The Epic Song of Hiawatha. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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СКАЧАТЬ Hooting, laughing in the forest,

       “What is that?” he cried in terror;

       “What is that,” he said, “Nokomis?”

       And the good Nokomis answered:

       “That is but the owl and owlet,

       Talking in their native language,

       Talking, scolding at each other.”

      Then the little Hiawatha

       Learned of every bird its language,

       Learned their names and all their secrets,

       How they built their nests in Summer,

       Where they hid themselves in Winter,

       Talked with them whene’er he met them,

       Called them “Hiawatha’s Chickens.”

      Of all beasts he learned the language,

       Learned their names and all their secrets,

       How the beavers built their lodges,

       Where the squirrels hid their acorns,

       How the reindeer ran so swiftly,

       Why the rabbit was so timid,

       Talked with them whene’er he met them,

       Called them “Hiawatha’s Brothers.”

      Then Iagoo, the great boaster,

       He the marvellous story-teller,

       He the traveller and the talker,

       He the friend of old Nokomis,

       Made a bow for Hiawatha;

       From a branch of ash he made it,

       From an oak-bough made the arrows,

       Tipped with flint, and winged with feathers,

       And the cord he made of deer-skin.

      Then he said to Hiawatha:

       “Go, my son, into the forest,

       Where the red deer herd together,

       Kill for us a famous roebuck,

       Kill for us a deer with antlers!”

      Forth into the forest straightway

       All alone walked Hiawatha

       Proudly, with his bow and arrows;

       And the birds sang round him, o’er him,

       “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”

       Sang the Opechee, the robin,

       Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa,

       “Do not shoot us, Hiawatha!”

      Up the oak-tree, close beside him,

       Sprang the squirrel, Adjidaumo,

       In and out among the branches,

       Coughed and chattered from the oak-tree,

       Laughed, and said between his laughing,

       “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!”

      And the rabbit from his pathway

       Leaped aside, and at a distance

       Sat erect upon his haunches,

       Half in fear and half in frolic,

       Saying to the little hunter,

       “Do not shoot me, Hiawatha!”

      But he heeded not, nor heard them,

       For his thoughts were with the red deer;

       On their tracks his eyes were fastened,

       Leading downward to the river,

       To the ford across the river,

       And as one in slumber walked he.

      Hidden in the alder-bushes,

       There he waited till the deer came,

       Till he saw two antlers lifted,

       Saw two eyes look from the thicket,

       Saw two nostrils point to windward,

       And a deer came down the pathway,

       Flecked with leafy light and shadow.

       And his heart within him fluttered,

       Trembled like the leaves above him,

       Like the birch-leaf palpitated,

       As the deer came down the pathway.

      Then, upon one knee uprising,

       Hiawatha aimed an arrow;

       Scarce a twig moved with his motion,

       Scarce a leaf was stirred or rustled,

       But the wary roebuck started,

       Stamped with all his hoofs together,

       Listened with one foot uplifted,

       Leaped as if to meet the arrow;

       Ah! the singing, fatal arrow;

       Like a wasp it buzzed and stung him!

      Dead he lay there in the forest,

       By the ford across the river;

       Beat his timid heart no longer,

       But the heart of Hiawatha

       Throbbed and shouted and exulted,

       As he bore the red deer homeward,

       And Iagoo and Nokomis

       Hailed his coming with applauses.

      From the red deer’s hide Nokomis

       Made a cloak for Hiawatha,

       From the red deer’s flesh Nokomis

       Made a banquet in his honor.

       All the village came and feasted,

       All the guests praised Hiawatha,

       Called him Strong-Heart, Soan-ge-taha!

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