145 And he cried, "O Hiawatha! Bravely have you wrestled with me, Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me, And the Master of Life, who sees us, He will give to you the triumph!" 150 Then he smiled and said: "To-morrow Is the last day of your conflict, Is the last day of your fasting. You will conquer and o'ercome me; Make a bed for me to lie in, 155 Where the rain may fall upon me, Where the sun may come and warm me; Strip these garments, green and yellow, Strip this nodding plumage from me, Lay me in the earth and make it 160 Soft and loose and light above me. "Let no hand disturb my slumber, Let no weed nor worm molest me, Let not Kahgahgee, the raven, Come to haunt me and molest me, 165 Only come yourself to watch me, Till I wake, and start, and quicken, Till I leap into the sunshine." And thus saying, he departed; Peacefully slept Hiawatha, 170 But he heard the Wawonaissa, Heard the whippoorwill complaining, Perched upon his lonely wigwam; Heard the rushing Sebowisha, Heard the rivulet rippling near him, 175 Talking to the darksome forest; Heard the sighing of the branches, As they lifted and subsided At the passing of the night-wind, Heard them, as one hears in slumber 180 Far-off murmurs, dreamy whispers: Peacefully slept Hiawatha. On the morrow came Nokomis, On the seventh day of his fasting, Came with food for Hiawatha, 185 Came imploring and bewailing, Lest his hunger should o'ercome him, Lest his fasting should be fatal. But he tasted not, and touched not, Only said to her, "Nokomis, 190 Wait until the sun is setting, Till the darkness falls around us, Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Crying from the desolate marshes, Tells us that the day is ended." 195 Homeward weeping went Nokomis, Sorrowing for her Hiawatha, Fearing lest his strength should fail him, Lest his fasting should be fatal. He meanwhile sat weary waiting 200 For the coming of Mondamin, Till the shadows, pointing eastward, Lengthened over field and forest, Till the sun dropped from the heaven, Floating on the waters westward, 205 As a red leaf in the Autumn Falls and floats upon the water, Falls and sinks into its bosom. And behold! the young Mondamin, With his soft and shining tresses, 210 With his garments green and yellow, With his long and glossy plumage, Stood and beckoned at the doorway. And as one in slumber walking, Pale and haggard, but undaunted, 215 From the wigwam Hiawatha Came and wrestled with Mondamin.