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EVANGELINE

BY

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

NEW YOKK:

JOHN B. ALDEN, PUBLISHER

1892.

A PRETTY SURPRISE.

This pretty volume has proved a delightful sur-
prise to tens of thousands of readers; we hope it
may yet find place in millions of homes.

Though sold at a price so low, it is fairly char-
acteristic, in quality and price, of a large portion
of our publications, and is no more than a fair il-
lustration of what the cooperation of book buyers
might accomplish for nearly all books that are
worth buying; see particulars in last pages of our
catalogue.

" RICHER THAN CRCESUS."

*^ Now the only Croesus that I envy is he who -is
reading a better book than this,^' Philip Gilbert
Hainerton's exclamation when reading a book
which delighted him, is one that often comes to
the mind of the book-lover when reveling in the
riches revealed by our Catalogue. It presents a
great number of the choicest books of the world,
at the lowest prices ever known. Our new Cata-
logue, issued twice a month, 128 pages in size, is
sent post-paid for a 2-cent stamp; our books are not
sold by dealers; order direct from us. Any book
published supplied on the most favorable terms to
be had any where. Address, John B. Alden,
Publisher, 57 Eose St., New York.

Copyright. 1892, by The Elzevir Co.

^^

FEOPKRTY OF THE
^^^U CrtY OF NEW TOM (3 2^^SQ.'

civ

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

EVANGELINE.

PART THE FIRST.

PAOE

IlLCSTKATION I.— DesIONKU 15Y BlIlKET FoSTER 11

"Tli(> iinirniui'iii^ pines and tlio lieinloclcs,
Bciuiliil with moss, and iu ^cainients tfieen."

Illustration II.- Designed by Birket Foster 13

" Wiustf aiv (liose plea-Sixnt farms, an^ tlie farinoi-s forcvor di-pui-tcd."

Ilhstuation III. -Designed by Birket Foster Vi

" Siik'Minly down the street came the parish priest, and the children
I'ausi^d in tlicir play to kis.s the Jiand he extended to bless them."

Im.u.stration IV.— Designed by Jane E. Benham IG

' Homt-ward .serenely she walked with God's benediction upon hci."

Illustration V.— Designed by Birket Foster 17

" Kirmly hiiilded with raftei-s of oak, tlie house of Oiu farmer
Stood ou the side of a hill eonunandinji^ the sea."

Illustr.\tion VI.— Designed by Birket Foster 18

" Farther down, on tlie slope of the hill, was the well with its mos.s-Krown
Bucket, fa-stened with iiou, and near it a trough for the Jiorses."

Illustration VII.— Designed by Jane E. Benham I'J

" Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his mi.s.siil,
Fi.xed his eyes upon lier a.s the saint of liis deepest devotion."

Illustration VIII.— Designed by Jane E. Benham iiU

" Father Felicien,
Priest and iH(laK<>i;ue both in the villape, had tautrht thi-rn tlicir Icttei-b
Out of the .sell'.-<iime book, with the hymns of the church and the
plain .song."

Illustration IX.— Designed by Birket Foster '41

' There at the door they stoo<l, with wondering eyes to behold him
Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything."

Illu.stration X.— I)e.sioned by Birket Foster STJ

" (.)ft in the barns they climl)ed to the populous ne.sts on the raftci->."

Illustration XI —Designed by Birket Foster •■:4

" Foremost, Ix-ai'ing the l>ell, Kvnngelinc's Iteautiful heifer,
Proud of her .snow-whittj hide, and th« ribbon that wavwl fryiu hcf
oolUr."

6 LIST OF ILL iTSTEA 2L0WS.

PAGE.

Illustration XII. — Designed by Birket Foster 26

" Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes,
Laden with briny hay, that tilled the air with its odor."

Illustration XIII.— Designed by John Gilbert 27

" ' Not so thinketh the folk in the village,' said warmly, the blacksmith,
Shaking his head, as in doubt."

Illustration XIV.— Designed by John Gilbert 31

'• More than a hundred
Children's children rode o,. his knee, and heard his great watch tick."

Illustration XV. — Designed by John Gilbert 34

"In friendly contention the old men
Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre."

Illustration XVI.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 36

" Many a farewell word and sweet good night on the door-step
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with gladness."

Illustration XVII.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 38

" For Evangehne stood among the guests of her father;
Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and gladness
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it."

Illustration XVIII.— Designed by Birket Foster 39

" Now from the country around, from the farms and the neighboring
hamlets.
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants."

Illustration XIX.— Designed by Birket Foster 4C

" Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows."

Illustration XX.— Designed by Birket Foster 41

" Without, in the churchyard,
Waited the women. They stood by the s^raves, and hung on the

head-stones
Gai-lands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest."

Illustration XXI.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 45

" Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into the village,
Cheering with looks and words the disconsolate hearts of the women."

Illustration XXII.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 47

" Marching in gloomy procession
Followed the Ijng-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian fanners."

Illustration XXIII.— Designed by Birket Foster 50

" Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the farmyard-
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid."

Illustration XXIV.— Designed by Birket Foster 51

•' Suddenly rose from the south a hght, as in autumn the blood-'-ed
Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon
Titau-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and meadovr."

LIST OF IL L USTUA TJONS. 7

I'AfJK

lLLr.STll.\TI()N XX\'.— DiCSKlNKD IJV HlIlKKT FoSTKR 51

" llin irii; tlu> trliiio tif tliu liuniiniir villiii:t- fur fiiiuriil toirlicx,
Hut without ImII or liook, tluy hiiiicd iho faiiiuT of Onmd l*n\"

Il.l.rSTKATlD.N XXVI.- DRSIONKI) IIY HiKKKT FoSTKR 55

"Tluri rcioimiiflKfd onco iiioif the stir and noise of i-jnlHirkintr;
And with the el»b of timt tide the sliips suiltd uutof tlu- Imrbor."

PART TII.E SECOND.

Il.m-str.\tii>k XXVII. — Desioned by Ja.ve E. Benham 5<)

*' (.on;; anions them wius seen ii nitiiden wlio waited mid wandered,
Lowly and meek in spiiit, and patiently sulferintf ull tldnjrs."

lM.f.STRATIO.\ XXVIII.— I)E.SIGNED BY BiRKET Fo.STER (Jl)

" Into tlie poltlen stream of the broad and swift Mis.sisjdppi,
Floated a eumbious boiit, that wad rowed by Acadian boatmen."

IixiT.sTR.\TioN XXIX.— Designed by Birket Fo.ster Gl

" Now thi-oiiijli nishuip e'nites, nmon^; jtreen islands, wliere plume-like
Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with the current."

Ii.i,isTRATi()N XXX.— Designed by Birket Foster 0.3

" Lovely the moonlight woisa^s it glanced and gleamed on the water."

Illustration XXXI.— Designed by Birket Fo.ster 65

" Resplendent in beauty, the lotus
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmeu."

lu.rsTRATioN XXXII.— Designed by Birket Foster C7

Safely their boat wa.s moored; and scattered about on the greensward,
Tiivd with their midnight toil, the weary travelers Klumbered."

Illustration XXXIII.— Designed by Birket Foster. . . GO

" Nearer, and ever nearer, among the numberless islands,
Daited a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the wat^r."

lLi,U.STRATION XXXIV.— DESIGNED BY BiRKET FoSTEE 71

" The hou.se itself was of tijiibers
Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fltted together,"

Illu.stration XXXV.— Designed by Birket Foster ?3

" Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cuttle
Kose like flakes of foam on the advei-se currents of ocean."

Illu.str.vtion XXXVI.— Deskjnkd by Jane E. Benham /5

" ' Lf)ng live Michael,' they cried, ' our brave Acadian minstrel 1*
As they bore liim aloft in triumphal procession."

Illustration XXXVII.— Designed by Birket Fo.ster PO

" With hoi-ses, and guides, and companion!^,
Gabriel left the village, and took the i"oad of the prairies."

Illustration XXXVIII.— Designed by Birket Fpster 81

" Into this wonderful land, at the bu.se of the Ozark Mountains,
Gabriel far had entered, wit'i huntei-s and trapperj behind tiim."

8 LIST OF ILL U8TBA TI01x'&

P-A<3E.

Illustration XXXIX.— Designed by Birket Foster 85

" Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village.
Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children."

Illustration XL. — Designed by Birket Foster 90

" In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded."

Illustration XLI.— Designed by Birket Foster 91

" Night after night, when the world was asleep, as the watchman repeated.
Loud, through the gusty streets, that aU was well in the city.
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper."

Illustration XLII.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 93

" Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs
Plodded the (Jerman farmer, with flowei^s and fruits for the market.
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchings."

Illustration XLIU.— Designed by Jane E. Benham 95

" Through the hush that succeeded
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like,
' Gabriel ! O my beloved! ' and died away into silence."

Illustration XLIV.— Designed by Birket Foster 97

" Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are slee])iiig,
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,
In the heart of the city."

Illustration XLV. — Designed by Birket Foster 98

" Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtlea of homespun,
And by the evening fli'e repeat Evangeline's story."

EVANGELINE.

PART THE FIRST,

,1

4*>

''^^

Tins is the forest primeval.

murmuring pines and tbe hemlocks.
Bearded with moss, and in gfannents

green, indistinct in the twilight.
Stand like Druids of eld, with voi'

sad and prophetic,
^i;ind like harpers hoar, with beards

that rest on their bosoms.

ud from its rocky caverns, the

deep- voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate

answers the wail of the forest.

J^-'V

13 EVANGELINE.

This is the forest primeval; but wliere are tlie hearts that

beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the

voice of the huntsman ?
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian

farmers —
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the wood-
lands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of

heaven ?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever

departed 1
Scattered like dvist and leaves, when the mighty blasts of

October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them fai

o'er tlie ocean.
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of

Graud-Pre.

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is

patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's

devotion.
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the

forest ;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.

' Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed.**

EVANGELINE.

13

••NOU'iniily down tlie stifi-t o:iino ine jMirish prii'st, and tlie childivn
Paused iu tbuu- pluy tu kiiii> the houd he extended to \i\vss tiiein."

I.

Fx THE Acadian land, on tlie shores of tlio Basin of

Minus,
Distant, sccIikUhI, still, the little village of Grand Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the

eastward,
Giving the village its name, and i)asture to flocks without

number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor

incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the

flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the

meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards

and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the i)lain; and away to

the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the

mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty

Atlantic
Looked on the hai)py valley, hut ne'er from their station

descended.
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian

village.

14 EVANGELINE.

Strongly built were the bouses, witb frames of oak and

of cbestuut,
Sucb as tbe peasants of Normandy built in tbe reign of

the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and

gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the door-
way.
There ic the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly

the sunset
Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the

chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in

kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the

golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles withir

doors
Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the

songs of the maidens.
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the

children
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless

them.
Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons

and maidens.
Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate Avel-

come.
Then came the laborers home from the field, and serenely

the sun sank
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the

belfry
Softly the Augelus sounded, and over the roofs of the

village
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense as-
cending.
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and con-
tentment.
Thus dwelt together in love these bimple Acadian farmers —
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they

free from
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of

republics.

EVANQELINE. I5

NeitluT locks lind tln'V to tlicir doors, nor bars to tlieir
windows;

But their dwellings wt-rr opi-n us day and tin; hearts of the
owners ;

There the ricln-st was poor, and tlic poorest lived in abund-
ance.

^Somewhat apart from thc^ vilhi^'e, and nearer the liasin ci

Minas,
Benedict Bellefontaine, the w«'althiest farmer of (irand Pre,
Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, directing his

household,
(tentlo Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of tlia

village.
Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy

winters ;
Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow-
flakes;
White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as l^rown

as the oak -leaves.
Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers.
Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn

by the way-side,
Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown

shade of her tresses !
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the

meadows.
When in the harvest heat she ])ore t(^ the reapers at noon-
tide
Flagons of home brewed ale, ah I fair in sooth was the

maiden.
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from

its turret
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his

hyssop
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon

them,
Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads

and her missal,
Wearing her Norman caj), and her kirtle of l)lne, and the

ear-rings.
Brought in the olden time from Frj»ucc, and since, a,s an

heirloom,

16

EVANGELINE.

Handed down from motlier to cliild, tlirougli long gener-
ations.

But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty —

Shone on her face and encircled her form, when, after con
fession.

Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction
upon her.

''^ \h

"--'^-^f

' Homeward serenely she walked with God's benediction upon her."

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of ex

quisite music.
Firmiy ouilded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer
i^tood on the side of a hiU commanding the sea i and a.

shady

EVANGELINE.

17

Sycamore grew by the door, with a woo(ll)iiit' wrcatliin^

arouiul it.
Kudely carved was tlic porch, with scats hcneath; and a

footpath

m:

WpS,M!(mi^M^^'^""^"

' Firiiil.v l)uilcit<l with rafters of oak, the house of the fanner
Stood on the side of u liill coniiimudiiig the sea."

Led throii-xli an orchard wi(k', and disappeared in tlie
meadow.

Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung- hy a ]H'nt
house,

Such as the traveler sees in regions remote by tlic road-
side.

Built o'er a box for thejtoor, or the l)lessed image of Mary.

Farther down, on the .slope of the hill, was the well with
its moss grown

Bucket, fastened with iron, ancl n^ar it a trough Uw tU^i

18

EVANGELINE.

Shielding tlie bouse from storms, ou the north, were the

barns and the farm-yard.
There stood the broad- wheeled wains and the antique plows

and the harrows ;
There were the folds for the sheep ; and there, in his

feathered seraglio,
Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the

selfsame
Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter.

Fartlurdown on the slope of 1 I ill u i^ tlu well with its moss gi own
Bucket tastcntcl with iron, ami ih a it .i Uuugh foi the horses '

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village.
In each one

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a stair-
case.

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous corn-loft.

There too the dove-cot stood, with its meek and innocent
inmates

Murmuring ever of love; while above in the variant
breezes

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mu-
tation.

KVANGELINK.

19

TliUH, at ix'iicc with (JimI iiiid the world, tlu; r.uiiun- of

(Jiaiid I'lr
liivt'ii oil liis Miniiy luriii, and Evaugcliuo guVL-iUL'd liis

huuiscliold.

a2;^((Sfe:v«

^

■■ 'Co

Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opcnert hisi
h'Lxcil his eyes' upon her as the saint of liis deept st devoti

Many a youth, as he knt-lt hi the chiiirh and opened His
missal,

Fixed his eyes upon lier, as the saint of his deejx'st de-
votion ;

Happy was he w]jo niiolit touch her hand or the hem of
her g-arment !

Many a suitor came to her door, hy the darkness befriended,

Aud as he knocked and waited io hear the sound of her
footsteps,

20 . EVANGELINE.

Knew not wliicli beat the louder, his heart or the knocker

of iron ;
Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Sainf of the village,
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he

whispered
Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music.
But, among all who came, young Gabriel only was welcome;

" Father Felieien,
Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their letters
Out ot the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and the
plain song."

Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith,
Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all

men ;
For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations,
Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the

people.

EVANGELlNhL

21

Hasil was Briwdict's fricml. Thfir diiltlifii rrnin riirlit>st

cllil.lh.MMl

(Jrcw up tni^n-lht r as Idutlirr and sister; and l-'atlicr Vv
liciaii,

I'rit'st and pi-da^^o^iU! both in tin- villa^'-c. liad taiiuld tlicin
tbt'ir lett«M-s

Out of tli« sclfsanu! bonU, with the hymns of tlic church
and the phiin son^.

Hut when thc^ hymn was sunir. Ji"d the daily h-sson c<iiu-
pU'tt'd.

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the black-
smith.

'^^^?h.

' There at the door they stoo<l, with wonderinp eyes to behold him
Take in his leattiern lap the hoof of the hoi-se as a playtliing."

There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to be-
hold him

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a play-
thing,

Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the tire of
the cart-wheel

Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round iu a circle of cinders.

Oft on autumnal eves, when with(^ut in the gathering dark-
ness

Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every
cranny and crevice,

22

EVANGELIJSE.

Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring-
bellows,

And as its panting ceased, and the s^^arks expired in the
ashes,

Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the
chapel.

Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle,

Down the hill-side bounding, they glided away o'er the
meadow.

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the
rafters.

bi

' Oft in the bams they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters."

Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which the

swallow
Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its

fledglings ;
Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the

swallow !
Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were

children.
He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the

morning,
Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought

into action.
She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a

woman.

EVAMJ ELLIS K. 23

'' Sunshine of Saint EuUilie " was slic called; for that was

the sunshiiu'
Which, as the farmers helieved, would load their orchards

with ai)i)les;
She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and

al)undance.
Filling it full ^ luve and the ruddy faces of children.

^

EVANGELINE.

■ Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer.
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her

II.

Now Lad the season returned, wlien tlie niglits grow colder

and longer,
And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.
Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the

ice-bound.
Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands.
Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of

September
Wrestled the trees of the forests, as Jacob of old with the

angel.
All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement.
Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their

honey
Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted
Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the

foxes.
Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that

beautiful season.
Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-
Saints!
Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and

the landscape
Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.
Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of

the ocean

EVANGELINE. 25

Was for a moment consoled. All s(jun(is were in luirmony

blended.
Voices of children ut iday, the crowing of cocks in the

farm-yards,
Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of

l)igeons,
All were subdued and low as the nuirniurs of love, and the

great sun
Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors

around liim;
While arrayeil in its robes of russet and scarlet and

yellow,
Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of

the forest
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with man-
tles and jewels.

