This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts
that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland
the voice of the huntsman?
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian
farmers—
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the
woodlands, 10
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image
of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers
forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts
of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them
far o’er the ocean.
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village
of Grand-Pre. 15
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures,
and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman’s
devotion.
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines
of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.
PART THE FIRST.
Section I.
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin
of Minas, 20
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched
to the eastward,
Giving the village its name and pasture to flocks
without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with
labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons
the flood-gates 25
Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will o’er
the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards
and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o’er the plain;
and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the
mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty
Atlantic 30
Looked on the happy valley, but ne’er from their
station descended.
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian
village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak
and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign
of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and
gables projecting 35
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly
the sunset
Lighted the village street, and gilded the vanes on
the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in
kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning
the golden 40
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles
within doors
Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and
the songs of the maidens.
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and
the children
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended
to bless them.
Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons
and maidens, 45
Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate