Part XIII: Blessing the Cornfields
- Sing, O Song of Hiawatha,
- Of the happy days that followed,
- In the land of the Ojibways,
- In the pleasant land and peaceful!
- Sing the mysteries of Mondamin,
- Sing the Blessing of the Cornfields!
- Buried was the bloody hatchet,
- Buried was the dreadful war-club,
- Buried were all warlike weapons,
- And the war-cry was forgotten.
- There was peace among the nations;
- Unmolested roved the hunters,
- Built the birch canoe for sailing,
- Caught the fish in lake and river,
- Shot the deer and trapped the beaver;
- Unmolested worked the women,
- Made their sugar from the maple,
- Gathered wild rice in the meadows,
- Dressed the skins of deer and beaver.
- All around the happy village
- Stood the maize-fields, green and shining,
- Waved the green plumes of Mondamin,
- Waved his soft and sunny tresses,
- Filling all the land with plenty.
- `T was the women who in Spring-time
- Planted the broad fields and fruitful,
- Buried in the earth Mondamin;
- `T was the women who in Autumn
- Stripped the yellow husks of harvest,
- Stripped the garments from Mondamin,
- Even as Hiawatha taught them.
- Once, when all the maize was planted,
- Hiawatha, wise and thoughtful,
- Spake and said to Minnehaha,
- To his wife, the Laughing Water:
- "You shall bless to-night the cornfields,
- Draw a magic circle round them,
- To protect them from destruction,
- Blast of mildew, blight of insect,
- Wagemin, the thief of cornfields,
- Paimosaid, who steals the maize-ear
- "In the night, when all Is silence,'
- In the night, when all Is darkness,
- When the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin,
- Shuts the doors of all the wigwams,
- So that not an ear can hear you,
- So that not an eye can see you,
- Rise up from your bed in silence,
- Lay aside your garments wholly,
- Walk around the fields you planted,
- Round the borders of the cornfields,
- Covered by your tresses only,
- Robed with darkness as a garment.
- "Thus the fields shall be more fruitful,
- And the passing of your footsteps
- Draw a magic circle round them,
- So that neither blight nor mildew,
- Neither burrowing worm nor insect,
- Shall pass o'er the magic circle;
- Not the dragon-fly, Kwo-ne-she,
- Nor the spider, Subbekashe,
- Nor the grasshopper, Pah-puk-keena;
- Nor the mighty caterpillar,
- Way-muk-kwana, with the bear-skin,
- King of all the caterpillars!"
- On the tree-tops near the cornfields
- Sat the hungry crows and ravens,
- Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
- With his band of black marauders.
- And they laughed at Hiawatha,
- Till the tree-tops shook with laughter,
- With their melancholy laughter,
- At the words of Hiawatha.
- "Hear him!" said they; "hear the Wise Man,
- Hear the plots of Hiawatha!"
- When the noiseless night descended
- Broad and dark o'er field and forest,
- When the mournful Wawonaissa
- Sorrowing sang among the hemlocks,
- And the Spirit of Sleep, Nepahwin,
- Shut the doors of all the wigwams,
- From her bed rose Laughing Water,
- Laid aside her garments wholly,
- And with darkness clothed and guarded,
- Unashamed and unaffrighted,
- Walked securely round the cornfields,
- Drew the sacred, magic circle
- Of her footprints round the cornfields.
- No one but the Midnight only
- Saw her beauty in the darkness,
- No one but the Wawonaissa
- Heard the panting of her bosom
- Guskewau, the darkness, wrapped her
- Closely in his sacred mantle,
- So that none might see her beauty,
- So that none might boast, "I saw her!"
- On the morrow, as the day dawned,
- Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
- Gathered all his black marauders,
- Crows and blackbirds, jays and ravens,
- Clamorous on the dusky tree-tops,
- And descended, fast and fearless,
- On the fields of Hiawatha,
- On the grave of the Mondamin.
- "We will drag Mondamin," said they,
- "From the grave where he is buried,
- Spite of all the magic circles
- Laughing Water draws around it,
- Spite of all the sacred footprints
- Minnehaha stamps upon it!"
- But the wary Hiawatha,
- Ever thoughtful, careful, watchful,
- Had o'erheard the scornful laughter
- When they mocked him from the tree-tops.
- "Kaw!" he said, "my friends the ravens!
- Kahgahgee, my King of Ravens!
- I will teach you all a lesson
- That shall not be soon forgotten!"
- He had risen before the daybreak,
- He had spread o'er all the cornfields
- Snares to catch the black marauders,
- And was lying now in ambush
- In the neighboring grove of pine-trees,
- Waiting for the crows and blackbirds,
- Waiting for the jays and ravens.
- Soon they came with caw and clamor,
- Rush of wings and cry of voices,
- To their work of devastation,
- Settling down upon the cornfields,
- Delving deep with beak and talon,
- For the body of Mondamin.
- And with all their craft and cunning,
- All their skill in wiles of warfare,
- They perceived no danger near them,
- Till their claws became entangled,
- Till they found themselves imprisoned
- In the snares of Hiawatha.
- From his place of ambush came he,
- Striding terrible among them,
- And so awful was his aspect
- That the bravest quailed with terror.
- Without mercy he destroyed them
- Right and left, by tens and twenties,
- And their wretched, lifeless bodies
- Hung aloft on poles for scarecrows
- Round the consecrated cornfields,
- As a signal of his vengeance,
- As a warning to marauders.
- Only Kahgahgee, the leader,
- Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
- He alone was spared among them
- As a hostage for his people.
- With his prisoner-string he bound him,
- Led him captive to his wigwam,
- Tied him fast with cords of elm-bark
- To the ridge-pole of his wigwam.
- "Kahgahgee, my raven!" said he,
- "You the leader of the robbers,
- You the plotter of this mischief,
- The contriver of this outrage,
- I will keep you, I will hold you,
- As a hostage for your people,
- As a pledge of good behavior!"
- And he left him, grim and sulky,
- Sitting in the morning sunshine
- On the summit of the wigwam,
- Croaking fiercely his displeasure,
- Flapping his great sable pinions,
- Vainly struggling for his freedom,
- Vainly calling on his people!
- Summer passed, and Shawondasee
- Breathed his sighs o'er all the landscape,
- From the South-land sent his ardor,
- Wafted kisses warm and tender;
- And the maize-field grew and ripened,
- Till it stood in all the splendor
- Of its garments green and yellow,
- Of its tassels and its plumage,
- And the maize-ears full and shining
- Gleamed from bursting sheaths of verdure.
- Then Nokomis, the old woman,
- Spake, and said to Minnehaha:
- `T is the Moon when, leaves are falling;
- All the wild rice has been gathered,
- And the maize is ripe and ready;
- Let us gather in the harvest,
- Let us wrestle with Mondamin,
- Strip him of his plumes and tassels,
- Of his garments green and yellow!"
- And the merry Laughing Water
- Went rejoicing from the wigwam,
- With Nokomis, old and wrinkled,
- And they called the women round them,
- Called the young men and the maidens,
- To the harvest of the cornfields,
- To the husking of the maize-ear.
- On the border of the forest,
- Underneath the fragrant pine-trees,
- Sat the old men and the warriors
- Smoking in the pleasant shadow.
- In uninterrupted silence
- Looked they at the gamesome labor
- Of the young men and the women;
- Listened to their noisy talking,
- To their laughter and their singing,
- Heard them chattering like the magpies,
- Heard them laughing like the blue-jays,
- Heard them singing like the robins.
- And whene'er some lucky maiden
- Found a red ear in the husking,
- Found a maize-ear red as blood is,
- "Nushka!" cried they all together,
- "Nushka! you shall have a sweetheart,
- You shall have a handsome husband!"
- "Ugh!" the old men all responded
- From their seats beneath the pine-trees.
- And whene'er a youth or maiden
- Found a crooked ear in husking,
- Found a maize-ear in the husking
- Blighted, mildewed, or misshapen,
- Then they laughed and sang together,
- Crept and limped about the cornfields,
- Mimicked in their gait and gestures
- Some old man, bent almost double,
- Singing singly or together:
- "Wagemin, the thief of cornfields!
- Paimosaid, who steals the maize-ear!"
- Till the cornfields rang with laughter,
- Till from Hiawatha's wigwam
- Kahgahgee, the King of Ravens,
- Screamed and quivered in his anger,
- And from all the neighboring tree-tops
- Cawed and croaked the black marauders.
- "Ugh!" the old men all responded,
- From their seats beneath the pine-trees!
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