Evangeline | Page 6

sweet air the Basin of Minas,
Where
the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor.
Life
had long been astir in 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,
Bending with
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Not far withdrawn from these,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 Dunkerque,
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 the 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 our harvests!"
More he
fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier
Smote him
upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pavement.
In the midst of the strife and tumult