Song of Hiawatha, The, by the American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, is one of the most famous poetical works of the 1800’s. First published in 1855, it is a long narrative poem of about 5,200 lines. It tells the story of the great American Indian leader Hiawatha. Longfellow’s main character is partly based on a historical figure who probably lived during the 1500’s and helped achieve an alliance among the Iroquois people. The poet consulted scholarly books about North American tribes for his work. But Longfellow also wanted to communicate Hiawatha’s mythological, almost godlike status among his people.
The extracts below are from “Hiawatha’s Departure” at the end of the poem. Hiawatha has successfully united his people and married the beautiful Minnehaha, but the tribe is struck by famine, which kills Minnehaha. Hiawatha then has a vision about the coming of the Europeans. The first to arrive are Roman Catholic missionaries, for whom Hiawatha seems to wait as he stands at the doorway of his home:
By the shore of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, At the doorway of his wigwam, In the pleasant Summer morning, Hiawatha stood and waited. All the air was full of freshness, All the earth was bright and joyous, And before him, through the sunshine, Westward toward the neighboring forest Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo, Passed the bees, the honey-makers, Burning, singing in the sunshine. Bright above him shone the heavens, Level spread the lake before him; From its bosom leaped the sturgeon, Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine; On its margin the great forest Stood reflected in the water, Every tree-top had its shadow, Motionless beneath the water. From the brow of Hiawatha Gone was every trace of sorrow, As the fog from off the water, As the mist from off the meadow. With a smile of joy and triumph, With a look of exultation, As of one who in a vision Sees what is to be, but is not, Stood and waited Hiawatha. Toward the sun his hands were lifted, Both the palms spread out against it, And between the parted fingers Fell the sunshine on his features, Flecked with light his naked shoulders, As it falls and flecks an oak-tree Through the rifted leaves and branches.
Hiawatha then witnesses the arrival of the white missionaries in a canoe, led by “the Black-Robe chief,” the “Priest of Prayer.” Hiawatha advises his people to heed the word of the new prophet and prepares for his own departure.
Forth into the village went he, Bade farewell to all the warriors, Bade farewell to all the young men, Spake persuading, spake in this wise: “I am going, O my people, On a long and distant journey; Many moons and many winters Will have come, and will have vanished, Ere I come again to see you. But my guests I leave behind me; Listen to their words of wisdom, Listen to the truth they tell you, For the Master of Life has sent them From the land of light and morning!” On the shore stood Hiawatha, Turned and waved his hand at parting; On the clear and luminous water Launched his birch canoe for sailing, From the pebbles of the margin Shoved it forth into the water; Whispered to it, “Westward! westward!” And with speed it darted forward. And the evening sun descending Set the clouds on fire with redness, Burned the broad sky, like a prairie, Left upon the level water One long track and trail of splendor, Down whose stream, as down a river, Westward, westward Hiawatha Sailed into the fiery sunset, Sailed into the purple vapors, Sailed into the dusk of evening. And the people from the margin Watched him floating, rising, sinking, Till the birch canoe seemed lifted High into that sea of splendor, Till it sank into the vapors Like the new moon slowly, slowly Sinking in the purple distance. And they said, “Farewell forever!” Said, “Farewell, O Hiawatha!” And the forests, dark and lonely, Moved through all their depths of darkness, Sighed, “Farewell, O Hiawatha!” And the waves upon the margin Rising, rippling on the pebbles, Sobbed, “Farewell, O Hiawatha!” And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, From her haunts among the fen-lands, Screamed, “Farewell, O Hiawatha!” Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest-Wind, Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the kingdom of Ponemah, To the land of the Hereafter!
“The Song of Hiawatha” is written in unrhymed rhythmic lines of trochaic tetrameter. A trochaic rhythm uses an initial stressed syllable, followed by an unstressed syllable. There are four of these metrical units, called feet, in each line, creating a tetrameter. Longfellow adapted this metrical scheme from the Finnish epic poem “Kalevala.”
The insistent, almost hypnotizing effect of Longfellow’s meter has been compared to the tom-tom beat of traditional Native American drums. Longfellow was aiming for a special sound quality that would give his story a sense of myth, song, and solemn recitation.
Longfellow was the most widely known poet of his day, and “The Song of Hiawatha” was an immediate success. After his death, however, Longfellow’s reputation declined, and critics attacked his work for its sentimental simplicity. But the poet’s willingness to tackle large themes and to experiment with different forms has made him more widely appreciated today.
For more information on Longfellow, see Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth . See also American literature (The Era of Expansion (1831-1870)) .
