Mitche Manito the Mighty, Life and Death he drew as circles, wam Were a sign of invitation, All these things did Hiawatha posts Have no mark, no sign, nor symbol. And the Jossakeeds, the prophets, For each song a separate symbol, The Great Spirit, the Creator, Such as these the shapes they painted On the birch-bark and the deer-skin; Songs of war and songs of hunting, Songs of medicine and of magic, All were written in these figures, For each figure had its meaning, Each its separate song recorded. Nor forgotten was the Love-Song, First a human figure standing, Then the figure seated, singing, Then two figures, man and woman, Standing hand in hand together, With their hands so clasped together That they seem in one united; And the words thus represented Are, "I see your heart within you, And your cheeks are red with blushes!" Next the maiden on an island, In the centre of an island; Thus it was that Hiawatha, On the smooth bark of the birch-tree, XV. HIAWATHA'S LAMENTATION. IN those days the Evil Spirits, All the Manitos of mischief, Fearing Hiawatha's wisdom, And his love for Chibiabos, Jealous of their faithful friendship, And their noble words and actions, Made at length a league against them, To molest them and destroy them. Hiawatha, wise and wary, Often said to Chibiabos, "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 down ward, Hissed among the withered oak-leaves, Changed the pine-trees into wigwams, Covered all the earth with silence,Armed with arrows, shod with snowshoes, Heeding not his brother's warning, 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 Woke and 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 for ever, 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 blue-bird, Sang the blue-bird, the Owaissa, "Chibiabos! Chibiabos! He is dead, the sweet musician!" He is dead, the sweetest singer!" He is dead the sweet musician! Then the medicine-men, the Medas, Built a Sacred Lodge beside him, Hiawatha ceased lamenting, But his mournful head uncovered, There a magic drink they gave him, Chanted singly and in chorus, "I myself, myself! behold me! "Tis the great Gray Eagle talking; Come, ye white crows, come and hear him! The loud-speaking thunder helps me ; "Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus, "Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus. "Friends of mine are all the serpents! Hear me shake my skin of hen-hawk! "Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus. "Way-ha-way!" 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 medicinepouches O'er the head of Hiawatha, Danced their medicine-dance around him; And upstarting wild and haggard, As the ice is swept from rivers, Then they summoned Chibiabos Through a chink a coal they gave Through the door a burning firebrand; Ruler o'er the dead, they made him, For all those that died thereafter, 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, Down the pathway of the dead men; "Ah! 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 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, 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 As he entered at the doorway; Tired of old Iagoo's stories, Then from out his pouch of wolf-skin 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 lagoo 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, Shirts of deer-skin, robes of ermine, 66 one. Seized the wooden bowl the old man, Closely in his bony fingers Clutched the fatal bowl, Onagon, 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, |