80 VI. HIAWATHA'S FRIENDS. Two good friends had Hiawatha, And to whom he gave the right hand Chibiabos, the musician, And the very strong man, Kwasind. Straight between them ran the pathway, Never grew the grass upon it; Singing birds, that utter falsehoods, Story-tellers, mischief-makers, Found no eager ear to listen, Could not breed ill-will between them, When he sang, the village listened; All the warriors gathered round him, All the women came to hear him ; Now he stirred their souls to passion, Now he melted them to pity. From the hollow reeds he fashioned Flutes so musical and mellow, That the brook, the Sebowisha, Ceased to murmur in the woodland, That the wood-birds ceased from singing, And the squirrel, Adjidaumo, Ceased his chatter in the oak-tree, And the rabbit, the Wabasso, Sat upright to look and listen. Envious, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as wild and wayward, Teach me songs as full of frenzy!" Yes, the Opechee, the robin, Joyous, said, "O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as sweet and tender, Teach me songs as full of gladness! " And the whippoorwill, Wawonaissa, Sobbing, said, “O Chibiabos, Teach me tones as melancholy, Teach me songs as full of sadness!" For he sang of peace and freedom, Was the very strong man, Kwasind, Idle in his youth was Kwasind, Not like other children was he; But they saw that much he fasted, Much his Manito entreated, Much besought his Guardian Spirit. "Lazy Kwasind!" said his mother, "In my work you never help me! In the Summer you are roaming Idly in the fields and forests; In the Winter you are cowering O'er the firebrands in the wigwam! In the coldest days of Winter |