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Shining bright with oil, and plaited, Hung with braids of scented grasses, As among the guests assembled,
To the sound of flutes and singing, To the sound of drums and voices, Rose the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis, And began his mystic dances.
First he danced a solemn measure, Very slow in step and gesture,
In and out among the pine-trees, Through the shadows and the sunshine, Treading softly like a panther.
Then more swiftly and still swifter, Whirling, spinning round in circles, Leaping o'er the guests assembled, Eddying round and round the wigwam, Till the leaves went whirling with him, Till the dust and wind together
Swept in eddies round about him. Then along the sandy margin
Of the lake, the Big-Sea-Water,
On he sped with frenzied gestures, Stamped upon the sand, and tossed it Wildly in the air around him;
Till the wind became a whirlwind, Till the sand was blown and sifted
Like great snowdrifts o'er the landscape, Heaping all the shores with Sand Dunes, Sand Hills of the Nagow Wudjoo!
Thus the merry Pau-Puk-Keewis
Danced his Beggar's Dance to please them, And, returning, sat down laughing
There among the guests assembled, Sat and fanned himself serenely With his fan of turkey-feathers. Then they said to Chibiabos,
To the friend of Hiawatha,
To the sweetest of all singers, To the best of all musicians, "Sing to us, O Chibiabos!
Songs of love and songs of longing, That the feast may be more joyous, That the time may pass more gayly, And our guests be more contented!" And the gentle Chibiabos
Sang in accents sweet and tender, Sang in tones of deep emotion, Songs of love and songs of longing; Looking still at Hiawatha,
Looking at fair Laughing Water, Sang he softly, sang in this wise: "Onaway! Awake, beloved!
Thou the wild-flower of the forest! Thou the wild-bird of the prairie! Thou with eyes so soft and fawn-like! "If thou only lookest at me,
I am happy, I am happy, As the lilies of the prairie,
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When they feel the dew upon them! "Sweet thy breath is as the fragrance Of the wild-flowers in the morning, As their fragrance is at evening,
In the Moon when leaves are falling. "Does not all the blood within me Leap to meet thee, leap to meet thee, As the springs to meet the sunshine,
In the Moon when nights are brightest? "Onaway! my heart sings to thee,
Sings with joy when thou art near me, As the sighing, singing branches
In the pleasant Moon of Strawberries! "When thou art not pleased, beloved, Then my heart is sad and darkened,
As the shining river darkens
When the clouds drop shadows on it! "When thou smilest, my beloved, Then my troubled heart is brightened, As in sunshine gleam the ripples
That the cold wind makes in rivers. "Smiles the earth, and smile the waters, Smile the cloudless skies above us,
But I lose the way of smiling When thou art no longer near me! "I myself, myself ! behold me!
Blood of my beating heart, behold me! Oh awake, awake, beloved!
Onaway! awake, beloved!" Thus the gentle Chibiabos
Sang his song of love and longing; And Iagoo, the great boaster,
He the marvellous story-teller, He the friend of old Nokomis, Jealous of the sweet musician,
Jealous of the applause they gave him, Saw in all the eyes around him,
Saw in all their looks and gestures, That the wedding guests assembled Longed to hear his pleasant stories, His immeasurable falsehoods.
Very boastful was Iagoo; Never heard he an adventure But himself had met a greater; Never any deed of daring
But himself had done a bolder; Never any marvellous story
But himself could tell a stranger. Would you listen to his boasting, Would you only give him credence, No one ever shot an arrow
Half so far and high as he had; Ever caught so many fishes, Ever killed so many reindeer, Ever trapped so many beaver!
None could run so fast as he could, None could dive so deep as he could, None could swim so far as he could;
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None had made so many journeys, None had seen so many wonders, As this wonderful Iagoo,
As this marvellous story-teller! Thus his name became a by-word And a jest among the people;
And whene'er a boastful hunter Praised his own address too highly, Or a warrior, home returning,
Talked too much of his achievements, All his hearers cried, "Iagoo!
Here's Iagoo come among us!" He it was who carved the cradle Of the little Hiawatha,
Carved its framework out of linden, Bound it strong with reindeer sinews; He it was who taught him later
How to make his bows and arrows, How to make the bows of ash-tree, And the arrows of the oak-tree.
So among the guests assembled
At my Hiawatha's wedding
Sat Iagoo, old and ugly,
Sat the marvellous story-teller. And they said, "O good Iagoo, Tell us now a tale of wonder,
Tell us of some strange adventure, That the feast may be more joyous, That the time may pass more gayly, And our guests be more contented!" And Iagoo answered straightway, "You shall hear a tale of wonder,
You shall hear the strange adventures
Of Osseo, the Magician,
From the Evening Star descending." XII
THE SON OF THE EVENING STAR
Can it be the sun descending
O'er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan floating, flying, Wounded by the magic arrow, Staining all the waves with crimson, With the crimson of its life-blood, Filling all the air with splendor,
With the splendor of its plumage? Yes; it is the sun descending, Sinking down into the water;
All the sky is stained with purple, All the water flushed with crimson! No; it is the Red Swan floating, Diving down beneath the water;
To the sky its wings are lifted,
With its blood the waves are reddened! Over it the Star of Evening
