' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 TSTZV3 
 
 I ©^ap ©np?rig|t If o.- 
 
 Shelf AL„,^ a3«, 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
EVANGELINE 
 
 A TALE OF ACADIE 
 
OF WELL-KNOWN BOOKS, 
 IVith other Editions in similar style. 
 
 THE SCARLET LETTER. By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
 i8mo, 30 cents. 
 THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. By Hawthorne. 
 
 i8mo, 30 cents. 
 TWICE-TOLD TALES. By Hawthorne. i8mo, accents. 
 MOSSES FROM AN OLD MANSE. By Hawthorne. 
 
 iSmo, 30 cents. 
 THE SNOW-IMAGE. By Hawthorne. iSmo, 30 cents. 
 A WONDER-BOOK. By Hawthorne. iSmo, 30 cents. 
 
 ^ottlanb CDitionjJ. 
 
 HYPERION : A Romance. By Henry Wadsworth Long- 
 fellow. iSmo, 30 cents. 
 OUTRE-MER. By Longfellow. iSmo, 30 cents. 
 KAVANAGH : A Tale. By Longfellow. iSnio, 30 cents. 
 
 'iJSrunjJtiJicfe €bition. 
 
 UNCLE TOM'S CABIN. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. 
 iSmo. 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 
 Boston and New York. 
 
^ 
 
 9 
 
EVANGELINE 
 
 BY HENRY WADSVVORTH 
 LONGFELLOW 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 F. O. C. DARLEY 
 PORl^LAND EDITION 
 
 J, , 
 
 The House in Portland, Maine 
 where Longfellow was horn 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
 1893 
 
 Ty^^ ' 
 
 I 
 

 Copyright, 1866, 
 By HENRY V/ADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 
 
 Copyright, 1879, 
 By HOUGHTON, OSGOOD & CO. 
 
 Copyright, 1883 and 1893, 
 By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S.A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Engravings by A. V. S. Anthony 
 
 I. Evangeline Title-Page 
 
 II. "* Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, 
 and the children 
 Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended 
 
 to bless them " 13 
 
 III. " When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers 
 
 at noontide 
 Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! fair in sooth 
 
 was the maiden " 16 
 
 IV. " There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes 
 
 to behold him 
 Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as 
 
 a plaything " . . . . . . 21 
 
 V. " In silent and mournful procession, 
 
 Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the 
 
 Acadian women, 
 Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 
 
 to the sea-shore " 65 
 
IV List of Illustrations 
 
 VI. " 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 " . . . . 93 
 
 VII. " He blew a blast, that resounded 
 
 Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp 
 
 air of the evening " . . . . . 106 
 
 VIII. " Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maid- 
 en and Basil 
 Followed his flying steps, and thought each day 
 
 to o'ertake him " 126 
 
 IX. " Evangeline, kneeling beside him. 
 
 Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 
 
 bosom" 153 
 
 X. The Churchyard 157 
 
EVANGELINE 
 
 HISTORICAL INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THE country now known as Nova Scotia, and 
 called formerly Quoddy by the Indians, Acadie 
 by the French, was in the hands of the French and 
 English by turns until the year 17 13, when, by the 
 Peace of Utrecht, it was ceded by France to Great 
 Britain, and has ever since remained in the posses- 
 sion of the English. But in 17 13 the inhabitants of 
 the peninsula were mostly French farmers and fish- 
 ermen, living about Minas Basin and on Annapolis 
 River, and the English government exercised only a 
 nominal control over them. It was not till 1749 that 
 the English themselves began to make settlements 
 in the country, and that year they laid the founda- 
 tions of the town of Halifax. A jealousy soon sprang 
 up between the English and French settlers, which 
 was deepened by the great conflict which was im- 
 pending between the two mother countries ; for the 
 treaty of peace at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1748, which con- 
 firmed the English title to Nova Scotia, was scarcely 
 
vi , Evangeline 
 
 more than a truce between the two powers which 
 had been struggling for ascendency during the be- 
 ginning of the century. The French engaged in a 
 long controversy with the English respecting the 
 boundaries of Acadie, which had been defined by 
 the treaties in somewhat general terms, and intrigues 
 were carried on with the Indians, who were gener- 
 ally in sympathy with the French, for the annoyance 
 of the English settlers. The Acadians were allied to 
 the French by blood and by religion, but they claimed 
 to have the rights of neutrals, and that these rights 
 had been granted to them by previous English offi- 
 cers of the crown. The one point of special dispute 
 was the oath of allegiance demanded of the Acadians 
 by the English. This they refused to take, except in 
 a form modified to excuse them from bearing armiS 
 against the French. The demand was repeatedly 
 made, and evaded with constant ingenuity and per- 
 sistency. Most of the Acadians were probably simple- 
 minded and peaceful people, who desired only to live 
 undisturbed upon their farms ; but there were some 
 restless spirits, especially among the young men, who 
 compromised the reputation of the community, and 
 all were very much under the influence of their 
 priests, some of whom made no secret of their bitter 
 hostility to the English, and of their determination 
 to use every means to be rid of them. 
 
Historical Introduction vii 
 
 As the English interests grew and the critical re- 
 lations between the two countries approached open 
 warfare, the question of how to deal with the Aca- 
 dian problem became the commanding one of the 
 colony. There were some who coveted the rich farms 
 of the Acadian s ; there were some who were inspired 
 by religious hatred ; but the prevailing spirit was one 
 of fear for themselves from the near presence of a com- 
 munity which, calling itself neutral, might at any time 
 offer a convenient ground for hostile attack. Yet to 
 require these people to withdrav/ to Canada or Louis- 
 burg would be to strengthen the hands of the French, 
 and make these neutrals determined enemies. The 
 colony finally resolved, without consulting the home 
 government, to remove the Acadians to other parts of 
 North America, distributing them through the colonies 
 in such a way as to preclude any concert amongst the 
 scattered families by which they should return to 
 Acadia. To do this required quick and secret prepa- 
 rations. There were at the service of the English 
 governor a number of New England troops, brought 
 thither for the capture of the forts lying in the de- 
 batable land about the head of the Bay of Fundy. 
 These were under the command of Lieutenant- 
 Colonel John Winslow, of Massachusetts, a great- 
 grandson of Governor Edward Winslow, of Plymouth, 
 
viii Evangeline 
 
 and to this gentleman and Captain Alexander Mur- 
 ray was intrusted the task of removal. They were 
 instructed to use strategem, if possible, to bring to- 
 gether the various families, but to prevent any from 
 escaping to the woods. On the 2d of September, 
 1755, Winslow issued a written order, addressed to 
 the inhabitants of Grand-Pre, Minas, River Canard, 
 etc., "as well ancient as young men and lads," — a 
 proclamation summoning all the males to attend him 
 in the church at Grand-Pre on the 5th instant, to 
 hear a communication which the governor had sent. 
 As there had been negotiations respecting the oath 
 of allegiance, and much discussion as to the with- 
 drawal of the Acadians from the country, though none 
 as to their removal and dispersal, it was understood 
 that this was an important meeting, and upon the day 
 named four hundred and eighteen men and boys as- 
 sembled in the church. Winslow, attended by his 
 officers and men, caused a guard to be placed round 
 the church, and then announced to the people his 
 majesty's decision that they were to be removed with 
 their families out of the country. The church became 
 at once a guard-house, and all the prisoners were 
 under strict surveillance. At the same time similar 
 plans had been carried out at Pisiquid under Captain 
 Murray, and less successfully at Chignecto. Mean- 
 
Historical Introduction ix 
 
 while there were whispers of a rising among the pris- 
 oners, and although the transports which had been 
 ordered from Boston had not yet arrived, it was de- 
 termined to make use of the vessels which had con- 
 veyed the troops, and remove the men to these for 
 safer keeping. This was done on the loth of Sep- 
 tember, and the men remained on the vessels in the 
 harbor until the arrival of the transports, when these 
 were made use of, and about three thousand souls 
 sent out of the country to North Carolina, Virginia, 
 Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, 
 and Massachusetts. In the haste and confusion of 
 sending them off, — a haste which was increased by 
 the anxiety of the officers to be rid of the distasteful 
 business, and a confusion which was greater from the 
 difference of tongues, — many families were sep- 
 arated, and some at least never came together again. 
 The story of Evangeline is the story of such a 
 separation. The removal of the Acadians was a blot 
 upon the government of Nova Scotia and upon that 
 of Great Britain, which never disowned the deed, 
 although it was probably done without direct permis- 
 sion or command from England. It proved to be 
 unnecessary, but it must also be remembered that 
 to many men at that time the English power seemed 
 trembling before France, and that the colony at Hali- 
 fax regarded the act as one of self-preservation. 
 
