HIAWATHA'S LAMENTATION by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
When Hiawatha's dear friend Chibiabos disregards warnings and is pulled under a frozen lake by malevolent spirits, Hiawatha is devastated by sorrow.
The poem
In those days the Evil Spirits, All the Manitos of mischief, Fearing Hiawatha's wisdom, And his love for Chibiabos, Jealous of their faithful friendship, And their noble words and actions, Made at length a league against them, To molest them and destroy them. Hiawatha, wise and wary, Often said to Chibiabos, "O my brother! do not leave me, Lest the Evil Spirits harm you!" Chibiabos, young and heedless, Laughing shook his coal-black tresses, Answered ever sweet and childlike, "Do not fear for me, O brother! Harm and evil come not near me!" Once when Peboan, the Winter, Roofed with ice the Big-Sea-Water, When the snow-flakes, whirling downward, Hissed among the withered oak-leaves, Changed the pine-trees into wigwams, Covered all the earth with silence,-- Armed with arrows, shod with snow-shoes, Heeding not his brother's warning, Fearing not the Evil Spirits, Forth to hunt the deer with antlers All alone went Chibiabos. Right across the Big-Sea-Water Sprang with speed the deer before him. With the wind and snow he followed, O'er the treacherous ice he followed, Wild with all the fierce commotion And the rapture of the hunting. But beneath, the Evil Spirits Lay in ambush, waiting for him, Broke the treacherous ice beneath him, Dragged him downward to the bottom, Buried in the sand his body. Unktahee, the god of water, He the god of the Dacotahs, Drowned him in the deep abysses Of the lake of Gitche Gumee. From the headlands Hiawatha Sent forth such a wail of anguish, Such a fearful lamentation, That the bison paused to listen, And the wolves howled from the prairies, And the thunder in the distance Starting answered "Baim-wawa!" Then his face with black he painted, With his robe his head he covered, In his wigwam sat lamenting, Seven long weeks he sat lamenting, Uttering still this moan of sorrow:-- "He is dead, the sweet musician! He the sweetest of all singers! He has gone from us forever, He has moved a little nearer To the Master of all music, To the Master of all singing! O my brother, Chibiabos!" And the melancholy fir-trees Waved their dark green fans above him, Waved their purple cones above him, Sighing with him to console him, Mingling with his lamentation Their complaining, their lamenting. Came the Spring, and all the forest Looked in vain for Chibiabos; Sighed the rivulet, Sebowisha, Sighed the rushes in the meadow. From the tree-tops sang the bluebird, Sang the bluebird, the Owaissa, "Chibiabos! Chibiabos! He is dead, the sweet musician!" From the wigwam sang the robin, Sang the robin, the Opechee, "Chibiabos! Chibiabos! He is dead, the sweetest singer!" And at night through all the forest Went the whippoorwill complaining, Wailing went the Wawonaissa, "Chibiabos! Chibiabos! He is dead, the sweet musician! He the sweetest of all singers!" Then the Medicine-men, the Medas, The magicians, the Wabenos, And the Jossakeeds, the Prophets, Came to visit Hiawatha; Built a Sacred Lodge beside him, To appease him, to console him, Walked in silent, grave procession, Bearing each a pouch of healing, Skin of beaver, lynx, or otter, Filled with magic roots and simples, Filled with very potent medicines. When he heard their steps approaching, Hiawatha ceased lamenting, Called no more on Chibiabos; Naught he questioned, naught he answered, But his mournful head uncovered, From his face the mourning colors Washed he slowly and in silence, Slowly and in silence followed Onward to the Sacred Wigwam. There a magic drink they gave him, Made of Nahma-wusk, the spearmint, And Wabeno-wusk, the yarrow, Roots of power, and herbs of healing; Beat their drums, and shook their rattles; Chanted singly and in chorus, Mystic songs like these, they chanted. "I myself, myself! behold me! 'T is the great Gray Eagle talking; Come, ye white crows, come and hear him! The loud-speaking thunder helps me; All the unseen spirits help me; I can hear their voices calling, All around the sky I hear them! I can blow you strong, my brother, I can heal you, Hiawatha!" "Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus, "Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus. "Friends of mine are all the serpents! Hear me shake my skin of hen-hawk! Mahng, the white loon, I can kill him; I can shoot your heart and kill it! I can blow you strong, my brother, I can heal you, Hiawatha!" "Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus, "Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus. "I myself, myself! the prophet! When I speak the wigwam trembles, Shakes the Sacred Lodge with terror, Hands unseen begin to shake it! When I walk, the sky I tread on Bends and makes a noise beneath me! I can blow you strong, my brother! Rise and speak, O Hiawatha!" "Hi-au-ha!" replied the chorus, "Way-ha-way!" the mystic chorus. Then they shook their medicine-pouches O'er the head of Hiawatha, Danced their medicine-dance around him; And upstarting wild and haggard, Like a man from dreams awakened, He was healed of all his madness. As the clouds are swept from heaven, Straightway from his brain departed All his moody melancholy; As the ice is swept from rivers, Straightway from his heart departed All his sorrow and affliction. Then they summoned Chibiabos From his grave beneath the waters, From the sands of Gitche Gumee Summoned Hiawatha's brother. And so mighty was the magic Of that cry and invocation, That he heard it as he lay there Underneath the Big-Sea-Water; From the sand he rose and listened, Heard the music and the singing, Came, obedient to the summons, To the doorway of the wigwam, But to enter they forbade him. Through a chink a coal they gave him, Through the door a burning fire-brand; Ruler in the Land of Spirits, Ruler o'er the dead, they made him, Telling him a fire to kindle For all those that died thereafter, Camp-fires for their night encampments On their solitary journey To the kingdom of Ponemah, To the land of the Hereafter. From the village of his childhood, From the homes of those who knew him, Passing silent through the forest, Like a smoke-wreath wafted sideways, Slowly vanished Chibiabos! Where he passed, the branches moved not, Where he trod, the grasses bent not, And the fallen leaves of last year Made no sound beneath his footstep. Four whole days he journeyed onward Down the pathway of the dead men; On the dead-man's strawberry feasted, Crossed the melancholy river, On the swinging log he crossed it, Came unto the Lake of Silver, In the Stone Canoe was carried To the Islands of the Blessed, To the land of ghosts and shadows. On that journey, moving slowly, Many weary spirits saw he, Panting under heavy burdens, Laden with war-clubs, bows and arrows, Robes of fur, and pots and kettles, And with food that friends had given For that solitary journey. "Ay! why do the living," said they, "Lay such heavy burdens on us! Better were it to go naked, Better were it to go fasting, Than to bear such heavy burdens On our long and weary journey!" Forth then issued Hiawatha, Wandered eastward, wandered westward, Teaching men the use of simples And the antidotes for poisons, And the cure of all diseases. Thus was first made known to mortals All the mystery of Medamin, All the sacred art of healing.
When Hiawatha's dear friend Chibiabos disregards warnings and is pulled under a frozen lake by malevolent spirits, Hiawatha is devastated by sorrow. Eventually, medicine men restore him through rituals and songs, and Chibiabos is briefly brought back to be named ruler of the spirit world before disappearing for good. From this profound loss, Hiawatha transforms his grief into a mission and imparts the skill of healing to humanity.
Line-by-line
In those days the Evil Spirits, / All the Manitos of mischief,
Hiawatha, wise and wary, / Often said to Chibiabos,
Once when Peboan, the Winter, / Roofed with ice the Big-Sea-Water,
But beneath, the Evil Spirits / Lay in ambush, waiting for him,
From the headlands Hiawatha / Sent forth such a wail of anguish,
"He is dead, the sweet musician! / He the sweetest of all singers!
And the melancholy fir-trees / Waved their dark green fans above him,
Then the Medicine-men, the Medas, / The magicians, the Wabenos,
There a magic drink they gave him, / Made of Nahma-wusk, the spearmint,
Then they shook their medicine-pouches / O'er the head of Hiawatha,
Then they summoned Chibiabos / From his grave beneath the waters,
From the village of his childhood, / From the homes of those who knew him,
Forth then issued Hiawatha, / Wandered eastward, wandered westward,
Tone & mood
The tone remains mournful and ceremonial, featuring a steady drumbeat rhythm that unfolds without haste. Longfellow maintains a high emotional intensity, but it's measured—this grief is conveyed through ritual rather than explosive emotion. There are genuine moments of tenderness, like the birds calling Chibiabos's name and the fir-trees sighing, alongside moments of awe, such as the medicine-men's boastful chants. By the conclusion, the tone transitions to something quieter and more purposeful, resembling the calm that follows a lengthy funeral.
Symbols & metaphors
- The treacherous ice — The frozen surface of Gitche Gumee appears solid, yet it gives way — symbolizing the false security of youth and overconfidence. Chibiabos's disregard for warnings is made evident in the ice that cannot support him.
- The mourning paint (black face) — Hiawatha painting his face black and covering his head with his robe reflects real Ojibwe mourning rituals. In the poem, this act represents a complete withdrawal from the world — a grief so profound that it alters how you are perceived by others.
- The burning coal / fire-brand — The coal handed to Chibiabos at the entrance of the wigwam symbolizes his new role as the keeper of campfires for the dead. Fire represents the connection between the living and the dead, as well as the comfort that the living seek to offer to those who have departed.
- The birds (bluebird, robin, whippoorwill) — Each bird expresses its grief for Chibiabos in its unique voice and at its own time. They act as nature's chorus, affirming that this loss is genuine and resonates beyond the realm of humans. Additionally, they link the deceased to the continuous rhythms of the natural world.
- The Sacred Lodge and healing ritual — The medicine-men's ceremony is the community's way of addressing individual grief. In this poem, no one heals in isolation — it requires shared rituals, collective wisdom, and human solidarity to bring Hiawatha back from his despair.
- The journey of the dead — Chibiabos's four-day journey to the Islands of the Blessed, where he encounters spirits weighed down by war-clubs and kettles, represents a genuine Ojibwe belief regarding the afterlife. The spirits’ lament — "why do the living place such heavy burdens on us?" — softly challenges the living to reflect on their connection to death and the act of letting go.
Historical context
Longfellow published *The Song of Hiawatha* in 1855, during a time when American writers were eager to develop their own mythology. He drew inspiration from Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's ethnographic studies of Ojibwe oral traditions but took considerable creative liberties, presenting it all through a European Romantic perspective. The poem's meter, trochaic tetrameter, was directly inspired by the Finnish epic *Kalevala*, which Longfellow greatly admired. One of the most emotionally resonant parts of the poem is "Hiawatha's Lamentation." Hiawatha's friend Chibiabos, a musician, appears throughout the epic as a symbol of beauty and creativity. His death and the sorrow it brings provide Longfellow with a way to delve into Indigenous views on mourning, healing, and the afterlife—views he portrayed with more sensitivity than many of his contemporaries, though still seen through the lens of a 19th-century New England poet.
FAQ
In the full *Song of Hiawatha*, Chibiabos is Hiawatha's closest friend and the finest musician of his people. His death is significant because he embodies beauty, art, and the joy of life — losing him means losing something that can't be replaced. The poem also frames his death as the beginning of the healing arts, making his loss impactful for all of humanity.
The poem uses trochaic tetrameter, which consists of lines with four stressed-unstressed pairs, such as "IN those DAYS the E-vil SPI-rits." Longfellow adapted this rhythm from the Finnish epic *Kalevala*. The repetition is purposeful; it captures the essence of oral poetry and ceremonial chant, aligning well with a poem grounded in Indigenous storytelling traditions.
Longfellow utilized Henry Rowe Schoolcraft's documentation of Ojibwe oral tradition, incorporating names, figures, and practices such as Peboan, Unktahee, the Midewiwin healing ceremony, and mourning customs that genuinely originate from Ojibwe and similar cultures. However, it's important to remember that Longfellow was a 19th-century poet from New England, not an Ojibwe storyteller, and his poem showcases his Romantic European perspective alongside Indigenous traditions.
In the poem's mythological framework, the dead and the living exist in distinct realms that can't completely intersect. Chibiabos can be called to the threshold, but returning would break the line between life and death. Rather than coming back, he receives a new position — ruler of the spirit world — turning his death from a simple loss into a sort of cosmic role.
Painting the face black was an authentic Ojibwe mourning practice. In the poem, it indicates that Hiawatha has distanced himself from everyday life and entered a profound state of grief that alters his appearance. Washing off the paint when the medicine men arrive signifies the start of his re-entry into the living world.
This is an example of pathetic fallacy — a literary technique that attributes human emotions to nature. Longfellow employs this to illustrate that Chibiabos's death resonates beyond just the human community. The birds' repeated calls function like a refrain in oral poetry, enhancing the lament through rhythm and repetition. Each bird symbolizes a unique voice contributing to the collective chorus of grief.
The ending turns personal grief into something that benefits everyone. Hiawatha's meeting with the medicine men and the healing ritual he experiences lead to humanity's understanding of medicinal plants and cures. This follows a classic mythological pattern: suffering leads to wisdom, which is then shared. The poem implies that by processing grief instead of pushing it down, it can lead to new growth.
The spirits are transporting all the items their living relatives buried alongside them — war clubs, kettles, food. Some suggest that it might be wiser to travel light. This remark carries a sharp, almost ironic tone about how the living impose their own desires onto the dead. It subtly prompts us to consider whether these elaborate grave goods serve the dead or merely provide solace for the living.