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 numerous mead

ows,

390

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the

greensward,

Group after 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

394

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 brothers together, All things were held in common, and what one had was another's.

Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abundant: For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; 400 Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome 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, Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary

seated;

405

There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the bee

hives,

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 fid

dler

410

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 Dunkerque,

2

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 414 Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows; Old folk and young together, and children mingled among them.

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter! Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith!

So passed the morning away. And lo! with a summons

sonorous

420

Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a

drum beat.

Thronged ere long was the church with men.

the churchyard,

Waited the women.

the headstones

Without, in

They stood by the graves, and hung on

Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the

forest.

Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly

among them

425

Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement,

Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the sol

diers.

(pron. too la boor-zhwä dŭ shärtr) French for "All the Citizens of Chartres," the first words, or name, of an old French song.

2 (pron. lŭ kä-rē-yon du dén-kerk) "The Chimes of Dunkirk " (town of France), name of an old French song.

Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of

the altar,

430 Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commis

sion.1

"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 griev

ous.

435

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 yourselves from this province

Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell

there

Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people! 440 Prisoners now I declare you, for such is his Majesty's pleasure!

As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sling of the hail

stones

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,

445

Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their enclosures; So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker.

1 formal order from the king.

2 The sun reaches the summer solstice, the point in the ecliptic where it is farthest

north from the equator, on the 21st of June. The poet means the heavy weather of late June and July.

Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then

rose

Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger,

And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the door

way.

450

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 billows.

Flushed was his face and distorted with passion; and wildly

66

he shouted,

455

"Down with the tyrants of England! we never have sworn

them allegiance!'

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.

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, Lo! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 461 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

465

Spake he, as, after the tocsin's' alarum, distinctly the clock strikes.

1 See Introduction, p. 13.

2 The poet probably had in mind the bell and clock of a church tower. After "the strife and turmoil of angry contention,"

Father Felician "spake in measured accents," just as, after the clangorous ringing of an alarm, the clock may strike slowly and distinctly.

"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 another!

Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations? 470

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! where the crucified Christ from His cross is gazing upon

you!

See! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compas475

sion!

Hark! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ‘O Father, for

1

give 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, 480

While they repeated his prayer, and said, "O Father, forgive 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 2

1 the prayer of Jesus after being nailed to Mary," the first words of a Latin prayer the cross. Luke xxiii. 34.

2 (pron. ah-vā mah-re-ä) Latin for "Hail,

said in the Roman Catholic Church to the mother of Christ,