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      Whether sinking as the rain sinks,

      Whether rising as the mists rise,

      Hiawatha saw not, knew not,

      Only saw that he had vanished,

      Leaving him alone and fainting,

      With the misty lake below him,

      And the reeling stars above him.

       On the morrow and the next day,

      When the sun through heaven descending,

      Like a red and burning cinder

      From the hearth of the Great Spirit,

      Fell into the western waters,

      Came Mondamin for the trial,

      For the strife with Hiawatha;

      Came as silent as the dew comes,

      From the empty air appearing,

      Into empty air returning,

      Taking shape when earth it touches,

      But invisible to all men

      In its coming and its going.

       Thrice they wrestled there together

      In the glory of the sunset,

      Till the darkness fell around them,

      Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

      From her nest among the pine-trees,

      Uttered her loud cry of famine,

      And Mondamin paused to listen.

       Tall and beautiful he stood there,

      In his garments green and yellow;

      To and fro his plumes above him,

      Waved and nodded with his breathing,

      And the sweat of the encounter

      Stood like drops of dew upon him.

       And he cried, "O Hiawatha!

      Bravely have you wrestled with me,

      Thrice have wrestled stoutly with me,

      And the Master of Life, who sees us,

      He will give to you the triumph!"

       Then he smiled, and said: "To-morrow

      Is the last day of your conflict,

      Is the last day of your fasting.

      You will conquer and o'ercome me;

      Make a bed for me to lie in,

      Where the rain may fall upon me,

      Where the sun may come and warm me;

      Strip these garments, green and yellow,

      Strip this nodding plumage from me,

      Lay me in the earth, and make it

      Soft and loose and light above me.

       "Let no hand disturb my slumber,

      Let no weed nor worm molest me,

      Let not Kahgahgee, the raven,

      Come to haunt me and molest me,

      Only come yourself to watch me,

      Till I wake, and start, and quicken,

      Till I leap into the sunshine."

       And thus saying, he departed;

      Peacefully slept Hiawatha,

      But he heard the Wawonaissa,

      Heard the whippoorwill complaining,

      Perched upon his lonely wigwam;

      Heard the rushing Sebowisha,

      Heard the rivulet rippling near him,

      Talking to the darksome forest;

      Heard the sighing of the branches,

      As they lifted and subsided

      At the passing of the night-wind,

      Heard them, as one hears in slumber

      Far-off murmurs, dreamy whispers:

      Peacefully slept Hiawatha.

       On the morrow came Nokomis,

      On the seventh day of his fasting,

      Came with food for Hiawatha,

      Came imploring and bewailing,

      Lest his hunger should o'ercome him,

      Lest his fasting should be fatal.

       But he tasted not, and touched not,

      Only said to her, "Nokomis,

      Wait until the sun is setting,

      Till the darkness falls around us,

      Till the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

      Crying from the desolate marshes,

      Tells us that the day is ended."

       Homeward weeping went Nokomis,

      Sorrowing for her Hiawatha,

      Fearing lest his strength should fail him,

      Lest his fasting should be fatal.

      He meanwhile sat weary waiting

      For the coming of Mondamin,

      Till the shadows, pointing eastward,

      Lengthened over field and forest,

      Till the sun dropped from the heaven,

      Floating on the waters westward,

      As a red leaf in the Autumn

      Falls and floats upon the water,

      Falls and sinks into its bosom.

       And behold! the young Mondamin,

      With his soft and shining tresses,

      With his garments green and yellow,

      With his long and glossy plumage,

      Stood and beckoned at the doorway.

      And as one in slumber walking,

      Pale and haggard, but undaunted,

      From the wigwam Hiawatha

      Came and wrestled with Mondamin.

       Round about him spun the landscape,

      Sky and forest reeled together,

      And his strong heart leaped within him,

      As the sturgeon leaps and struggles

      In a net to break its meshes.

      Like a ring of fire around him

      Blazed and flared the red horizon,

      And a hundred suns seemed looking

      At the combat of the wrestlers.

       Suddenly upon the greensward

      All alone stood Hiawatha,

      Panting with his wild exertion,

      Palpitating with the struggle;

      And before him breathless, lifeless,

      Lay the youth, with hair dishevelled,

      Plumage torn, and garments tattered,

      Dead he lay there in the sunset.

       And victorious Hiawatha

      Made the grave as he commanded,

      Stripped the garments from Mondamin,

      Stripped his tattered plumage from him,

      Laid him in the earth, and made it

      Soft and loose and light above him;

      And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,

      From the melancholy moorlands,

      Gave a cry of lamentation,

      Gave a cry of pain and anguish!

       Homeward then went Hiawatha

      To

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