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The Song of Hiawatha
II
The Four Winds
"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!" Cried the warriors, cried the old men, When
he came in triumph homeward With the sacred Belt of Wampum, From the
regions of the North-Wind, From the kingdom of Wabasso, From the land
of the White Rabbit.
He had stolen the Belt of Wampum From the neck of Mishe-Mokwa, From
the Great Bear of the mountains, From the terror of the nations, As he
lay asleep and cumbrous On the summit of the mountains, Like a rock
with mosses on it, Spotted brown and gray with mosses.
Silently he stole upon him Till the red nails of the monster Almost
touched him, almost scared him, Till the hot breath of his nostrils
Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis, As he drew the Belt of Wampum Over
the round ears, that heard not, Over the small eyes, that saw not,
Over the long nose and nostrils, The black muffle of the nostrils, Out
of which the heavy breathing Warmed the hands of Mudjekeewis.
Then he swung aloft his war-club, Shouted loud and long his war-cry,
Smote the mighty Mishe-Mokwa In the middle of the forehead, Right
between the eyes he smote him.
With the heavy blow bewildered, Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;
But his knees beneath him trembled, And he whimpered like a woman, As
he reeled and staggered forward, As he sat upon his haunches; And the
mighty Mudjekeewis, Standing fearlessly before him, Taunted him in
loud derision, Spake disdainfully in this wise:
"Hark you, Bear! you are a coward; And no Brave, as you pretended;
Else you would not cry and whimper Like a miserable woman! Bear! you
know our tribes are hostile, Long have been at war together; Now you
find that we are strongest, You go sneaking in the forest, You go
hiding in the mountains! Had you conquered me in battle Not a groan
would I have uttered; But you, Bear! sit here and whimper, And
disgrace your tribe by crying, Like a wretched Shaugodaya, Like a
cowardly old woman!"
Then again he raised his war-club, Smote again the Mishe-Mokwa In the
middle of his forehead, Broke his skull, as ice is broken When one
goes to fish in Winter. Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa, He the Great
Bear of the mountains, He the terror of the nations.
"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!" With a shout exclaimed the people, "Honor
be to Mudjekeewis! Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind, And hereafter
and forever Shall he hold supreme dominion Over all the winds of
heaven. Call him no more Mudjekeewis, Call him Kabeyun, the
West-Wind!"
Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen Father of the Winds of Heaven. For himself
he kept the West-Wind, Gave the others to his children; Unto Wabun
gave the East-Wind, Gave the South to Shawondasee, And the North-Wind,
wild and cruel, To the fierce Kabibonokka.
Young and beautiful was Wabun; He it was who brought the morning, He
it was whose silver arrows Chased the dark o'er hill and valley; He it
was whose cheeks were painted With the brightest streaks of crimson,
And whose voice awoke the village, Called the deer, and called the
hunter.
Lonely in the sky was Wabun; Though the birds sang gayly to him,
Though the wild-flowers of the meadow Filled the air with odors for
him; Though the forests and the rivers Sang and shouted at his coming,
Still his heart was sad within him, For he was alone in heaven.
But one morning, gazing earthward, While the village still was
sleeping, And the fog lay on the river, Like a ghost, that goes at
sunrise, He beheld a maiden walking All alone upon a meadow, Gathering
water-flags and rushes By a river in the meadow.
Every morning, gazing earthward, Still the first thing he beheld there
Was her blue eyes looking at him, Two blue lakes among the rushes. And
he loved the lonely maiden, Who thus waited for his coming; For they
both were solitary, She on earth and he in heaven.
And he wooed her with caresses, Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,
With his flattering words he wooed her, With his sighing and his
singing, Gentlest whispers in the branches, Softest music, sweetest
odors, Till he drew her to his bosom, Folded in his robes of crimson,
Till into a star he changed her, Trembling still upon his bosom; And
forever in the heavens They are seen together walking, Wabun and the
Wabun-Annung, Wabun and the Star of Morning.
