OD bless the man who first invented So Sancho Panza said, and so say And bless him, also, that he didn't His great discovery to himself, nor try To make it as the lucky fellow mightA close monopoly by patent-right! Yes,-bless the man who first invented sleep, (I really can't avoid the iteration;) But blast the man with curses loud and deep, Whate'er the rascal's name or age or station, Who first invented, and went round advising, That artificial cut-off,-Early Rising! Rise with the lark, and with the lark to bed," Observes some solemn, sentimental owl; Maxims like these are very cheaply said; But, ere you make yourself a fool or fowl, Pray just inquire about his rise and fall, And whether larks have any beds at all! "The time for honest folks to be abed Thomson, who sung about the "Seasons," said It was a glorious thing to rise in season; But then he said it-lying--in his bed, At ten o'clock, A. M.,--the very reason He wrote so charmingly. The simple fact is, His preaching wasn't sanctioned by his practice. 'Tis doubtless, well to be sometimes awake,—— Awake to duty, and awake to truth,— But when, alas! a nice review we take Of our best deeds and days, we find, in sooth, The hours that leave the slightest cause to weep Are those we passed in childhood, or asleep! 'Tis beautiful to leave the world awhile For the soft visions of the gentle night; 342 HIAWATHA'S JOURNEY. And free, at last, from mortal care or guile, To clip his morning nap by hackneyed HIAWATHA'S JOURNEY. 343 Heart and hand that move together, Smiling answered Hiawatha: 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 forever!" 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 stride 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 the red heart of the roebuck; 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, | Lingered long about the doorway, |