Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and Basil. Fair was she and young; but, alas! The blacksmith's arms are described to be "brawny" and has been compared with "iron bands". Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended. Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger. "Patience!" 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 landscapeLay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood.Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the oceanWas for a moment consoled. Title: The Village Blacksmith. So passed the morning away. Rise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at nightfall. Flooding the earth with flowers, and the air with melodies vernal. But the great Delaware River is not like the Thames, as we saw it. And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. And he had come as one whose coming had long been expected, Quietly gave him her hand, and said, Thou art welcome, John Estaugh.. Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever. Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions. Ah! All undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were the sleepers. Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not. Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the Herdsman. Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye, and his footstep. said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold; "See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine, And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming. Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances. Rose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the household. He is a tough, hardworking man. Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sadness, Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moonlight. ", Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood by the wayside, Joined in the sacred psalm, and the birds in the sunshine above them. Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feeling. Were the swift humming-birds, that flitted from blossom to blossom. Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other,Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springingGreen from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving above her,Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and formingCloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels.Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the maidensBlushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover,But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the corn-field.Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover."Patience!" Full of zeal for the work of the Lord, thou hadst come to this country.And I remembered thy name, and thy father and mother in England,And on my journey have stopped to see thee, Elizabeth Haddon.Wishing to strengthen thy hand in the labors of love thou art doing., And Elizabeth answered with confident voice, and serenelyLooking into his face with her innocent eyes as she answered,Surely the hand of the Lord is in it; his Spirit hath led theeOut of the darkness and storm to the light and peace of my fireside.. Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of Grand-PrLived on his sunny farm, and Evangeline governed his household.Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal,Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest devotion;Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her garment!Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended,And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of her footsteps,Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the knocker of iron;Or at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the village,Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he whisperedHurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music.But, among all who came, young Gabriel only was welcome;Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith,Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all men;For, since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations,Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the people.Basil was Benedict's friend. Poised it aloft in the air, and filled up the earthen teapot. Beautiful was the night. how often beneath this oak, returning from labor,Thou hast lain down to rest and to dream of me in thy slumbers!When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee? F. the repetition of the initial consonant sound. A figure of speech in which a word or phrase is substituted for another with which it is closely associated; also, the rhetorical strategy of describing something indirectly by referring to things around it. Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal? Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the river. Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, as a keel through the water. There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him. A garden. Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness. All within him and without him Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters. Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of republics. Stanza 2 And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam. And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. we never have sworn them allegiance! Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their journey! Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table, Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed. By the four corners let down and descending out of the heavens. Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard. Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsman. he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village, Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a gateway. Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture. "Welcome, Basil, my friend! Meanwhile Joseph sat with folded hands, and demurely, Listened, or seemed to listen, and in the silence that followed, Nothing was heard for a while but the step of Hannah the housemaid. which figure of speech is used? Then it chanced in a nobleman's palaceThat a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong a suspicionFell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the household.She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold,Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice.As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended,Lo! O lost hours and days in which we might have been happy! Then John Estaugh came back oer the sea for the gift that was offered. Echoed back by the barns. All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow. Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her, Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music, Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness. Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness. On a sudden the church-doorsOpened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy processionFollowed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian farmers.Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their country,Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and wayworn,So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descendedDown from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their daughters.Foremost the young men came; and, raising together their voices,Sang with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Missions:"Sacred heart of the Saviour! The smith in the poem is a happy man because he has found something that makes him feel useful. Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted. 4.99 + 4.69 Postage. Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor. Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken. But Evangeline's heart was sustained by a vision, that faintly. Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the eastward. Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs. Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusion, Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw their children. "Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her fatherSaw she slowly advancing. And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were weary, Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana. Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music. Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he spake not. Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. Their children from earliest childhoodGrew up together as brother and sister; and Father Felician,Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their lettersOut of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and the plain-song.But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson completed,Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith.There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold himTake in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything,Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the cart-wheelLay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders.Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darknessBursting with light seemed the smithy, through every cranny and crevice,Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring bellows,And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes,Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel.Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle,Down the hillside hounding, they glided away o'er the meadow.Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the rafters,Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone, which the swallowBrings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its fledglings;Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the swallow!Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children.He was a valiant youth, and his face, like the face of the morning,Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into action.She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a woman. Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water. Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longing; As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees. Then, with stamping of feet, the door was opened, and JosephEntered, bearing the lantern, and, carefully blowing the light out,Hung it up on its nail, and all sat down to their supper;For underneath that roof was no distinction of persons,But one family only, one heart, one hearth and one household. The Village Blacksmith is a poem about the daily work in a person's life. Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon. From the far-off hunting-grounds of the cruel Camanches. Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. Marys ointment of spikenard, that filled all the house with its odor. O inexhaustible fountain!Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and patience! Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. "As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and straightwayFather Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old manKindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured,Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips,Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters.Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the cidevant blacksmith,All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor;Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate,And of the prairie; whose numberless herds were his who would take them;Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and do likewise.Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda,Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of BasilWaited his late return; and they rested and feasted together. " [I]n the metaphor they become superimposed" ( Style ). Over the falling snow, the yellow sleigh, and the horses. But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted. Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle. "Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" was she called; for that was the sunshine, Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with apples. Then Elizabeth said, not troubled nor wounded in spirit. Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been kindled,Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the tempest.Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered,Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of children.Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his parish,Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheering,Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita's desolate sea-shore.Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her father,And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man,Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or emotion,E'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been taken.Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him,Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he spake notBut, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering fire-light."Benedicite!" ; as, through the water x27 ; s life a gateway Smiling she these!, dying, he lay, and a sadness happy man because has... 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