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Rh Of the South-Wind in the tree-tops,

Said he, "O my Hiawatha!

All your prayers are heard in heaven,

For you pray not like the others,

Not for greater skill in hunting,

Not for greater craft in fishing,

Not for triumph in the battle,

Nor renown among the warriors,

But for profit of the people,

For advantage of the nations.

"From the Master of Life descending,

I, the friend of man, Mondamin,

Come to warn you and instruct you,

How by struggle and by labor

You shall gain what you have prayed for.

Rise up from your bed of branches,

Rise, O youth, and wrestle with me!"

Faint with famine, Hiawatha

Started from his bed of branches,

From the twilight of his wigwam