Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he created! Bends the grass of the fields, or grain that is ripe for the sickle. More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and contentment. Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm-house. for if we love one another, Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may happen! why dream and wait for him longer?Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel? Still stands the forest primeval; but far away from its shadow. Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the darkness. 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. before her extended,Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, with its pathwayMarked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered before her,Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned,As the emigrant's way o'er the Western desert is marked byCamp-fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine.Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished;As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine,Suddenly paused in the sky, and, fading, slowly descendedInto the east again, from whence it late had arisen.Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within her,Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit,She would commence again her endless search and endeavor;Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and tombstones,Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its bosomHe was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him.Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper,Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward.Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and known him,But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. A gardenGirded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms,Filling the air with fragrance. He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him. Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their margin. In-doors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmerSat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames and the smoke-wreathsStruggled together like foes in a burning city. Aloft, through the intricate archesOf its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers,Mingling its notes with the soft susurrus and sighs of the branches.Silent, with heads uncovered, the travellers, nearer approaching,Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions.But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallenForth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the hands of the sower,Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade themWelcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant expression,Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother-tongue in the forest,And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam.There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the maize-earFeasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the teacher.Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity answered:"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seatedOn this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes,Told me this same sad tale then arose and continued his journey! Like a vesture wrapped about him, Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed. Built of the drift-wood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the tempest. Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, Vainly offered him food; yet he moved not, he looked not, he spake not. On a sudden the church-doors, Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy procession. Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travellers slumbered. As she would sometimes say to Joseph, quoting the Scriptures. Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation. Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape. Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping encampments. This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it. Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. But one family only, one heart, one hearth and one household. 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 morningRoll 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 pathwayWhich she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair in the distance.Gabriel was not forgotten. Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract. but had the VisionCome to him in beggars clothing,Come a mendicant imploring,Would he then have knelt adoring,Or have listened with derision,And have turned away with loathing? Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and privations? Youthful he was and tall, and his cheeks aglow with the night air; And as he entered, Elizabeth rose, and, going to meet him. Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow, And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding. Figures of speech for the poem village blacksmith Advertisement Answer 8 people found it helpful Shivansh1mishra There are two figures of speech in the Poem The Village Blacksmith They are Simile and Metaphor Please Mark it brainliest answer Find English textbook solutions? With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches. Ah, how short are the days! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood withNaked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber!Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard,Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow.Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sadnessPassed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moonlightFlitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment.And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon passForth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps,As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar! "Welcome once more, my friends, who long have been friendless and homeless. Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded. Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight. "And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies,Wandered alone, and she cried,"O Gabriel! But, as they started, Elizabeth lingered a little, and leaning, Over her horses neck, in a whisper said to John Estaugh. After your houses are built, and your fields are yellow with harvests. "Gabriel Lajeunesse!" Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances. Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the music. " [I]n the metaphor they become superimposed" ( Style ). The Village Blacksmith Lyrics Under a spreading chestnut-tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are. There is snow in the air, and see! we never have sworn them allegiance!Death to these foreign soldiers, who seize on our homes and our harvests! The poem stars a blacksmith. Silently over that house the blessing of slumber descended. So, at the hoof-beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil. 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!" And of the marvellous powers of four-leaved clover and horseshoes. "Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed.Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent,"Gone? "Thereupon the priest, her friend and father-confessor,Said, with a smile,"O daughter! The speaker holds the blacksmith in high esteem as a hard worker, faithful man, loving father, devoted husband, and worthy friend. The dying, Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there. Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending. ", Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the blacksmith. Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. 99.99 + 3.49 Postage. Clement and kind has he been; but how you have answered his kindness, Let your own hearts reply! Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each other. Then would they say,"Dear child! Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas. personification. The sun from the western horizonLike a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape;Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forestSeemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver,Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water.Filled was Evangeline's heart with inexpressible sweetness.Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountains of feelingGlowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her.Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking-bird, wildest of singers,Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o'er the water,Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music,That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to listen.Plaintive at first were the tones and sad; then soaring to madnessSeemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes.Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation;Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision,As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-topsShakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches.With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emotion,Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green Opelousas,And, through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland,Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwelling;Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle. And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and abundance. And John Estaugh was standing and taking leave at the threshold, Saying that he should return at the Meeting in May; while above. We are the World Summary. Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines. ", Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive,, "Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted.". Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other, Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were springing. Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the door-step. Alas! Habt Ihr Folge 7 der dritten Staffel von The Mandalor." As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert. it is falling already;All the roads will be blocked, and I pity Joseph to-morrow,Breaking his way through the drifts, with his sled and oxen; and then, too,How in all the world shall we get to Meeting on First-Day?. Thoughts of him to-day have been oft borne inward upon me, Wherefore I do not know; but strong is the feeling within me, That once more I shall see a face I have never forgotten.. The poem begins: "Under a spreading chestnut tree / The village smithy stands." The illustrations show that a neighbor's wrought-iron gate is broken, but the "mighty" blacksmith, with arms "strong as iron bands," is up to the task of fixing it. Illustrations drawn and engraved under the supervision of George T. Andrew. "Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, warmly, the blacksmith, Shaking his head, as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he continued:. "Then would they say,"Dear child! Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore-tree by the window. Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule-tide, Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. yea, the winter is beautiful, surely. Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction.

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