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and still-
ness.
Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight

descending
Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to

the homestead.
Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on

each other,
And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of

evening.
Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer.
Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved

f nmi her collar,
Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of luuiuui affection.
Then came the shepherd l>ack with his Ideating tlocks from

the sea-side.
Where was their favorite ])asture. Behind them followed

the watch-dog,
Patient, full of importance, and grand in the ])ride of his

instinct.
Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly
Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers ;
Regent of tlocks was he when the shepherd slept ; their

|)rotector,
When from the forest at night, through the starry silence,

the wolves howled.

26 EVANGELINE.

Late, with tlie rising moon, returned tlie wains frortk the
marshes.

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor.

Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and
their fetlocks.

While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous
saddles,

Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of
crimson,

Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blos-
soms.

" Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes,
Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor."

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their
udders

Unto the jnilkmaid's hand ; whilst loud and in regular
cadence

Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended.

Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the
farm-yard.

Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness ;

Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-
doors.

Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent.

EVANGELINE. 27

In-doors, warm by the widc-iiioutlied fire placo, idly tlie
fariiu'i-

Sat in Ills elbow chair; and watched how the flames and llie
smoke- wreaths

Strapji:lt'dto<!:ether like foes in a burning city. licliind liim,

Nodding and mocking along the wall, with ges*.ures fan-
tastic,

Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into
darkness.

Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back ot his arm-
chair

Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on
the dresser

Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies tho
sunshine.

Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christ-
inas,

Such as at home, in the oklen time, his fathers before him

Hang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian
vineyards.

Close at her father's side M-as the gentle Evangeline seated.

Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner behind
her.

Silent awhile Mere its treadles, at rest was its diligent
shuttle.

While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like tho drone
of a bagpipe,

Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments
together.

As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals
ceases.

Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at
the altar.

So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the
clock clicked.

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly

lifted,
Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its

hinges.
Benedict knew by the hobnailed shoes it was Basil the

blacksmith,
And ])y her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with

28 EVANGELINE.

"Welcome!" tlie farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps

paused on tlie threshold,
" Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy place on the

settle
Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without

thee ;
Take frorii the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of

tobacco ;
Never so much thyself art thou as when through the

curling-
Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face

gleams
Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of

the marshes."
Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the

blacksmith.
Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside —
"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou has ever thy jest and thy

ballad !
Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are filled

with
Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them.
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a

horseshoe."
Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline brought

him,
And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly

continued —
"Four days now are passed since the English ships at

their anchors
Ride in the Gaspereaus mouth, with their cannon pointed

against us.
What their design may be is unknown ; but all are com-
manded
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's

mandate
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in the mean

time
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people.'*
Theu made answer the farmer : "Perhaps some friendlier

. purpose
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in

England^
By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted,

EVANGELII^E.

20

And from our hurstinp barns tlicy would feed their cattlo
and cliildrm."

" Not Ko tliinkt'th the folk in tlir villa^M-," said, warmly,
tlie blacksmith,

Shaking his head, as in doubt; tlicii, licavin^^ a sigh, he
continued —

"Lonisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor l*t)it
lioyal.

Many already have Hed t(j the forest, and lurk on its out-
skirts,

-2<^L1_^^

"'Not so thinketh thP folk In thP vlllatrp,' snlrl wnrmly, the hlnoksinith,
Shiikiiin his lu-iul, as in dotil)t."

Waiting with anxious hearts the (Uiluous fate of to-merrow.
Arms hav<' been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all

kinds;
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe

of the mower."
Then with a ])leasant smile made answer the jovial farmer:
" Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our

cornfields,
Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the ocean.

30 EVANGELINE.

Than were our fatliers in forts, besieged "by the eneray's

cannon.
Fear no evil, my friend, and to night may no shadow of

sorrow
Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the night of the

contract.
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the

village
Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe

round about them,
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a

twelvemonth,
Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and ink-
horn.
Shall w^e not then be g'ad, and rejoice in the joy of our

children f
As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her

lover's,
Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had

spoken.
And as they died on his lips the worthy notary entered.

KVANGELINK.

31

" More than a hundred
Children's cliildren rode on his knee, and heard his great watch tick."

III.

Hkn r like :i lalM.riiii,^ oar, tliat toils in tlu- s«-rj ol" tlu- ocean.
Hint, l)ut not I)ro]c»'n, l)y age was the I'oriii of the notary

pul.lic ; ' ^

Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken tloss of the maize.

hun<r
Over his shoulders ; liis forehead was liig'h ; and glasses

with horn i)ows
Sat astride on his nose, witlia look of wisdom supernal.
Father of twenty children was he, and more than a

luindred
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his great

watch tick.
Four long years in the times of the war had he lau^^uished

r captive,

33 EVANGELINE.

Suffering mucli in an old French fort as tlie friend of the

English.
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion,
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simi^le and

childlike.
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children ;
For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest,
And of the goblin that came in the night to water the

horses.
And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who un-

christened
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of

children ;
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable.
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a

nutshell.
And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and

horseshoes.
With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village.
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the black-
smith.
Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his

right hand,
" Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk

ir, the village.
And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and

their errand."
Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary

public —
"Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the

wiser ;
And what their errand may be I know not better than

others
Yet am I not ol those who imagine some evil intention
Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then

molest us ?"
"God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible

blacksmith ;
" Must we in all things look for the how, and the v/hy,

and the wherefore ?
Q Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the

strongest !"}
But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary

public —

EVANUELL\E. 'i\\

^." Man is unjust, but (IdiI is just ; iintl (inally justice

Triunii)lisj) uiid well I rcuu'iulMT u stmy, that often con-
soli'd nif.

When as a captive I lay in tlu- old French I'ort jit I'ort
IJoyal.'

This was tlie old man's favorite tah', and lie hived to re-
peat it

W'lien his nei<;hhors coniphiined that any injustict; was
(h)ne them.

" Once in an ancient city, whosc^ name I no hjii^^er renieui-
ber,

liaised ah»ft on a column, a i)ra/en statue of .lustice

Stood in the public S(|uare, uphoklin^^ the scales in its loft
hand,

And in its right a sword, as an end)lem that justice jire-
sided

Over the laws of tlie land, and the hearts and homes of the
people.

Even the birds had built their nests in the .scales of the
balance,

Having no fear of the sword that Hashed in the sunshine
above them.

But in the course of time the laws of the land were; cor-
rupted;

Might took the ])lace of right, and the weak were op{)ressed,
and the mighty

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nol)leman's
palace

That a necklace of jicarls was lost, and ere long a sus-
picion

Fell on an orphan girl ,vho lived as maid in the household.

She. after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold,

Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice.

As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended,

Lo! o'er the city a temjjest rose; and the bolts of the
thunder

Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its
left hand

Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the
balance,

And in the hollow thereof was foynd the nest of a magpie.

Into "whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was in-
woven."

34

EVANGELINE.

Silenced, but not convinced, when tlie story was ended, the

blacksmitli
Stood like a man who fain would speak, but iindeth no

language;
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as

the vapors
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the

winter.

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table,
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-
brewed

W^

"In friendly contention the old men
Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre."

Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the vil-
lage of Grand-Pre;

While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and ink-
horn,

Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the
parties,

Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in
"attle.

Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were com-
pleted,

kvaMjKLINK. yrj

And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the
margin.

TIh'II from his leathern i)ouch the farmer threw on the
tal.le

Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver;

And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the bride-
groom,

Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare.

Wiping the foam from his lip, he suleiiinly howecl and
dei)arted,

While in silence thi^ others sat and mused by the fireside,

Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out of its
corner.

Stxm was the game begun. In friendly contention the old
men

Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful mannouvre,

Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made
in the king-row.

Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's em-
brasure.

Sat the lovers, and whispered together, beholding the moon
rise

Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows.

Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
V blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

Thus passed the evening away. Anon the bell from the

belfry
Rang out the liour of nine, the village curfew, and straight-
way
Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned in th(

household.
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the d(jor-

step
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with

gladness.
Carefully then were covered the enil)ersthat glowed on the

heath-stone,
And on tlie oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer.
Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed.
Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness.
Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the

maiden.

36 EVANGELINE.

Silent she passed tlirougli tlie liall, and entered tlie door of

lier chamber.
Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and

its clothes-press
Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully

folded
Linen and woolen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven

" Many a farewell word and sweet good night on the door-step
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it ^vith gladness."

This was the precious dower she would bring to her hus-
band in marriage,

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a
housewife.

Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant
moonlight

ICVANCELINK 37

Streamed thruu'^h the windows, ami lighted the room, till

tlie heart of the maiden
Swelled aM<l olteyed its power, like the fremuloiis tides of

the ocean.
Ah ! she was fair, exeeedini,^ fair to behold, as she stood

with
Nuked snow-wliite feet on tin- f^leaming floor of her chainher!
Little she dreamed that below, among tlie trees of the

orcliard.
Waited her lover and watcdied for the gleam of her lamp

and her shadow.
^^Yet were her thoughts of him. and at times a feeling of

sadne.ss
Passed o"er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the

moonlight
Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a

moment.
And as she gazed from the window she saw serencdy the

moon ])ass,
Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her

footsteps.
A.s out of A^jraham's tent young Lshmael wandered with

llagar i

38

EVANGELINE

" For Evangeline stood amon^ the guests of her father;
Bright was her face with siniles, and words of welcome and gladness
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it."

IV.

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of
Grand-Pre.

Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas,

Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were rid-
ing at anchor.

Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor

Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the
morning.

Now from the country around, from the farms and the
neighboring hamlets,

Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants.

Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young
folk

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous
meadows,

EVANUELINE.

b9

Wlicre no patli couhl ))(■ sci-ii but tlic track of wliccls in
the ^rt'ciiswunl,

(iroui) after j^roiip a]>i)<'ari'(l, mid joiiifd, or passed on tliir
highway.

Long ere noon, in tlic vilhigc all sounds of hiI)or wen!
silenced.

Thronged were tlie streets with peoph' ; and iioi.sy groiijxs
at the house-doors

Sat in the cheerful sun. and rejoiced and gossipped to-
gether,

^

^-.''r-fe,^-^^.

^--

" Now from the coiintrj- around, from the farms and the neiprhborinR
hainUts,
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants."

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and
feasted ;

For with this simple people, who lived liked brothers to-
gether,

All things were held in cinnnion, and what one had was
another's.

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abun-
dant :

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father ;

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome
and gladness

Fell from her l)eautiful lii»s, und l)lessed the cup as she
gave it.

^

EYANGELmtS.

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchaxd,
Bending with golden fruit, was spread the feast of be

trothal.
There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the

notary seated ;
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith.
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the

beehives,
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts

and of waistcoats.

■ Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows.'

Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his

snow-white
Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of the

fiddler
Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from

the embers.
Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle,
Tou8 Us Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le CariUon de Dun-

kerque,
And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music.
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;

EVANGELINE.

41

oik folk and youu^'- to^n'tlicr, and rhildifri miiiH^lcd aiii()n<f
tbeiu.

Fairest of all the maids was l']vaiii4-<'liiH', BfUfdict's
daughter !

NobU'bt of all tlif youths was (labriid, son of the black-
smith I

So passed the inorniui,'- away. And lo ! with a summons

sonorous
Sounded the bell from its towi-r, and over the meadows a

drum beat.
Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without,

in the churchyard.

" Without, in the churchyard,
Waited the women. They stood hy the pi-aves, nnd hunp on the

head-stune.s
Oarlands of autunin-k'nves nnd cvfrKrecns fresli from the forest'*."

Waited Xhv. women. 'J'hey stood by the graves, and hung

on the head-stones
iGarlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the

forest.
Then came the guard from the ships, and inarching i)roudly

among tbem
Entered the sacred ])ortal. With loud and dissonant

clangor
Echoed the sound of their l)ra/.fn drums from ceiling and

casement —
Eolioed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal.

4A M VANGBLINK

Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited <;}\d will of the

v' dijrs.
Then apirose mcxr commanaer, and spaice rrom ciie steps ot

the altar,
Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal com-
mission.
" You are convened this day," he said, " by his Majesty's

orders.
Clement and kind has he been; but how you have an-
swered his kindness,
Let your own hearts reply! To my natural make and my

temper
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be

grievous.
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our

monarch;
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of

all kinds
Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from

this province
Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell

there
Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people!
Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty's

pleasure!"
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer,
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the

hailstones
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters his

windows,
Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from

the house- roofs,
Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their in-

closures;
So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the

speaker.
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then

rose
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger.
And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the

doorway.
Vain was the hope of escape; and cries and fierce impre-
cations

KVANOKLINK. 43

Kang tlirou^di the housf of pinvfr; and high o'er iht; heads

of th(^ others
Hose, with his anas uplifted, the figure of Basil the black-

amith,
As, on a stormy sen, a spar is tosse<l l)y tlie itillows.
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion; and

wildly bo shouted —
" Down with i\w tyrants of England! we never havi-

sworn them allegiance!
Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes

and our harvests!"
More be fain would have said, but tln^ merciless hand of

a soldier
Smote bim upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the

pavement.

In the midst of tbe strife and tumult of angry contention,
Lo! tbe door of tbe cbancel opened, and Fatber Felician
Entered, witb serious mien, and ascended tbe steps of tbe

altar.
IJaising bis reverend band, witb a gesture be awed into

silence
All tbat clamorous tbrong; and thus be spukt; to his

people; '

Deep were bis tones and solemn; in accents measured and

mournful
Spake be, as, after tbe tocsin's alarum, distinctly tlu" clock

strikes.
" Wbat is this tbat ye do, my children? what madness

bas seized you?
Forty years of my life bave I labored among you, and

taugbt you.
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one anotber!
Is tbis tbe fruit of my toils, of my vigils and })rayers and

privations?
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and for-
giveness?
Tbis is tbe bouse of tbe Prince of Peace, and would you

profane it
Tbus witli violent deeds and hearts overflowing with

bat red?
Lo ! where tlie crucified Christ from bis cross is gazing
ui)on you !

*^ BYANGELmE.

See ! in those sorrowful eyes wliat meekness and holy com-
passion !

Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' 0 Father,
forgive them !'

Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked as-
sail us,

Let us repeat it now, and say, ' 0 Father, forgive them!' "

Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of
his people

Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded that passionate
outbreak ;

And they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, for-
give them !"

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from

the altar.
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people

• • ' • responded,
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and the Ave

Maria
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with

devotion translated,
Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to

heaven. *

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and

on all sides
Wandered, wailing, from house to house the wcmien and

children.
Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with her right

hand
Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, de-
scending.
Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and

roofed each
Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its

windows.
Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the

table ;
There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with

wild flowers ;
There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought

from the dairy ;

HVAyaELINE.

45

And iit the head of tlic hoard I lie ^Mcat arin-chnir of the

fanner.
Tints did I'^vaiii^^i-liiic wait at licr latln-r's dour, as llie

sunset
I'hrew the ion^c shadows of trees o'er tlie l)roiid auihrosial

nu-adows.
Ah ' on liei- si)irit within a (h'e|)er sliadow Iwid falh*n.

' '^^yn.^! I«-^''

Then, all forcretful of self, she wandered into the villape.

Cheering with looks and w ords the disconsolate hearts of the women.

And from tlie fiehls of her soul a frai^rance celestial as-
cended—

Charity, meekness, h)ve, and hope, and forgiveness, and
y)atience !

Then, all-f«)rjretfiil of self, she wandered into tlm villai^e.

l.'heerini,^ with looks and wort's th'> disconsolate hearts of
the women.

46 EVANGELINE.

As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they de-
parted,

Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their
children.

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering
vapors

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending
from Sinai.

Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded.

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline

lingered.
All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and the

windows
Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcome by

emotion,
"Gabriel i " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; but no

answer
Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave

of the living
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her

father.
Smouldered the fire on the hearth, on the board stood th*^

supper untasted,
Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phan-
toms of terror.
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her

chamber.
In the dead of the night she heard the whispering rain fall
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the

window.
Keenly the lightning flashed , and the voice of the echoing

thunder
Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world

he created !
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice

of heaven ;
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slum-
bered till morning.

EVANGELINE.

47

" Marehiiyr in gloomy proccisdiun
Followed the lanp-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian formers."

Four times tbe sun had risen und set; and now on tlie tiftb
day

Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping "laids of the farm-
house.

Soon o'er the yellow fields, in silent und mournful itro-
.^cession.

Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms tbe Acadian
women,

Driving in ])onderous wains their household goods to the
sea-shore,

Pausing and looking back to gaze once rrtore on their
dwellings.

48 E VANGELINE.

Ere tbey were sliut from sight by tlie winding road and the

woodland.
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the

oxen,
While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of

playthings.

Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried ; and there

on the sea- beach
Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants.
All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats

ply;

All day long the wains came laboring down from the village.
Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting,
Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the

church-yard.
Thither the women and children thronged. On a sadden

the church-doors
Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy

procession
Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian

farmers.
Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and

their country,
Hing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and

way -worn,
So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended
Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and

their daughters.
Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their

voices,
Sang they with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic

Missions —
" Sacred heart of the Saviour ! O inexhaustible fountain !
Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and

patience ! "
Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that

stood by the way-side
Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine

above them
Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits de

parted.

Half-way down io the shore Evangeline waited iu silence,

EVANGELINE. 49

Not overcome with grief, l;iit .strong in tlio hour of alllic-

tion—
( uhniy and sailly waiteil, until tlu' jji-occssion apiiroarhed

licr.
And slit' iK'huld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion.
Tears then tilled her eyes, and, eagerly running to meet

him,
Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder,

and whispered —
/ " (lahriel! he of good cheer! (for if we love one another, \
Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may

happen!" )
Smiling sht> si)ake these words; then suddenly paused, ftjr

her father
Saw she slowly advancing. Alas! how changed was his

aspect!
(ione was the glow from his eheek, and the lire fj-om his

eye, and his lootstep
Heavier seemed with the weight of the weary heart in his

bosom.
But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and en:

braced him,
Speaking words of (;ndearmont where words of comfort

availed not.
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful

procession.

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of em

barking.
Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion
Wives were torn Irom their husbands, and mothers, too

late, saw their children
Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest en

treaties.
So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried.
While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her

lather.
Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and

the twilight
Deepened and tlarkened around; and in haste the refluent

ocean
Fled away from the shore, and left the Hue of the saud

beach

50

EVANGELINE.

Covered with waifs of the tid*^. with kelp and the slippery

sea-weed.
Farther back in the midst of the hou:?ehold goods and the

wagons,
Like to a gvpsv camp, or a leaguer after a battle.
All escape cut off bv the sea, and the sentinels near them
Lav encamped for the night the houseless Acadian

farmers.
Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean.
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and

leaving
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the

sailors.

" Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the farmyard-
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid."

Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from

their pastures;
Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from

their udders;
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of

the farm -yard —
Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of

the milkmaid.
Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus

sounded.
Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from

the windows.

JSVANOELINE.

51

But on the whores meanwhile the eveninj,^ fires had been

kincUed,
Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks

in the tempest.
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were

gathered,
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying

of children.
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his

parish,
Wandered the faitliful priest, consoling and blessing and

cheering,

'Suddenly rose from the south a lipht. as in autumn the blood-red
Moon climbs the orj'stal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon
Titan-like stretches" its hundred hands upon niountaiJi and meadow.

Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea-shore.
Thus he approached the place where Kvangeline sat with

her father,
And in the tlickering light In-licld the face of the old man.
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought

or emotion,
E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands havelx'en

taken.
Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to heer

him,

52 EVANGELINE.

Vainly offered liim food ; yet lie moved not, be looked not,
lie spake not,

But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering fire-
light.

^' Bencdicite! " murmured the priest, in tones of com-
passion.

More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and
bis accents

Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on c\
threshold.

Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of
sorrow.

Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the
maiden.

Raising his eyes, full of tears, to the silent stars that above
them

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sor-
rows of mortals.

Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in
silence.

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the
blood-red

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the
horizon

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and
meadow,

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows
together.

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the
village.

Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in
the roadstead.

Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were

Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quiver-
ing hands of a martyr.

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch,
and, uplifting,

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred
house-tops

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame inter-
mingled.

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and
on shipboard.

EVANGELINE. 53

SiK'ocliless at first they stood, then cried aloud in tlnir

Hiii;uisli,
• W (> shall behold no more our hoiiu-s in flic villai^e (jf
(irand-I'n' I"

I.oud on a siuMi'ii the cocks be-^^an to crow in the I'arin-
yanls.

'I'hinkin^- tlu- day had dawned ; and anon the lowing of
cattle

Came on the evening breeze, by tlie barking of dogs in-
termitted.

Then rose a sound of dnnid, such as startles the sleeping
encampments

Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Ne-
braska,

Whi'n the wild horses affrighted swee}) by with the speed
of the whirlwind,

Or the hiud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river.

Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds
and the horses

Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed
o'er the meadows.

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and
the maiden

Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened
before them ;

And as they turned at length to speak to their silent com-
l)anion,

Lo 1 from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on
the seashore

Motionless lay his form from whieh the soul had departed.

Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden

Knelt at her father's side, ami wailed aloud in her terror.

Then in a sw<ton she sank, and lay with her liead on his
bosom.

Througli the long night slie lay in deep, oblivious slumber;

And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multi-
tude near her

Faces of friends she l)eheld, that were mournfully gazing
upon her,

Pallid, with tearful eyes, and l(»oks of saddest com])assion.

Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the land-
scape.

Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces
ftround her,

54 E VANGELINE.

And like the day of doom it seemed to ber wavering
senses,

Tben a familiar voice she beard, as it said to tbe people —

" Let vis bury bim bere by tbe sea. Wben a bappier season

Brings us again to our bomes from tbe unknown land of
our exile,

Tben sball bis sacred dust be piously laid in tbe cburcb-
yard."

Sucb were tbe words of tbe priest. And tbere in baste by
tbe sea-side.

Having tbe glare of tbe burning village for funeral torcbes.

But witbout bell or book, tbey buried tbe farmer of Grand-
Pre.

And as tbe voice of tbe priest repeated tbe service of sorrow,

Lo ! witb a mournful sound, like tbe voice of a vast con-
gregation.

Solemnly answered tbe sea, and mingled its roar witb tbe
dirges.

'T was tbe returning tide, tbat afar from tbe waste of tbe
ocean,

Witb tbe first dawn of tbe day, came beaving and burrying
landward.

Tben recommenced once more tbe stir and noise of em-
barking ;

And witb tbe ebb of tbat tide tbe sbips sailed out of tbe
" iiarbor,

Leaving bebind tbem tbe dead on tbe sbore, and tbe village
in ruins.

-^-iS?

' Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches,
B\it witl^out bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pr^,"

laVANGELlJ^K

05

' Then reconmienued once more the stir and noise of enibarkln^f;
And with the ebb ot that tide the ships sailed out of the harbor."

ore

EVANGELINE.

' Long: among them was seen a niauicn whcrwaittd md wandered.
Lowly and meek lu bpmt, and patiently s,utfeimg all thingb."

PART THE SECOND.

Many a weary year had passed since tlie burning of' Grand-

Pre,
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,
Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile,
Exile without an end, and without an example in story.
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed;
Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind

from the northeast
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of

Newfoundland,

EVANGELINE. 57

Frit'iidlcss, hoiiu'k'ss. lit)|»('l<'ss, tlii'V wamlcri'd from city to
city,

From tlie cold lakes of tlu; North to .sultry Southern
savaunns —

From the bleak shores of the sea to tlie lands where the
Father of \Vat< is

Seizes the liills in his hands, and dra^-s thein down to tiie
ocean,

Dei'p in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the;
niainnioth.

Friends they souglit and homes; and many, desjjairing,
heart broken,

Asked of tlie eartli 1)ut a ^rrave, and no longer a friend nor
a ti reside.

Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the
church -yards.

Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wan-
dered,

Lowly and meek in spirit, and i)atiently suffering all
things.

Fair was she and young; but, alas! before her extended,

Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its
pathway

Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suf-
fered before her,

Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and aban-
doned,

As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked by

Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that l)leach in the
sunshine.

Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, un-
finished ;

As if a morning of .Tune, with all its music and sunshine.

Suddenly paused in th(^ sky, and, fading, slowly dt^-
Kcended

Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen.

Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever
within her.

Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the
spirit.

She would commence again her endless search and «!n-
deavor ;

Sometimes in church yards strayed, and gazed on the crosses
and tombstones.

58 EVANGELINE.

Sat by some nameless grave, and tliouglit that perhaps ia

in its bosom
He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside

him.
Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,
Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.
Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved

and known him,
But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten.
" Gabriel Lajeunesse !" said they ; " O, yes ! we have seen

him.
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to

the prairies ;
Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and

trappers,"
"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said others; " O, yes! we have

seen him.
He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana."
Then would they say : " Dear child ! why dream and wait

for him longer ?
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? others
Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal ?
Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved

thee
Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and be

happy !
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses."
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly — "I

cannot !
Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and

not elsewhere.
For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines

the pathway,
Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in dark-
ness."
And thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor,
Said, with a smile — " O daughter I thy God thus speaketh

within thee !
Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ;
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of

refreshment ;
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the

fountain.

EVANGELINE. 59

Patienco ; accolnpli^sh tliy luhor; nccoiuplish thy work ot
afTt'ction !

Sorrow and .silcnco are strong'-, and patient endurance is
godlike.

Therefore acconii)lish thy labor of love, till the heart is
made godlike,

Purified, strengthened, perfected, an<l rendered more
worthy of heaven !"

Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored und
waited.

Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean.

But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whis-
pered, " Despair not I"

Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless dis-
comfort.

Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of ex-
istence.

Let me essay, O Muse ! to folhnv the wanderer's footsteps ;

Not through each devious path, each changeful year of
existence ;

But as a traveler follows a streamlet's course through the
valley ;

Far from its margin at times, and seeing tlie gleam of its
water

Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only :

Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms
that conceal it.

Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous mur-
mur ;

Happy, at length, if he fiud the spot where it reaches an
outlet.

60

EVANGELINE.

' Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi,
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boatmen.'

II.

It was the month of May, Far down the Beautiful River,

Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash,

Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi,

Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boat-
men.

It was a band of exiles; k raft, as it were, from the ship-
wrecked

Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together,

Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common
misfortune;

Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or by
hearsay.

Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred
farmers

On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas.

With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the Father
Felician.

