I.

POETS.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.

Born 1807.

Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of chesnut,

Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.

Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his household,

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village.

Thatched were the roofs, with dormer win- Stalworth and stately in form was the man

dows; and gables projecting

of seventy winters;

Over the basement below protected and Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is shaded the door-way. covered with snow-flakes;

There in the tranquil evenings of summer, White as the snow were his locks, and his when brightly the sunset cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves. Lighted the village street, and gilded the Fair was she to behold, that maiden of vanes on the chimneys,

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

seventeen summers.

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side,

Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses!

spinning the golden

Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine

Hailing his slow approach with words of Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters

affectionate welcome.

Then came the labourers home from the field, and serenely the sun sank Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed.

Anon from the belfry

blessings 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,

Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heir-loom,

roofs of the village

Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of Handed down from mother to child, through incense ascending, long generations.

Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of But a celestial brightness

peace and contentment.

beauty

a more ethereal Thus dwelt together in love these simple Shone on her face and encircled her form, Acadian farmers,

Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike Homeward serenely she walked with God's

were they free from

Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics.

Neither locks had they to their doors, nor

bars to their windows;

But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners;

benediction upon her.

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing 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

There the richest was poor, and the poorest Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodlived in abundance.

bine wreathing around it. Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a footpath

Somewhat apart from the village, and Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared

near the Basin of Minas,

in the meadow.

Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer Under the sycamore tree where hives over

of Grand Pré,

hung by a pent-house,

Such as the traveller sees in regions remote by the road-side,

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

Gabriel Lajeunnesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith,

Who was a mighty man in the village, and honoured of all men;

For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations,

Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a Has the craft of the smith been held in

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,

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

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns cock, with the selfsame of the church and plain-song.

Voice that in ages of old had startled the But when the hymn was sung, and the

penitent 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 odorous corn-loft.

daily lesson completed,

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of
Basil the blacksmith.

There at the door they stood, with won-
dering eyes to behold him

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything,

There too the dovecot stood, with its meek Nailing the shoe in its place; while near and innocent inmates him the tire of the cart wheel

Murmuring ever of love; while above in the Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a variant breezes circle of cinders. Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the sang of mutation.

gathering darkness

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

Thus, at peace with God and the world, Warm by the forge within they watched the the farmer of Grand Pré

labouring bellows,

Lived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline And as its pantings ceased, and the sparks

governed his household.

Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal,

Fixed his eyes upon her, as the saint of his deepest devotion;

Happy was he who might touch her hand Down the hill-side bounding, they glided

or the hem of her garment!

away o'er the meadow.

Many a suitor came to her door, by the Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters,

darkness befriended,

And as he knocked, and waited to hear the Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, sound of her footsteps, which the swallow

Knew not which beat the louder, his heart Brings from the shore of the sea to restore

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;

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 Flashed like the plane - tree the Persian

hopes of a woman.

,,Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called;

for that was the sunshine

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples;

adorned with mantles and jewels.

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness.

She, too, would bring to her husband's house Day with its burden and heat had departed,

delight and abundance,

and twilight descending

Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces Brought back the evening star to the sky, of children. and the herds to the homestead. Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other,

II.

Now had the season returned, when the And with their nostrils distended inhaling nights grow colder and longer,

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scor

pion enters.

the freshness of evening.

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer,

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her collar,

air, from the ice-bound,

human affection.

Desolate northern bays to the shores of Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of tropical islands. Harvests were gathered in; and wild the Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the sea-side, Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob Where was their favourite pasture. Behind of old with the angel. them followed the watch-dog.

winds of September

All the signs foretold a winter long and Patient, full of importance, and grand in inclement. the pride of his instinct, Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had Walking from side to side with a lordly hoarded their honey air, and superbly

Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward hunters asserted the stragglers;

Cold would the winter be, for thick was the Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd fur of the foxes. slept; their protector,

Such was the advent of autumn. Then fol- When from the forest at night, through the lowed that beautiful season, starry silence, the wolves howled. Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Late, with the rising moon, returned the Summer of All-Saints!

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape

Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood.

wains from the marshes,

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

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

Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the While aloft on their shoulders the wooden restless heart of the ocean

and ponderous saddles,

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned were in harmony blended. with tassels of crimson,

Voices of children at play, the crowing of Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks cocks in the farm-yards, heavy with blossoms.

yielded their udders

Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and cooing of pigeons, All were subdued and low as the murmurs Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and

of love, and the great sun

in regular cadence

Looked with the eye of love through the Into the sounding pail the foaming streamlets

golden vapours 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

descended.

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

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