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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807–1882).  Complete Poetical Works.  1893.
 
The Song of 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,        5
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.        10
“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,        15
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,        20
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,        25
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,        30
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,        35
But my wrath shall overtake you,
And my vengeance shall attain you!”
  Over rock and over river,
Thorough bush, and brake, and forest,
Ran the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis;        40
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,        45
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.        50
  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,        55
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,        60
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;        65
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:        70
“Let me first consult the others,
Let me ask the other beavers.”
Down the sank into the water,
Heavily sank he, as a stone sinks,
Down among the leaves and branches,        75
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,        80
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        85
  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.        90
  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,        95
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,        100
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,        105
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,        110
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.”        115
  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,        120
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,        125
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,        130
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!”        135
  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,        140
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,        145
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,        150
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!        155
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.        160
  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,        165
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,        170
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        175
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        180
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,        185
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        190
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,        195
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,        200
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,        205
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,        210
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.        215
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!”        220
  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,        225
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,        230
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        235
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,        240
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!        245
  All in vain did Pau-Puk-Keewis
Struggle to regain his balance!
Whirling round and round and downward,
He beheld in turn the village
And in turn the flock above him,        250
Saw the village coming nearer,
And the flock receding farther,
Heard the voices growing louder,
Heard the shouting and the laughter;
Saw no more the flocks above him,        255
Only saw the earth beneath him;
Dead out of the empty heaven,
Dead among the shouting people,
With a heavy sound and sullen,
Fell the brant with broken pinions.        260
  But his soul, his ghost, his shadow,
Still survived as Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Took again the form and features
Of the handsome Yenadizze,
And again went rushing onward,        265
Followed fast by Hiawatha,
Crying: “Not so wide the world is,
Not so long and rough the way is,
But my wrath shall overtake you,
But my vengeance shall attain you!”        270
  And so near he came, so near him,
That his hand was stretched to seize him,
His right hand to seize and hold him,
When the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis
Whirled and spun about in circles,        275
Fanned the air into a whirlwind,
Danced the dust and leaves about him,
And amid the whirling eddies
Sprang into a hollow oak-tree,
Changed himself into a serpent,        280
Gliding out through root and rubbish.
  With his right hand Hiawatha
Smote amain the hollow oak-tree,
Rent it into shreds and splinters,
Left it lying there in fragments.        285
But in vain; for Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Once again in human figure,
Full in sight ran on before him,
Sped away in gust and whirlwind,
On the shores of Gitche Gumee,        290
Westward by the Big-Sea-Water,
Came unto the rocky headlands,
To the Pictured Rocks of sandstone,
Looking over lake and landscape.
  And the Old Man of the Mountain,        295
He the Manito of Mountains,
Opened wide his rocky doorways,
Opened wide his deep abysses,
Giving Pau-Puk-Keewis shelter
In his caverns dark and dreary,        300
Bidding Pau-Puk-Keewis welcome
To his gloomy lodge of sandstone.
  There without stood Hiawatha,
Found the doorways closed against him,
With his mittens, Minjekahwun,        305
Smote great caverns in the sandstone,
Cried aloud in tones of thunder,
“Open! I am Hiawatha!”
But the Old Man of the Mountain
Opened not, and made no answer        310
From the silent crags of sandstone,
From the gloomy rock abysses.
  Then he raised his hands to heaven,
Called imploring on the tempest,
Called Waywassimo, the lightning,        315
And the thunder, Annemeekee;
And they came with night and darkness,
Sweeping down the Big-Sea-Water
From the distant Thunder Mountains;
And the trembling Pau-Puk-Keewis        320
Heard the footsteps of the thunder,
Saw the red eyes of the lightning,
Was afraid, and crouched and trembled.
  Then Waywassimo, the lightning,
Smote the doorways of the caverns,        325
With his war-club smote the doorways,
Smote the jutting crags of sandstone,
And the thunder, Annemeekee,
Shouted down into the caverns,
Saying, “Where is Pau-Puk-Keewis!”        330
And the crags fell, and beneath them
Dead among the rocky ruins
Lay the cunning Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Lay the handsome Yenadizze,
Slain in his own human figure.        335
  Ended were his wild adventures,
Ended were his tricks and gambols,
Ended all his craft and cunning,
Ended all his mischief-making,
All his gambling and his dancing,        340
All his wooing of the maidens.
  Then the noble Hiawatha
Took his soul, his ghost, his shadow,
Spake and said: “O Pau-Puk-Keewis,
Never more in human figure        345
Shall you search for new adventures;
Never more with jest and laughter
Dance the dust and leaves in whirlwinds;
But above there in the heavens
You shall soar and sail in circles;        350
I will change you to an eagle,
To Keneu, the great war-eagle,
Chief of all the fowls with feathers,
Chief of Hiawatha’s chickens.”
  And the name of Pau-Puk-Keewis        355
Lingers still among the people,
Lingers still among the singers,
And among the story-tellers;
And in Winter, when the snow-flakes
Whirl in eddies round the lodges,        360
When the wind in gusty tumult
O’er the smoke-flue pipes and whistles,
“There,” they cry, “comes Pau-Puk-Keewis;
He is dancing through the village,
He is gathering in his harvest!”        365
 
 
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