The Song of Hiawatha

"O my brother! do not leave me,

Lest the Evil Spirits harm you!"

Chibiabos, young and heedless,

Laughing shook his coal-black tresses,

Answered ever sweet and childlike,

"Do not fear for me, O brother!

Harm and evil come not near me!"

Once when Peboan, the Winter,

Roofed with ice the Big-Sea-Water,

When the snow-flakes, whirling downward,

Hissed among the withered oak-leaves,

Changed the pine-trees into wigwams,

Covered all the earth with silence,

Armed with arrows, shod with snow-shoes,

Heeding not his brother's warning,

Fearing not the Evil Spirits,

Forth to hunt the deer with antlers

All alone went Chibiabos.

Right across the Big-Sea-Water

Sprang with speed the deer before him.

With the wind and snow he followed,

O'er the treacherous ice he followed,

Wild with all the fierce commotion

And the rapture of the hunting.

But beneath, the Evil Spirits

Lay in ambush, waiting for him,

Broke the treacherous ice beneath him,

Dragged him downward to the bottom,

Buried in the sand his body.

Unktahee, the god of water,

He the god of the Dacotahs,

Drowned him in the deep abysses

Of the lake of Gitche Gumee.

From the headlands Hiawatha

Sent forth such a wail of anguish,

Such a fearful lamentation,

That the bison paused to listen,

And the wolves howled from the prairies,

And the thunder in the distance

Starting answered "Baim-wawa!"

Then his face with black he painted,

With his robe his head he covered,

In his wigwam sat lamenting,

Seven long weeks he sat lamenting,

Uttering still this moan of sorrow:

"He is dead, the sweet musician!

He the sweetest of all singers!

He has gone from us forever,

He has moved a little nearer

To the Master of all music,

To the Master of all singing!

O my brother, Chibiabos!"

And the melancholy fir-trees

Waved their dark green fans above him,

Waved their purple cones above him,

Sighing with him to console him,

Mingling with his lamentation

Their complaining, their lamenting.

Came the Spring, and all the forest

Looked in vain for Chibiabos;

Sighed the rivulet, Sebowisha,

Sighed the rushes in the meadow.

From the tree-tops sang the bluebird,

Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,

"Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweet musician!"

From the wigwam sang the robin,

Sang the robin, the Opechee,

"Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweetest singer!"

And at night through all the forest

Went the whippoorwill complaining,

Wailing went the Wawonaissa,

"Chibiabos! Chibiabos!

He is dead, the sweet musician!

He the sweetest of all singers!"

Then the Medicine-men, the Medas,

The magicians, the Wabenos,

And the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,

Came to visit Hiawatha;

Built a Sacred Lodge beside him,

To appease him, to console him,

Walked in silent, grave procession,

Bearing each a pouch of healing,

Skin of beaver, lynx, or otter,

Filled with magic roots and simples,

Filled with very potent medicines.

When he heard their steps approaching,

Hiawatha ceased lamenting,

Called no more on Chibiabos;

Naught he questioned, naught he answered,

But his mournful head uncovered,

From his face the mourning colors

Washed he slowly and in silence,

Slowly and in silence followed

Onward to the Sacred Wigwam.

There a magic drink they gave him,

Made of Nahma-wusk, the spearmint,

And Wabeno-wusk, the yarrow,

Roots of power, and herbs of healing;

Beat their drums, and shook their rattles;

Chanted singly and in chorus,

Mystic songs like these, they chanted.

"I myself, myself! behold me!

`T Is the great Gray Eagle talking;

Come, ye white crows, come and hear him!

The loud-speaking thunder helps me;

All the unseen spirits help me;

I can hear their voices calling,

All around the sky I hear them!

I can blow you strong, my brother,

I can heal you, Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus,

"Wayha-way!" the mystic chorus.

Friends of mine are all the serpents!

Hear me shake my skin of hen-hawk!

Mahng, the white loon, I can kill him;

I can shoot your heart and kill it!

I can blow you strong, my brother,

I can heal you, Hiawatha !"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus,

"Wayhaway!" the mystic chorus.

"I myself, myself! the prophet!

When I speak the wigwam trembles,

Shakes the Sacred Lodge with terror,

Hands unseen begin to shake it!

When I walk, the sky I tread on

Bends and makes a noise beneath me!

I can blow you strong, my brother!

Rise and speak, O Hiawatha!"

"Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus,

"Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus.

Then they shook their medicine-pouches

O'er the head of Hiawatha,

Danced their medicine-dance around him;

And upstarting wild and haggard,

Like a man from dreams awakened,

He was healed of all his madness.

As the clouds are swept from heaven,

Straightway from his brain departed

All his moody melancholy;

As the ice is swept from rivers,

Straightway from his heart departed

All his sorrow and affliction.

Then they summoned Chibiabos

From his grave beneath the waters,

From the sands of Gitche Gumee

Summoned Hiawatha's brother.

And so mighty was the magic

Of that cry and invocation,

That he heard it as he lay there

Underneath the Big-Sea-Water;

From the sand he rose and listened,

Heard the music and the singing,

Came, obedient to the summons,

To the doorway of the wigwam,

But to enter they forbade him.

Through a chink a coal they gave him,

Through the door a burning fire-brand;

Ruler in the Land of Spirits,

Ruler o'er the dead, they made him,

Telling him a fire to kindle

For all those that died thereafter,

Camp-fires for their night encampments

On their solitary journey

To the kingdom of Ponemah,

To the land of the Hereafter.

From the village of his childhood,

From the homes of those who knew him,

Passing silent through the forest,

Like a smoke-wreath wafted sideways,

Slowly vanished Chibiabos!

Where he passed, the branches moved not,

Where he trod, the grasses bent not,

And the fallen leaves of last year

Made no sound beneath his footstep.

Four whole days he journeyed onward

Down the pathway of the dead men;

On the dead-man's strawberry feasted,

Crossed the melancholy river,

On the swinging log he crossed it,

Came unto the Lake of Silver,

In the Stone Canoe was carried

To the Islands of the Blessed,

To the land of ghosts and shadows.

On that journey, moving slowly,

Many weary spirits saw he,

Panting under heavy burdens,

Laden with war-clubs, bows and arrows,

Robes of fur, and pots and kettles,

And with food that friends had given

For that solitary journey.

"Ay! why do the living," said they,

"Lay such heavy burdens on us!

Better were it to go naked,

Better were it to go fasting,

Than to bear such heavy burdens

On our long and weary journey!"

Forth then issued Hiawatha,

Wandered eastward, wandered westward,

Teaching men the use of simples

And the antidotes for poisons,

And the cure of all diseases.

Thus was first made known to mortals

All the mystery of Medamin,

All the sacred art of healing.

XVI

Pau-Puk-Keewis

You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,

He, the handsome Yenadizze,

Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,

Vexed the village with disturbance;

You shall hear of all his mischief,

And his flight from Hiawatha,

And his wondrous transmigrations,

And the end of his adventures.

On the shores of Gitche Gumee,

On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,

By the shining Big-Sea-Water

Stood the lodge of Pau-Puk-Keewis.

It was he who in his frenzy

Whirled these drifting sands together,

On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo,

When, among the guests assembled,

He so merrily and madly

Danced at Hiawatha's wedding,

Danced the Beggar's Dance to please them.

Now, in search of new adventures,

From his lodge went Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Came with speed into the village,

Found the young men all assembled

In the lodge of old Iagoo,

Listening to his monstrous stories,

To his wonderful adventures.

He was telling them the story

Of Ojeeg, the Summer-Maker,

How he made a hole in heaven,

How he climbed up into heaven,

And let out the summer-weather,

The perpetual, pleasant Summer;

How the Otter first essayed it;

How the Beaver, Lynx, and Badger

Tried in turn the great achievement,

From the summit of the mountain

Smote their fists against the heavens,

Smote against the sky their foreheads,

Cracked the sky, but could not break it;

How the Wolverine, uprising,

Made him ready for the encounter,

Bent his knees down, like a squirrel,

Drew his arms back, like a cricket.

"Once he leaped," said old Iagoo,

"Once he leaped, and lo! above him

Bent the sky, as ice in rivers

When the waters rise beneath it;

Twice he leaped, and lo! above him

Cracked the sky, as ice in rivers

When the freshet is at highest!

Thrice he leaped, and lo! above him

Broke the shattered sky asunder,

And he disappeared within it,

And Ojeeg, the Fisher Weasel,

With a bound went in behind him!"

"Hark you!" shouted Pau-Puk-Keewis

As he entered at the doorway;

"I am tired of all this talking,

Tired of old Iagoo's stories,

Tired of Hiawatha's wisdom.

Here is something to amuse you,

Better than this endless talking."

Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin

Forth he drew, with solemn manner,

All the game of Bowl and Counters,

Pugasaing, with thirteen pieces.

White on one side were they painted,

And vermilion on the other;

Two Kenabeeks or great serpents,

Two Ininewug or wedge-men,

One great war-club, Pugamaugun,

And one slender fish, the Keego,

Four round pieces, Ozawabeeks,

And three Sheshebwug or ducklings.

All were made of bone and painted,

All except the Ozawabeeks;

These were brass, on one side burnished,

And were black upon the other.

In a wooden bowl he placed them,

Shook and jostled them together,

Threw them on the ground before him,

Thus exclaiming and explaining:

"Red side up are all the pieces,

And one great Kenabeek standing

On the bright side of a brass piece,

On a burnished Ozawabeek;

Thirteen tens and eight are counted."

Then again he shook the pieces,

Shook and jostled them together,

Threw them on the ground before him,

Still exclaiming and explaining:

"White are both the great Kenabeeks,

White the Ininewug, the wedge-men,

Red are all the other pieces;

Five tens and an eight are counted."

Thus he taught the game of hazard,

Thus displayed it and explained it,

Running through its various chances,

Various changes, various meanings:

Twenty curious eyes stared at him,

Full of eagerness stared at him.

"Many games," said old Iagoo,

"Many games of skill and hazard

Have I seen in different nations,

Have I played in different countries.

He who plays with old Iagoo

Must have very nimble fingers;

Though you think yourself so skilful,

I can beat you, Pau-Puk-Keewis,

I can even give you lessons

In your game of Bowl and Counters!"

So they sat and played together,

All the old men and the young men,

Played for dresses, weapons, wampum,

Played till midnight, played till morning,

Played until the Yenadizze,

Till the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Of their treasures had despoiled them,

Of the best of all their dresses,

Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,

Belts of wampum, crests of feathers,

Warlike weapons, pipes and pouches.

Twenty eyes glared wildly at him,

Like the eyes of wolves glared at him.

Said the lucky Pau-Puk-Keewis:

"In my wigwam I am lonely,

In my wanderings and adventures

I have need of a companion,

Fain would have a Meshinauwa,

An attendant and pipe-bearer.

I will venture all these winnings,

All these garments heaped about me,

All this wampum, all these feathers,

On a single throw will venture

All against the young man yonder!"

`T was a youth of sixteen summers,

`T was a nephew of Iagoo;

Face-in-a-Mist, the people called him.

As the fire burns in a pipe-head

Dusky red beneath the ashes,

So beneath his shaggy eyebrows

Glowed the eyes of old Iagoo.

"Ugh!" he answered very fiercely;

"Ugh!" they answered all and each one.

Seized the wooden bowl the old man,

Closely in his bony fingers

Clutched the fatal bowl, Onagon,

Shook it fiercely and with fury,

Made the pieces ring together

As he threw them down before him.

Red were both the great Kenabeeks,

Red the Ininewug, the wedge-men,

Red the Sheshebwug, the ducklings,

Black the four brass Ozawabeeks,

White alone the fish, the Keego;

Only five the pieces counted!

Then the smiling Pau-Puk-Keewis

Shook the bowl and threw the pieces;

Lightly in the air he tossed them,

And they fell about him scattered;

Dark and bright the Ozawabeeks,

Red and white the other pieces,

And upright among the others

One Ininewug was standing,

Even as crafty Pau-Puk-Keewis

Stood alone among the players,

Saying, "Five tens! mine the game is,"

Twenty eyes glared at him fiercely,

Like the eyes of wolves glared at him,

As he turned and left the wigwam,

Followed by his Meshinauwa,

By the nephew of Iagoo,

By the tall and graceful stripling,

Bearing in his arms the winnings,

Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine,

Belts of wampum, pipes and weapons.

"Carry them," said Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Pointing with his fan of feathers,

"To my wigwam far to eastward,

On the dunes of Nagow Wudjoo!"

Hot and red with smoke and gambling

Were the eyes of Pau-Puk-Keewis

As he came forth to the freshness

Of the pleasant Summer morning.

All the birds were singing gayly,

All the streamlets flowing swiftly,

And the heart of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Sang with pleasure as the birds sing,

Beat with triumph like the streamlets,

As he wandered through the village,

In the early gray of morning,

With his fan of turkey-feathers,

With his plumes and tufts of swan's down,

Till he reached the farthest wigwam,

Reached the lodge of Hiawatha.

Silent was it and deserted;

No one met him at the doorway,

No one came to bid him welcome;

But the birds were singing round it,

In and out and round the doorway,

Hopping, singing, fluttering, feeding,

And aloft upon the ridge-pole

Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,

Sat with fiery eyes, and, screaming,

Flapped his wings at Pau-Puk-Keewis.

"All are gone! the lodge Is empty!"

Thus it was spake Pau-Puk-Keewis,

In his heart resolving mischief

"Gone is wary Hiawatha,

Gone the silly Laughing Water,

Gone Nokomis, the old woman,

And the lodge is left unguarded!"

By the neck he seized the raven,

Whirled it round him like a rattle,

Like a medicine-pouch he shook it,

Strangled Kahgahgee, the raven,

From the ridge-pole of the wigwam

Left its lifeless body hanging,

As an insult to its master,

As a taunt to Hiawatha.

With a stealthy step he entered,

Round the lodge in wild disorder

Threw the household things about him,

Piled together in confusion

Bowls of wood and earthen kettles,

Robes of buffalo and beaver,

Skins of otter, lynx, and ermine,

As an insult to Nokomis,

As a taunt to Minnehaha.

Then departed Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Whistling, singing through the forest,

Whistling gayly to the squirrels,

Who from hollow boughs above him

Dropped their acorn-shells upon him,

Singing gayly to the wood birds,

Who from out the leafy darkness

Answered with a song as merry.

Then he climbed the rocky headlands,

Looking o'er the Gitche Gumee,

Perched himself upon their summit,

Waiting full of mirth and mischief

The return of Hiawatha.

Stretched upon his back he lay there;

Far below him splashed the waters,

Plashed and washed the dreamy waters;

Far above him swam the heavens,

Swam the dizzy, dreamy heavens;

Round him hovered, fluttered, rustled

Hiawatha's mountain chickens,

Flock-wise swept and wheeled about him,

Almost brushed him with their pinions.

And he killed them as he lay there,

Slaughtered them by tens and twenties,

Threw their bodies down the headland,

Threw them on the beach below him,

Till at length Kayoshk, the sea-gull,

Perched upon a crag above them,

Shouted: "It is Pau-Puk-Keewis!

He is slaying us by hundreds!

Send a message to our brother,

Tidings send to Hiawatha!"

XVII

The Hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Full of wrath was Hiawatha

When he came into the village,

Found the people in confusion,

Heard of all the misdemeanors,

All the malice and the mischief,

Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis.

Hard his breath came through his nostrils,

Through his teeth he buzzed and muttered

Words of anger and resentment,

Hot and humming, like a hornet.

"I will slay this Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Slay this mischief-maker!" said he.

"Not so long and wide the world is,

Not so rude and rough the way is,

That my wrath shall not attain him,

That my vengeance shall not reach him!"

Then in swift pursuit departed

Hiawatha and the hunters

On the trail of Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Through the forest, where he passed it,

To the headlands where he rested;

But they found not Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Only in the trampled grasses,

In the whortleberry-bushes,

Found the couch where he had rested,

Found the impress of his body.

From the lowlands far beneath them,

From the Muskoday, the meadow,

Pau-Puk-Keewis, turning backward,

Made a gesture of defiance,

Made a gesture of derision;

And aloud cried Hiawatha,

From the summit of the mountains:

"Not so long and wide the world is,

Not so rude and rough the way is,

But my wrath shall overtake you,

And my vengeance shall attain you!"

Over rock and over river,

Through bush, and brake, and forest,

Ran the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis;

Like an antelope he bounded,

Till he came unto a streamlet

In the middle of the forest,

To a streamlet still and tranquil,

That had overflowed its margin,

To a dam made by the beavers,

To a pond of quiet water,

Where knee-deep the trees were standing,

Where the water lilies floated,

Where the rushes waved and whispered.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,

On the dam of trunks and branches,

Through whose chinks the water spouted,

O'er whose summit flowed the streamlet.

From the bottom rose the beaver,

Looked with two great eyes of wonder,

Eyes that seemed to ask a question,

At the stranger, Pau-Puk-Keewis.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,

O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet,

Flowed the bright and silvery water,

And he spake unto the beaver,

With a smile he spake in this wise:

"O my friend Ahmeek, the beaver,

Cool and pleasant Is the water;

Let me dive into the water,

Let me rest there in your lodges;

Change me, too, into a beaver!"

Cautiously replied the beaver,

With reserve he thus made answer:

"Let me first consult the others,

Let me ask the other beavers."

Down he sank into the water,

Heavily sank he, as a stone sinks,

Down among the leaves and branches,

Brown and matted at the bottom.

On the dam stood Pau-Puk-Keewis,

O'er his ankles flowed the streamlet,

Spouted through the chinks below him,

Dashed upon the stones beneath him,

Spread serene and calm before him,

And the sunshine and the shadows

Fell in flecks and gleams upon him,

Fell in little shining patches,

Through the waving, rustling branches.

From the bottom rose the beavers,

Silently above the surface

Rose one head and then another,

Till the pond seemed full of beavers,

Full of black and shining faces.

To the beavers Pau-Puk-Keewis

Spake entreating, said in this wise:

"Very pleasant Is your dwelling,

O my friends! and safe from danger;

Can you not, with all your cunning,

All your wisdom and contrivance,

Change me, too, into a beaver?"

"Yes!" replied Ahmeek, the beaver,

He the King of all the beavers,

"Let yourself slide down among us,

Down into the tranquil water."

Down into the pond among them

Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis;

Black became his shirt of deer-skin,

Black his moccasins and leggings,

In a broad black tail behind him

Spread his fox-tails and his fringes;

He was changed into a beaver.

"Make me large," said Pau-Puk-Keewis,

"Make me large and make me larger,

Larger than the other beavers."

"Yes," the beaver chief responded,

"When our lodge below you enter,

In our wigwam we will make you

Ten times larger than the others."

Thus into the clear, brown water

Silently sank Pau-Puk-Keewis:

Found the bottom covered over

With the trunks of trees and branches,

Hoards of food against the winter,

Piles and heaps against the famine;

Found the lodge with arching doorway,

Leading into spacious chambers.

Here they made him large and larger,

Made him largest of the beavers,

Ten times larger than the others.

"You shall be our ruler," said they;

"Chief and King of all the beavers."

But not long had Pau-Puk-Keewis

Sat in state among the beavers,

When there came a voice, of warning

From the watchman at his station

In the water-flags and lilies,

Saying, "Here Is Hiawatha!

