The Song of Hiawatha   ::   Longfellow Henry Wadsworth

Full of scorn was Hiawatha

When he saw the fish rise upward,

Saw the pike, the Maskenozha,

Coming nearer, nearer to him,

And he shouted through the water,

"Esa! esa! shame upon you!

You are but the pike, Kenozha,

You are not the fish I wanted,

You are not the King of Fishes!"

Reeling downward to the bottom

Sank the pike in great confusion,

And the mighty sturgeon, Nahma,

Said to Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

To the bream, with scales of crimson,

"Take the bait of this great boaster,

Break the line of Hiawatha!"

Slowly upward, wavering, gleaming,

Rose the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

Seized the line of Hiawatha,

Swung with all his weight upon it,

Made a whirlpool in the water,

Whirled the birch canoein circles,

Round and round in gurgling eddies,

Till the circles in the water

Reached the far-off sandy beaches,

Till the water-flags and rushes

Nodded on the distant margins.

But when Hiawatha saw him

Slowly rising through the water,

Lifting up his disk refulgent,

Loud he shouted in derision,

"Esa! esa! shame upon you!

You are Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

You are not the fish I wanted,

You are not the King of Fishes!"

Slowly downward, wavering, gleaming,

Sank the Ugudwash, the sun-fish,

And again the sturgeon, Nahma,

Heard the shout of Hiawatha,

Heard his challenge of defiance,

The unnecessary tumult,

Ringing far across the water.

From the white sand of the bottom

Up he rose with angry gesture,

Quivering in each nerve and fibre,

Clashing all his plates of armor,

Gleaming bright with all his war-paint;

In his wrath he darted upward,

Flashing leaped into the sunshine,

Opened his great jaws, and swallowed

Both canoe and Hiawatha.

Down into that darksome cavern

Plunged the headlong Hiawatha,

As a log on some black river

Shoots and plunges down the rapids,

Found himself in utter darkness,

Groped about in helpless wonder,

Till he felt a great heart beating,

Throbbing in that utter darkness.

And he smote it in his anger,

With his fist, the heart of Nahma,

Felt the mighty King of Fishes

Shudder through each nerve and fibre,

Heard the water gurgle round him

As he leaped and staggered through it,

Sick at heart, and faint and weary.

Crosswise then did Hiawatha

Drag his birch-canoe for safety,

Lest from out the jaws of Nahma,

In the turmoil and confusion,

Forth he might be hurled and perish.

And the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

Frisked and chatted very gayly,

Toiled and tugged with Hiawatha

Till the labor was completed.