The Song of Hiawatha

by Генри Лонгфелло

  " 60 back to your home and people, live among them, toil among them, Cleanse the earth from all that harms it, Clear the fishing-grounds and rivers, Slay all monsters and magicians, All the Wendigoes, the giants, All the serpents, the Kenabeeks, As I slew the Mishe-Mokwa, Slew the Great Bear of the mountains.

  " And at last when Death draws near you, When the awful eyes of Pauguk Glare upon you in the darkness, I will share my kingdom with you, Ruler shall you be thenceforward Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, Of the home-wind, the Keewaydin."

  Thus was fought that famous battle In the dreadful days of Shah-shah, In the days long since departed, In the kingdom of the West-Wind. Still the hunter sees its traces Scattered far o'er hill and valley j Sees the giant bulrush growing By the ponds and water-courses, Sees the masses of the Wawbeek Lying still in every valley.

  Homeward now went Hiawatha; Pleasant was the landscape round him, Pleasant was the air above him, For the bitterness of anger Had departed wholly from him, From his brain the thought of vengeance. From his heart the burning fever.

  Only once his pace he slackened, Only once he paused or halted, Paused to purchase heads of arrows

  Of the ancient Arrow-maker, In the land of the Dacotahs, Where the Falls of Minnehaha Flash and gleam among the oak-trees, Laugh and leap into the valley.

  There the ancient Arrow-maker Made his arrow-heads of sandstone, Arrow-heads of chalcedony, Arrow-heads of flint and jasper, Smoothed and sharpened at the edges, Hard and polished, keen and costly.

  With him dwelt his dark-eyed daughter, j, Wayward as the Minnehaha, With her moods of shade and sunshine, Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate, Feet as rapid as the river, Tresses flowing like the water, And as musical a laughter : And he named her from the river, From the water-fall he named her, Minnehaha, Laughing Water.

  Was it then for heads of arrows, Arrow-heads of chalcedony, Arrow-heads of flint and jasper, That my Hiawatha halted In the land of the Dacotahs ?

  Was it not to see the maiden,

  See the face of Laughing Water Peeping from behind the curtain, Hear the rustling of her garments From behind the waving curtain, As one sees the Minnehaha Gleaming, glancing through the branches. As one hears the Laughing Water From behind its screen of branches ?

  Who shall say what thoughts and visions Fill the fiery brains of young men ? Who shall say what dreams of beauty Filled the heart of Hiawatha ? All he told to old Nokomis, When he reached the lodge at sunset, Was the meeting with his father, Was his fight with Mudjekeewis j Not a word he said of arrows, Not a word of Laughing Water,

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  You shall hear how Hiawatha Frayed and fasted in the forest, Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumphs in the battle,

  And renown among the warriors, But for profit of the people, For advantage of the nations.

  First he built a lodge for fasting, Built a wigwam in the forest, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, In the blithe and pleasant Spring-time, In the Moon of Leaves he built it, And, with dreams and visions many, Seven whole days and nights he fasted.

  On the first day of his fasting Through the leafy woods he wandered; Saw the deer start from the thicket, Saw the rabbit in his burrow, Heard the pheasant, Bena, drumming, Heard the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Rattling in his hoard of acorns, Saw the pigeon, the Omeme, Building nests among the pine-trees, And in flocks the wild goose, Wawa, Flying to the fen-lands northward, Whirring, wailing far above him. " Master of Life! " he cried, desponding, " Must our lives depend on these things ? "

  On the next day of his fasting By the river's brink he wandered, Through the Muskoday, the meadow,

  Saw the wild rice, Mahnomonee, Saw the blueberry, Meenahga, And the strawberry, Odahmin, And the gooseberry, Shahbomin, And the grape-vine, the Bemahgut, Trailing o'er the alder-branches, Filling all the air with fragrance! " Master of Life!" he cried, desponding, " Must our lives depend on these things? On the third day of his fasting By the lake he sat and pondered, By the still, transparent water; Saw the sturgeon, Nahma, leaping, Scattering drops like beads of wampum, Saw the yellow perch, the Sahwa, Like a sunbeam in the water, Saw the pike, the Maskenozha, And the herring, Okahahwis, And the Shawgashee, the craw-fish ! " Master of Life!" he cried, desponding, " Must our lives depend on these things ? On the fourth day of his fasting In his lodge he lay exhausted; From his couch of leaves and branches Gazing with half-open eyelids, Full of shadowy dreams and visions, On the dizzy, swimming landscape,

  On the gleaming of the water, On the splendor of the sunset.

  And he saw a youth approaching, Dressed in garments green and yellow Coming through the purple twilight, Through the splendor of the sunset; Plumes of green bent o'er his forehead, And his hair was soft and golden.

  Standing at the open doorway, Long he looked at Hiawatha, Looked with pity and compassion On his wasted form and features, And, in accents like the sighing Of the South-Wind in the tree-tops, Said he, " 0 my Hiawatha! All your prayers are heard in heaven, For you pray not like the others; Not for greater skill in hunting, Not for greater craft in fishing, Not for triumph in the battle, Nor renown among the warriors, But for profit of the people, For advantage of the nations.

  " From the Master of Life descending, I, the friend of man, Mondamin, Come to warn you and instruct you, How by struggle and by labor

  You shall gain what you have prayed for. Rise up from your bed of branches, Rise, 0 youth, and wrestle with me!"

  Faint with famine, Hiawatha Started from his bed of branches, From the twilight of his wigwam Forth into the flush of sunset Came, and wrestled with Mondamin; At his touch he felt new courage Throbbing in his brain and bosom, Felt new life and hope and vigor Run through every nerve and fibre.

  So they wrestled there together In the glory of the sunset, And the more they strove and struggled, Stronger still grew Hiawatha; Till the darkness fell around them, And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her nest among the pine-trees, Gave a cry of lamentation, Gave a scream of pain and famine.

  " 'T is enough!" then said Mondamin, Smiling upon Hiawatha, u But to-morrow, when the sun sets, I will come again to try you." And he vanished, and was seen not; Whether sinking as the rain sinks,

  Whether rising as the mists rise, Hiawatha saw not, knew not, Only saw that he had vanished, Leaving him alone and fainting, With the misty lake below him, And the reeling stars above him.

  On the morrow and the next day, When the sun through heaven descending, Like a red and burning cinder From the hearth of the Great Spirit, Fell into the western waters, Came Mondamin for the trial, For the strife with Hiawatha; Came as silent as the dew comes, From the empty air appearing, Into empty air returning, Taking shape when earth it touches, But invisible to all men In its coming and its going.

  Thrice they wrestled there together In the glory of the sunset, Till the darkness fell around them, Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her nest among the pine-trees, Uttered her loud cry of famine, And Mondamin paused to listen.

  Tall and beautiful he stood there, In his garments green and yellow

  HIAWATHA'S FASTING

  To and fro his plumes above him Waved and nodded with his breathing, And the sweat of the encounter Stood like drops of dew upon him.

  And he cried, " 0 Hiawatha ! Bravely have you wrestled with me, Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me, And the Master of Life, who sees us, He will give to you the triumph! "

  Then he smiled, and said: " To-morrow Is the last day of your conflict, Is the last day of your fasting. You will conquer and overcome me; Make a bed for me to lie in, Where the rain may fall upon me, Where the sun may come and warm me; Strip these garments, green and yellow, Strip this nodding plumage from me, Lay me in the earth, and make it Soft and loose and light above me.

  " Let no hand disturb my slumber, Let no weed nor worm molest me, Let not Kahgahgee, the raven, Come to haunt me and molest me, Only come yourself to watch me, Till I wake, and start, and quicken, Till I leap into the sunshi
ne."

  And thus saying, he departed;

  Peacefully slept Hiawatha, But he heard the Wawonaissa, Heard the whippoorwill complaining, Perched upon his lonely wigwam; Heard the rushing Sebowisha, Heard the rivulet rippling near him, Talking to the darksome forest; Heard the sighing of the branches, As they lifted and subsided At the passing of the night-wind, Heard them, as one hears in slumber Far-off murmurs, dreamy whispers: Peacefully slept Hiawatha*

  On the morrow came Nokomis, On the seventh day of his fasting, Came with food for Hiawatha, Came imploring and bewailing, Lest his hunger should o'ercome him, Lest his fasting should be fatal.

  But he tasted not, and touched not, Only said to her, " Nokomis, Wait until the sun is setting, Till the darkness falls around us, Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Crying from the desolate marshes, Tells us that the day is ended."

  Homeward weeping went Nokomis,

  Sorrowing for her Hiawatha,

  Fearing lest his strength should fail him,

  Lest his fasting should be fatal.

  He meanwhile sat weary waiting

  For the coming of Mondamin,

  Till the shadows, pointing eastward,

  Lengthened over field and forest,

  Till the sun dropped from the heaven,

  Floating on the waters westward,

  As a red leaf in the Autumn

  Falls and floats upon the water,

  Falls and sinks into its bosom.

  And behold ! the young Mondamin, With his soft and shining tresses, With his garments green and yellow, With his long and glossy plumage, Stood and beckoned at the doorway, And as one in slumber walking, Pale and haggard, but undaunted, From the wigwam Hiawatha Came and wrestled with Mondamin.

  Round about him spun the landscape, Sky and forest reeled together, And his strong heart leaped within him, As the sturgeon leaps and struggles In a net to break its meshes. Like a ring of fire around him

  Blazed and flared the red horizon, And a hundred suns seemed looking At the combat of the wrestlers.

  Suddenly upon the greensward All alone stood Hiawatha, Panting with his wild exertion, Palpitating with the struggle ; And before him breathless, lifeless, Lay the youth, with hair dishevelled, Plumage torn, and garments tattered, Dead he lay there in the sunset

  And victorious Hiawatha Made the grave as he commanded, Stripped the garments from Mondamin, Stripped his tattered plumage from him, Laid him in the earth, and made it Soft and loose and light above him j And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From the melancholy moorlands, Gave a cry of lamentation, Gave a cry of pain and anguish!

  Homeward then went Hiawatha To the lodge of old Nokomis, And the seven days of his fasting Were accomplished and completed. But the place was not forgotten Where he wrestled with Mondamin; Nor forgotten nor neglected

  Was the grave where lay Mondamin, Sleeping in the rain and sunshine, Where his scattered plumes and garments Faded in the rain and sunshine.

  Day by day did Hiawatha Go to wait and watch beside it; Kept the dark mould soft above it, Kept it clean from weeds and insects. Drove away, with scoffs and shoutings, Kahgahgee, the king of ravens.

  Till at length a small green feather From the earth shot slowly upward, Then another and another, And before the Summer ended Stood the maize in all its beauty, With its shining robes about it, And its long, soft, yellow tresses; And in rapture Hiawatha Cried aloud, u It is Mondamin! Yes, the friend of man, Mondamin! "

  Then he called to old Nokomis And Iagoo, the great boaster, Showed them where the maize was growing, Told them of his wondrous vision, Of his wrestling and his triumph, Of this new gift to the nations, Which should be their food forever.

  And still later, when the Autumn

  Changed the long, green leaves to yellow, And the soft and juicy kernels Grew like wampum hard and yellow, Then the ripened ears he gathered, Stripped the withered husks from off them, As he once had stripped the wrestler, Gave the first Feast of Mondamin, And made known unto the people This new gift of the Great Spirit.

  Two good friends had Hiawatha,

  Singled out from all the others,

  Bound to him in closest union,

  And to whom he gave the right hand

  Of his heart, in joy and sorrow ;

  Chibiabos, the musician,

  And the very strong man, Kwasind.

  Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it

  Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, Story-tellers, mischief-makers, Found no eager ear to listen, Could not breed ill-will between them, For they kept each other's counsel, Spake with naked hearts together, Pondering much and much contriving How the tribes of men might prosper.

  Most beloved by Hiawatha Was. the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers. Beautiful and childlike was he, Brave as man is, soft as woman, Pliant as a wand of willow, Stately as 4 deer with antlers.

  When he sang, the village listened; All the warriors gathered round him, All the women came to hear him; Now he stirred their souls to passion, Now he melted them to pity.

  From the hollow reeds he fashioned Flutes so musical and mellow, That the brook, the Sebowisha, Ceased to murmur in the woodland, That the wood-birds ceased from singing, And the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

  HIAWATHA'S FRIENDS

  Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree, And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Sat upright to look and listen.

  Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha, Pausing, said, " 0 Chibiabos, Teach my waves to flow in music, Softly as your words in singing! "

  Yes, the bluebird, the Owaissa, Envious, said, " 0 Chibiabos, Teach me tones as wild and wayward, Teach me songs as full of frenzy ! "

  Yes, the robin, the Opechee, Joyous, said, " O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as sweet and tender, Teach me songs as full of gladness ! "

  And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa, Sobbing, said, " 0 Chibiabos, Teach me tones as melancholy, Teach me songs as full of sadness !"

  All the many sounds of nature Borrowed sweetness from his singing; All the hearts of men were softened By the pathos of his music ; For he sang of peace and freedom, Sang of beauty, love, and longing; Sang of death, and life undying In the Islands of the Blessed,

  In the kingdom of Ponemah, In the land of the Hereafter.

  Very dear to Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers; For his gentleness he loved him, And the magic of his singing.

  Dear, too, unto Hiawatha Was the very strong man, Kwasind, He the strongest of all mortals, He the mightiest among many ; For his very strength he loved him, For his strength allied to goodness.

  Idle in his youth was Kwasind, Very listless, dull, and dreamy, Never played with other children, Never fished and never hunted, Not like other children was he ; But they saw that much he fasted, Much his Manito entreated, Much besought his Guardian Spirit.

  " Lazy Kwasind !" said his mother, " In my work you never help me ! In the Summer you are roaming Idly in the fields and forest; In the Winter you are cowering

  O'er the firebrands in the wigwam ! In the coldest days of Winter I must break the ice for fishing; With my nets you never help me ! At the door my nets are hanging, Dripping, freezing with the water; Go and wring them, Yenadizze! Go and dry them in the sunshine! "

  Slowly, from the ashes, Kwasind Rose, but made no angry answer; From the lodge went forth in silence, Took the nets, that hung together, Dripping, freezing at the doorway, Like a wisp of straw he wrung them, Like a wisp of straw he broke them, Could not wring them without breaking, Such the strength was in his fingers.

  " Lazy Kwasind!" said his father, u In the hunt you never help me ; Every bow you touch is broken, Snapped asunder every arrow; Yet come with me to the forest, You shall bring the hunting homeward."

  Down a narrow pass they wandered, Where a brooklet led them onward, Where the trail of deer and bison Marked the soft mud on the margin,

  Till they found all further passage Shut against them, barred securely
By the trunks of trees uprooted, Lying lengthwise, lying crosswise, And forbidding further passage.

  " We must go back," said the old man,

  " O'er these logs we cannot clamber j Not a woodchuck could get through them, Not a squirrel clamber o'er them I" And straightway his pipe he lighted, And sat down to smoke and ponder. But before his pipe was finished, Lo! the path was cleared before him ; All the trunks had Kwasind lifted, To the right hand, to the left hand, Shot the pine-trees swift as arrows, Hurled the cedars light as lances.

  " Lazy Kwasind !" said the young men, As they sported in the meadow :

  " Why stand idly looking at us, Leaning on the rock behind you ? Come and wrestle with the others, Let us pitch the quoit together! " Lazy Kwasind made no answer, To their challenge made no answer, Only rose, and slowly turning, Seized the huge rock in his fingers,

  Tore it from its deep foundation, Poised it in the air a moment, Pitched it sheer into the river, Sheer into the swift Pauwating, Where it still is seen in Summer.

  Once as down that foaming river, Down the rapids of Pauwating, Kwasind sailed with his companions, In the stream he saw a beaver, Saw Ahmeek, the King of Beavers, Struggling with the rushing currents, Rising, sinking in the water.

  Without speaking, without pausing, Kwasind leaped into the river, Plunged beneath the bubbling surface, Through the whirlpools chased the beaver, Followed him among the islands, Stayed so long beneath the water, That his terrified companions Cried, " Alas ! good-by to Kwasind ! We shall never more see Kwasind ! " But he reappeared triumphant, And upon his shining shoulders Brought the beaver, dead and dripping, Brought the King of all the Beavers,