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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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your bed of branches,Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me!"Faint with famine, HiawathaStarted from his bed of branches,From the twilight of his wigwamForth into the flush of sunsetCame, and wrestled with Mondamin;At his touch he felt new courageThrobbing in his brain and bosom,Felt new life and hope and vigorRun through every nerve and fibre.So they wrestled there togetherIn the glory of the sunset,And the more they strove and struggled,Stronger still grew Hiawatha;Till the darkness fell around them,And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,From her nest among the pine-trees,Gave a cry of lamentation,Gave a scream of pain and famine."'T Is enough!" then said Mondamin,Smiling upon Hiawatha,"But tomorrow, when the sun sets,I will come again to try you."And he vanished, and was seen not;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 cinderFrom 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 menIn its coming and its going.Thrice they wrestled there togetherIn 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 encounterStood 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
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