Evangeline: A Tale of AcadieTicknor and Fields, 1857 - 159 pages |
From inside the book
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Page 29
... 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 30
... 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 . " Pausing a moment , to take the pipe that Evan- geline brought him , And ...
... 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 . " Pausing a moment , to take the pipe that Evan- geline brought him , And ...
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 , ― " 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 , ― " Gossip enough have I heard , in sooth , yet am never ...
Page 84
... Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Cath- erine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sad- ly , — “ I cannot ! Whither my heart has gone , there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For when the heart goes ...
... Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Cath- erine's tresses . " Then would Evangeline answer , serenely but sad- ly , — “ I cannot ! Whither my heart has gone , there follows my hand , and not elsewhere . For when the heart goes ...
Page 119
... 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 thy feet have 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 thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands ...
Common terms and phrases
38 cents 50 cents 63 cents Acadian peasants ACADIE accents aloft anon art thou Basil the blacksmith beauty behold Bellefontaine blossoms cheer Cloth darkness descended desert door Edition ESSAYS Evangeline stood Evangeline's heart eyes face farmer Father Felician flocks flowers footsteps Gabriel garden gazed geline gleamed golden GOLDEN LEGEND Grand-Pré hand HARVARD COLLEGE heard heaven herds labor land light lips Loud maiden maize meadows meek morning neighbouring night notary notary public numberless o'er ocean odor Opelousas Ozark Mountains passed Patience paused POEMS POETICAL Portrait prairies Price 50 Price 63 Price 75 cents priest REJECTED ADDRESSES river roof rose shade shadow Shawnee shore silent Sister of Mercy slowly snow-white song sorrow soul sound spake spirit STORIES sunshine sweet tale thee thou thought TWICE-TOLD TALES Unto village voice waited wander weary whispered wind woodlands words
Popular passages
Page 158 - Dwells another race, with other customs and language. Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile Wandered 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 ocean Speaks, and in accents disconsolate...
Page 10 - Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment. Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers, — Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics.
Page 4 - 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 woodland 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...
Page 114 - All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom ; and grass grows More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the prairies ; Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed into houses.
Page 124 - 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.
Page 27 - Laughed in the flickering light; and the pewter plates on the dresser Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine. Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vineyards.
Page 7 - Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Page 13 - Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea ; and a shady Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around it. Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and a footpath Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow.
Page 90 - 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 demoniac laughter. Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water, Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining 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...
Page 43 - Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. 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 doorstep Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with...