Onward, o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness somber
with forests.

Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river;

Night a,fter night, by their blazing fires, encamped on its
borders,

Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where
plumelike

EVANGELINE.

61

• Now throuprh nislunpr chutes, amont; srreen islands, whoro plumo-Iik««
Cottoutrvts uodduU thuir sliuduwy cretitt*, tla-y swi-pt witli tht- cumiit.

62 EVANGELINE.

Cotton trees nodded their sliadowy crests, tliey swept ^yitll
the current.

Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sand-bars

Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their
margin,

Shining with snow-white plumes, large Hocks of pelicans
waded.

Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the
river.

Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of hixuriant gardens,

Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and dove-
cots.

They were approaching the region where reigns perpetual
summer,

Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange
and citron,

Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the east-
ward.

They, too, swerved from their course; and, entering the
Bayou of Plaquemine,

Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters,

Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direc-
tion.

Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the
cypress

Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air

Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient
cathedrals.

Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by the
herons

Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at sunset.

Or by the owl. as he greeted the moon with demoniac
laughter.

Lovely the moonlight was -as it glanced and gleamed on
the water,

Gleamed on the columns of cypre^ss and cedar sustaining
the arches,

Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through
chinks in a ruin.

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things
around them;

And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of Avonder and
sadness —

Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot be com-
passed.

EVANUELIJSK

Lovely the uiuonlitfbt was as it glanced and t'leained on the water.

64 EVANGELINE.

As, at the tramp of a liorse's hoof on the turf of the

prairies,
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking

mimosa,
So, at the hoof -beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil,
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has

attained it.
But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that

faintly
Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on through the

moonlight.
It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of

a phantom.
Through those shadowy aisles had Grabriel wandered be-
fore her.
And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and

nearer.
Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the

oarsmen.
And, as a signal sound, if others like them perad venture
Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast

on his bugle.
Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the

blast rang,
Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues to the

forest.
Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to

the music.
Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance,
Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant

branches ;
But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the dark-
ness ;
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was

the silence.
Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatmen rowed through

the midnight.
Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs,
Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers,
And through the night were heard the mysterious sounds

of the desert,
Far off, indistinct, as of wave or wind in the forest,
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the

grim alligator,

EVANGELINE.

65

Tlius err iiiiotlitT noon they (■iiicr<,nMl from tliosc sliudcs ;

and Ik-Ioii' tlu-ni
Lay, in the goldrn sun, tlii' lakes of the At<-liafalaya.
Water-lilies in myriads rocked on tlie sli^^lit undulations
Made by the passin^^ oars, and, resi)lendent in l)eauty, the

lotus
Lilted lier ^-olden erown al)ovi' the heads of the l)oatnien.
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of lua^niolia

blossoms,

:>^^

" Resplendent in beauty, the lotus
Lift«il her poldtu crown nbove the heads of the boatmen."

And with the heat of noon ; and uumberless sylvan
islands.

Fragrant apd thickly enib(^\vere(l with blossoming hedges
of roses.

Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber.

Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were sus-
pended.

Under the boughs of Waehita willows, that grew by the
Uiargiu,

06 EVANGELINE.

Safely tlieir boat was moored ; and scattered aLouL ol t'.'O
greensward,

Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travelers slum-
bered.

Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar.

Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the
grape-vine

Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob,

On whose pendulous sta.irs the angels ascending, de-
scending,

Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom
to blossom.

Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered be-
neath it.

Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an open-
ing heaven

Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions
celestial.

Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless islands,

Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water.

Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and
trappers.

Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison
and beaver.

At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and
careworn.

Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a
sadness

Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written.

Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and
restless.

Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of
sorrow.

Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island,

But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmettos,

So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in the
willows,

And undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen,
were the sleepers ;

Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering
maiden.

Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the
prairie.

After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the
distance,

EVAi\UJ£LI2^E,

67

Saftly th»Mr boat was moored, and Hoattered abotit on the jrrix'nswanl,
Tired with their midnight toil, liic- weary truvelens sluinbei-cd."

68 EVANGELINE.

As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the
maiden

Said with a sigh to the friendly priest — "O Father Fel-
ician !

Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel wanders.

Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition ?

Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my
spirit ? "

Then, with a blush, she added — "Alas for my credulous
fancy !

Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning."

But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he
answered —

"Daughter, thy words are not idle; nor are they to me
without meaning.

Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the
surface

Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is
hidden.

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls
illusions.

Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the south-
ward,

On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and
St. Martin.

There the long- wandering bride shall be given again to her
bridegroom.

There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheep-
fold.

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-
trees ;

Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of
heavens

Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the
forest.

They who dwell there have named it the Eden of
Louisiana."

And with these words of cheer they arose and continued
their journey.

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western
horizon

Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the land-
scape ;

Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and forest

EVANGELIC tJ.

(iU

:^j^^

'-mmm^

'.'>•'•'•»■.-'-'•■■'-'

NeurtT, and ever nearer, amon? the numberlcgs ialandg,
UarUd a light, swift Ixuit, thut sped away oV.- the water.'"

70 EVANGELINE.

Seemed all on fire at tlie touch, and melted and mingled
together.

Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver.

Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless
water.

Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweet-
ness.

Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling

Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters
around her.

Then from si neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest
of singers,

Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water,

Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music.

That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed
silent to listen.

Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then soaring to
madness

Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bac-
chantes.

Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamen-
tation ;

Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in
derision,

As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-
tops

Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the
branches.

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with
emotion.

Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the
green Opelousas,

And through the amber air, above the crest of the wood-
land,

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring
dwelling;

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of
cattle.

EVANGELINE.

71

:>^^.i^M-#

^\

^^^^^■^

" The house iteelf was of timbers
lifwn frum the cypress-tree, and cftrefully fitted together.'"

III.

Near to the hank of tlio river, o'crsliiulowj-d l)y oaks, from

wliosc liranclifs
(J inlands of Spanish moss and of mystic misth-tot' llaiinfcd,
Siiili as tlif l)rui<l.s cut (h)\vn with ^olih-n liatchcts at "V'nit'-

tidc.
Stood, .secludod and still, the house of the hei'dsnian. A

fj:arden
(iirdod it round about witli a helt of luxuriant blossoms,
Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of

timbers
Hewn from the cyiiress-tree, and cai-efully fitted togethrr.
Large and low was the roof ; and on slender columns sup-

l)orted.
Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda,
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the gai-den,
Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's ])erpetual symbol.
Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of

rivals.

72 E VANGELINE.

Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and
sunshine

Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in
shadow,

And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding

Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose.

In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a path-
way

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limit-
less prairie,

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending

Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the
tropics,

Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grape-
vines.

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the

prairie,
Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups,
Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin.
Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish

sombrero
Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its

master.
Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that were

grazing
Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness
That uprose from the rwer, and spread itself over the land

scape.
Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and ex.

panding
Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded
Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the

evening.
Suddenly out of the grass the long Avhite horns of the cattle
Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean.
Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the

prairie,
And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance.
Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the

gate of the garden
Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing

to meet him.

EVANGELINE.

TO

Su(l(l»MiIy down I'roin his liorsc In- sprung' in ania/riiifnt

uiui i'oiward
Kuslifd with t'Xt('H(h'd arms and fxchunation.s of wonder;
When they behtdd his laec, they recognized Basil the Hhick

smith.
Hearty liis welcome was, as lie le(l his guests to the j^arden.
There in an arbor of roses with endless (iuestiou anc

answer

'""-;/

" Suddenly out of the trraiw the lonp white horns of the cattle
lUise like Hakes of foam on tho udvei-se currents of ocean."

Oave tliey vent to tlielr hearts, and renewed tlieir friendly

embraces,
Laugliing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and

thoughtful.
Thoughtful, for (Jabriel came not; and n<.w dark doubts

and misgivings
♦^tole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embar-

rajs.sed.

74 EVANGELINE.

Broke the silence and said — " If you come by tlie Atclia-

falaya,
How Lave you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on

the bayous?"
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed.
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous

accent —
"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her face on his

shoulder.
All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and

lamented.
Then the good Basil said — and his voice grew blithe as he

said it —
" Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed.
Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my

horses.
Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his

spirit
Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence.
Thinking ever of thee,, uncertain and sorrowful ever,
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles.
He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens.
Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me and

sent him,
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the

Spaniards.
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark

Mountains,
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the

beaver.
Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive

lover;
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are

against him.
Qp and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the

morning
We will follow him fast and bring him back to his

prison."

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of
the river,

Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the
fiddler.

Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on Olym-
pus,

EVANOELINK.

"ir?

TTnving no otlicr care tlinn dispensing music to mortals,
Far renowned was he for liis silv«'r loci<s and his liddlt .
" lionj; livcf MieliacI," tlirv <rifd, "uiii' biavo A<ii(liaM

minstrel!"
As tliey l)ore him ulol'l in t i-iiniii>li;il pmcrssion; and

strai^^htway
FathtT i''rrK-iaM inlvanced witli F\ ani;rliii»-, i^M-rrtinn tho

i;ld mail

" ' Ix>np live Mifhael,' they cried, ' our brave Acadian minsti-ell*
Astlicy bui-f liiiii aloft in tiiimiphul procession."

