SCENES FROM THE SONG OF HIAWATHA BY H. W. LONGFELLOW. SET TO MUSIC FOR SOPRANO, TENOR, AND BARYTONE SOLOS, CHORUS, AND ORCHESTRA BY S. COLERIDGE-TAYLOR. (OP. 30) Section I--HIAWATHA'S WEDDING FEAST.PRELUDE ORCHESTRACHORUS.

You shall hear how Pau-Puk-Keewis,How the handsome YenadizzeDanced at Hiawatha's wedding;How the gentle Chibiabos,He the sweetest of musicians,Sang his songs of love and longing;How Iagoo, the great boaster,He the marvelous story-teller,Told his tales of strange adventure,That the feast might be more joyous,that the time might pass more gaily,And the guests be more contented.

Sumptuous was the feast Nokomis Made at Hiawatha's wedding; All the bowls were made of bas-wood, White and polished very smoothly. All the spoons of horn of bison, Black and polished very smoothly.

She had sent through all the village Messengers with wands of willow, As a sign of invitation, As a token of the feasting; And the wedding guest assembled, Clad in all their richest raiment, Robves of fur and belts of wampum, Splendid with their paint and plumage, Beautiful with beads and tassels

First they are the sturgeon, Nahma, And the pike the Maskenozha, Caught and cooked by old Nokomis; Then on Pemican they feasted, Pemican and Buffalo marrow, Haunch of deer and hump of bison Yellow cakes of Mondamin, And the wild rice of the river.

But the gracious Hiawatha, And the Lovely Laughing Water, And the careful of Nokomis Tasted not the food before them, Only waited on the others, Only served their guests in silence.

And when all the guests had finished, Old Nokomis, brisk and busy, From an ample couch of otter, Filled the red-stone pipes for smoking With tobacco from the South-land, Mixed with bark of the red willow, And with herbs and leaves of fragrance.

Then she said, "O Pau-Puk-Keewis,Dance for us your merry dances,Dance the Beggar's Dance to please us,That the feast may be more joyous,That the time may pass more gaily,And our guests be more contented."CHORUSThen the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis,He the idle Yenadizze,He the merry mischief-maker,Whom the people called the Storm-Fool,Rose among the guests assembled.

Skilled was he in sports and pastimes,In the merry dance of snow-shoes,In the play of quoits and ball-play;Skilled was he in games of hazard,In all games of skill and hazard,Pugassaing, the Bowl and Counters,Koomtassoo, the Game of Plum-stones.

Though the warriors called him Faint-[Heart.Called him coward, Shaugodaya,Idler, gambler, Yenadizze,00033Little heeded he their jesting,Little cared he for their insults,For the women and the maidensLoved the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis.

CHORUSHe was dressed in shirt of doe-skin,White and soft, and fringed with ermine,All inwrought with beads of wampum;He was dressed in deer-skin leggins,Fringed with hedgehog quills and ermineAnd in moccasins of buck-skin,Thick with quills and beads embroidered.On his head were plumes of swan's-down,On his heels were tails of foxes,In one hand a fan of feathers,And a pipe was in the other.

Barred with streaks of red and yellow,Streaks of blue and bright vermillion,Shone the face of Pau-Puk-Keewis.From his forehead fell his tresses,Smooth, and parted like a woman's,Shining bright with oil, and plaited,Hung with braids of scented grasses,As among the guest assembled,To the sound of flutes and singing,To the sound of drums and voices,Rose the handsome Pau-Puk-Keewis,And began his mystic dances.

CHORUSFirst he dance a solemn measure,Very slow in step and gesture.In and out among the pine-trees,Through the shadows and the sunshine,Treading softly like a panther.Then more swiftly and still swifter,Whirling, spinning round in circles,Leaping o'er the guests assembled,Eddying round and round the wigwam,Till the leaves went whirling with him;Till the dust and wind togetherSweep in eddies round about him.

Then al the sandy marginOf the lake, the Big-Sea-Water,On he sped with frenzied gestures,Stamped upon the sand, and tossed itWildly in the air around him;Till the win became a whirlwind.

Till the sand was blown and siftedLike great snowdrifts o'er the landscape,Heaping all the shores with Sand Dunes,Sand Hills of the Nagow Wudjoo!

Thus the merry Pau-Puk-KeewisDanced his beggar's dance to please them,And, returning, sat down laughingThere among the guests assembled,Sat and fanned himself serenelyWith his fan of turkey-feathers.

CHORUS.Then they said to Chibiabos,To the friend of Hiawatha,To the sweetest of all singers,To the best of all musicians,"Sing to us, O Chibibos!Songs of love and songs of longing,That the feast may be more joyous,That the time may pass more gaily,And our guests be more contented!"

And the gentle Chibiabos!Sang in accents sweet and tender,Sang in accents sweet and tender,Sang in tones of deep emotion,Songs of love and songs of longing;Looking still at Hiawatha,Looking at fair Laughing Water,Sang he softly, sang it this wise:

TENOR SOLO."Onaway! Awake, beloved!'Thou the wild-flower of the forest!Thou the wild-bird of the prairie!Thou with eyes so soft and fawn-Liek!"If thou only lookest at me,I am happy, I am happy,As the lilies of the prairie,When they feel the dew upon them!"Sweet thy breath is as the fragranceOf the wild-flowers in the morning,As their fragrance is at evening,In the Moon when leaves are falling."Does not all the blood within meLeap to meet thee, leap to meet thee,As the Springs to meet the sunshine,In the Moon when nights are brightest?"Onaway! my heart sings to thee,Sings with joy when thou art near me,

HIAWATHA, the prophet and teacher, son of Mudjekeewis the West Wind and Winona, daughter of Nokomis.NAGOW WUDJCO, the Sand Dunes of Lake Superior, near the "Pictured Rocks."

As the sighing, singing branchesIn the pleasant Moon of Strawberries!

"When thou art not please, beloved,Then my heart is sad and darkened,As the shining river darkens,When the clouds drop shadows on it!

"When thou smiles, my beloved,Then my troubled heart is brightened,As in sunshine gleam the ripples,That the cold wind makes in rivers.

"Smiles the earth and smile the waters,Smile the cloudless skies above us,But I lose the way of smilingWhen thou art no longer near me!

"I myself, myself, behold me,Blood of my beating heart, behold me,O awake, awake, beloved!Onaway! awake, beloved!"

CHORUS.Thus the gentle ChibiabosSang his song of love and longing;And Iagoo, the great boaster,He the marvelous story-teller,He the friend of old Nokomis,Jealous of the sweet musician,Jealous of the applause they gave him,Saw in all their looks and gestures,That the wedding guests assembledLonged to hear his pleasant stories,His immeasurable falsehoods.

CHORUSVery boastful was IagooNever heard he an adventureBut himself had met a greater;Never any deed of daringBut himself had done a bolder;Never any marvelous storyBut himself could tell a stranger.

Would you listen to his boasting,Would you only give him credence,No one ever shot an arrowHalf so far and high as he had;Ever caught so many fishes,Ever killed so many reindeer,Ever trapped so many beaver!

None could run as fast as he could,None could dive as deep as he could,None could swim as far as he could,None had made so many journeys,None had seen so many wonders,As this wonderful Iagoo,As this marvelous story-teller!

Thus his name became a by-wordAnd a jest among the people;And whene'er boastful hunterPraised his own address too highly,Or a warrior, home returning,Talked too much of his achievements,All his hearers carried, "Iagoo!Here's Iagoo come among us!He it was who carved the cradleOf the little Hiawatha,Carved its framework out of linden,Bound it strong with reindeer sinews;He it was who taught him laterHow to make his bows and arrows,How to make the bows of ash-tree,And the arrows of the oak-tree.So among the guests assembledAt my Hiawatha's weddingSat Iagoo, old and ugly,Sat the marvelous story-teller.

And they said, "O good Iagoo,Tell us now a tale of wonder,Tell us of some strange adventure,That the feast may be more joyous,That the time may pass more gaily,And the guests be more contented!"

And Iagoo answered straightway,"You shall hear a tale of wonder,You shall hear the strange adventures,Of Osseo, the Magician,From the Evening Star descended."

