Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsman
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 1025
Came o’er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden. 
Beautiful was the night.  Behind the black wall of the forest,
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon.  On the river
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit. 1030
Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews,
Hung the heart of the maiden.  The calm and the magical moonlight 1035
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings,
As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees,
Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers. 1040
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens,
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship,
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple,
As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, “Upharsin.” 
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies, 1045
Wandered alone, and she cried, “O Gabriel!  O my beloved! 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me? 
Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! 
Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me! 1050
Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor,
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers! 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?”
Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded
Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets, 1055
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. 
“Patience!” whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness;
And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, “To-morrow!”

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the garden
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses 1060
With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. 
“Farewell!” said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;
“See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,