Ever wakeful, ever watchful, 145 In the wigwam, dimly lighted By the brands that still were burning, By the glimmering, flickering fire-light, Heard a sighing, oft repeated, Heard a sobbing as of sorrow. 150 From his couch rose Hiawatha, From his shaggy hides of bison, Pushed aside the deer-skin curtain, Saw the pallid guests, the shadows, Sitting upright on their couches, 155 Weeping in the silent midnight. And he said: "O guests! why is it That your hearts are so afflicted, That you sob so in the midnight? Has perchance the old Nokomis, 160 Has my wife, my Minnehaha, Wronged or grieved you by unkindness, Failed in hospitable duties?" [Illustration: Indian Burial] Then the shadows ceased from weeping, Ceased from sobbing and lamenting, 165 And they said, with gentle voices: "We are ghosts of the departed, Souls of those who once were with you. From the realms of Chibiabos Hither have we come to try you, 170 Hither have we come to warn you. "Cries of grief and lamentation Reach us in the Blessed Islands: Cries of anguish from the living, Calling back their friends departed, 175 Sadden us with useless sorrow. Therefore have we come to try you; No one knows us, no one heeds us. We are but a burden to you, And we see that the departed 180 Have no place among the living. "Think of this, O Hiawatha! Speak of it to all the people, That henceforward and forever They no more with lamentations 185 Sadden the souls of the departed In the Islands of the Blessed. "Do not lay such heavy burdens In the graves of those you bury, Not such weight of furs and wampum, 190 Not such weight of pots and kettles, For the spirits faint beneath them. Only give them food to carry, Only give them fire to light them. "Four days is the spirit's journey 195 To the land of ghosts and shadows, Four its lonely night encampments; Four times must their fires be lighted. Therefore, when the dead are buried, Let a fire, as night approaches, 200 Four times on the grave be kindled, That the soul upon its journey May not lack the cheerful fire-light, May not grope about in darkness. "Farewell, noble Hiawatha! 205 We have put you to the trial, To the proof have put your patience, By the insult of our presence, By the outrage of our actions. We have found you great and noble. 210 Fail not in the greater trial, Faint not in the harder struggle." When they ceased, a sudden darkness Fell and filled the silent wigwam.