Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of the garden. Then Elizabeth said, though still with a certain reluctance. It was the month of May. And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man. Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among them, Entered the sacred portal. Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway. Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pr.Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas,the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor.Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous laborKnocked 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 folkMade 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-doorsSat 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 brothers together,All things were held in common, and what one had was another's.Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abundant:For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father;Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and gladnessFell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock. Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips. Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden. Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boatmen. Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner behind her. Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion. Where was their favorite pasture. Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and of waistcoats. Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the ocean. Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers. Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. Aloft, through the intricate arches. Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the river. And John Estaugh was standing and taking leave at the threshold, Saying that he should return at the Meeting in May; while above. Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, but a secret. Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions. 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. While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone of a bagpipe. Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle. Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him. Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence. In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fall. The house itself was of timbers. Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the Herdsman. Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted together. Keenly the lightning flashed; and the voice of the echoing thunder. Brought from the hives, that stood by the sunny wall of the garden; Then remounted their horses, refreshed, and continued their journey. Perhaps the harvests in EnglandBy untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted,And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and children. cried she aloud with tremulous voice; but no answer. Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. ", Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive,, "Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted.". Meanwhile John Estaugh departed across the sea, and departingCarried hid in his heart a secret sacred and precious,Filling its chambers with fragrance, and seeming to him in its sweetnessMarys ointment of spikenard, that filled all the house with its odor.O lost days of delight, that are wasted in doubting and waiting!O lost hours and days in which we might have been happy!But the light shone at last, and guided his wavering footsteps,And at last came the voice, imperative, questionless, certain. When the supper was ended they drew their chairs to the fireplace. Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, as a keel through the water. ", 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. with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congregation,Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows. Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty's pleasure!". Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a staircase. Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on all sides. Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven? Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. "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 surfaceIs as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the 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.Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees;Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavensBending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana.". whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness:And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-morrow!". They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstonesGarlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest.Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among themEntered the sacred portal. There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold. Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling beneath it. Thus came the lovely spring with a rush of blossoms and music. Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches. Suddenly, as if it lightened,An unwonted splendor brightened Softly the evening came. Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the roadside. "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial ascended,. Sped in his bashful wooing with homely Hannah the housemaid; For when he asked her the question, she answered, Nay; and then added, But thee may make believe, and see what will come of it, Joseph.. Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels. Unto me! "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Four times the sun had risen and set; and now on the fifth dayCheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm-house.Soon 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,While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of playthings. Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest. Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!". Then Elizabeth told her story again to John Estaugh. Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures; So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker. Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed. Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window. Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaning, Over her horses neck, in a whisper said to John Estaugh. ", Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her father. Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas. That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms. where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you!See! Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. "Far to the north he has gone," continued the priest; "but in autumn, When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission. Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor. Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured. Alas! Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe round about them. Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in ruins. If you learn the identity of such a person, they might appreciate its return. Silence reigned o'er the place. Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around her. O my beloved!" As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover's. Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac laughter. Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September. And John Estaugh made answer, surprised by the words she had spoken. 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 glittering tree of the forest. Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies. Behind the black wall of the forest, Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight. Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through the midnight. The house itself was of timbersHewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together.Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns supported,Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda,Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it.At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden,Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol,Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals.Silence reigned o'er the place. Come, take thy place on the settleClose by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee;Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco;Never so much thyself art thou as when through the curlingSmoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleamsRound and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the marshes. Full of zeal for the work of the Lord, thou hadst come to this country.And I remembered thy name, and thy father and mother in England,And on my journey have stopped to see thee, Elizabeth Haddon.Wishing to strengthen thy hand in the labors of love thou art doing., And Elizabeth answered with confident voice, and serenelyLooking into his face with her innocent eyes as she answered,Surely the hand of the Lord is in it; his Spirit hath led theeOut of the darkness and storm to the light and peace of my fireside.. Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and her missal. All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom,Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank thee!". In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway. Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disappointed. And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes. Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement. Behind him. Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs. There is snow in the air, and see! And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story, While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean. Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. Ah! Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village, Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. Echoed back by the barns. he has left me alone with my herds and my horses.Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spiritCould 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 himUnto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards.Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains,Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver.Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover;He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against him.Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morningWe will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison.". Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal. Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors. Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, The Theologian's Tale; The Legend Beautiful. Of our Lord, with light Elysian Sang for the mates they had chosen, and cared for the nests they were building. So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow. Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. "Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm-yards,Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of cattleCame on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs interrupted.Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping encampmentsFar in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Nebraska,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 horsesBroke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o'er the meadows. Years have passed, it seemeth a wonderful thing that I find thee. With loud and dissonant clangorEchoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement,Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portalClosed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers.Then uprose their commander, and spoke from the steps of the altar,Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission. Their children from earliest childhoodGrew up together as brother and sister; and Father Felician,Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their lettersOut 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 himTake 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-wheelLay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders.Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darknessBursting 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 expired in the ashes,Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel.Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle,Down the hillside hounding, they glided away o'er the meadow.Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters,Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which the swallowBrings 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. Ah, how short are the days! A good lad and cheerful is Joseph;In the right place is his heart, and his hand is ready and willing., Thus in praise of her servant she spake, and Hannah the housemaidLaughed with her eyes, as she listened, but governed her tongue, and was silent,While her mistress went on: The house is far from the village;We should be lonely here, were it not for Friends that in passingSometimes tarry oernight, and make us glad by their coming., Thereupon answered Hannah the housemaid, the thrifty, the frugal:Yea, they come and they tarry, as if thy house were a tavern;Open to all are its doors, and they come and go like the pigeonsIn and out of the holes of the pigeon-house over the hayloft,Cooing and smoothing their feathers and basking themselves in the sunshine., But in meekness of spirit, and calmly, Elizabeth answered:All I have is the Lords, not mine to give or withhold it;I but distribute his gifts to the poor, and to those of his peopleWho in journeyings often surrender their lives to his service.His, not mine, are the gifts, and only so far can I make themMine, as in giving I add my heart to whatever is given.Therefore my excellent father first built this house in the clearing;Though he came not himself, I came; for the Lord was my guidance,Leading me here for this service. And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. Lawrence. All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them. Then Elizabeth said, Lo! A breath from the region of spirits, Seemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a moment. Mine, as in giving I add my heart to whatever is given. So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried. Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition? Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle. And children coming home from schoolLook in at the open door;They love to see the flaming forge,And hear the bellows roar,And catch the burning sparks that flyLike chaff from a threshing-floor. Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans waded. 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. Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed not. Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descending, Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and roofed each. Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel. 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!" Paused and waited. Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the maidens. Now was the winter gone, and the snow; and Robin the Redbreast, Boasted on bush and tree it was he, it was he and no other, That had covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood, and blithely. Then followed that beautiful season,Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints!Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscapeLay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood.Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the oceanWas for a moment consoled. 55509675_2280421492173743_1592357230911422464_n.jpg. "Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her fatherSaw she slowly advancing. Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson. Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions. Patient and unrepining Elizabeth labored, in all things. So passed the morning away. Nearer, ever nearer, among the numberless islands. After so many. As if an unseen power had announced and preceded his presence. And there in haste by the sea-side,Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches,But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pr.And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow,Lo! White as the great white sheet that Peter saw in his vision. "So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow,Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and companions.Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the sea-shore. Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle. Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wounded in spirit. Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals. Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. And the stranger replied, with staid and quiet behavior, Dost thou remember me still, Elizabeth? Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish sombrero. Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter, Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of nepenthe.". Early upon the morrow the march was resumed; and the ShawneeSaid, as they journeyed along,"On the western slope of these mountainsDwells 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. Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle. Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting. it is falling already;All the roads will be blocked, and I pity Joseph to-morrow,Breaking his way through the drifts, with his sled and oxen; and then, too,How in all the world shall we get to Meeting on First-Day?. Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her forehead. Hark! With these words of cheer they arose and continued their journey. Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless profusion. Behind him,Nodding and mocking along the wall, with gestures fantastic,Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness.Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm-chairLaughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on the dresserCaught 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 himSang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vineyards.Close at her father's side was the gentle Evangeline 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 songs and united the fragments together.As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases,Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at the altar,So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the clock clicked.