From the red deer's hide NokomisMade a cloak for Hiawatha,From the red deer's flesh NokomisMade a banquet to his honor.All the village came and feasted,All the guests praised Hiawatha,Called him Strong-Heart, Soan-ge-taha!Called him Loon-Heart, Mahn-go-taysee!
IV
Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis
Out of childhood into manhoodNow had grown my Hiawatha,Skilled in all the craft of hunters,Learned in all the lore of old men,In all youthful sports and pastimes,In all manly arts and labors.
Swift of foot was Hiawatha;He could shoot an arrow from him,And run forward with such fleetness,That the arrow fell behind him!Strong of arm was Hiawatha;He could shoot ten arrows upward,Shoot them with such strength and swiftness,That the tenth had left the bow-stringEre the first to earth had fallen!
He had mittens, Minjekahwun,Magic mittens made of deer-skin;When upon his hands he wore them,He could smite the rocks asunder,He could grind them into powder.He had moccasins enchanted,Magic moccasins of deer-skin;When he bound them round his ankles,When upon his feet he tied them,At each stride a mile he measured!
Much he questioned old NokomisOf his father Mudjekeewis;Learned from her the fatal secretOf the beauty of his mother,Of the falsehood of his father;And his heart was hot within him,Like a living coal his heart was.
Then he said to old Nokomis,"I will go to Mudjekeewis,See how fares it with my father,At the doorways of the West-Wind,At the portals of the Sunset!"
From his lodge went Hiawatha,Dressed for travel, armed for hunting;Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings,Richly wrought with quills and wampum;On his head his eagle-feathers,Round his waist his belt of wampum,In his hand his bow of ash-wood,Strung with sinews of the reindeer;In his quiver oaken arrows,Tipped with jasper, winged with feathers;With his mittens, Minjekahwun,With his moccasins enchanted.
Warning said the old Nokomis,"Go not forth, O Hiawatha!To the kingdom of the West-Wind,To the realms of Mudjekeewis,Lest he harm you with his magic,Lest he kill you with his cunning!"
But the fearless HiawathaHeeded not her woman's warning;Forth he strode into the forest,At each stride a mile he measured;Lurid seemed the sky above him,Lurid seemed the earth beneath him,Hot and close the air around him,Filled with smoke and fiery vapors,As of burning woods and prairies,For his heart was hot within him,Like a living coal his heart was.
So he journeyed westward, westward,Left the fleetest deer behind him,Left the antelope and bison;Crossed the rushing Esconaba,Crossed the mighty Mississippi,Passed the Mountains of the Prairie,Passed the land of Crows and Foxes,Passed the dwellings of the Blackfeet,Came unto the Rocky Mountains,To the kingdom of the West-Wind,Where upon the gusty summitsSat the ancient Mudjekeewis,Ruler of the winds of heaven.
Filled with awe was HiawathaAt the aspect of his father.On the air about him wildlyTossed and streamed his cloudy tresses,Gleamed like drifting snow his tresses,Glared like Ishkoodah, the comet,Like the star with fiery tresses.
Filled with joy was MudjekeewisWhen he looked on Hiawatha,Saw his youth rise up before himIn the face of Hiawatha,Saw the beauty of WenonahFrom the grave rise up before him.
"Welcome!" said he, "Hiawatha,To the kingdom of the West-WindLong have I been waiting for youYouth is lovely, age is lonely,Youth is fiery, age is frosty;You bring back the days departed,You bring back my youth of passion,And the beautiful Wenonah!"
Many days they talked together,Questioned, listened, waited, answered;Much the mighty MudjekeewisBoasted of his ancient prowess,Of his perilous adventures,His indomitable courage,His invulnerable body.
Patiently sat Hiawatha,Listening to his father's boasting;With a smile he sat and listened,Uttered neither threat nor menace,Neither word nor look betrayed him,But his heart was hot within him,Like a living coal his heart was.
Then he said, "O Mudjekeewis,Is there nothing that can harm you?Nothing that you are afraid of?"And the mighty Mudjekeewis,Grand and gracious in his boasting,Answered, saying, "There is nothing,Nothing but the black rock yonder,Nothing but the fatal Wawbeek!"
And he looked at HiawathaWith a wise look and benignant,With a countenance paternal,Looked with pride upon the beautyOf his tall and graceful figure,Saying, "O my Hiawatha!Is there anything can harm you?Anything you are afraid of?"
But the wary HiawathaPaused awhile, as if uncertain,Held his peace, as if resolving,And then answered, "There is nothing,Nothing but the bulrush yonder,Nothing but the great Apukwa!"
And as Mudjekeewis, rising,Stretched his hand to pluck the bulrush,Hiawatha cried in terror,Cried in well-dissembled terror,"Kago! kago! do not touch it!""Ah, kaween!" said Mudjekeewis,"No indeed, I will not touch it!"
Then they talked of other matters;First of Hiawatha's brothers,First of Wabun, of the East-Wind,Of the South-Wind, Shawondasee,Of the North, Kabibonokka;Then of Hiawatha's mother,Of the beautiful Wenonah,Of her birth upon the meadow,Of her death, as old NokomisHad remembered and related.
And he cried, "O Mudjekeewis,It was you who killed Wenonah,Took her young life and her beauty,Broke the Lily of the Prairie,Trampled it beneath your footsteps;You confess it! you confess it!"And the mighty MudjekeewisTossed upon the wind his tresses,Bowed his hoary head in anguish,With a silent nod assented.
Then up started Hiawatha,And with threatening look and gestureLaid his hand upon the black rock,On the fatal Wawbeek laid it,With his mittens, Minjekahwun,Rent the jutting crag asunder,Smote and crushed it into fragments,Hurled them madly at his father,The remorseful Mudjekeewis,For his heart was hot within him,Like a living coal his heart was.
But the ruler of the West-WindBlew the fragments backward from him,With the breathing of his nostrils,With the tempest of his anger,Blew them back at his assailant;Seized the bulrush, the Apukwa,Dragged it with its roots and fibresFrom the margin of the meadow,From its ooze the giant bulrush;Long and loud laughed Hiawatha!
Then began the deadly conflict,Hand to hand among the mountains;From his eyry screamed the eagle,The Keneu, the great war-eagle,Sat upon the crags around them,Wheeling flapped his wings above them.
Like a tall tree in the tempestBent and lashed the giant bulrush;And in masses huge and heavyCrashing fell the fatal Wawbeek;Till the earth shook with the tumultAnd confusion of the battle,And the air was full of shoutings,And the thunder of the mountains,Starting, answered, "Baim-wawa!"