INTRODUCTION.
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hould you ask me, whence these stories?Whence these legends and traditions,With the odors of the forest,With the dew and damp of meadows,With the curling smoke of wigwams, 5With the rushing of great rivers,With their frequent repetitions,And their wild reverberations,As of thunder in the mountains?I should answer, I should tell you, 10"From the forests and the prairies,From the great lakes of the Northland,From the land of the Ojibways,From the land of the Dacotahs,From the mountains, moors, and fen-lands, 15Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,Feeds among the reeds and rushes.I repeat them as I heard themFrom the lips of Nawadaha,The musician, the sweet singer." 20Should you ask where NawadahaFound these songs so wild and wayward,Found these legends and traditions,I should answer, I should tell you,"In the bird's-nests of the forest, 25In the lodges of the beaver,In the hoof-prints of the bison,In the eyry of the eagle!"All the wild-fowl sang them to him,In the moorlands and the fen-lands, 30In the melancholy marshes;Chetowaik, the plover, sang them,Mahn, the loon, the wild goose, Wawa,The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gahAnd the grouse, the Mushkodasa!" 35If still further you should ask me,Saying, "Who was Nawadaha?Tell us of this Nawadaha,"I should answer your inquiriesStraightway in such words as follow. 40"In the Vale of Tawasentha,In the green and silent valley,By the pleasant water-courses,Dwelt the singer Nawadaha.Round about the Indian village 45Spread the meadows and the cornfields,And beyond them stood the forest,Stood the groves of singing pine-trees,Green in Summer, white in Winter,Ever sighing, ever singing. 50"And the pleasant water-courses,You could trace them through the valley,By the rushing in the Spring-time,By the alders in the Summer,By the white fog in the Autumn, 55By the black line in the Winter;And beside them dwelt the singer,In the vale of Tawasentha,In the green and silent valley."There he sang of Hiawatha, 60Sang the Song of Hiawatha,Sang his wondrous birth and being,How he prayed and how he fasted,How he lived, and toiled, and sufferedThat the tribes of men might prosper, 65That he might advance his people!"Ye who love the haunts of Nature,Love the sunshine of the meadow,Love the shadow of the forest,Love the wind among the branches, 70And the rain-shower and the snow-storm,And the rushing of great riversThrough their palisades of pine-trees,And the thunder in the mountains,Whose innumerable echoes 75Flap like eagles in their eyries;--Listen to these wild traditions,To this Song of Hiawatha!Ye who love a nation's legendsLove the ballads of a people, 80That like voices from afar offCall to us to pause and listen,Speak in tones so plain and childlike,Scarcely can the ear distinguishWhether they are sung or spoken;-- 85Listen to this Indian Legend,To this Song of Hiawatha!Ye whose hearts are fresh and simple,Who have faith in God and Nature,Who believe that in all ages 90Every human heart is human,That in even savage bosomsThere are longings, yearnings, strivingsFor the good they comprehend not,That the feeble hands and helpless, 95Groping blindly in the darkness,Touch God's right hand in that darkness,And are lifted up and strengthened;--Listen to this simple story,To this song of Hiawatha! 100Ye who sometimes, in your ramblesThrough the green lanes of the country,Where the tangled barberry-bushesHang their tufts of crimson berriesOver stone walls gray with mosses, 105Pause by some neglected graveyard,For a while to muse, and ponderOn a half-effaced inscription,Written with little skill of song-craft,Homely phrases, but each letter 110Full of hope and yet of heart-break,Full of all the tender pathosOf the Here and the Hereafter;--Stay and read this rude inscription,Read this song of Hiawatha! 115 [Illustration: _Ojibway Snow Shoe._] [Illustration: "Smoked the Calumet, the Peace-Pipe."]
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