The dying, Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there. Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and her missal. murmured the priest, in tones of compassion.More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his accentsFaltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a threshold,Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of sorrow.Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the maiden,Raising his tearful eyes to the silent stars that above themMoved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows of mortals.Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence. With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. he has left me alone with my herds and my horses.Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spiritCould no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence.Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever,Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles,He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens,Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent himUnto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards.Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains,Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver.Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover;He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against him.Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morningWe will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison.". Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness. 9: A Tale Involving a Tree! Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful prairies. Yet under Benedict's roof hospitality seemed more abundant: For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father; Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and gladness. Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract. It tells us about the life of a blacksmith who becomes the metaphor for a purposeful life. More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his accents. F. the repetition of the initial consonant sound. Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among them, Entered the sacred portal. When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed. She in turn related her love and all its disasters. These papers were written primarily by students and provide critical analysis of poems by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head, and the maiden. Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches tobacco, Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they listened:. Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the evening. Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward. Suddenly, as if it lightened,An unwonted splendor brightened Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the prairie. Exile without an end, and without an example in story. the poor, who had neither friends nor attendants,Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless.Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and woodlands;Now the city surrounds it; but still, with its gateway and wicketMeek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echoSoftly the words of the Lord:"The poor ye always have with you. Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover. . He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him. before her extended, Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathway. o'er the city a tempest rose; and the bolts of the thunder, Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its left hand. Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the arches. Lucas. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,For the lesson thou hast taught!Thus at the flaming forge of lifeOur fortunes must be wrought;Thus on its sounding anvil shapedEach burning deed and thought. "Sacred heart of the Saviour! Gabriel was not forgotten. How does the speaker feel about the village blacksmith? Walking the floor overhead, and setting the chambers in order. Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains,Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him.Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and BasilFollowed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake him.Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his camp-fireRise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at nightfall,When they had reached the place, they found only embers and ashes.And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were weary,Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata MorganaShowed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished before them. Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on the sea-beachPiled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants.All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats ply;All day long the wains came laboring down from the village.Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting,Echoed far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the churchyard.Thither the women and children thronged. Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wounded in spirit,So is it best, John Estaugh. Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. Example: "That stuffed suit with the briefcase is a poor excuse for a salesman," the manager said angrily. Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the branches. Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders, Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence. Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children. Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches. Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things around them; And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sadness,. Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion. Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her presence. But a celestial brightnessa more ethereal beauty. the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused on the threshold. Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction. Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelvemonth. Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations? Then came the evening service. before her extended,Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathwayMarked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered before her,Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned,As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked byCamp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine.Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished;As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine,Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descendedInto the east again, from whence it late had arisen.Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,She would commence again her endless search and endeavor;Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones,Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosomHe was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him,But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes. Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slumbered. And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter,yet Gabriel came not;Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and bluebirdSounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not.But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was waftedSweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom.Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests,Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River,And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. Lawrence,Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission.When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches,She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests,Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin! Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon her. Lord, he thought, in heaven that reignest, The Theologian's Tale; The Legend Beautiful. Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient. the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician. "Gone? "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. Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the ocean. chills.Gray was wearing a thin padded jacket and leather armor, and his body was a little stiff.He moved his hands and feet first to let his body get used to it There were haystacks everywhere near the village, many of which had been piled up for a long time . Ah, how short are the days! Thus rebuked, for a season was silent the penitent housemaid; And Elizabeth said in tones even sweeter and softer: Dost thou remember, Hannah, the great May-Meeting in London. While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father. Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow. "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. Come, take thy place on the settleClose by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee;Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco;Never so much thyself art thou as when through the curlingSmoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleamsRound and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the marshes. Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator. Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea-shore. Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. 3 A ballad is a poetic narrative in stanzas. 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