The joyous bridegroom bows his head; And in tears the good old master Shakes the brown hand of his son, Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek In silence, for he can not speak; And ever faster
Down his own the tears begin to run. The worthy pastor·
The shepherd of that wandering flock That has the ocean for its wold, That has the vessel for its fold, Leaping ever from rock to rock — Spake, with accents mild and clear, Words of warning, words of cheer, But tedious to the bridegroom's ear. He knew the chart
Of the sailor's heart,
All its pleasures and its griefs; All its shallows and rocky reefs; All those secret currents that flow With such resistless undertow,
And lift and drift, with terrible force, The will from its moorings and its course. Therefore he spake, and thus said he:— "Like unto ships far off at sea,
Outward or homeward bound, are we. Before, behind, and all around,
Floats and swings the horizon's bound; Seems at its distant rim to rise
And climb the crystal wall of the skies, And then again to turn and sink,
As if we could slide from its outer brink. Ah! it is not the sea,
It is not the sea, that sinks and shelves, But ourselves
Then the master,
With a gesture of command,
Waved his hand;
And, at the word,
Loud and sudden there was heard,
All around them and below,
The sound of hammers, blow on blow, Knocking away the shores and spurs. And see! she stirs !
She starts! she moves! she seems to feel
The thrill of life along her keel!
And, spurning with her foot the ground, With one exulting, joyous bound
She leaps into the ocean's arms!
And, lo! from the assembled crowd There rose a shout prolonged and loud, That to the ocean seemed to say, "Take her, O bridegroom old and gray, Take her to thy protecting arms, With all her youth and all her charms!
How beautiful she is! How fair She lies within those arms that press Her form with many a soft caress Of tenderness and watchful care!
Sail forth into the sea, O ship!
Through wind and wave right onward steer! The moistened eye, the trembling lip, Are not the signs of doubt or fear.
Sail forth into the sea of life, O gentle, loving, trusting wife! And safe from all adversity Upon the bosom of that sea Thy comings and thy goings be! For gentleness and love and trust Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; And in the wreck of noble lives Something immortal still survives.
Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State! Sail on, O UNION strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears,
With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate. We know what master laid thy keel; What workmen wrought thy ribs of steel; Who made each mast and sail and rope; What anvils rang, what hammers beat; In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope. Fear not each sudden sound and shock: 'Tis of the wave, and not the rock; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale. In spite of rock, and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore, Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea:
Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee;
Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,
Our faith triumphant o'er our fears,
Are all with thee, - are all with thee!
"As unto the bow the cord is, So unto the man is woman:
Though she bends him, she obeys him; Though she draws him, yet she follows: Useless each without the other."
Thus the youthful Hiawatha Said within himself, and pondered, Much perplexed by various feelings; Listless, longing, hoping, fearing, Dreaming still of Minnehaha,
Of the lovely Laughing Water, In the land of the Dakotahs. "Wed a maiden of your people," Warning said the old Nokomis: "Go not eastward, go not westward, For a stranger whom we know not. Like a fire upon the hearth-stone Is a neighbor's homely daughter; Like the starlight or the moonlight Is the handsomest of strangers.'
Thus dissuading spake Nokomis; And my Hiawatha answered Only this: "Dear old Nokomis, Very pleasant is the firelight; But I like the starlight better, Better do I like the moonlight."
Gravely then said old Nokomis, Bring not here an idle maiden, Bring not here a useless woman, Hands unskillful, feet unwilling: Bring a wife with nimble fingers, Heart and hand that move together, Feet that run on willing errands." Smiling answered Hiawatha, "In the land of the Dakotahs Lives the arrow-maker's daughter, Minnehaha, Laughing Water, Handsomest of all the women. I will bring her to your wigwam: She shall run upon your errands, Be your starlight, moonlight, firelight, Be the sunlight of my people."
Still dissuading said Nokomis, Bring not to my lodge a stranger From the land of the Dacotahs.
Very fierce are the Dacotahs; Often is there war between us: There are feuds yet unforgotten, Wounds that ache, and still may open." Laughing answered Hiawatha, "For that reason, if no other, Would I wed the fair Dacotah, That our tribes might be united, That old feuds might be forgotten, And old wounds be healed for ever." Thus departed Hiawatha
To the land of the Dacotahs, To the land of handsome women; Striding over moor and meadow, Through interminable forests, Through uninterrupted silence.
With his moccasins of magic,
At each stroke a mile he measured: Yet the way seemed long before him, And his heart outran his footsteps; And he journeyed without resting, Till he heard the cataract's laughter, Heard the Falls of Minnehaha Calling to him through the silence. "Pleasant is the sound," he murmured; "Pleasant is the voice that calls me." On the outskirts of the forest, "Twixt the shadow and the sunshine, Herds of fallow-deer were feeding; But they saw not Hiawatha.
To his bow he whispered, " Fail not!" To his arrow whispered, "Swerve not! Sent it singing on its errand
To the red heart of the roebuck; Threw the deer across his shoulder, And sped forward without pausing. At the doorway of his wigwam Sat the ancient arrow-maker, In the land of the Dacotahs, Making arrow-heads of jasper, Arrow-heads of chalcedony. At his side, in all her beauty, Sat the lovely Minnehaha, Sat his daughter, Laughing Water, Plaiting mats of flags and rushes: Of the past the old man's thoughts were; And the maiden's, of the future.
He was thinking, as he sat there, Of the days when with such arrows He had struck the deer and bison On the Muskoday, the meadow; Shot the wild-goose flying southward, On the wing, the clamorous Wawa; Thinking of the great war-parties, How they came to buy his arrows, Could not fight without his arrows. Ah! no more such noble warriors Could be found on earth as they were: Now the men were all like women, Only used their tongues for weapons! She was thinking of a hunter From another tribe and country, Young and tall and very handsome, Who one morning, in the springtime, Came to buy her father's arrows, Sat and rested in the wigwam, Lingered long about the doorway, Looking back as he departed. She had heard her father praise him,
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