Built o'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with its moss-grown Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses. Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns and the farm-yard, There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique ploughs and the harrows; There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feathered seraglio, Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the selfsame Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. In each one Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of Grand-Pré Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all men ; Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from earliest childhood Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their letters Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the cart-wheel Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every cranny and crevice, Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples; II. Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer, Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound, Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of September Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her collar, Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside, Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers; Regent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept; their protector, When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the wolves howled. Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their fetlocks, Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson, |