Evangeline: a Tale of Acadie

Now had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer, / And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. / Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice-bound, / Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands, / Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of September / Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel. / All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. / Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey / Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian bunters asserted / Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes. / Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful season, / Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints! / Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape / Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. / Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean / Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony blended. / Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farm-yards, / Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, / All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the great sun / Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors around him; / While arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and yellow, / Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the forest / Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles and jewels.

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. / Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight descending / Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the homestead. / Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other, / And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of evening. / Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline's beautiful heifer, / Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from her collar, / Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. / Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the seaside, / Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the watch-dog, / Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his instinct, / 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. / Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the marshes, / Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. / Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their fetlocks, / While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous saddles, / Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crimson, / Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. / Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders / Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence / Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. / Lowing of cattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm-yard, / Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness; / Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors, / Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent.