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By the shore of Gitche Gumee,
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By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
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At the doorway of his wigwam,
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In the pleasant Summer morning,
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Hiawatha stood and waited.
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All the air was full of freshness,
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All the earth was bright and joyous,
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And before him, through the sunshine,
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Westward toward the neighboring forest
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Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
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Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
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Burning, singing in the sunshine.
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Bright above him shone the heavens,
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Level spread the lake before him;
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From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
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Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;
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On its margin the great forest
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Stood reflected in the water,
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Every tree-top had its shadow,
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Motionless beneath the water.
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From the brow of Hiawatha
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Gone was every trace of sorrow,
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As the fog from off the water,
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As the mist from off the meadow.
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With a smile of joy and triumph,
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With a look of exultation,
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As of one who in a vision
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Sees what is to be, but is not,
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Stood and waited Hiawatha.
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Toward the sun his hands were lifted,
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Both the palms spread out against it,
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And between the parted fingers
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Fell the sunshine on his features,
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Flecked with light his naked shoulders,
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As it falls and flecks an oak-tree
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Through the rifted leaves and branches.
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O'er the water floating, flying,
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Something in the hazy distance,
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Something in the mists of morning,
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Loomed and lifted from the water,
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Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
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Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
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Was it Shingebis the diver?
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Or the pelican, the Shada?
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Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah?
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Or the white goose, Waw-be-wawa,
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With the water dripping, flashing,
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From its glossy neck and feathers?
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It was neither goose nor diver,
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Neither pelican nor heron,
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O'er the water floating, flying,
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Through the shining mist of morning,
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But a birch canoe with paddles,
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Rising, sinking on the water,
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Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;
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And within it came a people
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From the distant land of Wabun,
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From the farthest realms of morning
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Came the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet,
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He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face,
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With his guides and his companions.
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And the noble Hiawatha,
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With his hands aloft extended,
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Held aloft in sign of welcome,
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Waited, full of exultation,
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Till the birch canoe with paddles
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Grated on the shining pebbles,
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Stranded on the sandy margin,
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Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,
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With the cross upon his bosom,
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Landed on the sandy margin.
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Then the joyous Hiawatha
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Cried aloud and spake in this wise:
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"Beautiful is the sun, O strangers,
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When you come so far to see us!
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All our town in peace awaits you,
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All our doors stand open for you;
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You shall enter all our wigwams,
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For the heart's right hand we give you.
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"Never bloomed the earth so gayly,
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Never shone the sun so brightly,
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As to-day they shine and blossom
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When you come so far to see us!
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Never was our lake so tranquil,
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Nor so free from rocks, and sand-bars;
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For your birch canoe in passing
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Has removed both rock and sand-bar.
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"Never before had our tobacco
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Such a sweet and pleasant flavor,
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Never the broad leaves of our cornfields
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Were so beautiful to look on,
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As they seem to us this morning,
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When you come so far to see us!'
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And the Black-Robe chief made answer,
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Stammered in his speech a little,
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Speaking words yet unfamiliar:
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"Peace be with you, Hiawatha,
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Peace be with you and your people,
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Peace of prayer, and peace of pardon,
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Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!"
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Then the generous Hiawatha
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Led the strangers to his wigwam,
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Seated them on skins of bison,
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Seated them on skins of ermine,
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And the careful old Nokomis
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Brought them food in bowls of basswood,
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Water brought in birchen dippers,
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And the calumet, the peace-pipe,
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Filled and lighted for their smoking.
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All the old men of the village,
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All the warriors of the nation,
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All the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,
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The magicians, the Wabenos,
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And the Medicine-men, the Medas,
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Came to bid the strangers welcome;
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"It is well", they said, "O brothers,
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That you come so far to see us!"
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In a circle round the doorway,
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With their pipes they sat in silence,
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Waiting to behold the strangers,
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Waiting to receive their message;
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Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,
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From the wigwam came to greet them,
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Stammering in his speech a little,
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Speaking words yet unfamiliar;
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"It is well," they said, "O brother,
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That you come so far to see us!"
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Then the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet,
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Told his message to the people,
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Told the purport of his mission,
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Told them of the Virgin Mary,
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And her blessed Son, the Saviour,
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How in distant lands and ages
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He had lived on earth as we do;
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How he fasted, prayed, and labored;
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How the Jews, the tribe accursed,
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Mocked him, scourged him, crucified him;
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How he rose from where they laid him,
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Walked again with his disciples,
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And ascended into heaven.
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And the chiefs made answer, saying:
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"We have listened to your message,
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We have heard your words of wisdom,
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We will think on what you tell us.
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It is well for us, O brothers,
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That you come so far to see us!"
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Then they rose up and departed
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Each one homeward to his wigwam,
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To the young men and the women
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Told the story of the strangers
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Whom the Master of Life had sent them
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From the shining land of Wabun.
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Heavy with the heat and silence
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Grew the afternoon of Summer;
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With a drowsy sound the forest
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Whispered round the sultry wigwam,
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With a sound of sleep the water
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Rippled on the beach below it;
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From the cornfields shrill and ceaseless
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Sang the grasshopper, Pah-puk-keena;
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And the guests of Hiawatha,
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Weary with the heat of Summer,
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Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.
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Slowly o'er the simmering landscape
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Fell the evening's dusk and coolness,
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And the long and level sunbeams
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Shot their spears into the forest,
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Breaking through its shields of shadow,
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Rushed into each secret ambush,
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Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow;
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Still the guests of Hiawatha
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Slumbered in the silent wigwam.
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From his place rose Hiawatha,
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Bade farewell to old Nokomis,
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Spake in whispers, spake in this wise,
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Did not wake the guests, that slumbered.
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"I am going, O Nokomis,
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On a long and distant journey,
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To the portals of the Sunset.
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To the regions of the home-wind,
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Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin.
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But these guests I leave behind me,
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In your watch and ward I leave them;
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See that never harm comes near them,
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See that never fear molests them,
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Never danger nor suspicion,
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Never want of food or shelter,
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In the lodge of Hiawatha!"
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Forth into the village went he,
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Bade farewell to all the warriors,
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Bade farewell to all the young men,
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Spake persuading, spake in this wise:
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"I am going, O my people,
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On a long and distant journey;
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Many moons and many winters
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Will have come, and will have vanished,
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Ere I come again to see you.
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But my guests I leave behind me;
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Listen to their words of wisdom,
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Listen to the truth they tell you,
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For the Master of Life has sent them
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From the land of light and morning!"
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On the shore stood Hiawatha,
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Turned and waved his hand at parting;
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On the clear and luminous water
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Launched his birch canoe for sailing,
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From the pebbles of the margin
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Shoved it forth into the water;
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Whispered to it, "Westward! westward!"
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And with speed it darted forward.
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And the evening sun descending
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Set the clouds on fire with redness,
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Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
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Left upon the level water
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One long track and trail of splendor,
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Down whose stream, as down a river,
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Westward, westward Hiawatha
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Sailed into the fiery sunset,
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Sailed into the purple vapors,
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Sailed into the dusk of evening:
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And the people from the margin
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Watched him floating, rising, sinking,
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Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
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High into that sea of splendor,
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Till it sank into the vapors
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Like the new moon slowly, slowly
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Sinking in the purple distance.
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And they said, "Farewell forever!"
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Said, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
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And the forests, dark and lonely,
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Moved through all their depths of darkness,
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Sighed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
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And the waves upon the margin
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Rising, rippling on the pebbles,
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Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
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And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
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From her haunts among the fen-lands,
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Screamed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"
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Thus departed Hiawatha,
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Hiawatha the Beloved,
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In the glory of the sunset,.
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In the purple mists of evening,
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To the regions of the home-wind,
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Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
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To the Islands of the Blessed,
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To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
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