Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pre. 
Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas,
Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor. 
Life had been long astir in the village, and clamorous labor 385
Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the morning. 
Now from the country around, from the farms and neighboring hamlets,
Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants. 
Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young folk
Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows, 390
Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward,
Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the highway. 
Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were silenced. 
Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups at the house-doors
Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. 395
Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and feasted;
For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together,
All things were held in common, and what one had was another’s. 
Yet under Benedict’s roof hospitality seemed more abundant: 
For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father. 400
Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and gladness
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it.

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard,
Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary seated; 405
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 
Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider press and the bee-hives,
Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and of waistcoats. 
Shadow and light from the leaves alternately played on his snow-white
Hair, as it waved in the wind; and the jolly face of the fiddler 410
Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the embers. 
Gaily the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle,
Tous les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de Dunkerque,
And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 
Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 415
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;
Old folk and young together, and children mingled among them. 
Fairest of all maids was Evangeline, Benedict’s daughter! 
Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith!

So passed the morning away.  And lo! with a summons sonorous 420
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat. 
Thronged ere long was the church with men.  Without, in the churchyard,
Waited the women.  They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones