The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

blossoms,

      And with the heat of noon; and numberless sylvan islands,

      Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses,

      Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber.

      Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were suspended.

      Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin,

      Safely their boat was moored; and scattered about on the greensward,

      Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slumbered.

      Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar.

      Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the grapevine

      Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob,

      On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending,

      Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom.

      Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it.

      Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening heaven

      Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial.

       Nearer, ever nearer, among the numberless islands,

      Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water,

      Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers.

      Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison and beaver.

      At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and careworn.

      Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness

      Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written.

      Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and restless,

      Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow.

      Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island,

      But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmettos,

      So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in the willows,

      All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were the sleepers,

      Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering maiden.

      Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the prairie.

      After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the distance,

      As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the maiden

      Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, "O Father Felician!

      Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel wanders.

      Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition?

      Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my spirit?"

      Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credulous fancy!

      Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning."

      But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he answered—

      "Daughter, thy words are not idle; nor are they to me without meaning.

      Feeling is deep and still; and the word that floats on the surface

      Is as the tossing buoy, that betrays where the anchor is hidden.

      Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions.

      Gabriel truly is near thee; for not far away to the southward,

      On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and St. Martin.

      There the long-wandering bride shall be given again to her bridegroom,

      There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold.

      Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit-trees;

      Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens

      Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest.

      They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana."

       With these words of cheer they arose and continued their journey.

      Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon

      Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape;

      Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest

      Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.

      Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver,

      Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water.

      Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness.

      Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling

      Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her.

      Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers,

      Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water,

      Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music,

      That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.

      Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then soaring to madness

      Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes.

      Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation;

      Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision,

      As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops

      Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches.

      With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion,

      Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green Opelousas,

      And, through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland,

      Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwelling;—

      Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle.

III

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      Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches

      Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted,

      Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule-tide,

      Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A garden

      Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms,

      Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers

      Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together.

      Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns supported,

      Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda,

      Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it.

      At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden,

      Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol,

      Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals.

      Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine

      Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow,

      And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly