The Story of Hiawatha Part 19

XXI

THE WHITE MAN'S FOOT

IN his lodge beside a river, Close beside a frozen river, Sat an old man, sad and lonely.

White his hair was as a snow-drift; Dull and low his fire was burning, And the old man shook and trembled, Folded in his Waubewyon, In his tattered white skin-wrapper, Hearing nothing but the tempest As it roared along the forest, Seeing nothing but the snow-storm, As it whirled and hissed and drifted.

All the coals were white with ashes, And the fire was slowly dying, As a young man, walking lightly, At the open doorway entered.

Red with blood of youth his cheeks were, Soft his eyes, as stars in Spring-time, Bound his forehead was with gra.s.ses, Bound and plumed with scented gra.s.ses; On his lips a smile of beauty, Filling all the lodge with suns.h.i.+ne, In his hand a bunch of blossoms Filling all the lodge with sweetness.

"Ah, my son!" exclaimed the old man, "Happy are my eyes to see you.

Sit here on the mat beside me, Sit here by the dying embers; Let us pa.s.s the night together.

Tell me of your strange adventures, Of the lands where you have travelled; I will tell you of my prowess, Of my many deeds of wonder."

From his pouch he drew his peace-pipe, Very old and strangely fas.h.i.+oned, Made of red stone was the pipe-head, And the stem a reed with feathers, Filled the pipe with bark of willow, Placed a burning coal upon it, Gave it to his guest, the stranger; And began to speak in this wise: "When I blow my breath about me, When I breathe upon the landscape, Motionless are all the rivers, Hard as stone becomes the water!"

And the young man answered, smiling: "When I blow my breath about me, When I breathe upon the landscape, Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows, Singing, onward rush the rivers!"

"When I shake my h.o.a.ry tresses,"

Said the old man, darkly frowning, "All the land with snow is covered; All the leaves from all the branches Fall and fade and die and wither, For I breathe, and lo! they are not.

From the waters and the marshes Rise the wild goose and the heron, Fly away to distant regions, For I speak, and lo! they are not.

And where'er my footsteps wander, All the wild beasts of the forest Hide themselves in holes and caverns, And the earth becomes as flint-stone!"

"When I shake my flowing ringlets,"

Said the young man, softly laughing, "Showers of rain fall warm and welcome, Plants lift up their heads rejoicing, Back unto their lakes and marshes Come the wild goose and the heron, Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow, Sing the bluebird and the robin, And where'er my footsteps wander, All the meadows wave with blossoms, All the woodlands ring with music, All the trees are dark with foliage!"

While they spake, the night departed; From the distant realms of Wabun, From his s.h.i.+ning lodge of silver, Like a warrior robed and painted, Came the sun, and said, "Behold me!

Gheezis, the great sun, behold me!"

Then the old man's tongue was speechless.

And the air grew warm and pleasant, And upon the wigwam sweetly Sang the bluebird and the robin, And the stream began to murmur, And a scent of growing gra.s.ses Through the lodge was gently wafted.

And Segwun, the youthful stranger, More distinctly in the daylight Saw the icy face before him: It was Peboan, the Winter!

From his eyes the tears were flowing, As from melting lakes the streamlets, And his body shrank and dwindled As the shouting sun ascended, Till into the air it faded, Till into the ground it vanished, And the young man saw before him, On the hearth-stone of the wigwam, Where the fire had smoked and smouldered, Saw the earliest flower of Spring-time Saw the beauty of the Spring-time.

Saw the Miskodeed in blossom.

Thus it was that in the North-land After that unheard-of coldness, That intolerable Winter, Came the Spring with all its splendor.

All its birds and all its blossoms, All its flowers and leaves and gra.s.ses.

Sailing on the wind to northward, Flying in great flocks, like arrows, Like huge arrows shot through heaven, Pa.s.sed the swan, the Mahnahbezee, Speaking almost as a man speaks; And in long lines waving, bending Like a bow-string snapped asunder, Came the white goose, Waw-be-wawa: And the pairs or singly flying, Mahng the loon, with clangorous pinions, The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, And the grouse, the Mushkodasa.

In the thickets, and the meadows Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa, On the summit of the lodges Sang the Opechee, the robin, In the cover of the pine-trees 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 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 so!"

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 Looked and t.i.ttered at each other; "Kaw!" they said, "we don't believe it!"

From its mouth, he said, to greet him, Came Waywa.s.simo, 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!"

And the warriors and the women Laughed 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 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 s.h.i.+ning 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 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 friends.h.i.+p 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.

"Then a darker, drearier vision Pa.s.sed before me, vague and cloudlike I beheld our nation scattered, All forgetful of my counsels, Weakened, warring with each other; Saw the remnants of our people Sweeping westward, wild and woeful, Like the cloud-rack of a tempest, Like the withered leaves of Autumn!"

XXII

HIAWATHA'S DEPARTURE

BY the sh.o.r.e of Gitche Gumee, By the s.h.i.+ning 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 suns.h.i.+ne, Westward toward the neighboring forest Pa.s.sed in golden swarms the Ahmo, Pa.s.sed the bees, the honey-makers, Burning, singing in the suns.h.i.+ne.

Bright above him shone the heavens, Level spread the lake before him; From its bosom leaped the sturgeon, Sparkling, flas.h.i.+ng in the suns.h.i.+ne; On its margin the great forest Stood reflected in the water, Every tree-top 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, Both the palms spread out against it, And between the parted fingers Fell the suns.h.i.+ne on his features, Flecked with light his naked shoulders, 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 s.h.i.+ngebis, 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, flas.h.i.+ng, From its glossy neck and feathers?

It was neither goose nor diver, Neither pelican nor heron, O'er the water floating, flying, Through the s.h.i.+ning mist of morning, But a birch-canoe with paddles, Rising, sinking on the water, Dripping, flas.h.i.+ng in the suns.h.i.+ne; And within it came a people From the distant land of Wabun, From the farthest realms of morning Came the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet, He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face, With his guides and his companions.

And the n.o.ble 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 s.h.i.+ning 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; 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 s.h.i.+ne and blossom, When 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 pa.s.sing Has removed both rock and sand-bar.

"Never before had our tobacco Such a sweet and pleasant flavor, Never the broad leaves of our cornfields Were so beautiful to look on As they seem to us this morning, When you come so far to see us!"

And the Black-Robe chief made answer, 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 pardon, 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 ba.s.s-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, From the wigwam came to greet them, Stammering in his speech a little, Speaking words yet unfamiliar; "It is well," they said, "O brother, When 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, crucified him; How he rose from where they laid him, Walked again with his disciples, And ascended into heaven.

And the chiefs made answer saying: "We have listened to your message, We have heard your words of wisdom, We will think on what you tell us.

It is well for us, O brothers, That you come so far to see us!"

[Ill.u.s.tration:

"WESTWARD, WESTWARD, HIAWATHA SAILED INTO THE FIERY SUNSET"--_Page 312_]

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 s.h.i.+ning land of Wabun.

Heavy with the heat and silence Grew the afternoon of Summer; With a drowsy sound the forest Whispered round the sultry wigwam, With a sound of sleep the water Rippled on the beach below it; From the cornfields shrill and ceaseless Sang the gra.s.shopper, Pah-puk-keena; And the guests of Hiawatha, Weary with the heat of Summer, Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.

Slowly o'er the simmering landscape Fell the evening's dusk and coolness, And the long and level sunbeams Shot their spears into the forest, Breaking through its s.h.i.+elds of shadow, Rushed into each secret ambush, Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow; 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 slumbered: "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.