"Patience!" Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting. Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers. Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness. Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens. Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nostrils. Thus his conscience put the question,Full of troublesome suggestion,As at length, with hurried pace,Towards his cell he turned his face,And beheld the convent brightWith a supernatural light,Like a luminous cloud expandingOver floor and wall and ceiling. "Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer:"Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our cornfields,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 sorrowFall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract.Built are the house and the barn. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones. Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. O inexhaustible fountain! Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed. Anon from the belfry, Softly the Angelus sounded, and over the roofs of the village. Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing. 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. Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him. We will not speak of it further.It hath been laid upon me to tell thee this, for to-morrowThou art going away, across the sea, and I know notWhen I shall see thee more; but if the Lord hath decreed it,Thou wilt return again to seek me here and to find me.And they rode onward in silence, and entered the town with the others. The calm and the magical moonlight. Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us, Let us repeat it now, and say, 'O Father, forgive them! Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid. While through the night were heard the mysterious sounds of the desert. Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean. Presentation. Such in the soul of man is faith. Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other, Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springing. Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other,Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springingGreen from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving above her,Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and formingCloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels.Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the maidensBlushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover,But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn-field.Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover."Patience!" 2 An anvil is an iron block on which a blacksmith pounds metal into the desired shape. "Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farm-yards,Thinking the day had dawned; and anon the lowing of cattleCame on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs interrupted.Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping encampmentsFar in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Nebraska,When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed of the whirlwind,Or the loud bellowing herds of buffaloes rush to the river.Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds and the horsesBroke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o'er the meadows. Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not. Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering maiden. Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden. they said; yes! Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer a stranger; And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers. Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas,Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pr,Dwelt on his goodly acres: and with him, directing his household,Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village.Stalworth and stately in form was the man of seventy winters;Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snow-flakes;White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as the oak-leaves.Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers.Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the wayside,Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of her tresses!Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the meadows.When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontideFlagons of home-brewed ale, ah! Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean. ""Gabriel Lajeunesse!" And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam. Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. The poetry The Village Blacksmith is lovely, intentional, smart, and moving. arms are strong as iron bands." Henry clearly explains that this blacksmith is a strong, hardworking man because of his traits. how often beneath this oak, returning from labor. Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. "Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps approachingSounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda.It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters,Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the Herdsman.Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors:Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were as strangers,Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other,Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together.But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceedingFrom the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle,Broke up all further speech. This is the forest primeval. Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps. As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases. Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness. These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on shipboard. Suddenly, as if it lightened,An unwonted splendor brightened Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood-red, Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon. The Lingquan is in hand, and there are fruits and vegetables It just so happens that the old village is full of adults and children who have gone to the pond to help., the hoe was swung like a windmill, and the work was done very quickly.In just one morning, before lunch, all the work . thy God thus speaketh within thee!Talk not of wasted affection, affection never was wasted;If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returningBack to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment;That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.Patience; accomplish thy labor; accomplish thy work of affection!Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made godlike,Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of heaven! But Elizabeth checked her, and answered, mildly reproving:Surely the Lord will provide; for unto the snow he sayeth,Be thou on the earth, the good Lord sayeth; He is itGiveth snow like wool, like ashes scatters the hoar-frost.So she folded her work and laid it away in her basket. Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows. Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, astounded. Half-way down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction,. othersWho have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal?Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved theeMany a tedious year; come, give him thy hand and be happy!Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses. Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pr,When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile.Exile without an end, and without an example in story.Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed;Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the northeastStrikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfoundland.Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city,From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas,From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father of WatersSeizes 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, despairing, heart-broken,Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside.Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the churchyards.Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered,Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things.Fair was she and young; but, alas! It tells us about the life of a blacksmith who becomes the metaphor for a purposeful life. With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches. Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting. 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 sunLooked 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 forestFlashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and jewels. Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers. Thus was the evening passed. We will not speak of it further. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring oceanSpeaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. "Sacred heart of the Saviour! Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters. Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but transfigured; He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent; Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others. 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! Broke the silence and said,"If you came by the Atchafalaya, How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the bayous?". Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the prairie. Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the fiddler. We are the World Summary. 99 Shopowner Sun and Blacksmith Tang Are Not Simple In the starter village, they could not beat Chu Bai, but now, they were out of the village. Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in a ruin. how changed was his aspect!Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, and his footstepHeavier seemed with the weight of the heavy heart in his bosom.But with a smile and a sigh, she clasped his neck and embraced him,Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed not.Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful procession. Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heirloom. And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon pass. Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together. Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its outskirts. "Farewell!" Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window. Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill, and on all sides. G. 0% average accuracy. Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her, Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music, Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness. Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber. That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions. Of our Lord, with light Elysian Onomatopoeia Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descendedDown to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting.Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness,Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded,Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river,Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertainRumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate Country;Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes,Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord,That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions,Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies. While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside. And of the goblin that came in the night to water the horses, And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened. Hardly a moment between the two lights, the day and the lamplight; Yet how grand is the winter! Surely the hand of the Lord conducted me here to thy threshold. Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the prairies; Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber. Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings. simile. 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. On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers. Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer. "Then, with a blush, she added,"Alas for my credulous fancy!Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning. Better than houses and lands, the gift of a womans affection. On the river. Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning. But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaning, Over her horses neck, in a whisper said to John Estaugh. Under the Sycamore-tree were hives overhung by a penthouse. Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the maiden. Gabriel was not forgotten. Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it. 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