Hither have we come to warn you:
"Cries of grief and lamentation
Reach us in the Blessed Islands;
Cries of anguish from the living,
Calling back their friends departed,
Sadden us with useless sorrow.
Therefore have we come to try you :
No one knows us, no one heeds us.
We are but a burden to you,
And we see that the departed
Have no place among the living.
Think of this, O Hiawatha !
Speak of it to all the people,
That henceforward and forever
They no more with lamentations
Sadden the souls of the departed
In the Islands of the Blessed.

66

"Do not lay such heavy burdens, In the graves of those you bury, Not such weight of furs and wampum,

Not such weight of pots and kettles,
For the spirits faint beneath them.
Only give them food to carry,
Only give them fire to light them.

Four days is the spirit's journey
To the land of ghosts and shadows,
Four its lonely night encampments;
Four times must their fires be lighted.
Therefore, when the dead are buried,
Let a fire, as night approaches,
Four times on the grave be kindled,
That the soul upon its journey
May not lack the cheerful firelight,
May not grope about in darkness.
Farewell, noble Hiawatha !
We have put you to the trial,
To the proof have put your patience,
By the insult of our presence,
By the outrage of our actions.
We have found you great and noble.
Fail not in the greater trial,
Faint not in the harder struggle."
When they ceased, a sudden dark-

64

ness

Fell and filled the silent wigwam.
Hiawatha heard a rustle

As of garments trailing by him,
Heard the curtain of the doorway
Lifted by a hand he saw not,
Felt the cold breath of the night air,
For a moment saw the starlight;
But he saw the ghosts no longer,
Saw no more the wandering spirits

From the kingdom of Ponemah, From the land of the Hereafter.

XX.

THE FAMINE.

O THE long and dreary Winter!
O the cold and cruel Winter !
Ever thicker, thicker, thicker
Froze the ice on lake and river,
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper
Fell the snow o'er all the landscape,
Fell the covering snow, and drifted
Through the forest, round the vil-
lage.

Hardly from his buried wigwam Could the hunter force a passage; With his mittens and his snow-shoes Vainly walked he through the forest, Sought for bird or beast and found

none,

Saw no track of deer or rabbit,
In the snow beheld no footprints,
In the ghastly, gleaming forest
Fell, and could not rise from weak-
ness,

Perished there from cold and hunger.
O the famine and the fever!
O the wasting of the famine !
O the blasting of the fever!
O the wailing of the children !
O the anguish of the women!

All the earth was sick and fam-
ished ;

Hungry was the air around them, Hungry was the sky above them, And the hungry stars in heaven Like the eyes of wolves glared at them!

Into Hiawatha's wigwam Came two other guests, as silent As the ghosts were, and as gloomy, Waited not to be invited, Did not parley at the doorway, Sat there without word of welcome In the seat of Laughing Water; Looked with haggard eyes and hollow

And the other said: 'Behold me ! I am Fever, Ahkosewin!"

And the lovely Minnehaha
Shuddered as they looked upon her,
Shuddered at the words they uttered,
Lay down on her bed in silence,
Hid her face, but made no answer;
Lay there trembling, freezing, burn-
ing

At the looks they cast upon her,
At the fearful words they uttered.
Forth into the empty forest
Rushed the maddened Hiawatha ;
In his heart was deadly sorrow,
In his face a stony firmness;
On his brow the sweat of anguish
Started, but it froze and fell not.
Wrapped in furs and armed for
hunting,

With his mighty bow of ash-tree,
With his quiver full of arrows,
With his mittens, Minjekah wun,
Into the vast and vacant forest
On his snow-shoes strode he forward.
'Gitche Manito, the Mighty!"
Cried he with his face uplifted
In that bitter hour of anguish,
"Give your children food, O father!
Give us food, or we must perish !
Give me food for Minnehaha,
For my dying Minnehaha !"
Through the far-resounding forest,
Through the forest vast and vacant
Rang that cry of desolation.

But there came no other answer
Than the echo of his crying,
Than the echo of the woodlands,
"Minnehaha ! Minnehaha !"

All day long roved Hiawatha
In that melancholy forest,
Through the shadow of whose
thickets,

In the pleasant days of Summer,
Of that ne'er forgotten Summer,
He had brought his young wife

homeward

From the land of the Dacotahs ; When the birds sang in the thickets, And the streamlets laughed and glistened,

And the air was full of fragrance, And the lovely Laughing Water Said with voice that did not tremble "I will follow you, my husband!"

66

No, my child!" said old Nokomis, ""Tis the smoke, that waves and beckons !"

"Ah!" said she, "the eyes of
Pauguk

Glare upon me in the darkness,
I can feel his icy fingers
Clasping mine amid the darkness !
Hiawatha! Hiawatha !"

And the desolate Hiawatha,
Far away amid the forest,
Miles away among the mountains,
Heard that sudden cry of anguish,
Heard the voice of Minnehaha
Calling to him in the darkness,
"Hiawatha Hiawatha !"

Over snowfields waste and pathless

Under snow-encumbered branches, Homeward hurried Hiawatha, Empty-handed, heavy-hearted, Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing: Wahonowin! Wahonowin! Would that I had perished for you, Would that I were dead as you are! Wahonowin! Wahonowin !"

And he rushed into the wigwam, Saw the old Nokomis slowly Rocking to and fro and moaning, Saw his lovely Minnehaha Lying dead and cold before him, And his bursting heart within him Uttered such a cry of anguish, That the forest moaned and shuddered,

That the very stars in heaven Shook and trembled with his an guish.

Then he sat down, still and speech-
less,

On the bed of Minnehaha,
At the feet of Laughing Water,
At those willing feet, that never
More would lightly run to meet him,
Never more would lightly follow.
With both hands his face he cov-
ered,

Seven long days and nights he sat there,

As if in a swoon he sat there, Speechless, motionless, unconscious Of the daylight or the darkness.

Then they buried Minnehaha ; In the snow a grave they made her, In the forest deep and darksome, Underneath the moaning hemlocks; Clothed in her richest garments, Wrapped in her robes of ermine ; Covered her with snow, like ermine, Thus they buried Minnehaha.

And at night a fire was lighted, On her grave four times was kindled,

For her soul upon its journey
To the Islands of the Blessed.
From his doorway Hiawatha
Saw it burning in the forest,
Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks;
From his sleepless bed uprising,
From the bed of Minnehaha,
Stood and watched it at the door-

way,

That it might not be extinguished,
Might not leave her in the darkness.
Farewell!" said he, "Minne-
haha !

Farewell, O my Laughing Water !
All my heart is buried with you,
All my thoughts go onward with
you!

Come not back again to labor,
Come not back again to suffer,
Where the Famine and the Fever
Wear the heart and waste the body.
Soon my task will be completed,
Soon your footsteps I shall follow
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter !"

XXI.

THE WHITE MAN'S FOOT.

IN his lodge beside a river,
Close beside a frozen river,
Sat an old man, sad and lonely.
White his hair was as a snowdrift;
Dull and low his fire was burning,
And the old man shook and trem.
bled,

Folded in his Waubewyon,
In his tattered whiteskin wrapper,
Hearing nothing but the tempest
As it roared along the forest,
Seeing nothing but the snowstorm,
As it whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals were white with
ashes,

And the fire was slowly dying,
As a young man, walking lightly,
At the open doorway entered..
Red with blood of youth his cheeks

Bound and plumed with scented grasses;

On his lips a smile of beauty, Filling all the lodge with sunshine, In his hand a bunch of blossoms Filling all the lodge with sweetness. Ah, my son!" exclaimed the old man,

Happy are my eyes to see you.
Sit here on the mat beside me,
Sit here by the dying embers,
Let us pass the night together.
Tell me of your strange adventures,
Of the lands where you have trav-
elled;

I will tell you of my prowess,
Of my many deeds of wonder."

