Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Know how sublime a thing it is, / To suffer and be strong.

Fell I upon my spear, / O, death was grateful!

She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold, / Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice.

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the cypress

And he wooed her with his soft caresses, / Wooed her with his smile of sunshine, […]

From his lodge went Hiawatha, / Dressed for travel, armed for hunting; / Dressed in deer-skin shirt and leggings, / Richly wrought with quills and wampum; / On his head his eagle-feathers, / Round his waist his belt of wampum, […]

Buried was the bloody hatchet, / Buried was the dreadful war-club, / Buried were all warlike weapons, / And the war-cry was forgotten.

[Gitche Manito] Breathed upon the neighbouring forest, / Made its great boughs chafe together, / Till in flame they burst and kindled; […]

And the rabbit from his path-way / Leaped aside, and at a distance / Sat erect upon his haunches.

Far below him plashed the waters, / Plashed and washed the dreamy waters; […]

Thus the Birch Canoe was builded / In the valley, by the river, / In the bosom of the forest; / And the forest’s life was in it, / All its mystery and its magic, / All the lightness of the birch-tree, / All the toughness of the cedar, / All the larch’s supple sinews;

I have given you roe and reindeer, / I have given you brant and beaver, / Filled the marshes full of wild-fowl, / Filled the rivers full of fishes; / Why then are you not contented? / Why then will you hunt each other?

Ah! the singing, fatal arrow, / Like a wasp it buzzed, and stung him [a roebuck]!

Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt.