Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 4

Then raising up his glass on high, "Stranger, I drink your health," said he, "You'll sail the 'Emerald Isle,' with me. "A smarter crew, a better boat, "Lake Erie's waves will never float, "I want but one to fill my crew; "I wish no better man than you; "High wage, light work, a jolly life "Is ours--no care, no fret, no strife. "So come before the good chance pass, "And drown our bargain in the glass." "Not so," Rajotte said with a smile, "Let others sail the 'Emerald Isle,' For I have been two years away, A trapper at the Hudson's Bay; Two years is long enough to roam, I'm bound to see my wife and home."
The captain shook his curly head, "Did you not hear the news?" he said, "Last summer came from Hudson's Bay, A courier from York Factory. He brought the news that you were dead-- Killed by a wounded grizzly bear When trapping all alone up there-- Found you himself the fellow said; And your wife mourned and wept her fill Refusing to be comforted. But grief you know will pass away, She found new love as women will; And married here the other day."
Not doubting aught of what he heard He sat, but neither spoke nor stirred. His heart gave one great throb of pain, And stopped--then bounded on again. His bronze face took an ashen hue, As his great woe came blanching through, And stormy thoughts with stinging pain Swept with wild anguish through his brain; But not a word he spoke. They only saw his lips grow pale, But no word questioned of the tale. You might have thought the captain bold, Had almost wished his tale untold; But careless he of working harm When coveting that brave right arm. At last the silence broke: "He who brought news that I was dead, Is it to him my wife is wed? Was it? I know it must be so. It must have been Antoine Vaiseau." "Yes," said the Captain, "'tis the same, Antoine Vaiseau's the very name."
So ere the morrow's morn had come, Rajotte had turned his back from home, And gone for ever more, Gone off, alone with his despair, While his true wife and baby fair, Watched for him at the door.
The rough crew of the "Emerald Isle," Had one grim man without a smile, So prompt to do, so wild to dare, Reckless and nursing his despair. The merry light had left his glance, His foot refused to join the dance. His heart refused to pray. "Oh to forget!" he oft would cry, Forget this ceaseless agony, To fly from thought away." Woe spun her white threads in his hair, And bitter and unblessed despair Ploughed furrows in his face; Grief her dark shade on all things cast; None dared to question of the past, His sorrow seemed disgrace.
When rumour rose of Indian war; Troops mustering for the west afar, That wanted them a guide; Rajotte said "I'm the man to go." War's din he thought would drown his woe, 'Twas well the world was wide. The Black Hawk war began--went on: (Men dare not tell what men have done-- The white's relentless cruelty O'ermastering Indian treachery;) Rajotte, a stern determined man, Sought death, forever in the van On many a fierce-fought battle plain; His life seemed charmed--he sought in vain.
Spring came and went--the years went past; War ended, peace came round at last; But war might go, and peace might come, Rajotte thought not of turning home. Till, failing strength, and fading eye, He turned him homeward just to die. Perhaps although he felt it not, In his fierce wrestling with his lot, There was a drawing influence From the dear home so far away; And faithful prayers had risen from thence, To Him who hears us when we pray, Who watched the lonely waiting heart That nursed its love and faith apart; And, pitying her well borne pain, Ordained it should not be in vain.
PART III.
Now turn we to Plantagenet: Through all these weary, waiting years, How many hopes and fears have met' How many prayers, how many tears! When the time came that he should come Back to his fair young wife and home, Often and often would she say, "He'll surely come to us to-day." Pet Marie's best robe was put on And the poor mother dressed with care-- Glad that she was both young and fair-- "To meet thy father, little one" Oft standing on the very spot Where she had parted from Rajotte She stood a patient watcher long, And listened eagerly to hear The voyageurs' returning song Come floating to her ear But still he came not, years went by, Yet she must pray, and hope, and wait, His form would some day