Song of Hiawatha. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

Filled the rivers full of fishes;

       Why then are you not contented?

       Why then will you hunt each other?

      "I am weary of your quarrels,

       Weary of your wars and bloodshed,

       Weary of your prayers for vengeance,

       Of your wranglings and dissensions;

       All your strength is in your union,

       All your danger is in discord;

       Therefore be at peace henceforward,

       And as brothers live together.

      "I will send a Prophet to you,

       A Deliverer of the nations,

       Who shall guide you and shall teach you,

       Who shall toil and suffer with you.

       If you listen to his counsels,

       You will multiply and prosper;

       If his warnings pass unheeded,

       You will fade away and perish!

      "Bathe now in the stream before you,

       Wash the war-paint from your faces,

       Wash the blood-stains from your fingers,

       Bury your war-clubs and your weapons,

       Break the red stone from this quarry,

       Mould and make it into Peace-Pipes,

       Take the reeds that grow beside you,

       Deck them with your brightest feathers,

       Smoke the calumet together,

       And as brothers live henceforward!"

      Then upon the ground the warriors

       Threw their cloaks and shirts of deer-skin,

       Threw their weapons and their war-gear,

       Leaped into the rushing river,

       Washed the war-paint from their faces.

       Clear above them flowed the water,

       Clear and limpid from the footprints

       Of the Master of Life descending;

       Dark below them flowed the water,

       Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson,

       As if blood were mingled with it!

      "Dark below them flowed the water,

       Soiled and stained with streaks of crimson"

      From the river came the warriors,

       Clean and washed from all their war-paint;

       On the banks their clubs they buried,

       Buried all their warlike weapons.

       Gitche Manito, the mighty,

       The Great Spirit, the creator,

       Smiled upon his helpless children!

      And in silence all the warriors

       Broke the red stone of the quarry,

       Smoothed and formed it into Peace-Pipes,

       Broke the long reeds by the river,

       Decked them with their brightest feathers,

       And departed each one homeward,

       While the Master of Life, ascending,

       Through the opening of cloud-curtains,

       Through the doorways of the heaven,

       Vanished from before their faces,

       In the smoke that rolled around him,

       The Pukwana of the Peace-Pipe!

       • 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 derison,

       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