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. 1235
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;—­ 1240
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; 1245
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 earthly horizon, 1250
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning.

SECTION 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. 1255
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, 1260
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, 1265
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, uncomplainingly,
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 1270
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. 1275