Then Kabibonokka entered, And though Shingebis, the diver, Felt his presence by the coldness, 185 Felt his icy breath upon him, Still he did not cease his singing, Still he did not leave his laughing, Only turned the log a little, Only made the fire burn brighter, 190 Made the sparks fly up the smoke-flue. From Kabibonokka's forehead, From his snow-besprinkled tresses, Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy, Making dints upon the ashes, 195 As along the eaves of lodges, As from drooping boughs of hemlock, Drips the melting snow in spring-time, Making hollows in the snow-drifts. Till at last he rose defeated, 200 Could not bear the heat and laughter, Could not bear the merry singing, But rushed headlong through the door-way, Stamped upon the crusted snow-drifts, Stamped upon the lakes and rivers, 205 Made the snow upon them harder, Made the ice upon them thicker, Challenged Shingebis, the diver, To come forth and wrestle with him, To come forth and wrestle naked 210 On the frozen fens and moorlands. Forth went Shingebis, the diver, Wrestled all night with the North-Wind, Wrestled naked on the moorlands With the fierce Kabibonokka, 215 Till his panting breath grew fainter, Till his frozen grasp grew feebler, Till he reeled and staggered backward, And retreated, baffled, beaten, To the kingdom of Wabasso, 220 To the land of the White Rabbit, Hearing still the gusty laughter, Hearing Shingebis, the diver, Singing, "O Kabibonokka, You are but my fellow-mortal!" 225 Shawondasee, fat and lazy,-- Had his dwelling far to southward, In the drowsy, dreamy sunshine, In the never-ending Summer. He it was who sent the wood-birds, 230 Sent the Opechee, the robin, Sent the bluebird, the Owaissa, Sent the Shawshaw, sent the swallow, Sent the wild-goose, Wawa, northward, Sent the melons and tobacco, 235 And the grapes in purple clusters. From his pipe the smoke ascending Filled the sky with haze and vapor, Filled the air with dreamy softness, Gave a twinkle to the water. 240 Touched the rugged hills with smoothness, Brought the tender Indian Summer To the melancholy North-land, In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes. Listless, careless Shawondasee! 245 In his life he had one shadow, In his heart one sorrow had he. Once, as he was gazing northward, Far away upon a prairie He beheld a maiden standing, 250 Saw a tall and slender maiden All alone upon a prairie; Brightest green were all her garments, And her hair was like the sunshine.