Evangeline 
 
 %b 
 
 The authorities for an historical inquiry into this 
 subject are best seen in a volume published by the 
 government of Nova Scotia at Halifax in 1869, enti- 
 tled Selections from the Public Documents of the Pro- 
 vince of Nova Scotia, edited by Thomas B. Akins, 
 D. C. L., Commissioner of Public Records : and in a 
 manuscript journal kept by Colonel WinsloY\^, now in 
 the cabin<^t of the Massachusetts Historical Society 
 in Boston. At the State House in Boston are two 
 volumes of records, entitled Fre?ich Neutrals, which 
 contain voluminous papers relating to the treatment 
 of the Acadians who were sent to Massachusetts. 
 Probably the work used by the poet in writing Evan- 
 geline was An Historical and Statistical Account of 
 Nova Scotia, by Thomas C. Haliburton, who is best 
 known as the author of The Clockmaker, or The Say- 
 ings and Doings of Samuel Slick of Slickville, a book 
 which, written apparently to prick the Nova Scotians 
 into more enterprise, was for a fong while the chief 
 representative of Yankee smartness. Judge Halibur- 
 ton's history was published in 1829. A later history, 
 w^hich takes advantage more freely of historical docu- 
 ments, is A History of N'ova Scotia, or Acadie, by 
 Beamish Murdock, Esq., Q. C, Halifax, 1866. Still 
 more recent is a smaller, well-written work, entitled 
 The History of Acadia from its First Discovery to its 
 
Historical Introdicction xi 
 
 Surrender to England by the Treaty of Paris, by James 
 Hannay, St. John, N. B., 1879. W. J. Anderson pub- 
 lished a paper in the Trd?isactions of the Literary and 
 Historical Society of Quebec, New Series, part 7, 
 1870, entitled Evangeline and the Archives of Nova 
 Scotia^ in which he examines the poem by the light 
 of the volume of Nova Scotia Archives^ edited by T. 
 B. Akins. The sketches of travellers in Nova Scotia, 
 as Acadia^ or a Month amofig the Blue JVoses, by F. S. 
 Cozzens, and Baddeck, by C. D. Warner, give the 
 present appearance of the country and inhabitants. 
 
 The measure of Evangeline is what is commonly 
 known as English dactylic hexameter. The hexame- 
 ter is the measure used by Homer in the Iliad and 
 the Odyssey, and by Virgil in the ^neid, but the dif- 
 ference between the English language and the Latin 
 or Greek is so great, especially when.we consider that 
 in English poetry every word must be accented accord- 
 ing to its customary pronunciation, while in scanning 
 Greek and Latin verse accent follows the quantity of 
 the vowels, that in applying this term of hexameter 
 to Evangeline it must not be supposed by the reader 
 that he is getting the effect of Greek hexameters. It 
 is the Greek hexameter translated into English use, 
 and some have maintained that the verse of the Iliad 
 is better represented in the English by the trochaic 
 
xii Evangeline 
 
 measure of fifteen syllables, of which an excellent 
 illustration is in Tennyson's Locksley Hall; others 
 have compared the Greek hexameter to the ballad 
 metre of fourteen syllables, used notably by Chapman 
 in his translation of Homer's Iliad, The measure 
 adopted by Mr. Longfellow has never become very 
 popular in English poetry, but has repeatedly been 
 attempted by other poets. The reader will find the 
 subject of hexameters discussed by Matthew Arnold 
 in his lectures On Translating Homer; by James 
 Spedding in English Hexameters, in his recent volume, 
 Reviews and Discussions, Literary, Political and His- 
 torical, not relating to Bacon; and by John Stuart 
 Blackie in Reinarks on English Hexameters, contained 
 in his volume HorcB Hellenicce. 
 
 The measure lends itself easily to the lingering 
 melancholy which marks the greater part of the poem, 
 and the poet's fine sense of harmony between subject 
 and form is rarely better shown than in this poem. 
 The fall of the verse at the end of the line and the 
 sharp recovery at the beginning of the next will be 
 snares to the reader, who must beware of a jerking 
 style of delivery. The voice naturally seeks a rest in 
 the middle of the line, and this rest, or caesural pause, 
 should be carefully regarded ; a little practice will 
 enable one to acquire that habit of reading the hexa- 
 
Historical Introduction xiii 
 
 meter, which we may liken, roughly, to the climbing 
 of a hill, resting a moment on the summit, and then 
 descending the other side. The charm in reading 
 Evangeline aloud, after a clear understanding of the 
 sense, which is the essential in all good reading, is 
 found in this gentle labor of the former half of the 
 line, and gentle acceleration of the latter half. 
 
EVANGELINE 
 
 v_y ( 
 
 T 
 
 HIS is the forest prikneval' The murmur- 
 ing pines and the hemlocks,; 
 
 Bearded with .moss, ^ and in i garments green, in- 
 
 ^^ ''■ -A ^- L-'i -^- U— • 
 distinct in the twilight, 
 
 Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and 
 
 prophetic, 
 Stand like l^arpers hoar, with beards that rest 
 
 on theirj bosoms. 
 Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced 
 
 neighboring ocean 
 Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 
 
 wail of the forest. 
 
8 Evangelme 
 
 This is the forest primeval ; but where' are 
 
 the hearts that beneath it 
 Leaped hke 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 woodlands, 
 Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting 
 
 an image of heaven ? 
 Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farm- 
 ers forever departed ! 
 Scattered Hke dust and leaves, when the mighty 
 
 blasts of October 
 Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle 
 
 them fsir o'er the ocean. 
 Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful 
 
 village of Grand-Pr6. 
 
 Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and 
 endures, and is patient. 
 
Evangeline 9 
 
 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. 
 
PART THE FIRST 
 
 T N the Acadian land, on the shores of the 
 
 Basin of Minas, 
 Distant, secluded, still, the little village of 
 
 Grand-Pre 
 Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows 
 
 stretched to the eastward, 
 Giving the village its name, and pasture 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 
 
12 Evangeline 
 
 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 plain ; 
 
 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 happy valley, but ne'er from 
 
 their station descended. 
 There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the 
 
 Acadian village. 
 Strongly built were the houses, with frames of 
 
 oak and of chestnut. 
 Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the 
 
 reign of the Henries. 
 Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; 
 
 and gables projecting 
 
Evangeline 1 3 
 
 Over the basement below protected and shaded 
 the door-way. 
 
 There in 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 spin- 
 ning the golden 
 
 Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shut- 
 tles within 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 ex- 
 tended to bless them. 
 
 ,.leverend walked he among them ; and up rose 
 matrons and maidens, 
 
14 Evangeline 
 
 Hailing his slow approach with words of af- 
 fectionate welcome. 
 
 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 Angelus sounded, and over the roofs 
 of the village 
 
 Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of in- 
 cense ascending, 
 
 Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of 
 peace and contentment. 
 
 Thus dwelt together in love these simple Aca- 
 dian farmers, — 
 
 .Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike 
 were they free from 
 
 Pear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the 
 vice of republics. 
 
 Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars 
 to their windows ; 
 
Evangeline i J 
 
 But their dwellings were open as day and the 
 
 hearts of the owners ; 
 There the richest was poor, and the poorest 
 
 lived in abundance. 
 
 Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer 
 the Basin of Minas, 
 
 Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of 
 Grand-Pre, 
 
 Dwelt on his goodly acres ; and with him, di- 
 recting his household. 
 
 Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the 
 pride of the 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 brown as the oak-leaves. 
 
 Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seven- 
 teen summers. 
 
1 6 Evangeline 
 
 Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on 
 
 the thorn by the wayside, 
 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 bore to the 
 
 reapers at noontide 
 Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah ! 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 bless- 
 ings upon them, 
 Down the long street she passed, with her 
 
 chaplet of beads and her missal. 
 Wearing her Norman cap, and her kirtle of 
 
 blue, and the ear-rings, 
 
Evangeline 17 
 
 Brought in the olden time from France, and 
 since, as an heirloom, 
 
 Handed down from mother to child, through 
 long generations. 
 
 But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal 
 beauty — 
 
 Shone on her face and encircled her form, 
 when, after confession, 
 
 Homeward serenely she walked with God's 
 benediction upon her. 
 
