| |
| TWO good friends had Hiawatha, | |
| Singled out from all the others, | |
| Bound to him in closest union, | |
| And to whom he gave the right hand | |
| Of his heart, in joy and sorrow; | 5 |
| Chibiabos, the musician, | |
| And the very strong man, Kwasind. | |
| Straight between them ran the pathway, | |
| Never grew the grass upon it; | |
| Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, | 10 |
| Story-tellers, mischief-makers, | |
| Found no eager ear to listen, | |
| Could not breed ill-will between them, | |
| For they kept each other’s counsel, | |
| Spake with naked hearts together, | 15 |
| Pondering much and much contriving | |
| How the tribes of men might prosper. | |
| Most beloved by Hiawatha | |
| Was the gentle Chibiabos, | |
| He the best of all musicians, | 20 |
| He the sweetest of all singers. | |
| Beautiful and childlike was he, | |
| Brave as man is, soft as woman, | |
| Pliant as a wand of willow, | |
| Stately as a deer with antlers. | 25 |
| When he sang, the village listened; | |
| All the warriors gathered round him, | |
| All the women came to hear him; | |
| Now he stirred their souls to passion, | |
| Now he melted them to pity. | 30 |
| From the hollow reeds he fashioned | |
| Flutes so musical and mellow, | |
| That the brook, the Sebowisha, | |
| Ceased to murmur in the woodland, | |
| That the wood-birds ceased from singing, | 35 |
| And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, | |
| Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree, | |
| And the rabbit, the Wabasso, | |
| Sat upright to look and listen. | |
| Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha, | 40 |
| Pausing, said, “O Chibiabos, | |
| Teach my waves to flow in music, | |
| Softly as your words in singing!” | |
| Yes, the bluebird, the Owaissa, | |
| Envious, said, “O Chibiabos, | 45 |
| Teach me tones as wild and wayward, | |
| Teach me songs as full of frenzy!” | |
| Yes, the robin, the Opechee, | |
| Joyous said, “O Chibiabos, | |
| Teach me tones as sweet and tender, | 50 |
| Teach me songs as full of gladness!” | |
| And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa, | |
| Sobbing, said, “O Chibiabos, | |
| Teach me tones as melancholy, | |
| Teach me songs as full of sadness!” | 55 |
| All the many sounds of nature | |
| Borrowed sweetness from his singing; | |
| All the hearts of men were softened | |
| By the pathos of his music; | |
| For he sang of peace and freedom, | 60 |
| Sang of beauty, love, and longing; | |
| Sang of death, and life undying | |
| In the Islands of the Blessed, | |
| In the kingdom of Ponemah, | |
| In the land of the Hereafter. | 65 |
| Very dear to Hiawatha | |
| Was the gentle Chibiabos, | |
| He the best of all musicians, | |
| He the sweetest of all singers; | |
| For his gentleness he loved him, | 70 |
| And the magic of his singing. | |
| Dear, too, unto Hiawatha | |
| Was the very strong man, Kwasind, | |
| He the strongest of all mortals, | |
| He the mightiest among many; | 75 |
| For his very strength he loved him, | |
| For his strength allied to goodness. | |
| Idle in his youth was Kwasind, | |
| Very listless, dull, and dreamy, | |
| Never played with other children, | 80 |
| Never fished and never hunted, | |
| Not like other children was he; | |
| But they saw that much he fasted, | |
| Much his Manito entreated, | |
| Much besought his Guardian Spirit. | 85 |
| “Lazy Kwasind!” said his mother, | |
| “In my work you never help me! | |
| In the Summer you are roaming | |
| Idly in the fields and forests; | |
| In the Winter you are cowering | 90 |
| O’er the firebrands in the wigwam! | |
| In the coldest days of Winter | |
| I must break the ice for fishing; | |
| With my nets you never help me! | |
| At the door my nets are hanging, | 95 |
| Dripping, freezing with the water; | |
| Go and wring them, Yenadizze! | |
| Go and dry them in the sunshine!” | |
| Slowly, from the ashes, Kwasind | |
| Rose, but made no angry answer; | 100 |
| From the lodge went forth in silence, | |
| Took the nets, that hung together, | |
| Dripping, freezing at the doorway; | |
| Like a wisp of straw he wrung them, | |
| Like a wisp of straw he broke them, | 105 |
| Could not wring them without breaking, | |
| Such the strength was in his fingers. | |
| “Lazy Kwasind!” said his father, | |
| “In the hunt you never help me; | |
| Every bow you touch is broken, | 110 |
| Snapped asunder every arrow; | |
| Yet come with me to the forest, | |
| You shall bring the hunting homeward.” | |
| Down a narrow pass they wandered, | |
| Where a brooklet led them onward, | 115 |
| Where the trail of deer and bison | |
| Marked the soft mud on the margin, | |
| Till they found all further passage | |
| Shut against them, barred securely | |
| By the trunks of trees uprooted, | 120 |
| Lying lengthwise, lying crosswise, | |
| And forbidding further passage. | |
| “We must go back,” said the old man, | |
| “O’er these logs we cannot clamber; | |
| Not a woodchuck could get through them, | 125 |
| Not a squirrel clamber o’er them!” | |
| And straightway his pipe he lighted, | |
| And sat down to smoke and ponder. | |
| But before his pipe was finished, | |
| Lo! the path was cleared before him; | 130 |
| All the trunks had Kwasind lifted, | |
| To the right hand, to the left hand, | |
| Shot the pine-trees swift as arrows, | |
| Hurled the cedars light as lances. | |
| “Lazy Kwasind!” said the young men, | 135 |
| As they sported in the meadow: | |
| “Why stand idly looking at us, | |
| Leaning on the rock behind you? | |
| Come and wrestle with the others, | |
| Let us pitch the quoit together!” | 140 |
| Lazy Kwasind made no answer, | |
| To their challenge made no answer, | |
| Only rose, and slowly turning, | |
| Seized the huge rock in his fingers, | |
| Tore it from its deep foundation, | 145 |
| Poised it in the air a moment, | |
| Pitched it sheer into the river, | |
| Sheer into the swift Pauwating, | |
| Where it still is seen in Summer. | |
| Once as down that foaming river, | 150 |
| Down the rapids of Pauwating, | |
| Kwasind sailed with his companions, | |
| In the stream he saw a beaver, | |
| Saw Ahmeek, the King of Beavers, | |
| Struggling with the rushing currents, | 155 |
| Rising, sinking in the water. | |
| Without speaking, without pausing, | |
| Kwasind leaped into the river, | |
| Plunged beneath the bubbling surface, | |
| Through the whirlpools chased the beaver, | 160 |
| Followed him among the islands, | |
| Stayed so long beneath the water, | |
| That his terrified companions | |
| Cried, “Alas! good-by to Kwasind! | |
| We shall never more see Kwasind!” | 165 |
| But he reappeared triumphant, | |
| And upon his shining shoulders | |
| Brought the beaver, dead and dripping, | |
| Brought the King of all the Beavers. | |
| And these two, as I have told you, | 170 |
| Were the friends of Hiawatha, | |
| Chibiabos, the musician, | |
| And the very strong man, Kwasind. | |
| Long they lived in peace together, | |
| Spake with naked hearts together, | 175 |
| Pondering much and much contriving | |
| How the tribes of men might prosper. | |
| |
