The Song of Hiawatha   ::   Longfellow Henry Wadsworth

From the wigwam Hiawatha

Bore 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 village

Welcomed 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 Hiawatha

Was the memory of Mama!

And in token of his friendship,

As a mark of his remembrance,

He adorned and decked his pipe-stem

With 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 Hiawatha

Said 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.