Читать книгу The Song of Hiawatha: An Epic Poem - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - Страница 8

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"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"

Cried the warriors, cried the old men,

When he came in triumph homeward

With the sacred Belt of Wampum,

5From 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,

10From 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,

15Spotted 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

20Warmed 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,

25The 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,

30Smote 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;

35But 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,

40Standing fearlessly before him,

Taunted him in loud derision,

Spake disdainfully in this wise:—

"Hark you, Bear! you are a coward,

And no Brave, as you pretended;

45Else 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,

50You 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,

55And 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

60In the middle of his forehead,

Broke his skull, as ice is broken

When one goes to fish in Winter.

Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa,

He the Great Bear of the mountains,

65He the terror of the nations.

"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!"

With a shout exclaimed the people,

"Honor be to Mudjekeewis!

Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind,

70And hereafter and forever

Shall he hold supreme dominion

Over all the winds of heaven.

Call him no more Mudjekeewis,

Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!"

75Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen

Father of the Winds of Heaven.

For himself he kept the West-Wind,

Gave the others to his children;

Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind,

80Gave the South to Shawondasee,

And the North-Wind, wild and cruel,

To the fierce Kabibonokka.

Young and beautiful was Wabun;

He it was who brought the morning,

85He it was whose silver arrows

Chased the dark o'er hill and valley;

He it was whose cheeks were painted

With the brightest streaks of crimson,

And whose voice awoke the village,

90Called the deer, and called the hunter.

Lonely in the sky was Wabun;

Though the birds sang gayly to him,

Though the wild-flowers of the meadow

Filled the air with odors for him,

95Though the forests and the rivers

Sang and shouted at his coming,

Still his heart was sad within him,

For he was alone in heaven.

But one morning, gazing earthward,

100While the village still was sleeping,

And the fog lay on the river,

Like a ghost, that goes at sunrise,

He beheld a maiden walking

All alone upon a meadow,

105Gathering water-flags and rushes

By a river in the meadow.

Every morning, gazing earthward,

Still the first thing he beheld there

Was her blue eyes looking at him,

110Two blue lakes among the rushes.

And he loved the lonely maiden,

Who thus waited for his coming;

For they both were solitary,

She on earth and he in heaven.

115And he wooed her with caresses,

Wooed her with his smile of sunshine,

With his flattering words he wooed her,

With his sighing and his singing,

Gentlest whispers in the branches,

120Softest music, sweetest odors,

Till he drew her to his bosom,

Folded in his robes of crimson,

Till into a star he changed her,

Trembling still upon his bosom;

125And forever in the heavens

They are seen together walking,

Waban and the Wabun-Annung,

Wabun and the Star of Morning.

But the fierce Kabibonokka

130Had his dwelling among icebergs,

In the everlasting snow-drifts,

In the kingdom of Wabasso,

In the land of the White Rabbit.

He it was whose hand in Autumn

135Painted all the trees with scarlet,

Stained the leaves with red and yellow;

He it was who sent the snow-flakes,

Sifting, hissing through the forest,

Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers,

140Drove the loon and sea-gull southward,

Drove the cormorant and curlew

To their nests of sedge and sea-tang

In the realms of Shawondasee.

Once the fierce Kabibonokka

145Issued from his lodge of snow-drifts,

From his home among the icebergs,

And his hair, with snow besprinkled,

Streamed behind him like a river,

Like a black and wintry river,

150As he howled and hurried southward,

Over frozen lakes and moorlands.

There among the reeds and rushes

Found he Shingebis, the diver,

Trailing strings of fish behind him,

155O'er the frozen fens and moorlands,

Lingering still among the moorlands,

Though his tribe had long departed

To the land of Shawondasee.

Cried the fierce Kabibonokka,

160"Who is this that dares to brave me?

Dares to stay in my dominions,

When the Wawa has departed,

When the wild-goose has gone southward,

And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

165Long ago departed southward?

I will go into his wigwam,

I will put his smouldering fire out!"

And at night Kabibonokka

To the lodge came wild and wailing,

170Heaped the snow in drifts about it,

Shouted down into the smoke-flue,

Shook the lodge-poles in his fury,

Flapped the curtain of the door-way.

Shingebis, the diver, feared not,

175Shingebis, the diver, cared not;

Four great logs had he for fire-wood,

One for each moon of the winter,

And for food the fishes served him.

By his blazing fire he sat there,

180Warm and merry, eating, laughing,

Singing, "O Kabibonokka,

You are but my fellow-mortal!"

"I have given you streams to fish in."

Then Kabibonokka entered,

And though Shingebis, the diver,

185Felt his presence by the coldness,

Felt his icy breath upon him,

Still he did not cease his singing,

Still he did not leave his laughing,

Only turned the log a little,

190Only made the fire burn brighter,

Made the sparks fly up the smoke-flue.

From Kabibonokka's forehead,

From his snow-besprinkled tresses,

Drops of sweat fell fast and heavy,

195Making dints upon the ashes,

As along the eaves of lodges,

As from drooping boughs of hemlock,

Drips the melting snow in spring-time,

Making hollows in the snow-drifts.

200Till at last he rose defeated,

Could not bear the heat and laughter,

Could not bear the merry singing,

But rushed headlong through the door-way,

Stamped upon the crusted snow-drifts,

205Stamped upon the lakes and rivers,

Made the snow upon them harder,

Made the ice upon them thicker,

Challenged Shingebis, the diver,

To come forth and wrestle with him,

210To come forth and wrestle naked

On the frozen fens and moorlands.

Forth went Shingebis, the diver,

Wrestled all night with the North-Wind,

Wrestled naked on the moorlands

215With the fierce Kabibonokka,

Till his panting breath grew fainter,

Till his frozen grasp grew feebler,

Till he reeled and staggered backward,

And retreated, baffled, beaten,

220To the kingdom of Wabasso,

To the land of the White Rabbit,

Hearing still the gusty laughter,

Hearing Shingebis, the diver,

Singing, "O Kabibonokka,

225You are but my fellow-mortal!"

Shawondasee, fat and lazy—

Had his dwelling far to southward,

In the drowsy, dreamy sunshine,

In the never-ending Summer.

230He it was who sent the wood-birds,

Sent the Opechee, the robin,

Sent the bluebird, the Owaissa,

Sent the Shawshaw, sent the swallow,

Sent the wild-goose, Wawa, northward,

235Sent the melons and tobacco,

And the grapes in purple clusters.

From his pipe the smoke ascending

Filled the sky with haze and vapor,

Filled the air with dreamy softness,

240Gave a twinkle to the water.

Touched the rugged hills with smoothness,

Brought the tender Indian Summer

To the melancholy North-land,

In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes.

245Listless, careless Shawondasee!

In his life he had one shadow,

In his heart one sorrow had he.

Once, as he was gazing northward,

Far away upon a prairie

250He beheld a maiden standing,

Saw a tall and slender maiden

All alone upon a prairie;

Brightest green were all her garments,

And her hair was like the sunshine.

255Day by day he gazed upon her,

Day by day he sighed with passion,

Day by day his heart within him

Grew more hot with love and longing

For the maid with yellow tresses.

260But he was too fat and lazy

To bestir himself and woo her;

Yes, too indolent and easy

To pursue her and persuade her.

So he only gazed upon her,

265Only sat and sighed with passion

For the maiden of the prairie.

Till one morning, looking northward,

He beheld her yellow tresses

Changed and covered o'er with whiteness,

270Covered as with whitest snow-flakes.

"Ah! my brother from the North-land,

From the kingdom of Wabasso,

From the land of the White Rabbit!

You have stolen the maiden from me,

275You have laid your hand upon her,

You have wooed and won my maiden,

With your stories of the North-land!"

Thus the wretched Shawondasee

Breathed into the air his sorrow;

280And the South-Wind o'er the prairie

Wandered warm with sighs of passion,

With the sighs of Shawondasee,

Till the air seemed full of snow-flakes,

Full of thistle-down the prairie,

285And the maid with hair like sunshine

Vanished from his sight forever;

Never more did Shawondasee

See the maid with yellow tresses!

Poor, deluded Shawondasee!

290'T was no woman that you gazed at,

'T was no maiden that you sighed for,

'T was the prairie dandelion

That through all the dreamy Summer

You had gazed at with such longing,

295You had sighed for with such passion,

And had puffed away forever,

Blown into the air with sighing.

Ah! deluded Shawondasee!

Thus the Four Winds were divided;

300Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis

Had their stations in the heavens,

At the corners of the heavens;

For himself the West-Wind only

Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis.