The Song of Hiawatha: An Epic PoemLongfellow, Henry Wadsworth
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The Song of Hiawatha: An Epic Poem
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth
Hiawatha, active 15th century -- Poetry; Indians of North America -- Poetry; Iroquois Indians -- Kings and rulers -- Poetry
With their melancholy laughter
At the words of Hiawatha.
"Hear him!" said they; "hear the Wise Man,
Hear the plots of Hiawatha!" 75
When the noiseless night descended
Broad and dark o'er field and forest,
When the mournful Wawonaissa
Sorrowing sang among the hemlocks,
And the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin, 80
Shut the doors of all the wigwams,
From her bed rose Laughing Water,
Laid aside her garments wholly,
And with darkness clothed and guarded,
Unashamed and unaffrighted, 85
Walked securely round the corn-fields,
Drew the sacred, magic circle
Of her footprints round the corn-fields.
No one but the Midnight only
Saw her beauty in the darkness, 90
No one but the Wawonaissa
Heard the panting of her bosom;
Guskewau, the darkness, wrapped her
Closely in his sacred mantle,
So that none might see her beauty, 95
So that none might boast, "I saw her!"
On the morrow, as the day dawned,
Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
Gathered all his black marauders,
Crows and blackbirds, jays and ravens, 100
Clamorous on the dusky tree-tops,
And descended, fast and fearless,
On the fields of Hiawatha,
On the grave of the Mondamin.
"We will drag Mondamin," said they, 105
"From the grave where he is buried,
Spite of all the magic circles
Laughing Water draws around it,
Spite of all the sacred footprints
Minnehaha stamps upon it!" 110
But the wary Hiawatha,
Ever thoughtful, careful, watchful,
Had o'erheard the scornful laughter
When they mocked him from the tree-tops.
"Kaw!" he said, "my friends the ravens! 115
Kahgahgee, my King of Ravens!
I will teach you all a lesson
That shall not be soon forgotten!"
He had risen before the daybreak,
He had spread o'er all the corn-fields 120
Snares to catch the black marauders,
And was lying now in ambush
in the neighboring grove of pine-trees,
Waiting for the crows and blackbirds,
Waiting for the jays and ravens. 125
Soon they came with caw and clamor,
Rush of wings and cry of voices,
To their work of devastation,
Settling down upon the corn-fields,
Delving deep with beak and talon, 130
For the body of Mondamin.
And with all their craft and cunning,
All their skill in wiles of warfare,
They perceived no danger near them,
Till their claws became entangled, 135
Till they found themselves imprisoned
In the snares of Hiawatha.
From his place of ambush came he,
Striding terrible among them,
And so awful was his aspect 140
That the bravest quailed with terror.
Without mercy he destroyed them
Right and left, by tens and twenties,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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