But the fierce Kabibonokka Had his dwelling among icebergs, In the
everlasting snow-drifts, In the kingdom of Wabasso, In the land of the
White Rabbit. He it was whose hand in Autumn Painted all the trees
with scarlet, Stained the leaves with red and yellow; He it was who
sent the snow-flake, Sifting, hissing through the forest, Froze the
ponds, the lakes, the rivers, Drove the loon and sea-gull southward,
Drove the cormorant and curlew To their nests of sedge and sea-tang In
the realms of Shawondasee.
Once the fierce Kabibonokka Issued from his lodge of snow-drifts From
his home among the icebergs, And his hair, with snow besprinkled,
Streamed behind him like a river, Like a black and wintry river, As he
howled and hurried southward, Over frozen lakes and moorlands.
There among the reeds and rushes Found he Shingebis, the diver,
Trailing strings of fish behind him, O'er the frozen fens and
moorlands, Lingering still among the moorlands, Though his tribe had
long departed To the land of Shawondasee.
Cried the fierce Kabibonokka, "Who is this that dares to brave me?
Dares to stay in my dominions, When the Wawa has departed, When the
wild-goose has gone southward, And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, Long
ago departed southward? I will go into his wigwam, I will put his
smouldering fire out!"
And at night Kabibonokka, To the lodge came wild and wailing, Heaped
the snow in drifts about it, Shouted down into the smoke-flue, Shook
the lodge-poles in his fury, Flapped the curtain of the door-way.
Shingebis, the diver, feared not, Shingebis, the diver, cared not;
Four great logs had he for firewood, One for each moon of the winter,
And for food the fishes served him. By his blazing fire he sat there,
Warm and merry, eating, laughing, Singing, "O Kabibonokka, You are but
my fellow-mortal!"
Then Kabibonokka entered, And though Shingebis, the diver, Felt his
presence by the coldness, 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, 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, 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, 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, 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 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, 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, 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!"
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, Sent the robin, the Opechee, Sent the bluebird,
the Owaissa, Sent the Shawshaw, sent the swallow, Sent the wild-goose,
Wawa, northward, Sent the melons and tobacco, 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,
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! 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, Saw a tall and slender
maiden All alone upon a prairie; Brightest green were all her
garments, And her hair was like the sunshine.
Day by day he gazed upon her, Day by day he sighed with passion, Day
by day his heart within him Grew more hot with love and longing For
the maid with yellow tresses. But he was too fat and lazy To bestir
himself and woo her. Yes, too indolent and easy To pursue her and
persuade her; So he only gazed upon her, Only sat and sighed with
passion For the maiden of the prairie.
Till one morning, looking northward, He beheld her yellow tresses
Changed and covered o'er with whiteness, Covered as with whitest
snow-flakes. "Ah! my brother from the North-land, From the kingdom of
Wabasso, From the land of the White Rabbit! You have stolen the maiden
from me, You have laid your hand upon her, You have wooed and won my
maiden, With your stories of the North-land!"
Thus the wretched Shawondasee Breathed into the air his sorrow; And
the South-Wind o'er the prairie Wandered warm with sighs of passion,
With the sighs of Shawondasee, Till the air seemed full of
snow-flakes, Full of thistle-down the prairie, And the maid with hair
like sunshine Vanished from his sight forever; Never more did
Shawondasee See the maid with yellow tresses!
Poor, deluded Shawondasee! 'T was no woman that you gazed at, 'T was
no maiden that you sighed for, 'T was the prairie dandelion That
through all the dreamy Summer You had gazed at with such longing, You
had sighed for with such passion, And had puffed away forever, Blown
into the air with sighing. Ah! deluded Shawondasee!
Thus the Four Winds were divided Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis Had
their stations in the heavens, At the corners of the heavens; For
himself the West-Wind only Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis.