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Out of childhood into manhood
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Now had grown my Hiawatha,
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Skilled in all the craft of hunters,
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Learned in all the lore of old men,
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In all youthful sports and pastimes,
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In all manly arts and labors.
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Swift of foot was Hiawatha;
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He could shoot an arrow from him,
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And run forward with such fleetness,
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That the arrow fell behind him!
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Strong of arm was Hiawatha;
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He could shoot ten arrows upward,
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Shoot them with such strength and swiftness,
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That the tenth had left the bow-string
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Ere the first to earth had fallen!
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He had mittens, Minjekahwun,
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Magic mittens made of deer-skin;
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When upon his hands he wore them,
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He could smite the rocks asunder,
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He could grind them into powder.
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He had moccasins enchanted,
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Magic moccasins of deer-skin;
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When he bound them round his ankles,
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When upon his feet he tied them,
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At each stride a mile he measured!
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Much he questioned old Nokomis
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Of his father Mudjekeewis;
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Learned from her the fatal secret
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Of the beauty of his mother,
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Of the falsehood of his father;
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And his heart was hot within him,
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Like a living coal his heart was.
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Then he said to old Nokomis,
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"I will go to Mudjekeewis,
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See how fares it with my father,
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At the doorways of the West-Wind,
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At the portals of the Sunset!"
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From his lodge went Hiawatha,
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Dressed for travel, armed for hunting;
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Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings,
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Richly wrought with quills and wampum;
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On his head his eagle-feathers,
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Round his waist his belt of wampum,
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In his hand his bow of ash-wood,
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Strung with sinews of the reindeer;
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In his quiver oaken arrows,
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Tipped with jasper, winged with feathers;
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With his mittens, Minjekahwun,
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With his moccasins enchanted.
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Warning said the old Nokomis,
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"Go not forth, O Hiawatha!
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To the kingdom of the West-Wind,
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To the realms of Mudjekeewis,
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Lest he harm you with his magic,
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Lest he kill you with his cunning!"
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But the fearless Hiawatha
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Heeded not her woman's warning;
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Forth he strode into the forest,
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At each stride a mile he measured;
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Lurid seemed the sky above him,
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Lurid seemed the earth beneath him,
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Hot and close the air around him,
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Filled with smoke and fiery vapors,
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As of burning woods and prairies,
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For his heart was hot within him,
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Like a living coal his heart was.
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So he journeyed westward, westward,
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Left the fleetest deer behind him,
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Left the antelope and bison;
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Crossed the rushing Esconaba,
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Crossed the mighty Mississippi,
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Passed the Mountains of the Prairie,
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Passed the land of Crows and Foxes,
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Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet,
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Came unto the Rocky Mountains,
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To the kingdom of the West-Wind,
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Where upon the gusty summits
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Sat the ancient Mudjekeewis,
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Ruler of the winds of heaven.
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Filled with awe was Hiawatha
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At the aspect of his father.
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On the air about him wildly
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Tossed and streamed his cloudy tresses,
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Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses,
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Glared like Ishkoodah, the comet,
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Like the star with fiery tresses.
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Filled with joy was Mudjekeewis
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When he looked on Hiawatha,
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Saw his youth rise up before him
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In the face of Hiawatha,
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Saw the beauty of Wenonah
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From the grave rise up before him.
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"Welcome!" said he, "Hiawatha,
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To the kingdom of the West-Wind!
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Long have I been waiting for you!
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Youth is lovely, age is lonely,
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Youth is fiery, age is frosty;
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You bring back the days departed,
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You bring back my youth of passion,
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And the beautiful Wenonah!"
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Many days they talked together,
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Questioned, listened, waited, answered;
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Much the mighty Mudjekeewis
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Boasted of his ancient prowess,
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Of his perilous adventures,
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His indomitable courage,
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His invulnerable body.
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Patiently sat Hiawatha,
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Listening to his father's boasting;
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With a smile he sat and listened,
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Uttered neither threat nor menace,
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Neither word nor look betrayed him,
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But his heart was hot within him,
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Like a living coal his heart was.
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Then he said, "O Mudjekeewis,
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Is there nothing that can harm you?
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Nothing that you are afraid of?"
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And the mighty Mudjekeewis,
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Grand and gracious in his boasting,
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Answered, saying, "There is nothing,
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Nothing but the black rock yonder,
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Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!"
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And he looked at Hiawatha
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With a wise look and benignant,
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With a countenance paternal,
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Looked with pride upon the beauty
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Of his tall and graceful figure,
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Saying, "O my Hiawatha!
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Is there anything can harm you?
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Anything you are afraid of?"
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But the wary Hiawatha
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Paused awhile, as if uncertain,
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Held his peace, as if resolving,
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And then answered, "There is nothing,
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Nothing but the bulrush yonder,
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Nothing but the great Apukwa!"
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And as Mudjekeewis, rising,
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Stretched his hand to pluck the bulrush,
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Hiawatha cried in terror,
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Cried in well-dissembled terror,
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"Kago! kago! do not touch it!"
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"Ah, kaween!" said Mudjekeewis,
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"No indeed, I will not touch it!"
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Then they talked of other matters;
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First of Hiawatha's brothers,
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First of Wabun, of the East-Wind,
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Of the South-Wind, Shawondasee,
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Of the North, Kabibonokka;
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Then of Hiawatha's mother,
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Of the beautiful Wenonah,
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Of her birth upon the meadow,
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Of her death, as old Nokomis
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Had remembered and related.
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And he cried, "O Mudjekeewis,
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It was you who killed Wenonah,
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Took her young life and her beauty,
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Broke the Lily of the Prairie,
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Trampled it beneath your footsteps;
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You confess it! you confess it!"
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And the mighty Mudjekeewis
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Tossed upon the wind his tresses,
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Bowed his hoary head in anguish,
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With a silent nod assented.
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Then up started Hiawatha,
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And with threatening look and gesture
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Laid his hand upon the black rock,
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On the fatal Wawbeek laid it,
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With his mittens, Minjekahwun,
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Rent the jutting crag asunder,
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Smote and crushed it into fragments,
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Hurled them madly at his father,
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The remorseful Mudjekeewis,
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For his heart was hot within him,
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Like a living coal his heart was.
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But the ruler of the West-Wind
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Blew the fragments backward from him,
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With the breathing of his nostrils,
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With the tempest of his anger,
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Blew them back at his assailant;
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Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,
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Dragged it with its roots and fibres
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From the margin of the meadow,
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From its ooze the giant bulrush;
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Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!
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Then began the deadly conflict,
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Hand to hand among the mountains;
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From his eyry screamed the eagle,
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The Keneu, the great war-eagle,
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Sat upon the crags around them,
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Wheeling flapped his wings above them.
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Like a tall tree in the tempest
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Bent and lashed the giant bulrush;
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And in masses huge and heavy
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Crashing fell the fatal Wawbeek;
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Till the earth shook with the tumult
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And confusion of the battle,
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And the air was full of shoutings,
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And the thunder of the mountains,
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Starting, answered, "Baim-wawa!"
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Back retreated Mudjekeewis,
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Rushing westward o'er the mountains,
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Stumbling westward down the mountains,
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Three whole days retreated fighting,
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Still pursued by Hiawatha
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To the doorways of the West-Wind,
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To the portals of the Sunset,
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To the earth's remotest border,
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Where into the empty spaces
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Sinks the sun, as a flamingo
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Drops into her nest at nightfall,
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In the melancholy marshes.
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"Hold!" at length cried Mudjekeewis,
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"Hold, my son, my Hiawatha!
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'T is impossible to kill me,
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For you cannot kill the immortal.
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I have put you to this trial,
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But to know and prove your courage;
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Now receive the prize of valor!
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"Go back to your home and people,
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Live among them, toil among them,
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Cleanse the earth from all that harms it,
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Clear the fishing-grounds and rivers,
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Slay all monsters and magicians,
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All the Wendigoes, the giants,
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All the serpents, the Kenabeeks,
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As I slew the Mishe-Mokwa,
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Slew the Great Bear of the mountains.
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"And at last when Death draws near you,
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When the awful eyes of Pauguk
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Glare upon you in the darkness,
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I will share my kingdom with you,
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Ruler shall you be thenceforward
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Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
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Of the home-wind, the Keewaydin."
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Thus was fought that famous battle
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In the dreadful days of Shah-shah,
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In the days long since departed,
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In the kingdom of the West-Wind.
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Still the hunter sees its traces
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Scattered far o'er hill and valley;
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Sees the giant bulrush growing
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By the ponds and water-courses,
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Sees the masses of the Wawbeek
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Lying still in every valley.
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Homeward now went Hiawatha;
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Pleasant was the landscape round him,
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Pleasant was the air above him,
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For the bitterness of anger
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Had departed wholly from him,
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From his brain the thought of vengeance,
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From his heart the burning fever.
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Only once his pace he slackened,
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Only once he paused or halted,
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Paused to purchase heads of arrows
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Of the ancient Arrow-maker,
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In the land of the Dacotahs,
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Where the Falls of Minnehaha
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Flash and gleam among the oak-trees,
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Laugh and leap into the valley.
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There the ancient Arrow-maker
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Made his arrow-heads of sandstone,
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Arrow-heads of chalcedony,
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Arrow-heads of flint and jasper,
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Smoothed and sharpened at the edges,
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Hard and polished, keen and costly.
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With him dwelt his dark-eyed daughter,
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Wayward as the Minnehaha,
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With her moods of shade and sunshine,
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Eyes that smiled and frowned alternate,
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Feet as rapid as the river,
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Tresses flowing like the water,
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And as musical a laughter;
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And he named her from the river,
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From the water-fall he named her,
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Minnehaha, Laughing Water.
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Was it then for heads of arrows,
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Arrow-heads of chalcedony,
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Arrow-heads of flint and jasper,
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That my Hiawatha halted
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In the land of the Dacotahs?
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Was it not to see the maiden,
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See the face of Laughing Water
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Peeping from behind the curtain,
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Hear the rustling of her garments
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From behind the waving curtain,
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As one sees the Minnehaha
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Gleaming, glancing through the branches,
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As one hears the Laughing Water
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From behind its screen of branches?
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Who shall say what thoughts and visions
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Fill the fiery brains of young men?
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Who shall say what dreams of beauty
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Filled the heart of Hiawatha?
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All he told to old Nokomis,
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When he reached the lodge at sunset,
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Was the meeting with his father,
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Was his fight with Mudjekeewis;
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Not a word he said of arrows,
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