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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409475" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hiawatha And The Pearl-Feather</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the shores of Gitche Gumee, <br>Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, <br>Stood Nokomis, the old woman, <br>Pointing with her finger westward, <br>O'er the water pointing westward, <br>To the purple clouds of sunset.<br> Fiercely the red sun descending <br>Burned his way along the heavens, <br>Set the sky on fire behind him, <br>As war-parties, when retreating, <br>Burn the prairies on their war-trail; <br>And the moon, the Night-sun, eastward, <br>Suddenly starting from his ambush, <br>Followed fast those bloody footprints, <br>Followed in that fiery war-trail, <br>With its glare upon his features.<br> And Nokomis, the old woman, <br>Pointing with her finger westward, <br>Spake these words to Hiawatha: <br>&quot;Yonder dwells the great Pearl-Feather, <br>Megissogwon, the Magician, <br>Manito of Wealth and Wampum,<br>Guarded by his fiery serpents, <br>Guarded by the black pitch-water. <br>You can see his fiery serpents, <br>The Kenabeek, the great serpents, <br>Coiling, playing in the water; <br>You can see the black pitch-water <br>Stretching far away beyond them, <br>To the purple clouds of sunset!<br> &quot;He it was who slew my father, <br>By his wicked wiles and cunning, <br>When he from the moon descended, <br>When he came on earth to seek me. <br>He, the mightiest of Magicians, <br>Sends the fever from the marshes, <br>Sends the pestilential vapors, <br>Sends the poisonous exhalations, <br>Sends the white fog from the fen-lands, <br>Sends disease and death among us!<br> &quot;Take your bow, O Hiawatha, <br>Take your arrows, jasper-headed, <br>Take your war-club, Puggawaugun, <br>And your mittens, Minjekahwun, <br>And your birch-canoe for sailing, <br>And the oil of Mishe-Nahma, <br>So to smear its sides, that swiftly <br>You may pass the black pitch-water; <br>Slay this merciless magician, <br>Save the people from the fever <br>That he breathes across the fen-lands, <br>And avenge my father's murder!&quot;<br> Straightway then my Hiawatha <br>Armed himself with all his war-gear, <br>Launched his birch-canoe for sailing; <br>With his palm its sides he patted, <br>Said with glee, &quot;Cheemaun, my darling, <br>O my Birch-canoe! leap forward, <br>Where you see the fiery serpents, <br>Where you see the black pitch-water!&quot;<br> Forward leaped Cheemaun exulting,<br>And the noble Hiawatha<br>Sang his war-song wild and woful, <br>And above him the war-eagle, <br>The Keneu, the great war-eagle, <br>Master of all fowls with feathers, <br>Screamed and hurtled through the heavens.<br> Soon he reached the fiery serpents, <br>The Kenabeek, the great serpents, <br>Lying huge upon the water, <br>Sparkling, rippling in the water, <br>Lying coiled across the passage, <br>With their blazing crests uplifted, <br>Breathing fiery fogs and vapors, <br>So that none could pass beyond them.<br> But the fearless Hiawatha <br>Cried aloud, and spake in this wise, <br>&quot;Let me pass my way, Kenabeek, <br>Let me go upon my journey!&quot; <br>And they answered, hissing fiercely, <br>With their fiery breath made answer: <br>&quot;Back, go back! O Shaugodaya! <br>Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart!&quot;<br> Then the angry Hiawatha <br>Raised his mighty bow of ash-tree, <br>Seized his arrows, jasper-headed, <br>Shot them fast among the serpents; <br>Every twanging of the bow-string <br>Was a war-cry and a death-cry, <br>Every whizzing of an arrow <br>Was a death-song of Kenabeek.<br> Weltering in the bloody water, <br>Dead lay all the fiery serpents, <br>And among them Hiawatha <br>Harmless sailed, and cried exulting: <br>&quot;Onward, O Cheemaun, my darling! <br>Onward to the black pitch-water!&quot;<br> Then he took the oil of Nahma, <br>And the bows and sides anointed, <br>Smeared them well with oil, that swiftly <br>He might pass the black pitch-water.