Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 3

hardy voyageur Through the white swells of many assault Had
safely steered his bark canoe, Knew how to pass each raging chute,
Though boiling like the wild Culbute The wilds of nature were his
home, His paddle beat the fleecy foam Of surging rapids' yeasty spray.
And bore him often far away Beyond the pinefringed Allumette, He
saw the sun in glory set, His boat song roused the lurking fox From den
beside the Oiseau rock Upward upon the river's breast, The highway to
the wild Nor-west, Past the long lake Temiscamingue, Where wild
drakes plume their glossy wing, Oft had he urged his light canoe,
Hunting the moose and caribou; He knew each portage on the way To
the far posts of Hudson's Bay, And even its frozen waters saw, When
roaming _courier du bois_, In the great Company's employ, Which he
had entered when a boy. Comely he was, and blithe, and young, Had a
light heart and merry tongue, And bright dark eye, was brave and bold,
Skilful to earn, and wise to hold, And so this hunter came our way, And
stole our wood nymph's heart away; And it became Belle Marie's lot To
love Napoleon Rajotte
Of all the sad despairing swains, Foredoomed to disappointment's pains,
None felt the pangs of jealous woe So keenly as Antome Vaiseau. A
thrifty settler's only son, Who much of backwoods wealth had won; A
steady lad of nature mild, Had been her playmate from a child, And
saw a stranger thus come in, And take what he had died to win. He saw
him loved the best, the first, Still he his hopeless passion nursed.
At Easter time the Cure came, And after Easter time was gone, The
hunter brave, the peerless dame Were blessed and made for ever one
Beside the cottage white she stood, And looked across the swelling
flood-- Across the wave that rolled between The islets robed in tender
green, Watching with eager eyes, she views A fleet of large
well-manned canoes, The high curved bow and stern she knew, That
marked each "Company canoe," And o'er the wave both strong and

clear, Their boat-song floated to her ear She marked their paddles'
steady dip, And listened with a quivering lip, Her bridegroom, daring,
gay, and young, With the bold heart and winning tongue, Was with
them, upward bound, away To the far posts of Hudson's Bay, Gone ere
the honeymoon is past, The bright brief moon too sweet to last, Gone
for two long and dreary years, And she must wait and watch at home,
Bear patiently her woman's fears, And hope and pray until he come,
She stands there still although the last Canoe of all the fleet is past. Of
paddle's dip, of boat-song gay, The last faint sound has died away, She
only said in turning home "I'll wait and pray until he come"
PART II
Spring flung abroad her dewy charms, And blushing grew to summer
shine, Summer sped on with outstretched arms, To meet brown autumn
crowned with vine, The forest glowed in gold and green, The leafy
maples flamed in red With the warm, hazy, happy beam Of Indian
summer overhead, Bright, fair, and fleet as passing dream. The autumn
also hurried on, And, shuddering, dropped her leafy screen; The
ice-king from the frozen zone, In fleecy robe of ermine dressed, Came
stopping rivers with his hand Binding in chains of ice the land;
Bringing, ere early spring he met, To Marie of Plantagenet, A pearly
snow-drop for her breast. An infant Marie to her home To brighten it
until he come.
Twice had the melting nor-west snow Come down to flood the Ottawa's
wave. "The seasons as they come and go Bring back," she said, "the
happy day To welcome him from far away; Thy father, child, my
hunter brave." That snow-drop baby now could stand, And run to
Marie's outstretched hand; Had all the charms that are alone To
youthful nursing mothers known.
'Twas summer in the dusty street, 'Twas summer in the busy town,
Summer in forests waving green, When, at an inn in old Lachine, And
in the room where strangers meet, Sat one, bright-eyed and bold and
brown. Soon will he joyful start for home, For home in fair Plantagenet.
His wallet filled with two years' pay, Well won at distant Hudson's Bay,
And the silk dress that stands alone, For her the darling, dark-eyed one.
Parted so long, so soon to meet, His every thought of her is sweet. "My
bride, my wife, with what regret, I left her at Plantagenet!" There came

no whisper through the air To tell him of his baby fair. But still he sat
with absent eye, And thoughts that were all homeward bound, And
passed the glass