Childrens Own Longfellow | Page 8

the village, and clamorous labor Knocked with its
hundred hands at the golden gates of the morning. Now from the
country around, from the farms and neighboring hamlets, 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 meadows, 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 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;

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; There good Benedict sat,
and sturdy Basil the blacksmith.
Not far withdrawn from these, by the
cider-press and the beehives, 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
fiddler 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 Dunquerque,
And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music.
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
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat.
Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, in the churchyard,
Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the
headstones Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the
forest. Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly
among them 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 soldiers. Then uprose their
commander, and spake from the steps of the altar, Holding aloft in his
hands, with its seals, the royal commission. "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 grievous. 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!

Prisoners now I declare you; for such is his Majesty's pleasure!" As,
when the air is serene in sultry solstice of summer,
Suddenly gathers
a storm, and the deadly sling of the hailstones 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, Bellowing fly the herds,
and seek to break their enclosures; So on the hearts of the people
descended the words of the speaker. 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. 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 he
shouted,-- "Down with the tyrants of England! we never have sworn
them allegiance! Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our
homes and