From his pouch he drew his peace-
pipe,

Very old and strangely fashioned; Made of red stone was the pipehead,

And the stem a reed with feathers,
Filled the pipe with bark of willow,
Placed a burning coal upon it,
Gave it to his guest, the stranger,

And began to speak in this wise: "When I blow my breath about

me,

When I breathe upon the landscape,
Motionless are all the rivers,
Hard as stones become the water!"
And the young man answered,
smiling:

"When I blow my breath about me, When I breathe upon the landscape, Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows,

Singing, onward rush the rivers !" "When I shake my hoary tresses,"

Said the old man darkly frowning,
"All the land with snow is covered;
All the leaves from all the branches
Fall and fade and die and wither,
For I breathe, and lo! they are not.
From the waters and the marshes
Rise the wild goose and the heron,
Fly away to distant regions,
For I speak, and lo! they are not.
And where'er my footsteps wander,
All the wild beasts of the forest
Hide themselves in holes and caverns,
And the earth becomes as flintstone!"
"When I shake my flowing ring.
lets,"

And the air grew warm and pleasant, And upon the wigwam sweetly Sang the bluebird and the robin, And the stream began to murmur, And a scent of growing grasses Through the lodge was gently wafted.

And Segwun, the youthful stran

ger,

More distinctly in the daylight
Saw the icy face before him;
It was Peboan, the Winter!

From his eyes the tears were flow. ing,

As from melting lakes the streamlets,
And his body shrunk and dwindled
As the shouting sun ascended,
Till into the air it faded,

Till into the ground it vanished,
And the young man saw before him,
On the hearth-stone of the wigwam,
Where the fire had smoked and
smouldered,

Saw the earliest flower of Springtime,

Saw the beauty of the Spring-time, Saw the Miskodeed in blossom.

Thus it was that in the North-land
After that unheard-of coldness,
That intolerable Winter,
Came the Spring with all its splen-
dor,

All its birds and all its blossoms,
All its flowers and leaves and grasses,

Sailing on the wind to northward, Flying in great flocks, like arrows, Like huge arrows shot through

heaven,

Passed the swan, the Mahnahbezee, Speaking almost as a man speaks; And in long lines waving, bending Like a bow-string snapped asunder, Came the white goose, Waw-bewa

wa:

And the pairs or singly flying, Mahng the loon, with clangorous pinions,

The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, And the grouse, the Mushkodasa.

In the thickets and the meadows Piped the bluebird, the Owaissa, On the summit of the lodges Sang the Opechee, the robin, In the covert of the pine-trees

Cooed the pigeon, the Omemee,
And the sorrowing Hiawatha,
Speechless in his infinite sorrow,
Heard their voices calling to him,
Went forth from his gloomy door-
way.

Stood and gazed into the heaven,
Gazed upon the earth and waters.
From his wanderings far to east-
ward,

From the regions of the morning,
From the shining land of Wabun,
Homeward now returned lagoo,
The great traveller, the great boaster,
Full of new and strange adventures,
Marvels many and many wonders.

And the people of the village
Listened to him as he told them
Of his marvellous adventures,
Laughing answered him in this wise:
"Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo !
No one else beholds such wonders!"
He had seen, he said, a water,
Bigger than the Big-Sea- Water,
Broader than the Gitche Gumee,
Bitter so that none could drink it!
At each other looked the warriors,
Looked the women at each other,
Smiled, and said, It cannot be so !
Kaw! they said, "It cannot be

80 !"

Do not think that we believe them !"
Only Hiawatha laughed not,
But he gravely spake and answered
To their jeering and their jesting:
True is all lagoo tells us ;

66

I have seen it in a vision,
Seen the great canoe with pinions,
Seen the people with white faces,
Seen the coming of this bearded
People of the wooden vessel
From the regions of the morning,
From the shining land of Wabun.
'Gitche Manito, the Mighty,
The Great Spirit, the Creator,
Sends them hither on his errand,
Sends them to us with his message.
Wheresoe'er they move, before them
Swarms the stinging fly, the Ahmo.
Swarms the bee, the honey-maker ;
Wheresoe'er they tread, beneath
them

Springs a flower unknown among

us,

Springs the White-man's Foot in blossom.

"Let us welcome, then, the stran

gers,

Hail them as our friends and brothers,

And the heart's right hand of friendship

Give them when they come to see us.
Gitche Manito, the Mighty,
Said this to me in my vision.

"I beheld, too, in that vision.
All the secrets of the future,
Of the distant days that shall be.
I beheld the westward marches
Of the unknown, crowded nations.
All the land was full of people,
Restless, struggling, toiling, striv-
ing,

Speaking many tongues, yet feeling
But one heart-beat in their bosoms.
In the woodlands rang their axes,
Smoked their towns in all the valleys,
Over all the lakes and rivers
Rushed their great canoes of thunder.