Evangeline

by thealchemistspottery

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Potter, abstract landscape painter, nature lover, sculptor, closet geek, gardener, foodie and outdoor enthusiast.

“SEPARATED BY THE ACADIAN EXPULSION, EVANGELINE AND HER BETROTHED WOULD ONLY BE REUNITED IN THEIR OLD AGE WHEN GABRIEL, WHO WAS ALREADY VERY SICK, WOULD PERISH IN HER ARMS.”

The Alchemist Studio

Evangeline tells the tale of a great Acadian love
story that is a part of the local culture here in my
home of Nova Scotia.

‘Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie’ is an epic poem by
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. In this poem he
follows her search for long lost love Gabriel, with
whom she was betrothed.

Evangeline and Gabriel were separated by ‘The
Great Upheavel’, also known as the Acadian
Expulsion. During this dark chapter of English –
French relations in Canada, over eleven thousand
Acadians were deported by the British.

Separated by the Acadian Expulsion, Evangeline and
her betrothed would only be reunited in their old
age when Gabriel, who was already very sick, would
perish in her arms.

This work of fiction has become immortalized here in
Nova Scotia, where you can follow the stunning landscape
of the Evangeline Trail and explore the ancestral
home of the Acadians! Nova Scotia invites you to
visit and explore our vibrant culture and landscape.
Maybe you will find your own ‘Gabriel’.

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 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,
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-Pré.

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.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

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