Evangeline: a tale [in verse]. |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 6
Page 30
... thou as when through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleams Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the marshes . " Then , with a smile of content , thus answered Basil the ...
... thou as when through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleams Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the marshes . " Then , with a smile of content , thus answered Basil the ...
Page 31
... 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 before them , Happy art thou , as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe ...
... 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 before them , Happy art thou , as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe ...
Page 37
... thou hast heard the talk in the village , And , perchance canst tell us some news of these ships and their errand . " Then with modest demeanour made answer the notary public , – 66 - Gossip enough have I heard , in sooth , yet am never ...
... thou hast heard the talk in the village , And , perchance canst tell us some news of these ships and their errand . " Then with modest demeanour made answer the notary public , – 66 - Gossip enough have I heard , in sooth , yet am never ...
Page 81
... Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catha rine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sadly , - " I cannot ! Wither my heart has gone there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For when the heart goes before ...
... Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catha rine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sadly , - " I cannot ! Wither my heart has gone there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For when the heart goes before ...
Page 116
... thou so near unto me , and yet I cannot behold thee ? Art thou so near unto me , and yet thy voice does not reach me ? Ah ! how often have thy feet trod this path to the prairie ! Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands ...
... thou so near unto me , and yet I cannot behold thee ? Art thou so near unto me , and yet thy voice does not reach me ? Ah ! how often have thy feet trod this path to the prairie ! Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
Acadian Acadie accents aloft anon answer art thou ascended barns Basil the blacksmith beauty behold blossom boat cattle cheer churchyard darkness descended desert door dwellings Evangeline stood Evangeline's heart exile eyes face farm-yard farmer Father Felician Filled flax flocks flowers footsteps forest FREDERIKA BREMER Gabriel garden gazed gleamed golden hand Happy Valley heard heaven HENRY W herds herdsman labour land light lips Loud maiden maize meadows meek morning mournful myste neighbouring night notary notary public Nova Scotia o'er ocean Opelousas Ozark mountains passed Patience paused Port Royal prairies priest river roofs rose sang shade shadow Shawnee ships shore silent Sister of Mercy slowly slumber smoke snow-white sorrow soul sound spake spirit sunshine sweet tale thee thou thought tide Unto Vathek village of Grand-Pré voice waited wander weary whispered wind woodlands words
Popular passages
Page 147 - Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her presence Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison.
Page 8 - This is the forest primeval ; but where are the hearts that beneath it Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman?
Page 150 - Died 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.
Page 7 - THIS is the forest primeval. 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.
Page 11 - West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended.
Page 13 - Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows ; But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners ; There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance.
Page 93 - Swinging from its great arms, the trumpetflower and the grapevine Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob, On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending, Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom. Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it. Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heaven Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial.
Page 11 - There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on the chimneys, Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors Mingled their sounds with the whir of the wheels and the songs of the maidens.
Page 52 - You are convened this day," he said, " by his Majesty's orders. 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.
Page 15 - 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 Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them...