  T Two good friends had Hiawatha, Singled out from all the others, Bound to him in closest union, And to whom he gave the right hand 5Of his heart, in joy and sorrow; Chibiabos, the musician, And the very strong man, Kwasind. Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it; 10Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, Story-tellers, mischief-makers, Could not breed ill-will between them, For they kept each other's counsel, 15Spake with naked hearts together, Pondering much and much contriving How the tribes of men might prosper. Most beloved by Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, 20He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers. Beautiful and childlike was he, Brave as man is, soft as woman, Pliant as a wand of willow, 25Stately as a deer with antlers. When he sang, the village listened; All the warriors gathered round him, All the women came to hear him; Now he stirred their souls to passion, 30Now he melted them to pity. From the hollow reeds he fashioned Flutes so musical and mellow, That the brook, the Sebowisha, Ceased to murmur in the woodland, 35That the wood-birds ceased from singing, And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Sat upright to look and listen. 40Yes, the brook, the Sebowisha, Pausing, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach my waves to flow in music, Softly as your words in singing!" Yes, the bluebird, the Owaissa, 45Envious, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as wild and wayward, Teach me songs as full of frenzy!" Yes, the Opechee, the robin, Joyous, said, "O Chibiabos, 50Teach me tones as sweet and tender, Teach me songs as full of gladness!" And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa, Sobbing, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as melancholy, 55Teach me songs as full of sadness!" All the many sounds of nature Borrowed sweetness from his singing; All the hearts of men were softened By the pathos of his music; 60For he sang of peace and freedom, Sang of beauty, love, and longing; In the Islands of the Blessed, In the kingdom of Ponemah, 65In the land of the Hereafter. Very dear to Hiawatha Was the gentle Chibiabos, He the best of all musicians, He the sweetest of all singers; 70For his gentleness he loved him, And the magic of his singing. Three canoes. Dear, too, unto Hiawatha Was the very strong man, Kwasind, He the strongest of all mortals, 75He the mightiest among many; For his very strength he loved him, For his strength allied to goodness. Idle in his youth was Kwasind, Very listless, dull, and dreamy, 80Never played with other children, Never fished and never hunted, Not like other children was he; But they saw that much he fasted, Much his Manito entreated, "Lazy Kwasind!" said his mother, "In my work you never help me! In the Summer you are roaming Idly in the fields and forests; 90In the Winter you are cowering O'er the firebrands in the wigwam! In the coldest days of Winter I must break the ice for fishing; With my nets you never help me! 95At the door my nets are hanging, Dripping, freezing with the water; Go and wring them, Yenadizze! Go and dry them in the sunshine!" Slowly, from the ashes, Kwasind 100Rose, but made no angry answer; From the lodge went forth in silence, Took the nets, that hung together, Dripping, freezing at the doorway; Like a wisp of straw he wrung them, 105Like a wisp of straw he broke them, Could not wring them without breaking, Such the strength was in his fingers. Not a woodchuck could get through them. "Not a woodchuck could get through them; Not a squirrel clamber o'er them! And straightway his pipe he lighted, And sat down to smoke and ponder." "Lazy Kwasind!" said his father, "In the hunt you never help me; Snapped asunder every arrow; Yet come with me to the forest, You shall bring the hunting homeward." Down a narrow pass they wandered, 115Where a brooklet led them onward, Where the trail of deer and bison Marked the soft mud on the margin, |
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