Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB
[blocks in formation]

swer,

Stammered in his speech a little,
Speaking words yet unfamiliar:
Peace be with you, Hiawatha,
Peace be with you and your people,
Peace of prayer, and peace of pardon,
Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!'
Then the generous Hiawatha
Led the strangers to his wigwam,
Seated them on skins of bison,
Seated them on skins of ermine,
And the careful old Nokomis
Brought them food in bowls of basswood,
Water brought in birchen dippers,
And the calumet, the peace-pipe,
Filled and lighted for their smoking.
All the old men of the village,
All the warriors of the nation,
All the Jossakeeds, the Prophets,
The magicians, the Wabenos,
And the Medicine-men, the Medas,
Came to bid the strangers welcome;
'It is well,' they said, 'O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!'

In a circle round the doorway,
With their pipes they sat in silence,
Waiting to behold the strangers,
Waiting to receive their message;
Till the Black-Robe chief, the Pale-face,
From the wigwam came to greet them,
Stammering in his speech a little,
Speaking words yet unfamiliar;

It is well,' they said, 'O brother, That you come so far to see us!'

100

110

120

130

Then the Black-Robe chief, the Prophet, Told his message to the people, Told the purport of his mission, Told them of the Virgin Mary, And her blessed Son, the Saviour, How in distant lands and ages He had lived on earth as we do; How he fasted, prayed, and labored;

How the Jews, the tribe accursed,
Mocked him, scourged him, crucified him;
How he rose from where they laid him,
Walked again with his disciples,

And ascended into heaven.

And the chiefs made answer, saying:
"We have listened to your message,
We have heard your words of wisdom,
We will think on what you tell us.
It is well for us, O brothers,
That you come so far to see us!'
Then they rose up and departed
Each one homeward to his wigwam,
To the young men and the women
Told the story of the strangers

140

[ocr errors]

Whom the Master of Life had sent

them

From the shining land of Wabun.

Heavy with the heat and silence
Grew the afternoon of summer;
With a drowsy sound the forest
Whispered round the sultry wigwam,
With a sound of sleep the water
Rippled on the beach below it;

From the cornfields shrill and ceaseless
Sang the grasshopper, Pah-puk-keena; 16c
And the guests of Hiawatha,

Weary with the heat of Summer,
Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.

Slowly o'er the simmering landscape
Fell the evening's dusk and coolness,
And the long and level sunbeams
Shot their spears into the forest,

Breaking through its shields of shadow,
Rushed into each secret ambush,
Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow;
Still the guests of Hiawatha
Slumbered in the silent wigwam.

From his place rose Hiawatha,
Bade farewell to old Nokomis,

17C

Spake in whispers, spake in this wise,
Did not wake the guests, that slum-
bered:

'I am going, O Nokomis,
On a long and distant journey,
To the portals of the Sunset,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin.
But these guests I leave behind me,
In your watch and ward I leave them;
See that never harm comes near them,
See that never fear molests them,
Never danger nor suspicion,
Never want of food or shelter,
In the lodge of Hiawatha !'

180

Forth into the village went he,
Bade farewell to all the warriors,
Bade farewell to all the young men,
Spake persuading, spake in this wise:
I am going, O my people,
On a long and distant journey;
Many moons and many winters
Will have come, and will have vanished
Ere I come again to see you.

But my guests I leave behind me;
Listen to their words of wisdom,
Listen to the truth they tell you,
For the Master of Life has sent them
From the land of light and morning!'

On the shore stood Hiawatha,
Turned and waved his hand at parting;
On the clear and luminous water
Launched his birch canoe for sailing,
From the pebbles of the margin
Shoved it forth into the water;

[ocr errors]

190

200

Whispered to it, Westward! westward!' And with speed it darted forward.

And the evening sun descending
Set the clouds on fire with redness,
Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,
Left upon the level water

One long track and trail of splendor,
Down whose stream, as down a river,
Westward, westward, Hiawatha
Sailed into the fiery sunset,

210

Sailed into the purple vapors,
Sailed into the dusk of evening.

And the people from the margin
Watched him floating, rising, sinking,
Till the birch canoe seemed lifted
High into that sea of splendor,
Till it sank into the vapors

Like the new moon slowly, slowly
Sinking in the purple distance.

220

230

And they said, Farewell forever!' Said, 'Farewell, O Hiawatha !' And the forests, dark and lonely, Moved through all their depths of darkness, Sighed, 'Farewell, O Hiawatha !' And the waves upon the margin Rising, rippling on the pebbles, Sobbed, Farewell, O Hiawatha !' And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her haunts among the fen-lands, Screamed, Farewell, Ŏ Hiawatha !' Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved,

In the glory of the sunset,

In the purple mists of evening,
To the regions of the home-wind,
Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin,
To the Islands of the Blessed,
To the Kingdom of Ponemah,
To the Land of the Hereafter!
June 25, 1854-Mar. 21, 1855.

24C

Nov. 1855.

MY LOST YOUTH

OFTEN I think of the beautiful town1
That is seated by the sea;

Often in thought go up and down
The pleasant streets of that dear old town,
And my youth comes back to me.
And a verse of a Lapland song
Is haunting my memory still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long
thoughts.'

1 From Longfellow's Journal: March 29, 1855 - At night as I lie in bed, a poem comes into my mind, a memory of Portland, my native town, the city by the sea.

Siede la terra dove nato fui

Sulla marina.

March 30- Wrote the poem; and am rather pleased with it, and with the bringing in of the two lines of the old Lapland song,

A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts. (Life, vol. ii., p. 284.)

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

7c

Come over me like a chill: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

Strange to me now are the forms I meet When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o'ershadow each wellknown street,

As they balance up and down, Are singing the beautiful song, Are sighing and whispering still: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

And Deering's Woods are fresh and fair,2 And with joy that is almost pain

80

My heart goes back to wander there,
And among the dreams of the days that were,
I find my lost youth again.

And the strange and beautiful song,
The groves are repeating it still:
'A boy's will is the wind's will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.'

1855

9c

(1858.)

[blocks in formation]

212

[blocks in formation]

It hailed the ships, and cried, 'Sail on,
Ye mariners, the night is gone.'

And hurried landward far away,
Crying, 'Awake! it is the day."

It said unto the forest, Shout!
Hang all your leafy banners out!'

It touched the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, 'O bird, awake and sing.'
And o'er the farms, 'O chanticleer,
Your clarion blow; the day is near.'
It whispered to the fields of corn,
'Bow down, and hail the coming morn.'

It shouted through the belfry-tower,
"Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour.'

[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]

And slow, as in a dream of bliss,
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss
Her shadow, as it falls
Upon the darkening walls.

As if a door in heaven should be
Opened and then closed suddenly,
The vision came and went,
The light shone and was spent.

On England's annals, through the long
Hereafter of her speech and song,
That light its rays shall cast
From portals of the past.

10

20

1 For the legend, see Mrs. Jameson's Legendary Art (ii, 298). The modern application you will not miss. In Italian, one may say Filomela or Filomena. (LONGFELLOW.)

The modern application' is to Florence Nightin gale.

[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,

Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber,

Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,

Curved at the point and inscribed with its

mystical Arabic sentence,

While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock. 10 Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,

Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;

Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet

[blocks in formation]

Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, 'Not Angles, but Angels.'

Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.

20

Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,

Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth. 'Look at these arms," he said, the warlike weapons that hang here Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!

This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate, Well I remember the day! once saved my life in a skirmish;

Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet

Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.

Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish

30

Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses.' Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing: Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet; He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon !' Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:

'See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;

That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.

Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;

So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.

Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,

Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,

40

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »