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In his lodge beside a river,
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Close beside a frozen river,
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Sat an old man, sad and lonely.
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White his hair was as a snow-drift;
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Dull and low his fire was burning,
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And the old man shook and trembled,
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Folded in his Waubewyon,
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In his tattered white-skin-wrapper,
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Hearing nothing but the tempest
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As it roared along the forest,
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Seeing nothing but the snow-storm,
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As it whirled and hissed and drifted.
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All the coals were white with ashes,
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And the fire was slowly dying,
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As a young man, walking lightly,
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At the open doorway entered.
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Red with blood of youth his cheeks were,
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Soft his eyes, as stars in Spring-time,
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Bound his forehead was with grasses;
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Bound and plumed with scented grasses,
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On his lips a smile of beauty,
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Filling all the lodge with sunshine,
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In his hand a bunch of blossoms
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Filling all the lodge with sweetness.
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"Ah, my son!" exclaimed the old man,
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"Happy are my eyes to see you.
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Sit here on the mat beside me,
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Sit here by the dying embers,
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Let us pass the night together,
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Tell me of your strange adventures,
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Of the lands where you have travelled;
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I will tell you of my prowess,
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Of my many deeds of wonder."
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From his pouch he drew his peace-pipe,
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Very old and strangely fashioned;
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Made of red stone was the pipe-head,
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And the stem a reed with feathers;
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Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
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Placed a burning coal upon it,
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Gave it to his guest, the stranger,
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And began to speak in this wise:
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"When I blow my breath about me,
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When I breathe upon the landscape,
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Motionless are all the rivers,
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Hard as stone becomes the water!"
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And the young man answered, smiling:
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"When I blow my breath about me,
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When I breathe upon the landscape,
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Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows,
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Singing, onward rush the rivers!"
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"When I shake my hoary tresses,"
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Said the old man darkly frowning,
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"All the land with snow is covered;
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All the leaves from all the branches
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Fall and fade and die and wither,
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For I breathe, and lo! they are not.
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From the waters and the marshes,
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Rise the wild goose and the heron,
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Fly away to distant regions,
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For I speak, and lo! they are not.
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And where'er my footsteps wander,
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All the wild beasts of the forest
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Hide themselves in holes and caverns,
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And the earth becomes as flintstone!"
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"When I shake my flowing ringlets,"
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Said the young man, softly laughing,
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"Showers of rain fall warm and welcome,
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Plants lift up their heads rejoicing,
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Back into their lakes and marshes
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Come the wild goose and the heron,
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Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow,
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Sing the bluebird and the robin,
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And where'er my footsteps wander,
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All the meadows wave with blossoms,
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All the woodlands ring with music,
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All the trees are dark with foliage!"
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While they spake, the night departed:
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From the distant realms of Wabun,
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From his shining lodge of silver,
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Like a warrior robed and painted,
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Came the sun, and said, "Behold me
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Gheezis, the great sun, behold me!"
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Then the old man's tongue was speechless
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And the air grew warm and pleasant,
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And upon the wigwam sweetly
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Sang the bluebird and the robin,
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And the stream began to murmur,
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And a scent of growing grasses
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Through the lodge was gently wafted.
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And Segwun, the youthful stranger,
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More distinctly in the daylight
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Saw the icy face before him;
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It was Peboan, the Winter!
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From his eyes the tears were flowing,
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As from melting lakes the streamlets,
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And his body shrunk and dwindled
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As the shouting sun ascended,
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Till into the air it faded,
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Till into the ground it vanished,
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And the young man saw before him,
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On the hearth-stone of the wigwam,
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Where the fire had smoked and smouldered,
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Saw the earliest flower of Spring-time,
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Saw the Beauty of the Spring-time,
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Saw the Miskodeed in blossom.
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Thus it was that in the North-land
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After that unheard-of coldness,
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That intolerable Winter,
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Came the Spring with all its splendor,
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All its birds and all its blossoms,
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All its flowers and leaves and grasses.
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Sailing on the wind to northward,
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Flying in great flocks, like arrows,
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Like huge arrows shot through heaven,
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Passed the swan, the Mahnahbezee,
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Speaking almost as a man speaks;
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And in long lines waving, bending
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Like a bow-string snapped asunder,
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Came the white goose, Waw-be-wawa;
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And in pairs, or singly flying,
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Mahng the loon, with clangorous pinions,
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The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
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And the grouse, the Mushkodasa.
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In the thickets and the meadows
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Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa,
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On the summit of the lodges
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Sang the robin, the Opechee,
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In the covert of the pine-trees
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Cooed the pigeon, the Omemee;
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And the sorrowing Hiawatha,
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Speechless in his infinite sorrow,
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Heard their voices calling to him,
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Went forth from his gloomy doorway,
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Stood and gazed into the heaven,
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Gazed upon the earth and waters.
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From his wanderings far to eastward,
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From the regions of the morning,
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From the shining land of Wabun,
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Homeward now returned Iagoo,
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The great traveller, the great boaster,
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Full of new and strange adventures,
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Marvels many and many wonders.
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And the people of the village
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Listened to him as he told them
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Of his marvellous adventures,
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Laughing answered him in this wise:
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"Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo!
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No one else beholds such wonders!"
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He had seen, he said, a water
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Bigger than the Big-Sea-Water,
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Broader than the Gitche Gumee,
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Bitter so that none could drink it!
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At each other looked the warriors,
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Looked the women at each other,
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Smiled, and said, "It cannot be so!"
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Kaw!" they said, it cannot be so!"
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O'er it, said he, o'er this water
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Came a great canoe with pinions,
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A canoe with wings came flying,
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Bigger than a grove of pine-trees,
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Taller than the tallest tree-tops!
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And the old men and the women
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Looked and tittered at each other;
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"Kaw!" they said, "we don't believe it!"
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From its mouth, he said, to greet him,
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Came Waywassimo, the lightning,
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Came the thunder, Annemeekee!
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And the warriors and the women
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Laughed aloud at poor Iagoo;
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"Kaw!" they said, "what tales you tell us!"
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In it, said he, came a people,
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In the great canoe with pinions
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Came, he said, a hundred warriors;
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Painted white were all their faces
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And with hair their chins were covered!
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And the warriors and the women
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Laughed and shouted in derision,
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Like the ravens on the tree-tops,
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Like the crows upon the hemlocks.
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"Kaw!" they said, "what lies you tell us!
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Do not think that we believe them!"
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Only Hiawatha laughed not,
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But he gravely spake and answered
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To their jeering and their jesting:
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"True is all Iagoo tells us;
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I have seen it in a vision,
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Seen the great canoe with pinions,
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Seen the people with white faces,
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Seen the coming of this bearded
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People of the wooden vessel
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From the regions of the morning,
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From the shining land of Wabun.
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"Gitche Manito, the Mighty,
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The Great Spirit, the Creator,
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Sends them hither on his errand.
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Sends them to us with his message.
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Wheresoe'er they move, before them
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Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo,
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Swarms the bee, the honey-maker;
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Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath them
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Springs a flower unknown among us,
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Springs the White-man's Foot in blossom.
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"Let us welcome, then, the strangers,
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Hail them as our friends and brothers,
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And the heart's right hand of friendship
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Give them when they come to see us.
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Gitche Manito, the Mighty,
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Said this to me in my vision.
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"I beheld, too, in that vision
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All the secrets of the future,
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Of the distant days that shall be.
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I beheld the westward marches
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Of the unknown, crowded nations.
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All the land was full of people,
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Restless, struggling, toiling, striving,
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Speaking many tongues, yet feeling
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But one heart-beat in their bosoms.
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In the woodlands rang their axes,
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Smoked their towns in all the valleys,
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Over all the lakes and rivers
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Rushed their great canoes of thunder.
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"Then a darker, drearier vision
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Passed before me, vague and cloud-like;
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I beheld our nation scattered,
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All forgetful of my counsels,
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Weakened, warring with each other;
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Saw the remnants of our people
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Sweeping westward, wild and woful,
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Like the cloud-rack of a tempest,
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