The Complete Poems - Генри Уодсуорт Лонгфелло

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Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed against us.

      What their design may be is unknown; but all are commanded

      On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's mandate

      Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas! in the mean time

      Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people."

      Then made answer the farmer:—"Perhaps some friendlier purpose

      Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in England

      By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted,

      And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and children."

      "Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, warmly, the blacksmith,

      Shaking his head, as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he continued:—

      "Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Port Royal.

      Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its outskirts,

      Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to-morrow.

      Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all kinds;

      Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and the scythe of the mower."

      Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer:—

      "Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our cornfields,

      Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the ocean,

      Than our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's cannon.

      Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow of sorrow

      Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract.

      Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the village

      Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe round about them,

      Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelvemonth.

      Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn.

      Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our children?"

      As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover's,

      Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken,

      And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered.

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      Bent like a laboring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,

      Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public;

      Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung

      Over his shoulders; his forehead was high; and glasses with horn bows

      Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal.

      Father of twenty children was he, and more than a hundred

      Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his great watch tick.

      Four long years in the times of the war had he languished a captive,

      Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the English.

      Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion,

      Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike.

      He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children;

      For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest,

      And of the goblin that came in the night to water the horses,

      And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened

      Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of children;

      And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable,

      And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nutshell,

      And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and horseshoes,

      With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village.

      Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith,

      Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right hand,

      "Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk in the village,

      And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and their errand."

      Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary public—

      "Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser;

      And what their errand may be I know not better than others.

      Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention

      Brings them here, for we are at peace; and why then molest us?"

      "God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible blacksmith;

      "Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and the wherefore?

      Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest!"

      But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public—

      "Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice

      Triumphs; and well I remember a story, that often consoled me,

      When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port Royal."

      This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to repeat it

      When his neighbors complained that any injustice was done them.

      "Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember,

      Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice

      Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left hand,

      And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice presided

      Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homes of the people.

      Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the balance,

      Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine above them.

      But in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted;

      Might took the place of right, and the weak were oppressed, and the mighty

      Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace

      That a necklace of pearls was lost, and erelong a suspicion

      Fell 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'er the city a tempest rose; and the bolts of the thunder

      Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its left hand

      Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the balance,

      And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie,

      Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was inwoven."

      Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the blacksmith

      Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth no language;

      All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as the vapors

      Freeze

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