Kindly and oft, and recallin^r the past, while Basil, enrap-
tiire(l,

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and ^ossipS;

Laughini^ loud and long, and enibracin<j^ mothers and
daughters.

Much they marveled to see tlir wealtli of the ci-devant
l)lacksmith,

All his domains and his h«'rds, and his patriarehial de-
meanor;

76 EVANGELiNE.

Mucli tliey marveled to bear his tales of tlie soil and the

climate,
And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were bis who

would take them;
Each one thought in his heart, that be, too, would go and

do likewise.
Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the airy

veranda.
Entered the hall of the bouse, where already the supper

of Basil
Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted

together.

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended.

All was silent without, and illuming the landscape with

silver,
Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within

doors.
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glim-
mering lamplight.
Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the

herdsman
Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless

profusion.
Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches

tobacco.
Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as

they listened :
*' Welcome once more, my friends, who so long have been

friendless and homeless.
Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance

than the old one!
Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers;
Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer.
Smoothly the plowshare runs through the soil as a keel

through the water.
All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom; and

grass grows
More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer.
Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the

prairies;
Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of

timber
With a few blows of the ax are hewn and framed into

houses.

EVANGELINE. 7-r

After your houses are l)uilt, and your fields are yellow witli

liarv«'sts,
No Kin^ (leorg*^ of England .sludl drive you away from

your homesteads,
Hurning your dwellings and i)arns, and stealing your farms

and your cattle."
Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his

nostrils,
And his huge, brawny hand came thundering down on th(!

table,
So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, ius-

toundt'd,
Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snufF half-way to his

nostrils.
But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder

and gayer —
" Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of tho

fever!
For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate,
Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a

nutshell!"
Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps

approaching
Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda.
It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters,
Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the

Herdsman.
Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors;
Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before

were as strangers,
Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each

other, J
Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together.
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding
From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle,
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children delighted,
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the

nniddening
Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swei»t and swayed to the

music,
Dreandike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering

garments.
Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and

the herdsman

78 EVANGELINi^.

Sat, conversing together of past and present and future;
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her
Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music
Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness
Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the

garden.
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the

forest,
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the

river
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous

gleam of the moonlight.
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious

spirit.
Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the

garden
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and

confessions
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows

and night- dews,
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical

moonlight
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings.
As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown shade of

the oak-trees,
Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless

prairie.
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and the fire-Hies
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite

numbers.
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the

heavens, ^
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased. to marvel and

worship,
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that

temple,
As if a hand had appeared and written upon them,

''Upharsin."
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire

flies,
Wandered alone, and she cried — "O Gabriel! O my be-
loved !
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee?

K^^ANGELINE. 79

Art thou HO near unto tuc, and yet tliy voice docs not

reach me?
All ! how often thy feet \\i\\v trod tliis path to th(^ prairie 1
Ah 1 how often thine eyes have lo<jked on the woodlands

iimund nie !
All I Ihiw often heneatli this oak, returning'- fioiii labor,
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dn am of me in thy

slum hers.
When shall these eyes behold, these anus be folded about

theeV"
Loud and siiddi-n and near the note of a whijijioorwill

sounded
Like a tiute in the woods; and anc.n, throu^^h the nei<;lib()r-

in^ thickets,
Farther and farther away it iloated and dropped into

silence.
"Patience!" whis])i'red the oaks from oracular cavi-rns (»f

darkness;
And, from the moonlit meadow, u si^^h responded, "To-
morrow!"

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flov/ers of the

garden
Bathed his shining feet with their li-ars, and anointed hi.s

tresses
With the delicious balm tliat they bore in their vases of

cry.stal.
"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shad(»wy

threshold;
"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting

and famine.
And, too, the Fooli.sh Virgin, who slej)! when the bride

groom was coming."
"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil

descended
Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were

waiting.
Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine

and gladness.
Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was si>ee(ling

before them,
Blown by the blast of fat(; like a d<-ad leaf over the desert.
Not that day, nor the next, nor yet tlu; day that succeed»rd,
Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river.

80

EVANOELWk\

Nor, after many days, liad tLey found Lim; but vague and
uncertain

Rumors alone were their guides tLrougli a wild and deso-
late country,

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of x\dayes,

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the
garrulous landlord,

That on the day before, with horses and guides and com-
panions,

Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies.

" With horses, and guides, and eonipanions,
Gabriel left tlie village, and took the road of the prairies.'

htANGELINE.

81

" Into this wonderfiil Innfl, at the hnsp of tTis 07nr'Ic TWonntains
Uubriel tar had fiiteieU, witli liuiiltis uua Uuijpti-b othuiii Uiin."

IV.

Fai{ in tlie West there lies a desert land, where the moun-
tains
Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous

summits.
Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge,

lilie a gateway,
Oi)ens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's

wagon,
Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and

Owyhee.
Eastward, with devious course, among i\w Wind-river

Mountains,
Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate leaps the

^'ebraska;

82 EVANGELi:^E.

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish
sierras,

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the Avind of
the desert,

Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the
ocean,

Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibra-
tions. .

{Spreading- between these streams are the wondrous, beau-
tiful prairies,

Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine,

Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple am-
orphas.

Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk and the
roebuck;

Over them wander the wolves, and herds of riderless
horses;

Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with
travel ;

Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children,

Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible
war-trails

Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture,

Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in
battle.

By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens.

Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage
marauders;

Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-run-
ning rivers;

And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the
desert.

Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the
brook-side.

And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven,

Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them.

Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Moun-
tains,

Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind
him.

Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and
Basil

Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake
him.

EVANUELINhJ. 88

Sonu'tiiiu's they saw, or thoutclit they saw, tli«' .siiutkc (if

liis cami)-firo
Hisc in the morning' air i'roiii tlif disfaiit itlaiii; l)iit at

nightfall.
When they liad rcacht'tl the place, they found only eniliers

and ashes.
And, thou<^h their hearts were sad at tiuu'sand their bodies

were weary,
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana
Showed thein lier lakes of light, that retreated and vanished

before them.

Once, as they sat by their evening (ire, there .silently

entered
Into the little camji an Indian woman, whose features
Wore deep traces of .sorrow, and patience as great as her

sorrow.
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people,
From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Camanches,
Where her Canadian husband, a C'oureur-des Bois, had

been murderell.
Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and

friendliest welcome
Ciave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and feasted

among them
Ou the bufiah) meat and the vension cooked on th(> embers.
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his com-

jianions,
^^'orn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer

and the bison.
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the

quivering tire-light
Flashed on lUeir swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped

up in their blankets.
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian

accent,
All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and ])ains, and

reverses.
Much Evangeline wept at tlu- tale, and to know tliat

another
Hapless heart like her own luui loved and had been disap-
pointed.
Moved to the depths of her soul by \nXy and woman's com-
passion,

84 EVANGELINE.

Yet in lier sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was

near her,
She in turn related her love and all its disasters.
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had

ended
Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale

of the Mowis;
Mowds, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a

maiden.
But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the

wigwam,
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine.
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into

the forest,
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seem like a weird

incantation,
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a

phantom.
That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in the hush

of the twilight.
Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the

maiden,
Till she followed his green and waving plume through the

forest.
And never more returned, nor was seen again by her people.
Silent with wonder and strange surprise Evangeline

listened
To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region around

her
Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the

enchantress.
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose,
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor
Touching the somber leaves, and embracing and filling the

woodland.
With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the

branches
Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible w^hispers.
Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart,

but a secret,
Subtile sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror.
As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the

gwallow.

EVANGEL INK.

85

It was no t'lutlily Irar. \ liirutli iroiii tlic n-^^idii u{

.spirits
Si'c'IIuhI to lloat in tin- air of ni^lit; ami she iVIt jura

iiHUiient
'I'liaf. liUc the Tiidiaii maid, .she, loo, was ])iirsiiiii^'- a

phaiitoiu.
And wilii this tlioiii^lit six- slept, and thu Tear and the

])luuitom had vaiii>ln.-d.

' tJnder a toweriiiif oak, that stwnl in the midst (if tho vHlftcre.
Knelt the Black Kobt- chief with his children."

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed; and the
Shawnee

Said, as they journeyed along — " On the western slope of
these mountains

Vv^'dls in his little village the Black Kobe chitf of the Mis-
sion.

86 EVANGELINE.

Much lie teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and
Jesus;

Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as
they hear him."

Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline an-
swered—

"Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await
us!"

Thither they turned their steeds; and behind a spur of the
mountains,

Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of
voices,

And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a river,

Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit
Mission.

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the vil-
lage.

Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A crucifix
fastened

High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grape-
vines.

Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling
beneath it.

This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate
arches

Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers,

Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the
branches.

Silent, with heads uncovered, the travelers, nearer ap-
proaching.

Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening de-
votions.

But when the service was done, and the benediction had
fallen

Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the
hands of the sower.

Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and
bade them

Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benig-
nant expression,

Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother tongue in the
forest.

And with words of kindness conducted them into his
wigwam.

EVANGELINE. 87

There upon mats and skins tliey rcposerl, nnd f)n cnkes rf
the niai/«'-ear

Feasted, and slaked tht'ir thirst fioiu the watt-r i^ourd of
the teacher.

Soon was their story told; and thr priest witli solt-nmity
answered:

" Not six suns have risen and set since (Jal)riel, seated

On this nnvt l)y my sich*. where ncnv tht; maiden reposes,

Told me this same sad tale; then arose and continued his
journey!"

Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an ac-
cent of kindness;

But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in winter the
snow-tlakes

Fall into some lone nest from which the hirds have de-
parted.

"Far to the north he has i,'one," continued the priest; "but
in autumn

When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission."

Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and sub-
missive—

"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and
atUicted."

So seemed it wise and well unto all; and l)etimes on th(^
morrow,

Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and
companions,

Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the
Mission.

Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other —
Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that

were springing
(ireen from the ground when a stranger she came, now

waving above her,
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and

forming
Cloisters for mendicant crows and gramiries pillaged by

squirrels.
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the

maidens
Blusned at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover,
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a tliief in the

corn-field.

88 EVANGELINE.

Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover.

"Patience!" the priest would say; "have faith, and thy
prayer will be answered!

Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from the
meadow,

See how its leaves all point to the north, as true as the
magnet;

It is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has sus-
pended

Here on its fragile stock, to direct the traveler's journey

Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert,

Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of pas-
sion,

Gay and luxuriant flowers, are .brighter and fuller of
fragrance.

But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor is
deadly.

Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter

Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the
dews of nepenthe."

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter — yet Ga-
briel came not;

Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin
and blue-bird

Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came
not.

But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was
wafted

Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom.

Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests.

Gabriel had bis lodge by the banks of the Saginaw river.

And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St.
Lawrence,

Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission.

When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches.

She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan
forests,

Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin!

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and

places
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden;
Now in the tents of grace of the meek Moravian Missions,

EVANGELINK. 89

Now in {hv noisy camps and llic 1 tat tir- fields of tho uriny,
Now in secluded lianilcts, in towns and ixjpulous cities,
Like a pliantoni slie came, and jtassed away unremem-

hered.
Fair was slie and y()un^^ wlien in liope Ije^^an the long

Journey;
Fadetl was she and old, when in disapi)oiDtment it ended.
Each succeeding year stole something' away from her

l)eauty.
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the

shadow.
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er

her forehea<l,
Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthly hori/on,
As in the eastern sky the lirst faint streaks of the morning.

90 EVANGELINE.

•j-^
M

M-

' In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's wat*>rs,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded."

In that delightful laud which is washed by the Delaware's

waters,
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle,
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream, the city he

founded.
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of

beauty,
And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the

forest.
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts

they molested.
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an

exile,
Finding among the 'lildren of Penn a home and a country.
There old Rene Lebxanc had died; and when he departed,
Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants.
Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the

city,
Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer

a stranger:

EVANGELINE.

91

Jind her ear va^- )»leus«'il with the Thee and Thou of the

v^uawers,
For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country,
Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and

sisters.
So, when the fruitless search, th'' disappointed end(uivor.
Ended, to recommence no more uimn earth, unt•oml)lainiIl^^
Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts

and her f(X)tsteps.
As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning

1,1.11(1, tliroii;,'li till' k'u.-ty ^trifU, iluit all was well in tliu oily,
Hitch at soiuf loiK-ly window he saw tlio light ot her taper."

Roll away, and afar we l)chold the landscape below us.
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets,
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world

far below her.
Dark no longer, l)ut all illumined with love; and the

pathway
Which she had ciimbed so far, lying smooth and fair in

the distance.

92 EVANGELINE.

(jabriel was not forgotten. Within lier heart was his

image,
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she be-
held him,
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and

absence.
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not.
Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but

transfigured;
He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not

absent;
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others.
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught

her.
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spices.
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with

aroma.
Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow
Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Saviour.
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; frequenting
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city_
Where distress and want concealed themselves from the

sunlight,
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected.
Night after night, when the world was asleep, as the

watchman repeated
Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in the

city.
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper.
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the

suburbs
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for the

market,
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its

watchings.

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city.
Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild

pigeons,
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their

craws but an acorn.
And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of Sepiember,
Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in a

meadow.

EVANGELINE.

03

So (l«>ntli flooded life, and o'erHo\viii<; its Tintnral iimrfrin.
Spread to a brackish lak«', the silver stream of existence.
Wealth had no j)()\ver to bribe, nor beauty to chann, the

oppressor;
But all i)erished alike beneath the scour«;e of his anpT —
Only, alas! the i)oor, who had neither friends nor attendants.

'r-^jL

^lL:^-sr

Day after day. in thejpi-ay of the dawn, as slow throuph the suburbs
Plodded the Ciennan farmer, with llowers and fi-uit for the market,
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchini.'x."

Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless.
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and

woodlands —
Now the city surrounds it; but still with its gateway uud

wicket

94 EVANGELINE,

Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to

echo
Softly the words of the Lord — " The poor ye always have

with you."
Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of Mercy.

The dying
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold

there
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor,
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and

apostles.
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance.
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial,
Into whose shining gates ere long their spirits would enter.

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted and

silent,
Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the alms-
house.
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the

garden;
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among

them.
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance

and beauty.
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by

the east wind,
Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry

of Christ Church,
While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were

wafted
Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in their

church at Wicaco.
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her

spirit;
Something within her said — "At length thy trials are

ended;"
And, with a light in her looks, she entered the chambers

of sickness.
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants.
Moistening the feverish lip, and the aching brow, and in

silence
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing theii

faces,

EVANGELINE.

•JO

Wlicr.'dii their i)aIK't.s they hiy, like ilriCts oC snow by tin-
madsidf.

Miiiiy a laii:,nii(l lirad, iii)raisc(l as I-'van^n-liiu- ciitfrt'd,

'runifd on its pillow ol' pain to ^-^azt' while siie passed, for
her presence

Fell on their hearts like a ray ol" tlie sun on the walls of a
prison.

And, i\i> she looked around, she saw how Death, the con-
soler,

Layin«jf his hand ui)on many a heart, had healed it forever

Many familiar forms had disappeared in the ni^^ht-time;

\'acant their jtlaces were, or tilled already hy stran^^ers.

•■ rhi..ui:li Ih.- Iiush tlint succ.r<l.-(l
Whisixird a jTcntlf voiif in luctiits tfiuler and .saiiit-liki-,
' Gabrivl ! O my Ijelovecl! * aiid died away into silence."

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feelini: of wonder,
Still sbe stood, with lier colorless lips apart, while u

shudder
Kan through her frame, and, forir"»tten, the tlowerets

dro])ped from her fingers,
And from her eyes and cheeks the liyht and l)loom of the

morniog.
Then there escaped from her lijis a c-ry of such terrible

anguish,
That the dying heard it, und .started up from their pillows.

96 EVANGELINE.

On tlie pallet before her was stretclied tLe form of an old
man.

Long, and tliin, and gray were tlie locks that shaded liis
temples;

But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment

Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier
manhood ;

So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are
dying.

Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever.

As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its
portals,

That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass over,

Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit ex-
hausted

Seemed to be sinking down to infinite depths in the dark-
ness.

Darkness of slumber and death, for ever sinking and
sinking.

Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverb-
erations,

Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that
succeeded

Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saint-like,

"Gfabriel! O ray beloved!" and died away into silence.

Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his
childhood;

Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them,

Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under
their shadow,

As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision.

Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his
eyelids,

Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his
bedside.

Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents un-
uttered

Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue
would have spoken.

Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside
him,

Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom.

Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into
darkness,

KVANUELl^hJ.

97

As wlicii ."v luiiii) is l»ln\\ n nut l»y a gust til' w ind at u casu

nu'iit.
All WHS t'luifil iiou, the hi.|ii-, ant! tii"' Irar, and the sturow,
All the achiiig ot" lioart, the; ri'stli-ss, uiisatisli(!il longing,
All tlic (lull, (Uh'P pain, and constijit anguish of iiaticncc!
Alid, as she prt'sst'il once nmn- the lift'lcss lirad to litr

bosom,
Meekly slie bowed her own, and niurniurrd, "Fatlu-r, i

thauk tLeel"

.1*

iij^,

" Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchvard.
In thi- luarl of tin- fit v."

Still Stands the forest primeval; but far awar from its

shadow,
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are

sleei)ing.
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic church-
yard,
In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed.
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them,
Thousands of throbbing hearts, Avhere theirs are at rest
and for ever.