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Longfellow Henry Wadsworth
«The Song of Hiawatha»

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of the forehead,Right between the eyes he smote him.With the heavy blow bewildered,Rose the Great Bear of the mountains;But 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,Standing 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;Else you would not cry and whimperLike a miserable woman!Bear! you know our tribes are hostile,Long have been at war together;Now you find that we are strongest,You go sneaking in the forest,You go hiding in the mountains!Had you conquered me in battleNot a groan would I have uttered;But you, Bear! sit here and whimper,And 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-MokwaIn the middle of his forehead,Broke his skull, as ice is brokenWhen one goes to fish in Winter.Thus was slain the Mishe-Mokwa,He the Great Bear of the mountains,He 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,And hereafter and foreverShall he hold supreme dominionOver all the winds of heaven.Call him no more Mudjekeewis,Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind!"Thus was Mudjekeewis chosenFather of the Winds of Heaven.For himself he kept the West-Wind,Gave the others to his children;Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind,Gave 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,He it was whose silver arrowsChased the dark o'er hill and valley;He it was whose cheeks were paintedWith the brightest streaks of crimson,And whose voice awoke the village,Called 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 meadowFilled the air
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