the complete poetical works-第33部分
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Sweeter than song of bird; or hue or odor of blossom。
Far to the north and east; it said; in the Michigan forests;
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River;
And; with returning guides; that sought the lakes of St。
Lawrence;
Saying a sad farewell; Evangeline went from the Mission。
When over weary ways; by long and perilous marches;
She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests;
Found she the hunter's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin!
Thus did the long sad years glide on; and in seasons and places
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden;
Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions;
Now in the noisy camps and the battle…fields of the army;
Now in secluded hamlets; in towns and populous cities。
Like a phantom she came; and passed away unremembered。
Fair was she and young; when in hope began the long journey;
Faded was she and old; when in disappointment it ended。
Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty;
Leaving behind it; broader and deeper; the gloom and the shadow。
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her
forehead;
Dawn of another life; that broke o'er her earthy horizon;
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning。
V
In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's waters;
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle;
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded。
There all the air is balm; and the peach is the emblem of beauty;
And the streets still re…echo the names of the trees of the
forest;
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they
molested。
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed; an exile;
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country。
There old Rene Leblanc had died; and when he departed;
Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants。
Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city;
Something that spake to her heart; and made her no longer a
stranger;
And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers;
For it recalled the past; the old Acadian country;
Where all men were equal; and all were brothers and sisters。
So; when the fruitless search; the disappointed endeavor;
Ended; to recommence no more upon earth; uncomplaining;
Thither; as leaves to the light; were turned her thoughts and her
footsteps。
As from a mountain's top the rainy mists of the morning
Roll away; and afar we behold the landscape below us;
Sun…illumined; with shining rivers and cities and hamlets;
So fell the mists from her mind; and she saw the world far below
her;
Dark no longer; but all illumined with love; and the pathway
Which she had climbed so far; lying smooth and fair in the
distance。
Gabriel was not forgotten。 Within her heart was his image;
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth; as last she beheld him;
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and absence。
Into her thoughts of him time entered not; for it was not。
Over him years had no power; he was not changed; but
transfigured;
He had become to her heart as one who is dead; and not absent;
Patience and abnegation of self; and devotion to others;
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her。
So was her love diffused; but; like to some odorous spices;
Suffered no waste nor loss; though filling the air with aroma。
Other hope had she none; nor wish in life; but to follow
Meekly; with reverent steps; the sacred feet of her Saviour。
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy; frequenting
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city;
Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight;
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected。
Night after night; when the world was asleep; as the watchman
repeated
Loud; through the gusty streets; that all was well in the city;
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper。
Day after day; in the gray of the dawn; as slow through the
suburbs
Plodded the German farmer; with flowers and fruits for the
market;
Met he that meek; pale face; returning home from its watchings。
Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on the city;
Presaged by wondrous signs; and mostly by flocks of wild pigeons;
Darkening the sun in their flight; with naught in their craws but
an acorn。
And; as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September;
Flooding some silver stream; till it spreads to a lake in the
meadow;
So death flooded life; and; o'erflowing its natural margin;
Spread to a brackish lake; the silver stream of existence。
Wealth had no power to bribe; nor beauty to charm; the oppressor;
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger;
Only; alas! the poor; who had neither friends nor attendants;
Crept away to die in the almshouse; home of the homeless。
Then in the suburbs it stood; in the midst of meadows and
woodlands;
Now the city surrounds it; but still; with its gateway and wicket
Meek; in the midst of splendor; its humble walls seem to echo
Softly the words of the Lord:〃The poor ye always have with
you。〃
Thither; by night and by day; came the Sister of Mercy。 The
dying
Looked up into her face; and thought; indeed; to behold there
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor;
Such as the artist paints o'er the brows of saints and apostles;
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance。
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial;
Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would enter。
Thus; on a Sabbath morn; through the streets; deserted and
silent;
Wending her quiet way; she entered the door of the almshouse。
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the garden;
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them;
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and
beauty。
Then; as she mounted the stairs to the corridors; cooled by the
east…wind;
Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of
Christ Church;
While; intermingled with these; across the meadows were wafted
Sounds of psalms; that were sung by the Swedes in their church at
Wicaco。
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit;
Something within her said; 〃At length thy trials are ended〃;
And; with light in her looks; she entered the chambers of
sickness。
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous; careful attendants;
Moistening the feverish lip; and the aching brow; and in silence
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead; and concealing their
faces;
Where on their pallets they lay; like drifts of snow by the
roadside。
Many a languid head; upraised as Evangeline entered;
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed; for her
presence
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a
prison。
And; as she looked around; she saw how Death; the consoler;
Laying his hand upon many a heart; had healed it forever。
Many familiar forms had disappeared in the night time;
Vacant their places were; or filled already by strangers。
Suddenly; as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder;
Still she stood; with her colorless lips apart; while a shudder
Ran through her frame; and; forgotten; the flowerets dropped from
her fingers;
And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morning。
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish;
That the dying heard it; and started up from their pillows。
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man。
Long; and thin; and gray were the locks that shaded his temples;
But; as he lay in the in morning light; his face for a moment
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood;
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying。
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever;
As if life; like the Hebrew; with blood had besprinkled its
portals;
That the Angel of Death might see the sign; and pass over。
Motionless; senseless; dying; he lay; and his spirit exhausted
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the
darkness;
Darkness of slumber and death; forever sinking and sinking。
Then through those realms of shade; in multiplied reverberations;
Heard he that cry of pain; and through the hush that succeeded
Whispered a gentle voice; in accents tender and saint…like;
〃Gabriel! O my beloved!〃 and died away into silence。
Then he beheld; in a dream; once more the home of his childhood;
Green Acadian meadows; with sylvan rivers among them;
Village; and mountain; and woodlands; and; walking under their
shadow;
As in the days of her youth; Evangeline rose in his vision。
Tears came into his eyes; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids;
Vanished the vision away; but Evangeline knelt by his bedside。
Vainly he strove to whisper her name; for the accents unuttered
Died on his lips; and their motion revealed what his tongue would
have spoken。
Vainly he strove to rise; and Evangeline; kneeling beside him;
Kissed his dying lips; and laid his head on her bosom。
Sweet was the light of his eyes; but it suddenly sank into
darkness;
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement。
All was ended now; the hope; and the fear; and the sorrow;
All the aching of heart; the restless; unsatisfied longing;
All the dull; deep pain; and constant anguish of patience!
And; as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom;
Meekly she bowed her own; and murmured; 〃Father; I thank thee!〃
…
Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow;
Side by side; in their nameless graves; the lovers are sleeping。
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard;
In the heart of the city; they lie; unknown and unnoticed。
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them;
Thousands o