CHORUSSuch was Hiawatha's WeddingThus the wedding, banquet ended,And the wedding guests departed,Leaving Hiawatha happyWith the night and Minnchaha.

PRELUDE ORCHESTRACHORUSOf The long and dreary winter!O the cold and cruel winter!Ever thicker, thicker, thickerFroze the ice on lake and river,Ever deeper, deeper, deeperFell the snow o'er all the landscape,Fell the covering snow, and driftedThrough the forest, round the villageHardly from the buried wigwamCould the hunter force a passage;With his mittens and his snow shoesVainly walked he through the forest,Sought for bird or beast and found none,Saw no track of deer or rabbit,In the snow beheld no footprints,In the ghastly, gleaming forestFell, and could not rise for weakness,Perished there from cold and hunger.

O the famine and the fever!O the wasting of the famine!O the blasting of the fever!O the wailing of the children!O the anguish of the women!

All the earth was sick and famished:Hungry was the air around them,Hungry was the sky above them,And the hungry stars in heavenLike the eyes of wolves glared at them.

CHORUSInto Hiawatha's wigwamCame two silent guests and gloomy,Waited not to be invited,Did not parley at the doorway,Sat there without word of welcomeIn the seat of Laughing Water.

BARYTONE AND SOPRANO SOLOS.And the foremost said: "Behold me!I am Famine, Buckadawin!"And the other said: "Behold me !I am Fever, Akosewin!"CHORUSAnd the lovely MinnehahaShuddered as they looked upon her,

Shuddered at the words they uttered,Lay down on her bed in silence,Hid her face, but made no answer;Lay there trembling, freezing, burningAt the looks they cas upon her,At the fearful words they uttered.

CHORUS AND BARYTONE SOLO.Forth into the empty forestRushed the maddened Hiawatha;In his heart was deadly sorrow,In his heart was deadly sorrow,In his face a stony firmness;On his brow the sweat of anguishStarted, but it froze and fell not.

Wrapped in fursand armed for hunting,With his mighty bow of ash-tee,With his quiver full of arrowsWith his mittens, Minjekawan,Into the vast and vacant forestOn his snow-shoes strode he forward."Gitche Manito, the Mighty!'Cried he with his face upliftedIn that bitter hour of anguish,"Give your children food, father,Give us food or we must perish!Give me good for Minnehaha,For my dying Minnehah!"

CHORUSThrough the far-resounding forest,Through the forest vast and vacantRang the cry of desolation,But there cam no other ansereThan the echo of his crying,Than the echo of the woodlands,"Minnehaha! Minnehaha!"

All day long roved HiawathaIn that melancholy forest,Through the shadow of whose thickets,In the pleasant days of Summer,Of that ne'er forgotten Summer,He had brought his young wife homewardFrom the land of the Dacotahs;When the birds sand in the thickets,And the streamlets laughed and glistened,And the air was full of fragrance,And the lovely Laughing WaterSaid with voice that did not tremble"I will follow you, my husband!"

CHORUS, SOPRANO SOLO, SOPRANOS AND ALTOS.In the wigwam with Nokomis,With those gloomy guest, that watched her,

With the Famine and the Fever,She was lying, the BelovedShe the dying Minnehaha."Hark!" she said "I hear a rushing,Hear a roaring and a rushing,Hear the Falls of MinnehahaCalling to me from the distance!""No, my child!" said old Nokomis,"'Tis the knight-wind in the pine-trees!""Look!"' she said, "I see my fatherStanding lonely at his doorway,Beckoning to me from his wigwam,In the land of the Dacotahs!""No, my child!" said old Mokomis,"'Tis the smoke, that waves and beckons!"

"Ah!" said she, "the eyes of PaugukGlare upon me in the darkness,I can feel his icy fingers,Clasping mine amid the darkness!"Hiawatha! Hiawatha!"

And the desolate Hiawatha,Far away amid the forest,Miles away among the mountains,Heard the sudden cry of anguish,Heard the voice of Minnehaha,Calling to him in the darkness,"Hiawatha! Hiawath!"

Over snow-field waste and pathless,Under snow-encumbered branches,Homeward hurried Hiawatha,Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,Heard Nokomis moaning, wailing:

SOPRANO AND BARYTONE SOLOS AND CHORUS"Wahonomin! Wahonomin!Would that I had perished for you,Would that I were dead as you are!Wahonomin! Wahonomin!"

And he rushed into the wigwam,Saw the old Nokomis slowlyRocking to and from and moaning,Saw his lovely MinnehahaLying dead and cold before him,And his bursting heart within himUttered such a cry of anguish,That the forest moaned and shuddered,That the very stars in heavenShook and trembled with his anguish.

Then he sat down still and speechless.On the bed of Minnehaha,At the feet of Laughing Water,At those willing feet, that neverMore would lightly run to meet him,Never more would lightly follow.

With both hands his face he covered,Seven long days and nights he sat there,As if in a swoon he sat there,Speechless, motionless, unconsciousOf the daylight or the darkness.

CHORUSThen they buried Minnehaha;In the snow a grave they made her,In the forest deep and darksome,Underneath the moaning hemlock;Clothed her in her richest garments,Wrapped her in her robes of ermine,'Thus they buried Minnehaha.

And at night a fire was lighted,On her grave four times was kindled,For her soul upon its journeyTo the Islands of the Blessed.From his doorway HiawathaSaw it burning in the forest,Lighting up the gloomy hemlocks;From his sleepless bed uprising,From the bed of Minnehaha,Stood and watched it at the doorway,That it might not be extinguished,Might not leave her in the darkness.

BARYTON SOLO AND CHORUS."Farewell!" said he, "Minnehaha!Farewell, O my Laughing Water!All my heart is buried with you!Come not back again to labor,Come not back again to suffer,Where the Famine and the FeverWear the hear and waste the body.Soon my task will be completed,Soon your footsteps I shall follow,To the Islands of the Blessed,To the Kingdom of Ponemah,To the land of the Hereafter!"

PRELUDESOPRANO SOLO.Spring had come with all its splendor,All its birds and all its blossoms,All its flowers and leaves and grasses.

Sailing on the wind to northward,Flying in great flocks, like arrows,Like huge arrows shot through heaven,Passed the swan, the Mahnahbezee,Speaking almost as a man speaks,And in long lines waving, bendingLike a bow-string snapped asunder,The white goose, Waw-be-wawa;And in pairs or singly flyingMahng the loon, with clangorous pinions,The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,And the grouse, the Mushkodasa.

In the thickets and the meadowsPiped the bluebird, the Owaissa,On the summit of the lodgesSang the robin, the Opechee,And the sorrowing Hiawatha,Speechless in his infinite sorrow,Heard their voices calling to him,Went forth from his gloomy doorway,Stood and gazed into the heaven,Gazed upon the earth and waters.

CHORUS.From his wanderings far to eastward,From the regious of the morning.From the shinning land of Wabun,*Homeward now returned Iagoo,The great traveller, the great boaster,Full of new and strange adventures,Marvels many and many wonders.

And the people of the villageListened to him as he told themOf his marvelous adventures,laughing, answered him in this wise:"Ugh! it is indeed Iagoo!No one else beholds such wonders!"

TENOR SOLO AND CHORUS.He had seen, he said, a waterBigger than the Big-Sea-Water,Broader than the Gitche Gumee,Bitter so that none could drink it!

At each other looked the warriors,Looked the women at each other,Smiled, and said, "It can not be so!Kaqw!' they said, "It can not be so!'*Wabuu, The East.

ORCHESTRA"O'er," said he, "this waterCame a great canoe with pinions,A canoe with wings came flying,Bigger than a grove of pine trees,Taller than the tallest tree tops!"And the old men and the womenLooked and tittered at each other,"Kaw!" they said "we don't believe it!"

From its mouth, he said, to greet him,Came Waywassimo, the lightning,Came the thunder, Annemeekee!

And the warriors and the womenLaughed aloud at poor Iagoo."Kaw" said they, "what tales you tell us!"

In the great canoe with pinionsCame a hundred warriors.Painted white were all their facesAnd with hair their chins were covered.

And the warriors and the womenLaughed and shouted in derision,Like the ravens on the tree tops,Like the crows upon the hemlocks."Kaw!" they said, "what lies you tell us!Do not think that we believe them!"

CHORUS.Only Hiawatha laughed not,But he gravely spake and answeredTo their jeering and their jesting:

BARYTONE SOLO."True is all iagoo tells us,I have seen it in a vision,Seen the great canoe with pinions,Seen the people with white faces,Seen the coming of this beardedPeople of the wooden vesselFrom the regions of the morning,From the shining land of Wabun."Gitche Manito, The Mighty!"The great Spirit, the Creator,Sends them hither on his errand,Sends them to us with his message,Whereso'er they move, before themSwarms the bee, the honey-maker,Whereso'er they trend, beneath themSprings a flower unknown among us,Springs the White-man's Foot in blossom.

"Let us welcome, then the strangers,Hail them as our friends and brothers.And the heart's right hand of friendship00088Give them when they come to see us,Gitche Manito, the mighty,Said this to me in my vision.

"I beheld, too, in that visionAll the secrets of the future,Of the distant days that shall be.I beheld the westward marchesOf the unknown, crowded nations.All the land was full of people,Restless, struggling, toiling, striving,Speaking many tongues, yet feelingBut one heart-beat in their bosoms.In the woodland rang their axes,Smoked their towns in all the valleys,Over all the lakes and riversRushed their great canoes of thunder.

"Then a darker, drearier visionPassed before me, vague and cloud-like.I beheld our nation scattered,All forgetful of my counsel,Weakened, warring with each other,Saw the remnant of our peopleSweeping westward, wild and woful,Like the cloud-rack of a tempest,Liek the withered leaves of Autumn!"

CHORUSBy the shore of Gitchee Gumee,*By the shinning 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 forestPassed 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,Sparking flashing in the sunshine;On its margin the great forestStood reflected in eh water;Every tree-top had its shadow,Motionless beneath the water.*Gitchee Gumee, Lake Superior.

SOPRANO SOLOFrom the brow of HiawathaGone 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 visionSees 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 fingersFell the sunshine on his features,Flecked with light his naked shoulders,As it fall and flocks an oak-treeThrough the rifted leaves and branches.

O'er the water floating, flying,Something in the hazy distance,Something in the mists of morning,Loomed and lifted from the water,Now seemed floating, now seemed flyingComing nearer, nearer, nearer.

Was it Shingebis, the diver?Was it the pelican, The Shada?Or the heron, the shuh-shuh=gah?Or the white goose, Wah-be-wawa,With the water dripping, flashingFrom its glossy neck and feathers?

CHORUSIt was neither goose nor diver,Neither pelican nor heron,O'er the water floating, flyingThrough the shining mist of morning,But a birch canoe with paddles,Rising, sinking on the water,Dripping, flashing in the sunshine.And within it came a peopleFrom the distant land of Wabun,From the farthest realms of morningCame the Balck-Robe Chief, the Prophet,He the Priest of Prayer, the Pale-face,With his guides and this companions

And the noble Hiawatha,With his hand aloft extended,Held aloft in sign of welcome,Waited, full of exultation,00099Till the birch canoe with paddlesGrated on the shining pebbles,Till the Black-Robe Chief, the Pale-face,With the cross upon his bosom,Landed on the sandy margin.

CHORUS AND BARYTONSOLO.Then the joyous HiawathaCried aloud and spake in this wise:

BARYTONE SOLO"Beautiful is the sun, O strangers,When you come so far to see us!All our doors stand open for youYou shall enter all our wigwams,For the heart's right hand we give you.

"Never bloomed the earth so gaily,Never shone the sun so brightlyAs to-day they shine and blossom,When you come so far to see us!Never was our lake so tranquil,Nor so free from rock and sand-bar;For you birch canoe in passingHas removed both rock and sand-bar.

"Never before had our tobaccoSuch a sweet and pleasant flavor,Never the broad leaves of our cornfieldsWere so beautiful to onAs they seem to us this morning,When you come so far to see us!"

TENOR SOLO AND CHORUS.And the Black-Robe Chief made answer,Stammered in his speech a little,Speaking words ye unfamiliar:"Peace be with you, Hiawatha,Peace be with you and your people,Peace of prayer, and peace of pardon,Peace of Christ, and joy of Mary!"

CHORUS.Then the generous HiawathaLed the strangers to his wigwam,Seated them on skins of ermine,And the careful old NokomisBrought them food in bowls of bass-wood,Water brought in birchen dippers,And the calumet, the peace-pipe,Filled and lighted for their smoking.All the old men of the village,All the warriors of the nation,All the Jossakeeds, the prophets,The magicians, the Wabenos,And the medicine-men, the Medas,Came to bid the strangers welcome;"It is well," they said, "O brothers,That you come so far to see us!"

In a circle round the doorway,With their pipes they sat in silence,Waiting to behold the strangers,Waiting to receive their message;Till the Balck-Robe Chief, the Pale-face,From the wigwam came to greet them,Stammering in his speech a little,Speaking words yet unfamiliar:"It is well," they said, "O brothers,That you come so far to see us!"

Then the Black-Robe Chief, the prophetTold his message to the people,Told the purport of his mission,Told them of the Virgin MaryAnd her blessed son, the Savior,How in distant lands and agesHe had lived on earth as we do;He had fasted, prayed, and labored;How the Jews, the tribe accursed,Mocked him, scourged him, crucified him;How he rose from where they laid him,walked again with his disciples,And ascended into heaven.

MALE CHORUS.And the chiefs made answer, saying:"We have listened to your message,We have heard your words of wisdom,We will think on what you tell us!It is well for us, O brothers,That you come so far to see us!"

CHORUS.Then they rose up and departedEach one homeward to his wigwam.To the young men and the womenTold the story of the strangersWhom the Master of Life had sent themFrom the shining land of Wabun.

Heavy with the heat and silenceGrew the afternoon of Summer,With a drowsy sound the forestWhispered round the sultry wigwam,001010With a sound of sleep the waterRippled on the beach below it;From the corn-fields shrill and ceaselessSang the grasshopper, Pah-puk-keena;And the guests of Hiawatha,Weary with the heat of Summer,Slumbered in the sultry wigwam.

Slowly o'er the simmering landscapeFell the evening's dusk and coolness,And the long and level sunbeamsShot their spears into the forest,Breaking through its shields of shadow,Rushed into each secret ambush,Searched each thicket, dingle, hollow;Still the guests of HiawathaSlumbered in eh silent wigwam.

CHORUS AND BARYTONE SOLO.From his place rose Hiawatha,Bade farewell to old Nokomis,Spake in whispers, spake in this wise,Did not wake the guests that slumbered:"I am going, O Nokomis,On a long and distant journey,To the portals of the sunset,To the regions of the home-wind,But these guests I leave behind me,In your watch and ward I leave them;See that never fear molests them,Never want of food or shelter,In the lodge of Hiawatha!"

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:

BARYTONE SOLO."I am going, O my people,On a long and distant journey,Many moons and many wintersWill have come, and will have vanishedEre 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 themFrom the land of light and morning!"

CHORUSOn the shore stood Hiawatha,Turned and waved his hand at parting;On the clear and luminous waterLaunched his birch canoe for sailing,From the pebbles of the marginShoved it forth into the water;Whispered to it, "Westward! westward!"And with speed it darted forward.

And the evening sun descendingSet the clouds on fire with redness,Burned the broad sky, like a prairie,Left upon the level waterOne long track and trail of splendor,Down whose stream as down a river,Westward, westward, HiawathaSailed into the fiery sunset,Sailed into the purple vapors,Sailed into the dusk of evening.

And the people from the marginWatched him floating, rising, sinking,Till the birch canoe seemed liftedHeight into the sea of splendor,Till it sank into the vaporsLike the new moon, slowly, slowlySinking 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,

Sigh, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"And the waves upon the marginRising, rippling on the pebbles,Sobbed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"And the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,From her haunts among the fenlands,Screamed, "Farewell, O Hiawatha!"

Thus departed Hiawath,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!

SAMUEL COLERIDGE-TAYLOR was born in London in 1875. He is the son of a native African physician of Sierra Leone, who was educated in London and married there an English woman. The boy early showed precocity in music and whea quite a child was a member of the choir of one of the London churches. He first developed into a violinist, and this paved the way to his later musical training. In 1893, at the age of eighteen, he won a scholarship which secured for him a four years' course in the Royal College of Music in London, where he studies under the personal direction of that old-world master, Dr. Stanford, himself a noted composer. Before one year had elapsed this colored boy student had written a composition for stringed instruments which Dr. Stanford considered a sufficient merit to render in public under his own direction.

The "Hiawatha Triology" was not originally planned as a whole, it being his intention to set to music "The Wedding Feast" only, which was composed while he was yet a student in response to a very general college request and was performed at a students' concert at the Royal College of Music, November 11, 1898. Its freshness and spontaniety, its simple themic material and ever changing rythm won for it spontaneous approval. It was soon taken up and rendered by many of the leading Choral Societies of England.

The second section, "The Death of Minnehaha," is the outcome of a request mad by the committee of the 1899 North Staffordshire Musical Festival that the composer should contribute a choral work to that Festival. It was produced at Hauley on October 26, 1900.

The third section, "Hiawatha's Departure," was written for and performed with the preceding sections by the Royal Choral Society at the Royal Albert Hall, London, March 22, 1900.

Hiawatha has been rendered more than two hundred times in England, and by several of the best Choral Societies in this country, notably in St. Louis, Des Moines, Cleveland (twice), Boston (three times), Hartford, Conn., Easton, Pa, Nashville, Tenn., and perhaps in other cities, always with great pleasure and approval. On January 29, 1903, it was rendered by the Royal Choral Society of England, with the King as Patron, in Albert Hall, to an immense and enthusiastic audience, by a Chorus and Orchestra of one thousand. On December 1, it will be rendered for the sixth time by this famous singing society, probably the most noted in the world.

His latest work (Op. 58)--a composition for violin and piano--will be rendered in the public for the first time on Thursday night during this Festival. We will also have the distinguished honor of giving the first rendition, on the same evening, to his "Choral Ballads on Slavery, " which are dedicated to our Society.

Mr. Coleridge-Taylor's compositions are for both voice and instruments. In many of his voice compositions he has taken his librettos from our American poets, a fact which gives him a added claim to our appreciation. Besides his favorite Longfellow, he has set to music poems by our own Dunbar, Whittier, Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Walt Whitman and others.

His latest choral works are "The Blind Girl of Castle Cuille," words by Longfellow, "Meg Blane," depicting a storm at sea, words by the late Robert Buchanan, "The Atonement," depicting Christ's Passion," words by Alice Parsons, said by some critics to evidence a higher order of musical genius than any of his previous compositions, (to be rendered by our Society at its Spring, 1905, Concert), and "The Choral Ballads."

His services are in great demand in England as a composer, instructor and performer on the violin, conductor of choruses and orchestras, and adjudicator at musical concerts, and to appear at concerts as an interpreter of his own compositions on the piano and violin.

Probably his greatest honor came to him just before sailing for America, when he was elected conductor of the Handel Society of London, one of the most important in England.

This is his first visit to this country and he comes especially to Conduct this Musical Festival for our Society, which has cherished the hope of his coming over from the first.

Mr. Coleridge-Taylor is married and is the father of a bright boy of four years and a baby girl.

Was organized in 1901 (incorporated 1903), under the stimulus of a proposed visit to Washington of the eminent composer. In a conference of our more prominent musicians, which met at the home of Mrs. A.F. Hilyer, it was discovered that the formation of a choral society among the colored singers of Washington had long been in minds of many of them, and only needed the stimulus of the proposed visit of the composer and the opportunity to sing "Hiawatha" to give it tangible shape and permanent form. Its object is to develop a wider interest in the masterpieces of the great composers and especially to diffuse among the masses a higher musical culture and appreciation of works that tend to refine and elevate.