 When she had passed, it seemed like the ceas- 
 ing of exquisite music. 
 
 Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house 
 of the farmer 
 
 Stood on the side of a hill commanding the 
 sea ; and a shady 
 
 Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine 
 wreathing around it. 
 
 Rudely carved was the porch, with seats be- 
 neath ; and a footpath 
 
1 8 Evangeline 
 
 Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared 
 
 in the meadow. 
 Under the sycamore-tree were hives overhung 
 
 by a penthouse, 
 Such as the traveller sees in regions remote 
 
 by the roadside. 
 Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed 
 
 image of Mary. 
 Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the 
 
 well with its moss-grown 
 Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough 
 
 for the horses. 
 Shielding the house from storms, on the north, 
 
 were the barns and the farm-yard. 
 There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the 
 
 antique ploughs 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 
 
Evangeline 19 
 
 Voice that in ages of old had startled the peni- 
 tent Peter. 
 
 Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves 
 a village. In each one 
 
 Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch ; 
 and a staircase, 
 
 Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odor- 
 ous 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 mutation. 
 
 Thus, at peace with God and the world, the 
 farmer of Grand-Pre 
 
 Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline gov- 
 erned his household. 
 
 Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and 
 opened his missal, 
 
^O Evangeline 
 
 Fixed his eyes upon her, as the saint of his 
 deepest devotion ; 
 
 Happy was he who might touch her hand or 
 the hem of her garment ! 
 
 Many a suitor came to her door, by the dark- 
 ness befriended, 
 
 And, as he knocked and waited to hear the 
 sound of her footsteps, 
 
 Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or 
 the knocker of iron ; 
 
 Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint 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 ; 
 
 Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the black- 
 smith, 
 
Evangeline 2i 
 
 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. 
 Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from 
 
 earliest childhood 
 Grew up together as brother and sister ; and 
 
 Father Felician, 
 Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had 
 
 taught them their letters 
 Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of 
 
 the church and the plain-song. 
 But when the hymn was sung, and the daily 
 
 lesson completed, 
 Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil 
 
 the blacksmith. 
 There at the door they stood, with wondering 
 
 eyes to behold him 
 
22 Evangeline 
 
 Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse 
 
 as a plaything, 
 Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him 
 
 the tire of the cart-wheel 
 Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle 
 
 of cinders. 
 Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the 
 
 gathering darkness 
 Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through 
 
 every cranny and crevice. 
 Warm by the forge within they watched the 
 
 laboring bellows, 
 And as its panting ceased, and the sparks ex- 
 pired 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 hillside bounding, they glided away 
 
 o'er the meadow. 
 
Evangeline 23 
 
 Oft in the barns they cHmbed 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. 
 "Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; 
 
 for that was the sunshine 
 Which, as the farmers believed, w®uld load their 
 
 orchards with apples ; 
 
24 
 
 Evangeline 
 
 She, too, would bring to her husband's house 
 
 delight and abundance, 
 Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of 
 
 children. 
 
Evangeline 25 
 
 II 
 
 XT OW had the season returned, when the 
 nights grow colder and longer, 
 
 And the retreating sun the sign of the Scor- 
 pion enters. 
 
 Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, 
 from the ice-bound. 
 
 Desolate northern bays to the shores of trop- 
 ical islands. 
 
 Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the 
 winds of September 
 
 Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old 
 with the angel. 
 
 All the signs foretold a winter long and inclem- 
 ent. 
 
 Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoard- 
 ed their honey 
 
26 Evangeline 
 
 Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunt- 
 ers asserted 
 
 Cold would the winter be, for thick was the 
 fur of the foxes. 
 
 Such was the advent of autumn. Then fol- 
 lowed that beautiful season, 
 
 Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Sum- 
 mer 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 rest- 
 less heart of the ocean 
 
 Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were 
 in harmony blended. 
 
 Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks 
 in the farm-yards, 
 
 Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the coo- 
 ing of pigeons, 
 
Evangeline 27 
 
 All were subdued and low as the murmurs of 
 love, and the great sun 
 
 Looked with the eye of love through the golden 
 vapors around him ; 
 
 While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet 
 and yellow, 
 
 Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glit- 
 tering tree of the forest 
 
 Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned 
 with mantles and jewels. 
 
 Now recommenced the reign of rest and af- 
 fection and stillness. 
 
 Day with its burden and heat had departed, and 
 twihght 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. 
 
28 Evangeline 
 
 Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful 
 
 heifer, 
 Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that 
 
 waved from her collar, 
 Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human 
 
 affection. ^ 
 
 Then came the shepherd back with his bleating 
 
 flocks from the seaside. 
 Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them 
 
 followed the watch-dog, 
 Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride 
 
 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 flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; 
 
 their protector, 
 When from the forest at night, through the 
 
 starry silence, the wolves howled. 
 
Evangeline 29 
 
 Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains 
 
 from 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 blossoms. 
 Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded' 
 
 their udders 
 Unto the milkmaid'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, 
 
30 Evangeline 
 
 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. 
 
 In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace^ 
 
 idly the farmer 
 Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the 
 
 flames and the smoke-wreaths 
 Struggled together like foes in a burning city. 
 
 Behind him, 
 Nodding and mocking along the wall, wdth 
 
 gestures fantastic, 
 Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away 
 
 into darkness. 
 Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his 
 
 arm-chair 
 Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter 
 
 plates on the dresser 
 
Evangeline 3 1 
 
 Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of 
 armies the sunshine. 
 
 Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols 
 of Christmas, 
 
 Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers 
 before him 
 
 Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Bur- 
 gundian vineyards. 
 
 Close at her father's side was the gentle Evan- 
 geline seated, 
 
 Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the 
 corner behind her. 
 
 Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its 
 diligent shuttle. 
 
 While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like 
 the drone of a bagpipe. 
 
 Followed the old man's song, and united the frag- 
 ments together. 
 
 As in a church, when the chant of the choir at 
 intervals ceases, 
 
32 Evangeline 
 
 Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of 
 
 the priest at the altar, 
 So, in each pause of the song, v/ith 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 hob-nailed shoes it was 
 
 Basil the blacksmith, 
 And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who 
 
 was with him. 
 " Welcome ! " the farmer exclaimed, as their foot- 
 steps paused on the threshold, 
 "Welcome, Basil, my friend ! Come, take thy 
 
 place on the settle 
 Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty 
 
 without thee ; 
 Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the 
 
 box of tobacco ; 
 
Evangeline 33 
 
 Never so much thyself art thou as when through 
 
 the curUng 
 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 hast 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 Evan- 
 geline brought him, 
 3 
 
34 Evangeline 
 
 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 Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon 
 
 pointed against us. 
 What their design may be is unknown ; but all 
 
 are commanded 
 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." 
 Then made answer the farmer : — " Perhaps some 
 
 friendlier purpose 
 Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the 
 
 harvests in England 
 By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been 
 
 blighted, 
 
Eva7tgeline 35 
 
 And from our bursting barns they would feed 
 
 their cattle and children." 
 " Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, 
 
 warmly, the blacksmith, 
 Shaking his head, as in doubt ; then, heaving a 
 
 sigh, he continued : — 
 " Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau S^jour, 
 
 nor Port Royal. 
 Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on 
 
 its outskirts. 
 Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of 
 
 to-morrow. 
 Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weap- 
 ons of all kinds ; 
 Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and 
 
 the scythe of the mower." 
 Then with a pleasant smile made answer the 
 
 jovial farmer : — 
 " Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks 
 
 and our cornfields, 
 
36 Evangeline 
 
 Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the 
 
 ocean, 
 Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy'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 inkhorn. 
 Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy 
 
 of our children ? " 
 As apart by the window she stood, with her hand 
 
 in her lover's, 
 
Evangeline 
 
 37 
 
 Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her 
 
 father had spoken, 
 And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary 
 
 entered. 
 
 r 
 
38 Evangeline 
 
 III 
 
 "OENT like a laboring oar, that toils in the 
 
 surf of the ocean, 
 Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the 
 
 notary public ; 
 Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the 
 
 maize, hung 
 Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and 
 
 glasses with horn bows 
 Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom 
 
 supernal. 
 Father of twenty children was he, and more than 
 
 a hundred 
 Children's children rode on his knee, and heard 
 
 his great watch tick. 
 Four long years in the times of the war had he 
 
 languished a captive, 
 
Evangeline 39 
 
 Suffering much in an old French fort as the 
 
 friend of the EngHsh. 
 Now, though warier grown, without all guile or 
 
 suspicion. 
 Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, 
 
 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 unchristened 
 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, 
 
40 Evangeline 
 
 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 blacksmith, 
 Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly 
 
 extending his right hand, 
 " Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, " thou hast 
 
 heard the talk in 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 bet- 
 ter than others. 
 Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil 
 
 intention 
 
Evangeline a^i 
 
 Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why 
 then molest us ? " 
 
 " God's name ! " shouted the hasty and some- 
 what irascible blacksmith ; 
 
 " Must we in all things look for the how, and 
 the why, and the wherefore ? 
 
 Daily injustice is done, and might is the right 
 of the strongest ! " 
 
 But, without heeding his warmth, continued the 
 notary public : — 
 
 "Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally 
 justice 
 
 Triumphs ; and well I remember a story, that 
 often consoled me, 
 
 When as a captive I lay in the old French fort 
 at Port Royal." 
 
 This was the old man's favorite tale, and he 
 loved to repeat it 
 
 When his neighbors complained that any injus- 
 tice was done them. 
 
42 Evangeline 
 
 " Once in an ancient city, whose name I no 
 
 longer remember, 
 Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of 
 
 Justice 
 Stood in the public square, upholding the scales 
 
 in its left hand. 
 And in its right a sword, as an emblem that jus- 
 tice presided 
 Over the laws of the 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 flashed in the 
 
 sunshine above them. 
 But in the course of time the laws of the land 
 
 were corrupted ; 
 Might took the place of right, and the weak 
 
 were oppressed, and the mighty 
 Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a 
 
 nobleman's palace 
 
Evangeline 43 
 
 That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong 
 
 a suspicion 
 Fell on an orphan girl who 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 tempest 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 found the nest 
 
 of a magpie. 
 Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of 
 
 pearls was inwoven." 
 
44 Evangeline 
 
 Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was 
 
 ended, the blacksmith 
 Stood like a man who fain would speak, but 
 
 findeth 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 
 Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength 
 
 in the village of Grand-Pre ; 
 While from his pocket the notary drew his pa- 
 
 pers and inkhorn. 
 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 cattle. 
 
Evangeline 45 
 
 Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well 
 
 were completed, 
 And the great seal of the law was set like a 
 
 sun on the margin. 
 Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw 
 
 on the table 
 Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces 
 
 of silver ; 
 And the notary rising, and blessing the bride 
 
 and the bridegroom, 
 Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to 
 
 their welfare. 
 Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed 
 
 and departed, 
 While in silence the others sat and mused by 
 
 the fireside. 
 Till Evangeline brought the draught-board out 
 
 of its corner. 
 Soon was the game begun. In friendly con- 
 tention the old men 
 
46 Evangeline 
 
 Laughed at each kicky hit, or unsuccessful ma- 
 noeuvre, 
 
 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 embrasure, 
 
 Sat the lovers, and whispered together, behold- 
 ing the moon rise 
 
 Over the pallid sea apd the silvery mist of the 
 meadows. 
 
 Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of 
 heaven. 
 
 Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots 
 of the angels. 
 
 Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell 
 
 from the belfry 
 Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, 
 
 and straightway 
 Rose the guests and departed ; and silence 
 
 reigned in the household. 
 
Evangeline 47 
 
 Many a farewell word and sweet good night 
 
 on the door-step 
 Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled 
 
 it with gladness. 
 Carefully then were covered the embers that 
 
 glowed on the hearth-stone, 
 And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread 
 
 of the farmer. 
 Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evange- 
 line followed. 
 Up the staircase moved a luminous space in 
 
 the darkness, 
 Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face 
 
 of the maiden. 
 Silent she passed the hall, and entered the door 
 
 of her chamber. 
 Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of 
 
 white, and its clothes-press 
 Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were 
 
 carefully folded 
 
48 Evangeline 
 
 Linen and woollen stuffs, by the hand of Evange- 
 line woven. 
 This was the precious dower she would bring to 
 
 her husband 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 
 Streamed through the windows, and lighted the 
 
 room, till the heart of the maiden 
 Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous 
 
 tides of the ocean. 
 Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she 
 
 stood with 
 Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of 
 
 her chamber! 
 Little she dreamed that below, among the trees 
 
 of the orchard, 
 Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of 
 
 her lamp and her shadow. 
 
Evangeline 49 
 
 Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a 
 
 feeHng of sadness 
 Passed o'er her soul, as the saiUng shade of clouds 
 
 in the moonlight 
 FHtted across the floor and darkened the room 
 
 for a moment. 
 And, as she gazed from the window, she saw 
 
 serenely the moon pass 
 Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star 
 
 follow her footsteps. 
 As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered 
 
 with Hagar! 
 
50 Evangeline 
 
 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 riding 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 neighboring hamlets, 
 Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian 
 
 peasants. 
 Many a glad good morrow and jocund laugh from 
 
 the young folk 
 
Evangeline 5 1 
 
 Made the bright air brighter, as up from the 
 
 numerous meadows, 
 Where no path could be seen but the track of 
 
 wheels in the greensward. 
 Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed 
 
 on the highway. 
 Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor 
 
 were silenced. 
 Thronged were the streets with people ; and 
 
 noisy groups at the house-doors 
 Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped 
 
 together. 
 Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed 
 
 and feasted ; 
 For with this simple people, who lived like broth- 
 ers together. 
 All things were held in common, and what one 
 
 had was another's. 
 Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed 
 
 more abundant : 
 
52 Evangeline 
 
 For Evangeline 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. 
 
 Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the 
 
 orchard, 
 Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of 
 
 betrothal. 
 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. 
 Shadow and light from the leaves alternately 
 
 played on his snow-white 
 
Evangeline 53 
 
 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, 
 
 Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de 
 Dimkerque, 
 
 And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to 
 the music. 
 
 Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzy- 
 ing dances 
 
 Under the orchard-trees and down the path to 
 the meadows ; 
 
 Old folk and young together, and children min- 
 gled among them. 
 
 Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Bene- 
 dict's daughter! 
 
 Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of 
 the blacksmith! 
 
54 Evangeline 
 
 So passed the morning away. And lo! with 
 a summons sonorous 
 
 Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the 
 meadows a drum beat. 
 
 Thronged erelong was the church with men. 
 Without, in the churchyard, 
 
 Waited the women. They stood by the graves, 
 and hung on the headstones 
 
 Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh 
 from the forest. 
 
 Then came the guard from the ships, and march- 
 ing proudly among them 
 
 Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dis- 
 sonant clangor 
 
 Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from 
 ceiling and casement, — 
 
 Echoed a moment only, and slowly the pon- 
 derous portal 
 
 Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the 
 will of the soldiers. 
 
Evangeline 55 
 
 Tben uprose their commander, and spake from 
 
 the steps of the altar, 
 Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the 
 
 royal commission. 
 "You are convened this day," he said, "by his 
 
 Majesty's orders. 
 Clement and kind has he been ; but how you 
 
 have answered 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 your- 
 selves from this province 
 Be transported to other lands. God grant you 
 
 may dwell there. 
 
$6 Evangeline 
 
 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 
 
 enclosures ; 
 So on the hearts of the people descended the 
 
 words of the speaker. 
 Silent a moment they stood in speechless won- 
 der, and then rose 
 Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and 
 
 anger. 
 
Evangelme 57 
 
 And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed 
 
 to the door-way. 
 Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and 
 
 fierce imprecations 
 Rang through the house of prayer; and high 
 
 o'er the heads of the others 
 Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil 
 
 the blacksmith. 
 As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the 
 
 billows. 
 Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; 
 
 and wildly he shouted, ^ — 
 ** Down with the tyrants of England !^ we never 
 
 have sworn them allegiance ! 
 Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on 
 
 our homes and our harvests ! " 
 More he fain would have said, but the merci- 
 less hand of a soldier 
 Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him 
 
 down to the pavement. 
 
58 Evangeline 
 
 In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry 
 
 contention, 
 Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father 
 
 Felician 
 Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the 
 
 steps of the altar. 
 Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he 
 
 awed into silence 
 All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake 
 
 to his people ; 
 Deep were hts tones and solemn ; in accents 
 
 measured and mournful 
 Spake he, as, after the tocsin's alarum, distinctly 
 
 the clock strikes. 
 "What is this that ye do, my children.? what 
 
 madness has seized you .-^ 
 Forty years of my life have I labored among 
 
 you, and taught you, 
 Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one 
 
 another ! 
 
Evangeline 59 
 
 Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and 
 
 prayers and privations ? 
 Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love 
 
 and forgiveness ? 
 This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and 
 
 would you profane it 
 Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing 
 
 with hatred ? 
 Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross 
 
 is gazing upon you ! 
 See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness 
 
 and holy compassion ! 
 Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, 
 
 ^ O Father, forgive them ! ' 
 Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the 
 
 wicked assail us. 
 Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, for- 
 give them!'" 
 Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the 
 
 hearts of his people 
 
6o Evangeline 
 
 Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the 
 
 passionate outbreak, 
 While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O 
 
 Father, forgive 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 ascend- 
 ing to heaven. 
 
 Meanwhile had spread in the village the tid- 
 ings of ill, and on all sides 
 Wandered, waihng, from house to house the 
 women and children. 
 
Evangeline 6i 
 
 Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, 
 with her right hand 
 
 Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the 
 sun, that, descending, 
 
 Lighted the village street with mysterious splen- 
 dor, and roofed each 
 
 Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and em- 
 blazoned 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 ; 
 
 And, at the head of the board, the great arm- 
 chair of the farmer. 
 
 Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, 
 as the sunset 
 
 Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad 
 ambrosial meadows. 
 
62 Evangeline 
 
 Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had 
 fallen, 
 
 And from the fields of her soul a fragrance 
 celestial ascended, — 
 
 Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgive- 
 ness, and patience ! 
 
 Then, all-forgetful of self, she wandered into 
 the village, 
 
 Cheering with looks and words the mournful 
 hearts of the women, 
 
 As o'er the darkening fields with Ungering steps 
 they departed. 
 
 Urged by their household cares, and the weary 
 feet of their children. 
 
 Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glim- 
 mering vapors 
 
 Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet 
 descending from Sinai. 
 
 Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus 
 sounded. 
 
Evajigeline 63 
 
 Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evan- 
 geline lingered. 
 
 All was silent within ; and in vain at the door 
 and the windows 
 
 Stood she, and listened and looked, till, over- 
 come by emotion, 
 
 " Gabriel ! " cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; 
 but no answer 
 
 Came from the graves of the dead, nor th'e 
 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 
 was the supper untasted. 
 
 Empty and drear was each room, and haunted 
 with phantoms of terror. 
 
 Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor 
 of her chamber. 
 
 In the dead of the night she heard the discon- 
 solate rain fall 
 
64 Evangeline 
 
 Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamol-e-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 peace- 
 fully slumbered till morning. 
 
Evangeline 65 
 
 T70UR times the sun had risen and set; and 
 
 now on the fifth day 
 Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids 
 
 of the farm-house. 
 Soc#i o'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful 
 
 procession, 
 Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms 
 
 the Acadian women, 
 Driving in ponderous wains their household goods 
 
 to the sea-shore. 
 Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on 
 
 their dwellings, 
 Ere they were shut from sight by the winding 
 
 road and the woodland. 
 Close at their sides their children ran, and urged 
 
 on the oxen, 
 
66 Evangeline 
 
 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, 
 Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums 
 
 from the churchyard. 
 Thither the women and children thronged. On 
 
 a sudden the church-doors 
 Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching 
 
 in gloomy procession 
 Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Aca- 
 dian farmers. 
 
Evangeline 6j 
 
 Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their 
 
 homes and their country, 
 Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are 
 
 weary and wayworn, 
 So with song-s on their hps 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 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 sub- 
 mission and patience ! " 
 Then the old men, as they marched, and the 
 
 women that stood by the wayside 
 Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the 
 
 sunshine above them 
 
68 Evangeline 
 
 Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of 
 spirits departed. 
 
 Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited 
 
 in silence, 
 Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour 
 
 01 affliction, — 
 Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession 
 
 approached her, 
 And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with 
 
 emotion. 
 Tears then filled her eyes, and, eagerly running 
 
 to meet him. 
 Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his 
 
 shoulder, and whispered, — 
 " Gabriel ! be of good cheer ! for if we love one 
 
 another. 
 Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mis- 
 chances may happen!" 
 Smilin.g she spake these words ; then suddenly 
 
 paused, for her father 
 
Evangeline 69 
 
 Saw she slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed 
 
 was his aspect ! 
 Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire 
 
 from his eye, and his footstep 
 Heavier seemed with the weight of the heavy 
 
 heart in his bosom. 
 But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his 
 
 neck and embraced him, 
 Speaking words of endearment 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 embarking. 
 
 Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the con- 
 fusion 
 
 Wives were torn from their husbands, and moth- 
 ers, too late, saw their children 
 
 Left on the land, extending their arms, with 
 wildest entreaties. 
 
yo Evangeline 
 
 So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel 
 carried, 
 
 While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood 
 with her father. 
 
 Half the task was not done when the sun went 
 down, and the twilight 
 
 Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste 
 the refluent ocean 
 
 Fled away from the shore, and left the line of 
 the sand-beach 
 
 Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and 
 the slippery sea-weed. 
 
 Farther back in the midst of the household goods 
 and the wagons, 
 
 Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a bat- 
 tle. 
 
 All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels 
 near them, 
 
 Lay encamped for the night the houseless Aca- 
 dian farmers 
 
Evangeline 71 
 
 Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellow- 
 ing ocean, 
 Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, 
 
 and leaving 
 Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats 
 
 of the sailors. 
 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. 
 
 But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires 
 had been kindled, 
 
72 Evangeline 
 
 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 faithful priest, consoling and bless- 
 ing and cheering, 
 Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate 
 
 sea-shore. 
 Thus he approached the place where Evangeline 
 
 sat with her father, 
 And in the flickering light beheld 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 
 
 have been taken. 
 
Evangeline 73 
 
 Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses 
 
 to cheer him, 
 Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he 
 
 looked not, he spake not, 
 But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flick- 
 ering fire-light. 
 '^ Benedicite !'' murmured the priest, in tones of 
 
 compassion. 
 More he fain would have said, but his heart 
 
 was full, and his accents 
 Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of 
 
 a child on a 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 tearful eyes to the silent stars that 
 
 above them 
 Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs 
 
 and sorrows of mortals. 
 
74 Evangeline 
 
 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 quivering hands of a martyr. 
 Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the 
 
 burning thatch, and, uplifting, 
 
Evangeline 75 
 
 Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from 
 
 a hundred house-tops 
 Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame 
 
 intermingled. 
 
 These things beheld in dismay the crowd on 
 
 the shore and on shipboard. 
 Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud 
 
 in their anguish, 
 "We shall behold no more our homes in the 
 
 village of Grand-Pre ! " 
 Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in 
 
 the farm-yards, 
 Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the 
 
 lowing of cattle 
 Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of 
 
 dogs interrupted. 
 Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the 
 
 sleeping encampments 
 Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt 
 
 the Nebraska, 
 
76 Evangeline 
 
 When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with 
 
 the speed of the whirlwind, 
 Or the loud 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 companion, 
 Lo ! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched 
 
 abroad on the sea-shore 
 Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had 
 
 departed. 
 Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and 
 
 the maiden 
 
Evangeline 77 
 
 Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in 
 
 her terror. 
 Then in a swoon she sank, arid lay with her head 
 
 on his bosom. 
 Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious 
 
 slumber ; 
 And when she woke from the trance, she beheld 
 
 a multitude near her. 
 Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully 
 
 gazing upon her. 
 Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest 
 
 compassion. 
 Still the blaze of the burning village illumined 
 
 the landscape, 
 Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the 
 
 faces around her. 
 And like the day of doom it seemed to her 
 
 wavering senses. 
 Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to 
 
 the people, — 
 
78 Evangeline 
 
 "Let us bury him here by the sea. When a 
 
 happier season 
 Brings us again to our homes from the unknown 
 
 land of our exile, 
 Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in 
 
 the churchyard." 
 Such were the words of the priest. And there in 
 
 haste by the seaside, 
 Having the glare of the burning village for funeral 
 
 torches. 
 But without bell or book, they buried the farmer 
 
 of Grand-Pre. 
 And as the voice of the priest repeated the ser- 
 vice of sorrow, 
 Lo ! with a mournful sound, like the voice of a 
 
 vast congregation, 
 Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar 
 
 with the dirges. 
 'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the 
 
 waste of the ocean, 
 
Evangeline 79 
 
 With the first dawn of the day, came heaving 
 
 and hurrying landward. 
 Then recommenced once more the stir and noise 
 
 of embarking ; 
 And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed 
 
 out of the harbor, 
 Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, 
 
 and the village in ruins. 
 
PART THE SECOND 
 
 TV /T ANY a weary year had passed since the 
 
 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 
 
Evangeline 8i 
 
 Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the 
 Banks of Newfoundland. 
 
 Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered 
 from city to city. 
 
 From the cold lakes of the North to sultry South- 
 ern savannas, — 
 
 From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands 
 where the Father of Waters 
 
 Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them 
 down to the ocean, 
 
 Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones 
 of the mammoth. 
 
 Friends they sought and homes ; and many, de- 
 spairing, heart-broken. 
 
 Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer 
 a friend nor a fireside. 
 
 Written their history stands on tablets of stone 
 in the churchyards. 
 
 Long among them was seen a maiden who waited 
 and wandered, 
 
82 Evangeline 
 
 Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently 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 suffered before her, 
 Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead 
 
 and abandoned. 
 As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert 
 
 is marked by 
 Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach 
 
 in the sunshine. 
 Something there was in her life incomplete, im- 
 perfect, unfinished ; 
 As if a morning of June, with all its music and 
 
 sunshine. 
 Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly 
 
 descended 
 
Evangeline 83 
 
 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 endeavor ; 
 Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on 
 
 the crosses and tombstones, 
 Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that 
 
 perhaps 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^ 
 
84 Evangeline 
 
 But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for- 
 gotten. 
 
 " Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " they said ; " 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 Louisi- 
 ana." 
 
 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 
 
Evangeline 85 
 
 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 sad- 
 ly, " 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 darkness." 
 
 Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-con- 
 fessor, 
 
 Said, with a smile, " O daughter ! 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 
 
86 Evangeline 
 
 Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them 
 
 full of refreshment ; 
 That which the fountain sends forth returns 
 
 again to the fountain. 
 Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy 
 
 work of affection ! 
 Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient en- 
 durance is godlike. . 
 Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the 
 
 heart is made godlike. 
 Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered 
 
 more worthy of heaven ! " 
 Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline 
 
 labored and waited. 
 Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of 
 
 the ocean, 
 But with its sound there was mingled a voice 
 
 that whispered, " Despair not ! " 
 Thus did that poor soul wander in want and 
 
 cheerless discomfort, 
 
Evangeline 87 
 
 Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns 
 of existence. 
 
 Let me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wander- 
 er's footsteps ; — 
 
 Not through each devious path, each changeful 
 year of existence ; 
 
 But as a traveller follows a streamlet's course 
 through the valley : 
 
 Far from its margin at times, and seeing the 
 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 contin- 
 uous murmur ; 
 
 Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it 
 reaches an outlet. 
 
88 Evajigeline 
 
 II 
 
 T T 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 boatmen. 
 It was a band of exiles : a raft, as it were, from 
 
 the shipwrecked 
 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, 
 
Evangeline 89 
 
 Sought for their kith and their kin among the 
 
 few-acred farmers 
 On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair 
 
 Opelousas. 
 With them EvangeUne went, and her guide, the 
 
 Father Felician. 
 Onward o'er sunken sands, through a wilderness 
 
 sombre with forests, 
 Day after day they glided adown the turbulent 
 
 river ; 
 Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped 
 
 on its borders. 
 Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, 
 
 where plumelike 
 Cotton-trees nodded their shadowy crests, they 
 
 swept with the current. 
 Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery 
 
 sand-bars 
 Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves 
 
 of their margin, 
 
go Evangeline 
 
 Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of 
 
 pelicans waded. 
 Level the landscape grew, and along the shores 
 
 of the river, 
 Shaded by china-trees, in the midst of luxuriant 
 
 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 eastward. 
 They, too, swerved from their course ; and, enter- 
 ing the Bayou of Plaquemine, 
 Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious 
 
 waters, 
 Which, like a network of steel, extended in every 
 
 direction. 
 
Evangeline 9 1 
 
 Over their heads the towering and tenebrous 
 
 boughs of the cypress 
 Met in a dusky arch, and traiUng 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 returnins: 
 
 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 cypress and cedar 
 
 sustaining the arches, 
 Down through whose broken vaults it fell as 
 
 through chinks in a ruin, 
 DreamUke, and indistinct, and strange were all 
 
 things around them ; 
 
92 Evangeline 
 
 And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of 
 
 wonder and sadness, — 
 Strange forebodings of ill, unseen and that cannot 
 
 be compassed. 
 As, at the tramp of a horse'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 Gabriel wan- 
 dered before her, 
 
Evangeline 93 
 
 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 per- 
 
 adventure 
 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 darkness; 
 
94 Evangeline 
 
 And, when the echoes had ceased, Hke a sense 
 
 of pain was the silence. 
 Then Evangehne slept ; but the boatmen rowed 
 
 through the midnight, 
 Silent at times, then singing famihar Canadian 
 
 boat-songs, 
 Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian 
 
 rivers. 
 While through the night were heard the myste- 
 rious 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. 
 
 Thus ere another noon they emerged from the 
 shades ; and before them 
 
 Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atcha- 
 falaya. 
 
 Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undu- 
 lations 
 
Evangeline 95 
 
 Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in 
 
 beauty, the lotus 
 Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the 
 
 boatmen. 
 Faint was the air with the odorous breath of 
 
 magnolia blossoms. 
 And with the heat of noon ; and numberless 
 
 sylvan islands, 
 Fragrant and thickly embowered 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 
 
 suspended. 
 Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew 
 
 by the margin. 
 Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered 
 
 about on the greensward, 
 Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers 
 
 slumbered. 
 
96 Evangeline 
 
 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 stairs the angels ascending, 
 
 descending, 
 Were the swift humming-birds^ that flitted from 
 
 blossom to blossom. 
 Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she 
 
 slumbered beneath it. 
 Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn 
 
 of an opening heaven 
 Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory ol 
 
 regions celestial. 
 
 Nearer and ever nearer, among the number- 
 less islands, 
 Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er 
 the water, 
 
Evangelifie c)y 
 
 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 care-worn. 
 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, 
 
gS Evangeline 
 
 All 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, 
 As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and 
 
 the maiden 
 Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, " O Father 
 
 Felician ! 
 Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel 
 
 wanders. 
 Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague super- 
 stition ? 
 Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth 
 
 to my spirit ? " 
 Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my 
 
 credulous fancy ! 
 
Evangeline 99 
 
 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 avv^ay to 
 
 the southward, 
 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 sheepfold. 
 
lOO Evangeline 
 
 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." 
 
 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 landscape ; 
 Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and 
 
 forest 
 Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and 
 
 mingled together. 
 Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges 
 
 of silver, 
 
Evangeline lOl 
 
 Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the 
 motionless water. 
 
 Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible 
 sweetness. 
 
 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 a 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 de- 
 lirious 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 Bacchantes. 
 
102 Evangeline 
 
 Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low 
 
 lamentation ; 
 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 woodland, 
 Saw the column of smoke that arose from a 
 
 neighboring dwelling ; — 
 Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant 
 
 lowing of cattle. 
 
Evangeline 103 
 
 III 
 
 'VTEAR to the bank of the river, overshadowed 
 by oaks, from whose branches 
 
 Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe 
 flaunted, 
 
 Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets 
 at Yule-tide, 
 
 Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herds- 
 man. A garden 
 
 Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant 
 blossoms. 
 
 Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself 
 was of timbers 
 
 Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted 
 together. 
 
 Large and low was the roof; and on slender 
 columns supported, 
 
i04 Evangeline 
 
 Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spa- 
 cious veranda, 
 
 Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, ex- 
 tended around it. 
 
 At each end of the house, amid the flowers of 
 the garden, 
 
 Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual 
 symbol. 
 
 Scenes of endless wooing, and endless conten- 
 tions of rivals. 
 
 Silence reigned o'er the place. The Une 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 pathway 
 
Evangeline 105 
 
 Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of 
 
 the limitless 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. 
 
io6 Evangeline 
 
 Round about him were numberless herds of kine, 
 
 that were grazing 
 Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory 
 
 freshness 
 That uprose from the river, and spread itself over 
 
 the landscape. 
 Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and 
 
 expanding 
 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 white 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. 
 
Evangeline loy 
 
 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. 
 Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in 
 
 amazement, and forward 
 Rushed with extended arms and exclamations 
 
 of wonder ; 
 When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil 
 
 the blacksmith. 
 Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to 
 
 the garden. 
 There in an arbor of roses with endless question 
 
 and answer 
 Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their 
 
 friendly embraces. 
 Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent 
 
 and thoughtful. 
 Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not ; and now dark 
 
 doubts and misgivings 
 
lo8 Evangeline 
 
 Stole o'er the maiden's heart ; and Basil, some- 
 what embarrassed, 
 
 Broke the silence and said, "If you came by 
 the Atchafalaya, 
 
 How have you nowhere encountered my Ga- 
 briel'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. 
 
Evangeline 1 09 
 
 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; 
 
1 10 Evangeline 
 
 He is not far on his way, and the Fates and 
 
 the streams are against him. 
 Up 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 Olympus, 
 Having no other care than dispensing music to 
 
 mortals. 
 Far renowned was he for his silver locks and 
 
 his fiddle. 
 " Long live Michael," they cried, " our brave 
 
 Acadian minstrel ! " 
 As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; 
 
 and straightway 
 
Evangeline ill 
 
 Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greet- 
 ing the old man 
 Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while 
 
 Basil, enraptured. 
 Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and 
 
 f^ossips, 
 Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers 
 
 and daughters. 
 Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the 
 
 ci-devant blacksmith. 
 All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal 
 
 demeanor ; 
 Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the 
 
 soil and the climate. 
 And of the prairies, whose numberless herds 
 
 were his who would take them; 
 Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would 
 
 go and do likewise. 
 Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the 
 
 breezy veranda, 
 
112 Evangeline 
 
 Entered the hall of the house, 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 land- 
 scape with silver, 
 Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars ; 
 
 but within doors. 
 Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends 
 
 in the glimmering 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 : -^ 
 
Evangeline II3 
 
 "Welcome once more, my friends, who 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 ploughshare 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 un- 
 claimed in the prairies ; 
 Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and 
 
 forests of timber 
 With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed 
 
 into houses. 
 
 8 
 
114 Evangeline 
 
 After your houses are built, and your fields are 
 
 yellow with harvests, 
 No King George of England shall drive you away 
 
 from your homesteads, 
 Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing 
 
 your farms and your cattle." 
 Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud 
 
 from his nostrils. 
 While his huge, brown hand came thundering 
 
 down on the table. 
 So that the guests all started ; and Father Fe- 
 
 lician, astounded, 
 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 the fever ! 
 For it is not like that of our cold Acadian 
 
 climate, 
 
Evangeline 1 1 5 
 
 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. 
 Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country 
 
 together. 
 But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, 
 
 proceeding 
 
Ii6 Evangeline 
 
 From the accordant strings of Michael's melo- 
 dious fiddle, 
 
 Broke up all further speech. Away, like children 
 delighted. 
 
 All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves 
 to the maddening 
 
 Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed 
 to the music, 
 
 Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of 
 fluttering garments. 
 
 Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the 
 priest and the herdsman 
 
 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 irre- 
 pressible sadness 
 
Evangeline 117 
 
 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 
 
ii8 Evangeline 
 
 Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable 
 
 longings, 
 As, through the garden gate, and beneath the 
 
 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 
 
 fireflies 
 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 fireflies, 
 
Evangeline 1 19 
 
 Wandered alone, and she cried, " O Gabriel ! 
 
 O my beloved! 
 Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot 
 
 behold thee? 
 Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice 
 
 does not reach me? 
 Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to 
 
 the prairie! 
 Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the 
 
 woodlands around me! 
 Ah ! how often beneath this oak, returning from 
 
 labor, 
 Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of 
 
 me in thy slumbers. 
 When shall these eyes behold, these arms be 
 
 folded about thee?" 
 Loud and sudden and near the note of a whip- 
 
 poorwill sounded 
 Like a flute in the woods ; and anon, through 
 
 the neighboring thickets, 
 
120 Evangelhie 
 
 Farther and farther away it floated and dropped 
 
 into silence. 
 " Patience ! " whispered the oaks from oracular 
 
 caverns of darkness ; 
 And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, 
 
 " To-morrow ! " 
 
 Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the 
 
 flowers of the garden 
 Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and 
 
 anointed his tresses 
 With the delicious balm that they bore in their 
 
 vases of crystal. 
 " Farewell ! " said the priest, as he stood at the 
 
 shadowy threshold ; 
 "See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from 
 
 his fasting and famine, 
 And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when 
 
 the bridegroom was coming." 
 ** Farewell ! " answered the maiden, and, smiling, 
 
 with Basil descended 
 
Evangeline 121 
 
 Down to the rivers 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 speeding before them, 
 Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over 
 
 the desert. 
 Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that 
 
 succeeded. 
 Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest 
 
 or river, 
 Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but 
 
 vague and uncertain 
 Rumors alone were their guides through a wild 
 
 and desolate country ; 
 Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of 
 
 Adayes, 
 Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from 
 
 the garrulous landlord, 
 
122 
 
 Evangeline 
 
 That on the day before, with horses and guides 
 
 and companions, 
 Gabriel left the village, and took the road of 
 
 the prairies. 
 
Evangeline 123 
 
 IV 
 
 TP^AR in the West there lies a desert land, 
 
 where the mountains 
 
 Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and 
 luminous summits. 
 
 Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where 
 the gorge, like a gateway, 
 
 Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emi- 
 grant's wagon. 
 
 Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway 
 and Owyhee. 
 
 Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind- 
 river Mountains, 
 
 Through the Sweet-water Valley precipitate 
 leaps the Nebraska; 
 
 And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and 
 the Spanish sierras, 
 
124 Evangeline 
 
 Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by 
 the wind of the desert, 
 
 Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, de- 
 scend to the ocean. 
 
 Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and 
 solemn vibrations. 
 
 Spreading between these streams are the won- 
 drous, beautiful prairies, 
 
 Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and 
 sunshine. 
 
 Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and 
 purple amorphas. 
 
 Over them wandered the buffalo herds, and the 
 elk and the roebuck; 
 
 Over them wandered 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 Ish- 
 mael's children^ 
 
Evangeline 125 
 
 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 slaugh- 
 tered 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-running rivers ; 
 And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk 
 
 of the desert, 
 Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots 
 
 by the brookside. 
 And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline 
 
 heaven. 
 Like the protecting hand of God inverted above 
 
 them. 
 
126 Evangeline 
 
 Into this wonderful land, at the base of the 
 
 Ozark Mountains, 
 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. 
 Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the 
 
 smoke of his camp-fire 
 Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; 
 
 but at nightfall. 
 When they had reached the place, they found 
 
 only embers and ashes. 
 And, though their hearts were sad at times and 
 
 their bodies were weary, 
 Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata 
 
 Morgana 
 Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated 
 
 and vanished before them. 
 
Evangeline 127 
 
 Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there 
 
 silently entered 
 Into the little camp 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 Coureur-des- 
 
 Bois, had been murdered. 
 Touched were their hearts at her story, and 
 
 warmest and friendliest welcome 
 Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and 
 
 feasted among them 
 On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on 
 
 the embers. 
 But when their meal was done, and Basil and 
 
 all his companions, 
 
128 Evangeline 
 
 Worn 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 fire-light 
 Flashed on their 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 
 
 pains, and reverses. 
 Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know 
 
 that another 
 Hapless heart like her own had loved and had 
 
 been disappointed. 
 Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and 
 
 woman's compassion. 
 Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had 
 
 suffered was near her, 
 
Evangeline 129 
 
 She in turn related her love and all its disas- 
 ters. 
 
 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 re- 
 peated the tale of the Mowis ; 
 
 Mowis, 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 seemed 
 like a weird incantation. 
 
 Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was 
 wooed by a phantom, 
 
1 30 Evangeline 
 
 That, through the pines o'er her father's lodge, 
 in the hush of the twiHght, 
 
 Breathed Hke 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, Evan- 
 geline listened 
 
 To the soft flow of her magical words, till the 
 region around her 
 
 Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swar- 
 thy 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 sombre leaves, and embracing and 
 filling the woodland. 
 
Evangeline 131 
 
 With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, 
 and the branches 
 
 Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible 
 whispers. 
 
 Filled with the thoughts of love was Evange- 
 line'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 swallow. 
 
 It was no earthly fear. A breath from the re- 
 gion of spirits 
 
 Seemed to float in the air of night ; and she 
 felt for a moment 
 
 That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pur- 
 suing a phantom. 
 
 With this thought she slept, and the fear and 
 the phantom had vanished. 
 
 Early upon the morrow the march was re- 
 sumed ; and the Shawnee 
 
132 Evangeline 
 
 Said, as they journeyed along, " On the west- 
 ern slope of these mountains 
 
 Dwells in his little village the Black Robe 
 chief of the Mission. 
 
 Much he 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 answered, 
 
 "Let us go to the Mission, for there good tid- 
 ings await us ! " 
 
 Thither they turned their steeds ; and behind 
 a spur of the mountains. 
 
 Just as the sun went down, they heard a mur- 
 mur 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. 
 
Evangeline 133 
 
 Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst 
 of the village, 
 
 Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. 
 A crucifix fastened 
 
 High on the trunk of the tree, and overshad- 
 owed 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 ves- 
 pers. 
 
 Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and 
 sighs of the branches. 
 
 Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, 
 nearer approaching, 
 
 Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the 
 evening devotions. 
 
 But when the service was done, and the bene- 
 diction had fallen 
 
1 34 Evangeline 
 
 Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed 
 from the hands of the sower, 
 
 Slowly the reverend man advanced to the stran- 
 gers and bade them 
 
 Welcome ; and when they replied, he smiled 
 with benignant expression. 
 
 Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother- 
 tongue in the forest. 
 
 And, with words of kindness, conducted them 
 into his wigwam. 
 
 There upon mats and skins they reposed, and 
 on cakes of the maize-ear 
 
 Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the wa- 
 ter gourd of the teacher. 
 
 Soon was their story told ; and the priest with 
 solemnity answered : — 
 
 " Not six suns have risen and set since Ga- 
 briel, seated 
 
 On this mat by my side, where now the maiden 
 reposes, 
 
Evangeline 135 
 
 Told me this same sad tale ; then arose and 
 
 continued his journey ! " 
 Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake 
 
 with an accent of kindness ; 
 But on Evangeline's heart fell his words as in 
 
 winter the snow-flakes 
 Fall into some lone nest from which the birds 
 
 have departed. 
 "Far to the north he has gone," 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 submissive, 
 "Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad 
 
 and afflicted." 
 So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and be- 
 times on the morrow, 
 Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian 
 
 guides and companions, 
 
136 Evangeline 
 
 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 
 
 Green from the ground when a stranger she 
 came, now waving above her, 
 
 Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interla- 
 cing, and forming 
 
 Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pil- 
 laged by squirrels. 
 
 Then in the golden weather the maize was 
 husked, and the maidens 
 
 Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that beto- 
 kened a lover. 
 
 But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief 
 in the cornfield. 
 
 Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought 
 not her lover. 
 
Evangeline 137 
 
 " 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 are turned to the north, as 
 true as the magnet ; 
 
 This is the compass-flower, that the finger of 
 God has planted 
 
 Here in the houseless wild, to direct the travel- 
 ler's journey 
 
 Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of 
 the desert. 
 
 Such in the soul of man is faith. The blos- 
 soms of passion. 
 
 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 
 
138 Evangeline 
 
 Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet 
 with the dews of nepenthe." 
 
 So came the autumn, and passed, and the 
 winter, — yet Gabriel came not ; 
 
 Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes 
 of the robin and bluebird 
 
 Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet 
 Gabriel came not. 
 
 But on the breath of the summer winds a ru- 
 mor 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 his 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. 
 
Evangeline 1 39 
 
 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 Mo- 
 ravian Missions, 
 
 Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields 
 of the army. 
 
 Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and popu- 
 lous cities. 
 
 Like a phantom she came, and passed away 
 unremembered. 
 
 Fair was she and young, when in hope began 
 the long journey ; 
 
140 Evangeline 
 
 Faded was she and old, when in disappointment 
 it ended. 
 
 Each succeeding year stole something away 
 from her beauty, 
 
 Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the 
 gloom and the shadow. 
 
 Then there appeared and spread faint streaks 
 of gray o'er her forehead, 
 
 Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earth- 
 ly horizon, 
 
 As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of 
 the morning. 
 
 
Evangeline 141 
 
 TN 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. 
 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 children of Penn a home 
 
 and a country. 
 
142 Evangeline 
 
 There old Rene Leblanc 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 ; 
 
 And her ear was pleased with the Thee and 
 Thou of the Quakers, 
 
 For it recalled the past, the old Acadian coun- 
 try. 
 
 Where all men were equal, and all were broth- 
 ers and sisters. 
 
 So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed 
 endeavor, 
 
 Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, 
 uncomplaining. 
 
 Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her 
 thoughts and her footsteps. 
 
Evangeline 143 
 
 As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of 
 
 the morning 
 Roll away, and afar we behold 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, but all illumined with love ; 
 
 and the pathway 
 Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth 
 
 and fair in the distance. 
 Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart 
 
 was his image. 
 Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as 
 
 last she beheld him. 
 Only more beautiful made by his deathlike si- 
 lence and absence. 
 Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for 
 
 it was not. 
 
144 Evangeline 
 
 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 Mer- 
 cy ; frequenting 
 Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded 
 
 lanes of the city, 
 
Evangeline 145 
 
 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, 
 
146 Evangeline 
 
 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 
 f 
 
 of September, 
 
 Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to 
 
 a lake in the meadow, 
 So death flooded life, and, o'erflowing its natu- 
 ral margin. 
 Spread to a brackish lake, the silver stream of 
 
 existence. 
 Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to 
 
 charm, the oppressor ; 
 But all perished alike beneath the scourge of 
 
 his anger ; — 
 Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends 
 
 nor attendants. 
 Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of 
 
 the homeless. 
 
Evangeline 147 
 
 Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of 
 
 meadows and woodlands ; — 
 Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its 
 
 gateway and wicket 
 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. 
 
148 Evangeline 
 
 Into whose shining gates erelong 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 almshouse. 
 
 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 corri- 
 dors, 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 mead- 
 ows were wafted 
 
 Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the 
 Swedes in their church at Wicaco. 
 
Evangeline 149 
 
 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 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 con- 
 cealing their faces. 
 Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of 
 
 snow by the roadside. 
 Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline 
 
 entered. 
 Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she 
 
 passed, for her presence 
 Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on 
 
 the walls of a prison. 
 
150 Evangeline 
 
 And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, 
 
 the consoler, 
 Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed 
 
 it forever. 
 Many familiar forms had disappeared in the 
 
 night-time ; 
 Vacant their places were, or filled already by 
 
 strangers. 
 
 Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling 
 
 of wonder. 
 Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, 
 
 while a shudder 
 Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the 
 
 flowerets dropped from her fingers. 
 And from her eyes and cheeks the light and 
 
 bloom of the morning. 
 Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such 
 
 terrible anguish. 
 That the dying heard it, and started up from 
 
 their pillows. 
 
Evangeline 151 
 
 On the pallet before her was stretched the 
 
 form of an old man. 
 Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that 
 
 shaded his 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 be- 
 sprinkled its portals. 
 That the Angel of Death 'might see the sign, 
 
 and pass over. 
 Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his 
 
 spirit exhausted 
 Seemed to be sinking down through infinite 
 
 depths in the darkness, 
 
152 Evangeline 
 
 Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking 
 
 and sinking. 
 Then through those realms of shade, in multi- 
 plied reverberations, 
 Heard he that cry of pain, and through the 
 
 hush that succeeded 
 Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and 
 
 saint-like, 
 " Gabriel ! O my 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. 
 
^\--m 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
Evangeline 153 
 
 Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt 
 by his bedside. 
 
 Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the 
 accents unuttered 
 
 Died on his lips, and their motion revealed 
 what his tongue would have spoken. 
 
 Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneel- 
 ing beside him, 
 
 Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her 
 bosom. 
 
 Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it sud- 
 denly sank into darkness, 
 
 As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of 
 wind at a casement. 
 
 All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, 
 
 and the sorrow, 
 AH the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied 
 
 longing, 
 All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish 
 
 of patience ! 
 
154 
 
 Evangeline 
 
 And, as she pressed once more the lifeless 
 
 head to her bosom, 
 Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, 
 
 " Father, I thank thee ! " 
 
OTILL stands the forest primeval ; but far 
 
 away from its shadow, 
 Side by side, in their nameless graves, the 
 
 lovers are sleeping. 
 Under the humble walls of the little Catholic 
 
 churchyard. 
 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, where theirs are 
 
 at rest and forever. 
 Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no 
 
 longer are busy, 
 
156 Evangeline 
 
 Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have 
 
 ceased from their labors, 
 Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have 
 
 completed their journey ! 
 
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 the shade of its branches 
 Dwells another race, with other customs and 
 
 language. 
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 Atlantic 
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 from exile 
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 its bosom. 
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 are still busy; 
 Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their 
 
 kirtles of homespun. 
 And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's 
 
 story, 
 
Evangeline 
 
 n7 
 
 While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, 
 
 neighboring ocean 
 Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the 
 
 wail of the forest. 
 
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