Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow. As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they molested. The blossoms of passion. He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the prairies; Coureurs-des-Bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers.". Struggled together like foes in a burning city. "Patience!" 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!" 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. 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.. Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the meadow. Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the roadstead. before her extended, Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway. The merry lads of the village. with a mournful sound, like the voice of a vast congregation,Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. before her extended,Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathwayMarked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered before her,Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned,As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked byCamp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine.Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished;As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine,Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descendedInto the east again, from whence it late had arisen.Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,She would commence again her endless search and endeavor;Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones,Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosomHe was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him,But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the oarsmen,And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventureSailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on his bugle.Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast rang,Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues to the forest.Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the music.Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance,Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant branches;But not a voice replied; no answer came from the darkness;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 mysterious sounds of the desert,Far off,indistinct,as of wave or wind in the forest,Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator. But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and gayer:. Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its clothes-press, Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded. It was a band of exiles: a raft, as it were, from the shipwrecked. As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones. Ah! They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones. "Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary public,"Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser;And what their errand may be I know not better than others.Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intentionBrings them here, for we are at peace; and why then molest us? Aloft, through the intricate arches. A breath from the region of spiritsSeemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a momentThat, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a phantom.With this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom had vanished. And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin. Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and the maiden. Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus sounded. All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented. "Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; for that was the sunshine, Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples. 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! Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies. As, at the tramp of a horse's hoof on the turf of the prairies. Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking; And with the ebb of the tide the ships sailed out of the harbor. Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left hand, And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice presided. Paused and waited. Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he spake not. Now went on as of old the quiet life of the homestead. With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed into houses. All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats ply; All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaning, Over her horses neck, in a whisper said to John Estaugh. Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water. And on my journey have stopped to see thee, Elizabeth Haddon. Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into the forest. While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside. Alas! Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards. Beats down the farmer's corn in the field and shatters his windows. Speaketh, but all are still, and the peace and rest are unbroken! Anon they sank into stillness;Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors,Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter, Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of nepenthe.". Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian accent. Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. 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-Pr! Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he created! Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children. Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow. Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee. Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its branchesDwells another race, with other customs and language.Only along the shore of the mournful and misty AtlanticLinger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exileWandered back to their native land to die in its bosom.In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy;Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of homespun,And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline's story,While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring oceanSpeaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. Thus was the evening passed. Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it. 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. ", Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the blacksmith. Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was near her. Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. "Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our cornfields. Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and maidens. Joseph is long on his errand. Broke the silence and said,"If you came by the Atchafalaya, How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the bayous?". Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver. Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath; and a footpath. Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow,Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping.Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard,In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed.Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them,Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and forever,Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy,Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their labors,Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey! Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured. And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning. "You are convened this day," he said, "by his Majesty's orders. The calm and the magical moonlightSeemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longing;As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees,Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie.Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-fliesGleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers.Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens,Shone on the eyes of man who had ceased to marvel and worship,Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple,As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin. Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under their shadow. why dream and wait for him longer? There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty. they said; yes! And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another. Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. fair in sooth was the maiden, Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its turret, Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop. Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of the garden. and died away into silence.Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood;Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them,Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under their shadow,As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision.Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids,Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside.Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unutteredDied on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue would have spoken.Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him,Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom.Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into darkness,As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness. "Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser; And what their errand may be I know not better than others. Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest devotion; Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her garment! Of our Lord, with light Elysian Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors: Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were as strangers. In the dead of the night she heard the disconsolate rain fall. Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that another. For her shy looks, and her careless words, and her evil surmisings. All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. Thus rebuked, for a season was silent the penitent housemaid; And Elizabeth said in tones even sweeter and softer: Dost thou remember, Hannah, the great May-Meeting in London. Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and placesDivers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden;Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions,Now in the noisy camps and the battle-fields of the army,Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities.Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered.Fair was she and young, when in hope began the long journey;Faded was she and old, when in disappointment it ended.Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty,Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow.Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her forehead,Dawn of another life, that broke o'er her earthy horizon,As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning. And of the prairie; whose numberless herds were his who would take them; Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and do likewise. Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the woodland. Echoed back by the barns. Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber. Far off,indistinct,as of wave or wind in the forest. Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheering. Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. 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. Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river. Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike. Said, with a smile,"O daughter! Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the wagons. Nothing was dark but the sky, and the distant Delaware flowing. There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him. Lo! The fight spawning the Mothers Pendant is the climax of a storyline from a couple of quests there. 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. Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the highway. Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. "Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill soundedLike a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets,Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence."Patience!" Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven. This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it. Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin. Alike were they free fromFear, 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 their owners;There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance. Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy. For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the pathway, Many things are made clear, that else lie hidden in darkness.". 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.".