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Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdinode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 THE HENR BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CAMBRIDGE ^xinm at tl)e Httersfioe ^m& 1886 EVANGELINE THE SONG OF HIAWATHA THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH 1 ^ S (^ 18 0877 Copyright, 1847, 1855, 1868, and 1867, Bl HENRY WADSWORTII LONQEELLOW. Copyright, 1883 and 1886, By ERNEST W. LONGFELLOW. All rights reserved. Copyright, 1886, By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. \ M'at l^untiwU Copied l^rinttH M.. CONTENTS EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE. paob Introductory Note 7 Evangeline 19 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA. Introductory Note IO7 Introduction 113 I. The Pb ace-Pipe 116 II. The Four Winds 122 III. Hiawatha's Childhood 131 IV. Hiawatha and Mudjekeewis . . . 138 V. Hiawatha's Fasting 148 VI. Hiawatha's Friends I57 VII. Hiawatha's Sailing 162 VIII. Hiawatha's Fishing 167 IX. Hiawatha and the Pearl-Feather . . 174 X. Hiawatha's Wooing 183 XI. Hiawatha's Wedding-Feast . . . .192 XII. The Son of the Evening Stab . . . 200 XIII. Blessing the Cornfields 2II XIV. Picture-Writinq 218 XV. Hiawatha's Lamentation 224 XVI. Pau-Puk-Keewis 231 XVII. The Hunting of Pau-Puk-Keewis . . . 239 XVHI. The Death of Kwasind .... 250 XIX. The Ghosts 254 XX. The Fabune 261 XXI. The White Man's Foot 266 XXII. Hiawatha's Departure .... 274 6 CONTENTS THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH Inthoductoby Note .... I. Miles Standish .... II. Love and Fuiendship . HI. The Lover's Ekkanp . IV. John Alden V. The Sailing of the Mayflower VI. Priscula VII. The March of Miles Standish VIII. The Spinnino-Wheel . IX. The Weddino-Day NOTES 283 285 200 206 806 315 324 330 330 343 349 ! t EVANGELINE INTRODUCTORY NOTE. In Hawthorne's American Note-Boohs is the following passage : — " H. L. C. heard from a French Canadian a story of a young couple in Acadie. On their mar- riage-day all the men of the Province were sum- moned to assemble in the church to hear a procla- mation. When assembled, they were all seized and shipped off to be distributed through New England, — among them the new bridegroom. His bride set off in search of him — wandered about New England all her life-time, and at last when she was old, she found her bridegroom on his death-bed. The shock was so great that it killed her likewise." This is the story, as set down by the romancer, which his friend, the Rev. H. L. Conolly, had heard from a parishioner. Mr. ConoUy saw in it a fine theme for a romance, but for some rea- son Hawthorne was disinclined to undertake it. One day the two were dining with Mr. Longfel- low, and Mr. Conolly told the story again and wondered that Hawthorne did not care for it. " If you really do not want this incident for a tale," said Mr. Longfellow to his friend, " let me have it for a poem." Just when the conversation 8 EVANGELINE took place wo cannot say, but the poem was begun apparently just after the comi)letion of the volume, The Belfry of Bruges and other Poems. The narrative of its development can best be told by the passages in Mr. Longfellow's diary which note the progress of the poem. November 28, 1845. Set about Gahrielle, my idyll in liexameters, in earnest. I do not mean to let a day go by without adding something to it, if it be but a sin- gle line. F. and Sumner are both doubtful of the meas- ure. To me it seems the only one for such a poem. November 30. In the night, rain, rain, rain. A pleasant sound. Lying awake I mused thus : — Fleasaiit it is to hear the sound of the rattling rain upon the roof, Ceaselessly falling through the night from the clouds that pass so far aloof ; Pleasant it is to hear the sound of the village clock that strikes the hour, Dropping its notes like drops of rain from the darksome bel- fry in the tower. December 7. I know not what name to give to — not my new baby, but xny new poem. Shall it be Gay briellc, or Celestine, or Evangeline ? January 8, 1846. Striving, but alas, how vainly ! to work upon Evangeline. One interruption after another, till I long to fly to the desert for a season. January 12. The vacation is at hand. I hope be- fore its close to get far on in Evangeline. Two cantos are now done ; which is a good beginning. April 5. After a month's cessation resumed Evan- geline, — the sister of mercy. I hope now to carry it on to its close without break. May 20. Tried to work at Evangeline, Unsuccess- ful. Gave it up. INTRODUCTORY NOTE 9 May 25. The days die and make no sign. The Castalian fount is still. It has become a pool which no descending angel troubles. Julj- 9. Idly busy days ; days which leave no record in verse ; no advance made in my long-neglected yet dearly loved Evangeline. The cares of the world choke the good seed. But these stones 7nust be cleared away. October 11. I am in despair at the swift flight of time, and the utter impossibility I feel to lay hold ujjon anything permanent. All my hours and days go to perishable things. Col'ege takes half the time ; and other people, with their interminable letters and poems and requests and demands, take the rest. I have hardly a moment to think of my own writings, and am cheated of some of life's fairest hours. This is the extreme of folly ; and if I knew a man, far olf in some foreign land, doing as I do here, I should say ho was mad. November 17. I said as I dressed myself this morn- ing, " To-day at least I will work on Evangeline" But no sooner had I breakfasted than there came a note from , to be answered forthwith ; then , to talk about a doctor ; then Mr. Bates, to put up a fireplace ; then this journal, to be written for a week. And now it is past eleven o'clock, and the sun shines so brightly upon my desk and papers that I can write no more. December 10. Laid up with a cold. Moped and mowed the day through. Made an effort, however, and commenced the second part of Evangeline. I felt all day wretched enough to give it the sombre tone of col- oring that belongs to the theme. December 15. Stayed at home, working a little on Evangeline ; planning out the second part, which fasci- nates me, — if I can but give complete tone and expres- sion to it. Of materials for this part there is super- abundance. The difficulty is to select, and give unity to variety. U\ 10 EVANCEUNE w fl Decnmbcr 17. FiniHhod this morning, and copied, the first canto of tho H<'(!ond i)art of Kmngellne. The portions of tho poem which I write in tho morning, I write chiefly standing at my desk here [hy tlie window], BO as to need no copying. What I write at other times is scrawled with a jjencil on my knee in the dark, and has to he written out afterward. This way of writing with a pencil and portfolio I enjoy much ; as I can sit by tho fireside ind do not use my eyes. I see a dio- rama of the jMississippi advertised. This comes very a propos. The river comes to me instead of my going to the river ; and as it is to flow through the pages of the poem, I look upon this as a special benediction. December 19. Went to see Banvard's moving dio- rama of tho Mississippi. One seems to be sailing down the great stream, and sees the boats and the sand-banks crested with cottonwood, and the bayous by moonlight. Three miles of canvas, and a great deal of merit. December 29. I hoped to do much on my poem to-day ; and did nothing. My whole morning was taken up with letters and doing up New Year's gifts. January 7, 1847. Went to the Library and got Watson's Annals of Philadelphia and the Historical Collections of Pennsylvania. Also Darby's Geograph- ical Description of Louisiana. These books must help me through the last part of Evangeline, so far as facts and local coloring go. But for the form and the po- etry, — they must come from my own brain. January 14. Finished the last canto of Evangeline. But the poem is not finished. There are three inter- mediate cantos to be written. January 18. Billings came to hear some passages in Evangeline, previous to making designs. As I read, I grew discouraged. Alas, how difficult it is to produce anything really good ! Now I see nothing but the t ' INTRODUCTORY NOTE 11 defects of my work. I liopo the oritics will not find flo many a» 1 do. But onward I The poem, like lovo, must " julvaneo or die." January 22. Wrote in Emnr}dine. Then walked a couple of hours. After dinner, a couple more. In the evening, the whiHt cluh. .lanuary 23. Mornin» of that metre." After his poem was published, he wrote : " The public takes more kindly to hexame- ters than I could have imagined," and referring to a criticism on Evangeline by Mr. Felton, in which the metre was considered, he said : " I am more than ever glad that I chose this metre for my poem." Again he notes in his diary : " Talked with Theophilus Parsons about English hexame- ters ; and ' almost persuaded him to be a Chris- tian.' " While his mind was thus dwelling on the subject, he fell into the measure in his journal en- tries, and in these lines under date of December 18, 1847. Soft through the silent air descend the feathery snow-flakes ; White are the distant hills, white are the neighboring fields ; Only the marshes are brown, and the river rolling among them Weareth the leaden hue seen in the eyes of the blind. Especially interesting is the experiment which he made, while in the process of his work, in an- other metre. " Finished second canto of Part II. of Evangeline. I then tried a passage of it in the common rhymed English pentameter. It is the song of the mocking-bird : — Upon a spray that overhung the stream. The mocking-bird, awaking from his dream. Poured such delirious music from his throat That all the air seemed listening to his note. Plaintive at first the song began, and slow ; It breathed of sadness, and of pain and woe ; Then, gathering all his notes, abroad he flung The multitudinous music from his tongue, — As, after showers, a sudden gust again Upon the leaves shakes down the rattling rain." As the story of Evangeline was the incentive to historical inquiry, so the successful use of the hex- ■•I i ^ 10 EVANGELINE P ameter had much to do both with the revival of the measure and with a critical discussion upon its value. Arthur Hugh Clough employed the metre in his pastoral poem, T7ie Bothie of Toper-na- Vuolich, and wrote to Mr. Emerson : " Will you convey to Mr. Longfellow the fact that it was a reading of his Evangeline aloud to my mother and sister, which, coming after a reperusal of the Iliad, occasioned this outbreak of hexameters ? " The reader wiU find the subject of hexameters discussed by Matthew Arnold in his lectures On Translating Homer ; by James Spedding in Eng- lish Hexameters^ in his volume Reviews and Dis- cussions, Literary, Political and Historical, not relating to Bacon ; and by John Stuart Blackie in Remarks on English Hexameters contained in his volume Horm Hellenicce. " Of the longer poems of our chief singer," says Dr. Holmes, " I should not hesitate to select Evangeline as the masterpiece, and I think the general verdict of opinion would confirm my choice. The German model which it follows in its measure and the character of its story was itself suggested by an earlier idyl. If Dorothea was the mother of Evangeline, Luise was the mother of Dorothea. And what a beautiful creation is the Acadian maiden ! From the first line of the poem, from its first words, we read as we would float down a broad and placid river, murmuring softly against its banks, heaven over it, and the glory of the un- spoiled wilderness all around, — This is the forest primeTal. I i INTRODUCTORY NOTE The words are already as familiar as 17 or Arma Tirumqne oano. The hexameter has been often criticised, but I do not believe any other measure could have told that lovely story with such effect, as we feel when car- ried along the tranquil current of these brimming, slow-moving, soul-satisfying lines. Imagine for one moment a story like this minced into octo- syllabics. The poet knows better than his critics the length of step which best befits his muse." The publication of Evangeline doubtless marks the period of Mr. Longfellow's greatest accession of fame, as it probably is the poem which the ma- jority of readers would first name if called upon to indicate the poet's most commanding work. It was finished, as we have seen, upon his fortieth birthday. Two days before, the following lines were written by Mr. Longfellow in his diary : — EPIGRAMftlE Par un ci-devant jeune homme, en approchant de la quarantaine. " Sous le firmament Tout n'est que changement, Tout passe ; ' ' Le cantique le dit, II est ainsi dcrit, II est sans contredit, Tout passe. O douce vie humaine ! O temps qui nous entraiue ! 1 18 M EVANGELINE Destin^e souveraino ! Tout chanjs^e. Moi qui, po^te r§veur, Ne f us jamais f riseur, Je frise, — oh, quelle horreurl La quarantaine ! This is t ai Bearded til Stand lik Stand lik th Loud f roi bo Speaks, a wa This is he Leaped li! lai Where is Ac Men whos the Darkened imi Waste ar( for EVANGELINE A TALE OF ACADIE. This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indis- tinct in the twilight, Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and pro- phetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neigh- boring ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. This is the forest primeval ; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the wood- land 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 farmers forever departed ! 20 EVANGELINE ■ Scattered like dust and leaves, when the iiiighty blasts of October Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean. Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful vil- lage of Grand-PrB1! I?"' II. Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer, And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound. Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. Harvests were gathered in ; and wild with the winds of September Wrestled the trees of the 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 hoarded their honey Till the hives overflowed ; and the Indian hunters asserted Line 6. Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children. EVANGELINE 29 Cold would the winter be, for tliick was the fur of the foxes. Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful season, Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints ! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of child- hood. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless 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 cooing of pigeons. 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 glittering tree of the forest Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and jewels. Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descending 41 m n 30 EVANGELINE 'li ih m 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 fresh- ness of evening. 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 she^ herd slept ; their protector. When from the forest at night, through the starry- silence the wolves howled. 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. EVANGELINE 31 Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tas- sels 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 reg- ular cadence Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets de- scended. Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm-yard. Echoed back by the bams. Anon they sank into stillness ; Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors. Battled 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 Straggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him, Nodding and mocking along the wall, with ges- tures fantastic. Darted bis 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 Line 8. Heavily closed, with a creaking sound, the valves of the barn-doors, 82 EVANGELINE n m 1 \ ' " l'l!n Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of ar- I mies the sunshine. Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers be- fore him Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Bur- gundian vineyards. Close at her father's side was the gentle Evange- ^ line seated, Spinning flax for the loom, that stood in the corner behind her, Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its dili- gent 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 in- tervals ceases. Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at the altar, So, in each pause of the song, with measured mo- tion the clock clicked. \m\ ':.\ i ) .itl II;! 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. EVANGELINE 33 " 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 ; Never so much thyself art thou as when through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleams Bound 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 be- fore them. Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe." Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evange- line brought him, And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly continued : — " Four days now are passed since the English ships at their anchors Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed against us. m 84 EVANGELINE li AVhat their design may be is unknown ; but all are , commanded On the morrow to meet in the church, where his i 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 pec- 1 pie." Then made answer the farmer : " Perhaps some | friendlier purpose Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the har- vests in England By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, 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 Sdjour, 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. EVANGELINE 35 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 bam with hay, and the house with food for a twelvemonth. Hen^ 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. Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken, And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. II m. I Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of § the ocean, I Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the I notary public ; Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung 86 EVANGELINE 'I Mil Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and | glasses with horn bows Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom su- j pernal. 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. Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the English. Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion, Eipe 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 gobliii that came in the night to water the horses. And of the white Ldtiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the cham- bers of children ; And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable, And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nutshell. And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and horseshoes. With whatsoever else was wiit in the lore of the village. EVANGELINE 87 Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith, Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly ex- tending his right hand, " Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, " thou hast heard the talk in the village, And, perchance, canst tell us some news of theso ships and their errand." Then with modest demeanor made answer the no- tary public, — "Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser ; And what their errand may be I know not better than others. Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil in- tention Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then molest us ? " " God's name ! " shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible blacksmith ; " Must we in all things look for the how, and the 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 jus- tice 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 it '4 18 EVANGELINE ■ When his nci^'libnrH complained that any injustice was dono them. " Once in an suu-icnt city, whoso name I no longer remember, Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Jus- tice Stood In the public square, upholding tho scales in its left hand, And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice 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 no- bleman's palace That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong a suspicion Fell on an orphan girl who lived as a 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 as- cended. Line 1. Whenever neighbors complained that any injustice was done them. Line 13. Fell on an orphan girl who lived as moid in the household. EVANGELINE 89 Lo I o'er tho city a tempost rose ; and the bolts of tlio thuiulor Smote the stattio of bronze, ami hurled in wrath from itH left hand Down on the pavement below tho clattering Hcales of tho balance, And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie, Into whose elay-built walls the necklace oi pearls was inwoven." 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-Pr(; ; While from his pocket the notary drew his papers 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. Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were completed. Line 8. And all his thoughts congealed into lines on his face, as the vapors t 40 EVANGELINE \^''ii i' 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 begim. In friendly contention the old men Laughed at each lucky 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 win- dow's embrasure, Sat the lovers, and whispered together, beholding the moon rise Over the pallid sea, and the silvery mists of the meadows. Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven. Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Line 14. Over the pallid sea, and the silvery mist of the meadows. EVANGELINE 41 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. 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 Evangeline 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 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. Iiine 11. Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the door of her chamber. m 42 EVANGELINE 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. Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feel- ing of sadness Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moonlight Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. And, as she gazed from the window, she saw se- renely the moon pass Forth from the folds of a cloud, and ore star follow her footsteps, Akj out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar I IV. Pleasantly rose next moin the sun on the village of Grand-Prd. Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, EVANGELINE 48 Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor. Life had long been astir in the village, and clamor- ous labor Knocked with its hundred Lands 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 Made the bright air brighter, as up from the nu- merous meadows, Where nc path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward. Group Jifter 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 vrhat one had was another's. Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abundant : For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father ; i'^ 44 EVANGELINE .-J 11 :.ii?i! I'HBiin Bright was her face with smiles, and words of wel- come 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, Sfcript 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 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 Dunquerque, 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 ar i down the path to the meadows ; EVANGELINE 45 01(1 folk and young together, and children mingled among them. Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter I Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith ! m So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a summons sonorous Sourded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat. Thronged erelong was the church with men. With- out, 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 ceil- ing and casement, — Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. Then 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. 46 EVANGELINE I;||i!n|v; 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 Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people ! Prisoners now I declare you ; for such is his Maj- esty's pleasure ! " As, when the air is serene in 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 wonder, and then rose Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger. EVANGELINE 47 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 bil- lows. Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; and wildly he shouted, — " Down with the tyrants of England I we never have sworn them allegiance I Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests ! " More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement. )'l 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 his tones and solemn ; in accents measured and mournful 48 EVANGELINE ll'i'i: 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 an- other ? Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and pray- ers 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 I where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you T 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, forgive them ! ' " Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate outbreak. Line 15. Sank they, and sobs of contrition eucceeded that passionate out- break, Line 1. And tb I EVANGELINE 49 While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, torgive them ! " Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the altar. Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people responded. Not with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and the Ave Maria Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion translated. Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven. Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on all sides Wandered, wailing, from house to house the wo- men and children. Long at her father's door Evangeline stood, with her right hand Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descending. Lighted the village street with mysterious splen- dor, and roofed each Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and embla- zoned its windows. Long within had been spread the snow-white clotL on the table ; There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fra- grant with wild-flowers ; There stood the tankard of de, and the cheese fresh brought from the dairy. Line 1. And they repeated bia prayer, and said, " Father, forgive tUcai I " 50 EVANGELINE m. iill lIK.in I 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. Ah ! on )iev spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen, And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celes- tial ascended, — Charity, n-3jkness, love, and hope, and forgive- ness, and patience I 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 lingering 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 de- scending from Sinai. Sweetly over the village the bell of the Angelus sounded. ii Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evan- geline lingered. All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and the windows Line 8. Cheering with looks and words the diBCOnsoIate hearts of the women, EVANGELINE 61 Stood she, and listened and looked, till, ovorcomo by emotion, "Gabriel ! " cried .she aloud with tremulous voir but no answer Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloom- ier 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 disconsolate rain fall Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window. Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the echoing thunder Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he created ! Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of Heaven ; Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered till morning. Line 5. Smouldered the fire in the hearth, on the board atood the supper untasted, Line 8. In the dead of night she heard the whispering rain fall Line 10. Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the neighboring thunder 62 EVANGELINE V. Four times tho 8un had risen and set ; and now on the fifth day Cheerily called the cock to tho sleeping maids of the farm-house. Soon o'er tho yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession, Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian women. Driving in ponderous wains thel" household goods to the sea-shore, Pausing and looking back to gaze oncc 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 frag- ments of playthings. I ' rf li iiil:ir 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. EVANGELINE 53 Thither the woiiien and chihlreu thronged. On a Buddon the church-doors Opened, aud forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy procession Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Aca- dian farmers. 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 songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their daughters. Foremost the young men came ; and, raising to- gether 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 submis- sion 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 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 of affliction, — ir 64 EVANGELINE < ■■ m Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession approached her, And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. Tears ther 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 I for if we love one another Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mis- chances may happen ! " Smiling she spake these words ; then suddenly paubcd, for her father 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 ^eemed 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 EVANGELINE 66 Left on the land, extending their arms, with wild- est entreaties. 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 battle. All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them, Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers. 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, aft the well-known bars of the farm-yard, — 56 EVANGELINE Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milk-maid. Silence reigned in the streets ; from the church no Angelus sounded, Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from the windows. I'i But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been kindled. Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the tempest. Eound 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, aid without either thought or emotion, E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been taken. Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he look rl not, he spake not. EVANGELINE bl But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flicker- ing fr ..-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 the 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. Then sat he down at her side, and they wept to- gether in silence. tfl i Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in au- tumn the blood-red Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon the 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 sea, and the ships that lay in the voadstead. Line 7. Raising his eyes, full of tears, to the silent stars that above them Line 12. TitaU' like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and meadow, Uue 15. Gleamed on th« sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the roadstead. 58 EVANGELINE Columiis 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 burn- ing thatch, and, uplifting, Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred house-tops Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame in- termingled. 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-Pr6 ! " Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm-yards. Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the low- ing 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, 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 EVANGELINE 59 Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o'er the meadows. Overwhelmed with the sight, yet spefichless, 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, Lol 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 Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror. Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber ; And when she awoke 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 com- passion. 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 waver- ing senses. 60 EVANGELINE li Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the people, — " Let us bury him here by the sea. When a hap- pier 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 sea-side, Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches. But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Prd. And as the voice of the priest repeated the service 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. 'T was the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean. 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. Line 14. And with tbe ebb of tbat tide the ships sailed out of the harbor, EVAJSGELINE 61 PART THE SECOND. I. Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Prd, When on the falling tide the freighted vessels de- parted, Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile. Exile without an end, and without an example in story. Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed ; Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the northeast Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfoundland. Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city. From the cold lakes of the North to sidtry 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. 62 EVANGELINE \ I « Written their history stands on tabiets of stone in the cliurchyards. Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered, Lowly and meek in spiiit, and patiently suffering all things. Fair was she and young : bat, alas I before her ex- tended. Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, witli its pathway Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and sr..^erei before her, Passions long extinguished, and hopes long de£:d and abandoned. As the emigrant's wa ' o'er the Western desert is marked by Camp-fires long consumed, and bones that oleach 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 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 stra^'ed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones. EVANGELINE ea Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that per- haps in its bosom He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him. Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper, Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward. Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him, But it was long ago, in some far-off place or for- gotten. " Gabriel Lajeunesse ! " they said ; " Oh 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 ; " Oh yes ! we have seen him. He is a Voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." Then would they say, " Dear child ! why dream and wait for him longer ? Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? others Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal ? Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee l^.Iany a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and be happy ! Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses." 64 EVANGELINE Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, " 1 cannot ! Whither my Jieart has gone, there follows my hand, and not elsewhere. }^ov 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 1 thy God thus speaketh within thee I Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted ; If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment ; *f\\iii which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain. Patience ; acM'.omplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work of affection ! Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endur- ance is godlike. Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike, Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven I " Cheered by the good man's words, Evangeline labored and waited. Still in her lieart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean. But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whispered, " Despair not ! " EVANGELINE 65 Thus did that poor soul waudor in want and cheer- less discomfort, Bleeding, bu ^efootcd, over the shards and thorns of existence. Lot me essay, O Muse ! to follow the wanderer's footsteps ; — Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence, Rut 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 inter- vals only ; Then drawing nearer its banks, through sylvan glooms that conceal it. Though he behold it not, he can hear its con- tinuous murmur ; Happy, at length, if he find the spot where it reaches an outlet. li ^^ n. It wa* the month of May. Far down the L^autiful River, Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, Into the gcylden 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 66 EVANGELINE Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating to- gether. Bound by tho bonds of a common belief and a common misfortune ; Men and women and children, who, guided by hoi)e or by hearsay, Sought for their kith and their kin among the few- acred farmers On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opclousas. With them Evangeline 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, 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. EVANGELINE 67 They were approaching the region where reigns pcrpetuul sununer^ 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. Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the oy press Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid- air Waved like banners that hang on the waUs of ancient cathedrals. Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by the herons Home to their roosts in the cedar-trees returning at sunset. Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with de- moniac laughter. Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water. Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sus- taining the arches, Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in a ruin. Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things around them ; And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sadness, — i I V.\ i ^ il «t %:, 68 EVANGELINE 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 shrink- ing 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 beforo her eyes, and beckoned her on through the moonlight. It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a phantom. Throug)i those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wa»i- dered before her, And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and nearer. Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the oarsmen. And, as a signal sound, if others like them perad- venture Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on liis 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. EVANGELINE 69 Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the dis- tance. Over L le watery floor, and beneath the reverberant bran'jhes ; But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the darkness ; And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence. Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatmen rowed through the midnight, Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs, Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers. While through the night were heard the mysteri- ous 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. 1 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 Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. Lino C. Silent at times, and then singing familiar Canadian briest, 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 Hlci)t when the bridegroom was coming." " Farewell ! " answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen al- ready were waiting. Thus beginning their journey with moraing, 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. \A i f 86 EVAWGELLVE Found they the trace of his course, in lake or fori'st or river, Nor, after many days, had they found him ; but vague and uncertain Kumors 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 hmdlord. That on the day before, with horses and guide < and companions, Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies. IV. Far in tlie West there lies a desert land, where the mountains Lift, tlirough perpetual snows, their h>fty and luminous summits. Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway. Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emis grant's wagon, Westward the Oregon flows and the Walleway and Owyiiee. Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind- river Mountains, Through the Sweet-watev Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska ; And to tlie south, from F(mtaine-qui-bout and the Spanish sierras, Line 10. Down (rflin their deitulnti-, dm-p ravineM, whore the gorge, liict- ;i gftU-way, % EVANGELINE 87 Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the desert, Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean. Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations. Sprear own had loved i.nd had been disappointed. Moved to the depths of her sold by pity and woman's compassion, Yet in her sorrow jdeased that one who hatl suf- fered was near lun*. DO EVANGELINE She in turn related her love and all its disasters. Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had ended Still was nmto ; but at length, as if a raj'sterious horror Passed tljrou^h her brain, she spake, and reiHjated tlie tahi of the Mowis ; Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a maiden, But, when the morning eanic, arose and passed from the wigwam, Fading and iiu'lting away and dissolving into the sunshine. Till she beheld liim no more, though she followed far into the forest. Then, in tlios(; sweet, low tones, that seemed like a W(;ird ineantation. Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phantom. That through the pines o'er her father's lodge, in tiie hu.".!; of the twilight. Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the maiden. Till she followeil his green and waving plume through the forest. And nevermon; returned, nor was seen again by her people. Silent with wondcsr and strange surprise, Evange- line listened To the soft How of her magical words, till the re- gion around her Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the enchantress. SIowl) EVANGELINE 91 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 omhraoing and filling the woodland. "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 Evangeline's heart, but a secret, Subtile sense civpt in of pain and indefinite terror. As the cold, poisonous snako creei>s into th<; nest of the swallow. It was no earthly fear. A bivath from the region of spirits Seemed to float in thi^ aiv of night ; and she felt for a moment That, like tW Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a i>haN^^)H. "With this t)ioug!^t she slept, and the fear and the phhi^Htoiti had vanished. Early upon the morrow the march was resumed ; and the Shawnee Said, as they journeyed along, " On the westeni slope of these mountains l")wi'lls in his little village the Black Robe chief of the Mission. Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and Jesus. i I 02 EVANaELINE Loud laugh tlicir hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as thry iiear him." Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evange- line answered, '* Let us go to the Misuiou, for there good tidings await us ! " Thitiier they turned their stceda ; and behind a spur of the mountai.is, ffust as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of voi('«'s. And in a mcjulow green and broad, by the bank of a river. Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit Mission. Undor a towering oak, that stood in the midst of thc! villaj^o, Knelt the IMaek Kobe chief with his children. A crucifix fastened High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grape-vines. Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling beneath it. This was tluur rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate arches Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their ves- pers, Mingling its notes with the soft susumis and sighs of the branches. Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer approaching. Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the even- ing devotions. But when the service was done, and the benedic- tion had fallen EVANGELINE w Furth from the IiuikU of the priest, like seed from the hantU of the sower, Slowly the reverend man advanced to the Htran- gerH, and l):id(> them Welcome ; and when tluy r(>))lied, ho smiled with benignant expres^.ion, Hearing the homelike mmnds of his mother-tongnu in the forest, And, with words of kindness, condueted them into his wigwam. There upon mats and skins they rep<>s«'d, and on cakes of the maize-ear Feasted, and slake'. P 130 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA For the maid with yellow tresses, liut he was too fat and lazy To bestir himself and woo her. Yes, too indolent and easy To pursue her and persuade her ; So he only gazed upon her, Only sat and sighed with passion For the maiden of the prairie. Till one morning, looking northward, He beheld her yellow tresses Changed and covered o'er with whiteness, Covered as with whitest snow-flakes. *' Ah ! my brother from the North-land, From the kingdom of Wabasso, From the land of the White Rabbit 1 You have stolen the maiden from me, You have laid your hand upon her, You have wooed and won my maiden. With your stories of the North-land I '* Thus the wretched Shawondasee Breathed into the air his sorrow ; And the South- vVind o'er the prairie Wandered warm with sighs of passion, With the sighs of Shawondasee, Till the air seemed full of snow-flakes. Full of thistie-down the prairie. And the maid with hair like sunshine Vanished from his sight forever ; Never more did Shawondasee See the maid with yellow tresses I Poor, deluded Shawondasee ! 'T was no woman that you gazed at, 'T was no maiden that you sighed for, THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 'T was the prairie dandelion That through all the dreamy Summei* You had gazed at with such longing, You had sighed for with such passion, And had puffed away forever, Blown into the air with sighing. Ah ! deluded Shawondasee ! Thus the Four Winds were divided ; Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis Had their stations in the heavens, At the corners of the heavens ; For himself the West-Wind only Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis. III. Hiawatha's childhood. Downward through the evening twilight, In the days that are forgotten, In the unremembered ages, From the full moon fell Nokomis, Fell the beautiful Nokomis, She a wife, but not a mother. She was sporting with her women, Swinging in a swing of grape-vines, When her rival the rejected, Full of jealousy and hatred. Cut the leafy swing asunder. Cut in twain the twisted grape-vines, And Nokomis fell affrighted Downward through the evening twilight, On the Muskoday, the meadow, 181 '-•*««^ 132 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA R Hf On the prairie full of blossoms '' See I a star falls I " said tho people ; " From the sky a star is falling 1 " There among tho ferns and mosses, There among the prairie lilies, On tho Muskoday, the meadow, In the moonlight and tho starlight, Fair Nokomis bore a daughter. And she called her name Wenonah, As the first-born of her daughters. And the daughter of Nokomis Grew up like the prairie lilies, Grew a tall and slender maiden. With the beauty of the moonlight, With the beauty of the starlight. And Nokomis warned her often, Saying oft, and oft repeating, " Oh, beware of Mudjekeewis, Of the West- Wind, Mudjekeewis j Listen not to what he tells you ; Lie not down upon the meadow, Stoop not down among the lilies. Lest the West- Wind come and harm you ! " But she heeded not the warning, Heeded not those words of wisdom, And the West- Wind ca^^p at evening, Walking lightly o'er the prairie, Whispering to the leaves and blossoms. Bending low the flowers and grasses. Found the beautiful Wenonah, Lying there among the lilies. Wooed her with his words of sweetness. Wooed her with his soft caresses. THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 188 Till Hhe boro a hoii in sorrow, Boro u son of love and Horrow. Thu8 was born my lliuwatha, Thus was born tlio child of wonder ; But tho daughter of Nokoniis, Hiawatha's gentle mother, In her anguish died deserted By the West-Wind, false and faithless, By the heartless Mudjekeewis. For her daughter long and loudly Wailed and wept the sad Nokomis ; " Oh that I were dead I " she murmured, " Oh that I were dead, as thou art I No more work, and no more weeping, Wahonowin ! Wahonowin I " By the shores of Gitche Gumee, By the shining Big-Sea-Water, Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. Dark behind it rose the forest. Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, Eose the firs with cones upon them ; Bright before it beat the water, Beat the clear and sunny water. Beat the shining Big-Sea- Water. There the wrinkled old Nokomis Nursed the little Hiawatha, Rocked him in his linden cradle, Bedded soft in moss and rushes, Safely bound with reindeer sinews ; Stilled his fretful wail by saying, " Hush ! the Naked Bear will hear thee I ** Lulled him into slumber, singing, lilt. 134 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA " Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! Who is this, that lights the wigwam ? With his great eyes lights the wigwam ? Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! " Many things Nokomis taught him Of the stars that shine in heaven ; Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses ; Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs, Flaring far away to northward In the frosty nights of Winter ; Showed the broad white road in heaven, Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows. Running straight across the heavens, Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows. At the door on summer evenings Sat the little Hiawatha ; Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, Heard the lapping of the waters, Sounds of music, wjrds of wonder ; " Minne-wawa ! " said the pine-trees, " Mudway-aushka ! " said the water. Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, Flitting through the dusk of evening. With the twinkle of its candle Lighting up the brakes and bushes, And he sang the song of children, Sang the song Nokomis taught him : " Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly. Little, flitting, white-fire insect, Little, dancing, white-fire creature. Light me w^ith your little candle, Ts THE SONG OF HIAWATHA 135 (( (( t( Ere upon my bed I lay me, Ere in sleep I close my eyelids ! " Saw the moon rise from the water Rippling, rounding from the water, Saw the flecks and shadows on it. Whispered, " What is that, Nokomis ? " And the good Nokomis answered : Once a warrior, very angry, Seized his grandmother, and threw her Up into the sky at midnight ; Right against the moon he threw her ; 'Tis her body that you see there." Saw the rainbow in the heaven, In the eastern sky, the rainbow, Whispered, " What is that, Nokomis ? " And the good Nokomis answered : 'T is the heaven of flowers you see there ; All the wild-flowers of the forest. All the lilies of the prairie. When on earth they fade and perish, Blossom in that heaven above us." When he heard the owls at midnight, Hooting, laughing in the forest. What is that ? " he cried in terror. What is that ? " he said, « Nokomis ? " And the good Nokomis answered : That is but the owl and owlet. Talking in their native language, Talking, scolding r*t each other." Then the little Hiawatha Learned of every bird its language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How they built their nests in Summer, H 136 THE SONG OF HIAWATHA Where they hid themselves in Winter, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them " Hiawatha's Chickens." Of all beasts he learned the language, Learned their names and all their secrets, How the beavers built their lodges, Where the squirrels hid their acorns. How the reindeer ran so swiftly. Why the rabbit was so timid, Talked with them whene'er he met them, Called them " Hiawatha's Brothers." Then lagoo, the great boaster. He the marvellous story-teller, He the traveller and the talker, He the friend of old Nokomis, Made a bow for Hiawatha ; From a branch of ash he made it. From an oak-bough made the arrows. Tipped with flint, and winged with feathers, And the cord he made of deer-skin. Then h