<br> All night long he sailed upon it, <br>Sailed upon that sluggish water, <br>Covered with its mould of ages, <br>Black with rotting water-rushes, <br>Rank with flags and leaves of lilies, <br>Stagnant, lifeless, dreary, dismal, <br>Lighted by the shimmering moonlight, <br>And by will-o'-the-wisps illumined, <br>Fires by ghosts of dead men kindled, <br>In their weary night-encampments.<br> All the air was white with moonlight, <br>All the water black with shadow, <br>And around him the Suggema, <br>The mosquito, sang his war-song, <br>And the fire-flies, Wah-wah-taysee, <br>Waved their torches to mislead him; <br>And the bull-frog, the Dahinda, <br>Thrust his head into the moonlight, <br>Fixed his yellow eyes upon him, <br>Sobbed and sank beneath the surface; <br>And anon a thousand whistles, <br>Answered over all the fen-lands, <br>And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, <br>Far off on the reedy margin, <br>Heralded the hero's coming.<br> Westward thus fared Hiawatha, <br>Toward the realm of Megissogwon, <br>Toward the land of the Pearl-Feather, <br>Till the level moon stared at him <br>In his face stared pale and haggard, <br>Till the sun was hot behind him, <br>Till it burned upon his shoulders, <br>And before him on the upland <br>He could see the Shining Wigwam<br>Of the Manito of Wampum,<br>Of the mightiest of Magicians.<br> Then once more Cheemaun he patted, <br>To his birch-canoe said, &quot;Onward!&quot; <br>And it stirred in all its fibres, <br>And with one great bound of triumph <br>Leaped across the water-lilies, <br>Leaped through tangled flags and rushes, <br>And upon the beach beyond them <br>Dry-shod landed Hiawatha.<br> Straight he took his bow of ash-tree, <br>On the sand one end he rested, <br>With his knee he pressed the middle, <br>Stretched the faithful bow-string tighter, <br>Took an arrow, jasperheaded, <br>Shot it at the Shining Wigwam, <br>Sent it singing as a herald, <br>As a bearer of his message, <br>Of his challenge loud and lofty: <br>&quot;Come forth from your lodge, Pearl-Feather! <br>Hiawatha waits your coming!&quot;<br> Straightway from the Shining Wigwam <br>Came the mighty Megissogwon, <br>Tall of stature, broad of shoulder, <br>Dark and terrible in aspect, <br>Clad from head to foot in wampum, <br>Armed with all his warlike weapons, <br>Painted like the sky of morning, <br>Streaked with crimson, blue, and yellow, <br>Crested with great eagle-feathers, <br>Streaming upward, streaming outward.<br> &quot;Well I know you, Hiawatha!&quot; <br>Cried he in a voice of thunder, <br>In a tone of loud derision. <br>&quot;Hasten back, O Shaugodaya! <br>Hasten back among the women, <br>Back to old Nokomis, Faint-heart! <br>I will slay you as you stand there, <br>As of old I slew her father!&quot;<br> But my Hiawatha answered, <br>Nothing daunted, fearing nothing: <br>&quot;Big words do not smite like war-clubs, <br>Boastful breath is not a bow-string, <br>Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, <br>Deeds are better things than words are, <br>Actions mightier than boastings!&quot;<br> Then began the greatest battle <br>That the sun had ever looked on, <br>That the war-birds ever witnessed. <br>All a Summer's day it lasted, <br>From the sunrise to the sunset; <br>For the shafts of Hiawatha <br>Harmless hit the shirt of wampum, <br>Harmless fell the blows he dealt it <br>With his mittens, Minjekahwun, <br>Harmless fell the heavy war-club; <br>It could dash the rocks asunder, <br>But it could not break the meshes <br>Of that magic shirt of wampum.<br> Till at sunset Hiawatha, <br>Leaning on his bow of ash-tree, <br>Wounded, weary, and desponding, <br>With his mighty war-club broken, <br>With his mittens torn and tattered, <br>And three useless arrows only, <br>Paused to rest beneath a pine-tree, <br>From whose branches trailed the mosses, <br>And whose trunk was coated over <br>With the Dead-man's Moccasin-leather, <br>With the fungus white and yellow.<br> Suddenly from the boughs above him <br>Sang the Mama, the woodpecker: <br>&quot;Aim your arrows, Hiawatha, <br>At the head of Megissogwon, <br>Strike the tuft of hair upon it, <br>At their roots the long black tresses; <br>There alone can he be wounded!&quot;<br> Winged with feathers, tipped with jasper, <br>Swift flew Hiawatha's arrow, <br>Just as Megissogwon, stooping, <br>Raised a heavy stone to throw it. <br>Full upon the crown it struck him, <br>At the roots of his long tresses, <br>And he reeled and staggered forward, <br>Plunging like a wounded bison, <br>Yes, like Pezhekee, the bison, <br>When the snow is on the prairie.<br> Swifter flew the second arrow, <br>In the pathway of the other, <br>Piercing deeper than the other, <br>Wounding sorer than the other; <br>And the knees of Megissogwon <br>Shook like windy reeds beneath him, <br>Bent and trembled like the rushes.<br> But the third and latest arrow <br>Swiftest flew, and wounded sorest, <br>And the mighty Megissogwon <br>Saw the fiery eyes of Pauguk, <br>Saw the eyes of Death glare at him, <br>Heard his voice call in the darkness; <br>At the feet of Hiawatha <br>Lifeless lay the great Pearl-Feather, <br>Lay the mightiest of Magicians.<br> Then the grateful Hiawatha <br>Called the Mama, the woodpecker, <br>From his perch among the branches <br>Of the melancholy pine-tree, <br>And, in honor of his service, <br>Stained with blood the tuft of feathers <br>On the little head of Mama; <br>Even to this day he wears it, <br>Wears the tuft of crimson feathers, <br>As a symbol of his service.<br> Then he stripped the shirt of wampum <br>From the back of Megissogwon,<br>As a trophy of the battle,<br>As a signal of his conquest. <br>On the shore he left the body, <br>Half on land and half in water, <br>In the sand his feet were buried, <br>And his face was in the water. <br>And above him, wheeled and clamored <br>The Keneu, the great war-eagle, <br>Sailing round in narrower circles,<br>Hovering nearer, nearer, nearer.<br> From the wigwam Hiawatha <br>Bore the wealth of Megissogwon, <br>All his wealth of skins and wampum, <br>Furs of bison and of beaver, <br>Furs of sable and of ermine, <br>Wampum belts and strings and pouches, <br>Quivers wrought with beads of wampum, <br>Filled with arrows, silver-headed.<br> Homeward then he sailed exulting, <br>Homeward through the black pitch-water, <br>Homeward through the weltering serpents, <br>With the trophies of the battle, <br>With a shout and song of triumph.<br> On the shore stood old Nokomis, <br>On the shore stood Chibiabos, <br>And the very strong man, Kwasind, <br>Waiting for the hero's coming, <br>Listening to his songs of triumph. <br>And the people of the village <br>Welcomed him with songs and dances, <br>Made a joyous feast, and shouted: <br>'Honor be to Hiawatha! <br>He has slain the great Pearl-Feather, <br>Slain the mightiest of Magicians, <br>Him, who sent the fiery fever, <br>Sent the white fog from the fen-lands, <br>Sent disease and death among us!&quot;<br> Ever dear to Hiawatha <br>Was the memory of Mama! <br>And in token of his friendship, <br>As a mark of his remembrance, <br>He adorned and decked his pipe-stem <br>With the crimson tuft of feathers, <br>With the blood-red crest of Mama. <br>But the wealth of Megissogwon, <br>All the trophies of the battle, <br>He divided with his people, <br>Shared it equally among them.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Wadsworth+Longfellow">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=409475" data-title="Hiawatha And The Pearl-Feather de Henry Wadsworth Longfellow" data-description="On the shores of Gitche Gumee, 
Of the shining Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood Nokomis, the old woman, 
Pointing with her finger westward, 
O'er the water pointing westward, 
To the purple clouds of sunset.
 Fiercely the red sun descending 
Burned his way a..."></div>
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