath
them
Springs a flower unknown among
Springs the White-man's Foot in
"Let us welcome, then, the stran
Hail them as our friends and brothers,
And the heart's right hand of friendship
Give them when they come to see us.
Gitche Manito, the Mighty,
Said this to me in my vision.
"I beheld, too, in that vision.
All the secrets of the future,
Of the distant days that shall be.
I beheld the westward marches
Of the unknown, crowded nations.
All the land was full of people,
| Restless, struggling, toiling, striving,
Speaking many tongues, yet feeling
But one heart-beat in their bosoms.
In the woodlands rang their axes,
Smoked their towns in all the valleys,
Over all the lakes and rivers
Rushed their great canoes of thunder.
Passed 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 forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every treetop had its shadow,
Motionless beneath the water.
From the brow of Hiawatha
Gone 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 vision
Sees what is to be, but is not,
Stood and waited Hiawatha.
Toward the sun his hands were
lifted,1
1 In this manner, and with such salutations, was Father Marquette received by the Illinois. See his Voyage et Décou vertes, Section V.
Both the palms spread out against it,
And between the parted fingers
Fell the sunshine on his features,
Flecked with light his naked shoul-
ders,
As it falls and flecks an oak tree Through 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?
Was it 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,
O'er the water floating, flying,
Neither pelican nor heron,
Through the shining mist of morn-
But a birch canoe with paddles,
ing,
Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;
Rising, sinking on the water,
And within it came a people
From the distant land of Wabun,
From the farthest realms of morning
Came the Black-Robe chief, the
He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-
Prophet,
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 paddles
Grated 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 Hiawatha
Cried 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 ;
Stammered in his speech a little,
Speaking words yet unfamiliar :
Peace be with you, Hiawatha,
Peace be with you and your people,
Peace of prayer, and peace of par-
don,
Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!"
Then the generous Hiawatha
Led the strangers to his wigwam,
Seated them on skins of bison,
Seated them on skins of ermine,
And the careful, old Nokomis
Brought them food in bowls of bass-
wood,
Water brought in birchen dippers,
And the calumet, the peace-pipe,
Filled and lighted for their smoking.
All the old men of the village,
All the warriors of the nation,
All the Jossakeeds, the prophets,
The magicians, the Wabenos,
And the medicine-men, the Medas,
Came to bid the strangers welcome;
"It is well," they said, "O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!"
In a circle round the doorway,
With their pipes they sat in silence,
Waiting to behold the strangers,
Waiting to receive their message;
Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-
face,
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Stammering in his speech a little,
Speaking words yet unfamiliar ;
"It is well," they said, "O brother,
That you come so far to see us !"
Then the Black-Robe chief, the
prophet,
Told his message to the people,
Told the purport of his mission,
Told them of the Virgin Mary,
And her blessed Son, the Saviour,
How in distant lands and ages
He had lived on earth as we do;
How he fasted, prayed, and labored;
How the Jews, the tribe accursed;
Mocked him, scourged him, cruci-
fied him ;
How he rose from where they laid
him,
Walked again with his disciples,
And ascended into heaven.
And the chiefs made answer, say
"We have listened to your message,
We have heard your words of wis-
dom,
We will think on what you tell us.
It is well for us, O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!"
Then they rose up and departed
Each one homeward to his wigwam,
To the young men and the women
Told the story of the strangers
Whom the Master of Life had sent
them
From the shining land of Wabun.
Heavy with the heat and silence
Grew the afternoon of Summer;
With a drowsy sound the forest
Whispered round the sultry wig-
With a sound of sleep the water
Rippled on the beach below it;
From the cornfields shrill and cease-
less
Sang the grasshopper, Pah-puk-
keena;
And the guests of Hiawatha,
Weary with the heat of Summer,
Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.
Slowly o'er the simmering land-
scape
Fell the evening's dusk and coolness,
From the wigwam came to greet And the long and level sunbeams
Shot their spears into the forest,
Breaking through its shields of | Launched his birch canoe for sail
Rushed into each secret ambush,
Searched each thicket, dingle, hol-
low;
Still the guests of Hiawatha
Slumbered in the silent wigwam.
From his place rose Hiawatha,
Bade farewell to old Nokomis,
Spake in whispers, spake in this
wise,
Did not wake the guests, that slum-
bered:
"I am going, O Nokomis,
On a long and distant journey,
To the portals of the Sunset,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest wind, Keewaydin.
But these guests I leave behind me,
In your watch and ward I leave
them;
See that never harm comes near
See that never fear molests them,
Never danger nor suspicion,
Never want of food or shelter,
In the lodge of Hiawatha !
Forth into the village went he,
Bade farewell to all the warriors,
Bade farewell to all the young
Spake persuading, spake in this wise :
"I am going, O my people,
On a long and distant journey;
Many moons and many winters
Will have come, and will have
vanished,
Ere I come again to see you.
But my guests I leave behind me ;
Listen to their words of wisdom,
Listen to the truth they tell you,
For the Master of Life has sent
them
From the land of light and morn-
ing!"
On the shore stood Hiawatha,
From the pebbles of the margin
Shoved it forth into the water;
Whispered to it, "Westward ! west-
ward!"
And with speed it darted forward.
And the evening sun descending Set the clouds on fire with redness, Burned the broad sky, like a prairie, Left upon the level water
One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a
river,
Westward, westward Hiawatha
Sailed into the fiery sunset,
Sailed into the purple vapors,
Sailed into the dusk of evening.
And the people from the margin
Watched him floating, rising, sink-
ing,
Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
High into that sea of splendor,
Till it sank into the vapors
Like the new moon slowly, slowly
Sinking in the purple distance.
And they said,
ever!"
Said, "Farewell, O Hiawatha !"
And the forests, dark and lonely,
Moved through all their depths of
darkness,
Sighed, Farewell, O Hiawatha !"
And the waves upon the margin
Rising, rippling on the pebbles,
Sobbed, Farewell, O Hiawatha !"
And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
From her haunts among the fen-
lands
Screamed, "Farewell, O Hiawa-
tha!"
Thus departed Hiawatha !"
Hiawatha the Beloved,
In the glory of the sunset,
In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest wind, Keewaydin,
Turned and waved his hand at To the Islands of the Blessed,
On the clear and luminous water
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the land of the Hereafter !
UNDER a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan ;
His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can,
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close;
And looks the whole world in the Something attempted, something
Has earned a night's repose.
Week in, week out, from morn till Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy
You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and
preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
For the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought!
THE rising moon has hid the stars; Her level rays, like golden bars, Lie on the landscape green, With shadows brown between.
And silver white the river gleams,
As if Diana, in her dreams,
Had dropt her silver bow
Upon the meadows low.
On such a tranquil night as this, She woke Endymion with a kiss, When, sleeping in the grove, He dreamed not of her love.
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