Hiawatha with his hunters!"

Then they heard a cry above them,

Heard a shouting and a tramping,

Heard a crashing and a rushing,

And the water round and o'er them

Sank and sucked away in eddies,

And they knew their dam was broken.

On the lodge's roof the hunters

Leaped, and broke it all asunder;

Streamed the sunshine through the crevice,

Sprang the beavers through the doorway,

Hid themselves in deeper water,

In the channel of the streamlet;

But the mighty Pau-Puk-Keewis

Could not pass beneath the doorway;

He was puffed with pride and feeding,

He was swollen like a bladder.

Through the roof looked Hiawatha,

Cried aloud, "O Pau-Puk-Keewis

Vain are all your craft and cunning,

Vain your manifold disguises!

Well I know you, Pau-Puk-Keewis!"

With their clubs they beat and bruised him,

Beat to death poor Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Pounded him as maize is pounded,

Till his skull was crushed to pieces.

Six tall hunters, lithe and limber,

Bore him home on poles and branches,

Bore the body of the beaver;

But the ghost, the Jeebi in him,

Thought and felt as Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Still lived on as Pau-Puk-Keewis.

And it fluttered, strove, and struggled,

Waving hither, waving thither,

As the curtains of a wigwam

Struggle with their thongs of deer-skin,

When the wintry wind is blowing;

Till it drew itself together,

Till it rose up from the body,

Till it took the form and features

Of the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis

Vanishing into the forest.

But the wary Hiawatha

Saw the figure ere it vanished,

Saw the form of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Glide into the soft blue shadow

Of the pine-trees of the forest;

Toward the squares of white beyond it,

Toward an opening in the forest.

Like a wind it rushed and panted,

Bending all the boughs before it,

And behind it, as the rain comes,

Came the steps of Hiawatha.

To a lake with many islands

Came the breathless Pau-Puk-Keewis,

Where among the water-lilies

Pishnekuh, the brant, were sailing;

Through the tufts of rushes floating,

Steering through the reedy Islands.

Now their broad black beaks they lifted,

Now they plunged beneath the water,

Now they darkened in the shadow,

Now they brightened in the sunshine.

"Pishnekuh!" cried Pau-Puk-Keewis,

"Pishnekuh! my brothers!" said he,

"Change me to a brant with plumage,

With a shining neck and feathers,

Make me large, and make me larger,

Ten times larger than the others."

Straightway to a brant they changed him,

With two huge and dusky pinions,

With a bosom smooth and rounded,

With a bill like two great paddles,

Made him larger than the others,

Ten times larger than the largest,

Just as, shouting from the forest,

On the shore stood Hiawatha.

Up they rose with cry and clamor,

With a whir and beat of pinions,

Rose up from the reedy Islands,

From the water-flags and lilies.

And they said to Pau-Puk-Keewis:

"In your flying, look not downward,

Take good heed and look not downward,

Lest some strange mischance should happen,

Lest some great mishap befall you!"

Fast and far they fled to northward,

Fast and far through mist and sunshine,

Fed among the moors and fen-lands,

Slept among the reeds and rushes.

On the morrow as they journeyed,

Buoyed and lifted by the South-wind,

Wafted onward by the South-wind,

Blowing fresh and strong behind them,

Rose a sound of human voices,

Rose a clamor from beneath them,

From the lodges of a village,

From the people miles beneath them.

For the people of the village

Saw the flock of brant with wonder,

Saw the wings of Pau-Puk-Keewis

Flapping far up in the ether,

Broader than two doorway curtains.

Pau-Puk-Keewis heard the shouting,

Knew the voice of Hiawatha,

Knew the outcry of Iagoo,

And, forgetful of the warning,

Drew his neck in, and looked downward,

And the wind that blew behind him

Caught his mighty fan of feathers,

Sent him wheeling, whirling downward!

All in vain did Pau-Puk-Keewis