The Song of the Exile--A Canadian Epic | Page 5

sail the great St. Lawrence, brave Champlain?Yet dared what none before him ever durst--?To give his life and labour--not for gain?To be derived from profitable trade--?Ambition else by hardship had been stayed;
IV.
But, for his king to found a colony,?And, for his God to win another land,?He suffered pain and hardship patiently;?And, with a busy and unflinching hand,?He laboured on that wild and rugged shore;?Nor ceased to labour till he breathed no more.
V.
He had not thus endured, as he endured,?Except his faith had given him new might;?Nor had he been to suffering inured,?And patient borne, except the holy rite,?Each day renewed, had cheered his fainting soul,?Enabling him to keep his courage whole.
VI.
Ye, living in your luxury and ease?Think not of all your country's fathers bore;?And still forget the famine and disease?Those pioneers suffered on your shore.?Their names are unfamiliar on your tongue,?Their deeds but vaguely known, their praise unsung.
VII.
So has it been, and so shall ever be?The man who stands to-day a shining light,?The hero who commands our fealty,?To-morrow, in oblivion's dark night,?Will be forgotten, or, on history's page,?May flicker dimly in a future age.
VIII.
Think not, ye men who seek to carve your name?On monuments of everlasting stone,?That ye can thus secure eternal fame.?Far greater deeds than yours have others done,?And greater far the harvest they have sown,?Which now ye reap, while they remain unknown.
IX.
As through the ages, silent and unseen,?The tiny corals work beneath the wave?And build a reef, which reef had never been?Except each coral there had found a grave;?So work the heroes of the human race,?And in their work-field find a resting place.
X.
How vast the number of the coral shells?That form the reef! And yet of these but one?Of many thousands ever elsewhere dwells?Than on that reef; all hidden and unknown?The rest remain, and few indeed are they?Which shine as jewels at a later day.
XI.
And thus have lived our heroes in the past:?The army of the brave and noble who?Have laboured uncomplaining, and at last?Have yielded up their lives; but there are few?Whose names stand forth, as worth would bid them stand,?Revered and honoured in their fatherland.
XII.
But Canada, let not the brave Champlain?Be thus in dark oblivion forgot.?Grant him the fame he never sought to gain;?Pay him the honour that he courted not;?And on thine earliest page of history?Write large his name, not as a mystery
XIII.
Or name unknown--but tell his deeds abroad,?And teach thy children all that he has done?Not hard the task, and thou canst well afford?To show the gratitude that he has won?From thee; and thus thou surely wilt impart?A proud ambition in thy children's heart
XIV.
To imitate the man, so true and brave,?Who laboured self-denyingly in life,?And 'neath the city's walls has found a grave,?At rest at last, and free from further strife.?Thus, as thy children knowledge of him gain,?Their hearts shall burn to emulate Champlain.
XV.
I stand upon the plains of Abraham,?And, silent as I stand, a train of thought?Comes o'er me, and the spot whereon I am?Seems almost holy ground; for here was fought?That mighty battle, whose event would show?If Canada were British soil or no.
XVI.
Before my eyes a vision rises bright,?And, in the vision, I can clearly see?The actions re-enacted of that fight;?And grand indeed the sight appears to me.?Repictured thus, I gaze upon the scene,?And meditate again on what has been.
XVII.
Ere yet the light had broken on that morn,[B]?Before the sun had shed his rays around,?While blackest darkness heralded the dawn,?The little fleet had left its anchor-ground;?With not a lantern showing light or gleam,?It floated silently adown the stream.
XVIII.
Within the flagship, weakened by the pain?Of recent fever, Wolfe reclining lay?Unfit to bear the war's fatigue and strain,?He yet was armed and ready for the fray.?Forgetful of _his_ pain and suffering,?He thought but of his country and his king.
XIX.
His duty bade him fight, and he would fight;?His country bade him win, and he would win?If bravery could put the foe to flight.?If courage and a sturdy heart within?Could win the day, he feared not the event;?His men were veterans on victory bent.
XX.
Yet, as he lay upon his couch at rest?Among his officers, he seemed to be?Prescient of his fate; for he addressed?His friends in verses from an Elegy,?And to this line a special accent gave:?"The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
XXI.
Foreknowledge of his fate perchance impressed?This truth upon him. Glory's path would lead?Him to the grave that day, and there at rest,?No longer pain or glory would he heed.?Full well might these appear a mockery?To him who soon would meet eternity.[C]
XXII.
And who will blame him if his thought recurred,?At such a time, to England and the maid?Beloved, to whom he gave his plighted word?Ere parting? Who will wonder at the shade?Of sorrow darkling on his troubled brow,?As he reflects on what may not be now?
XXIII.
A vision bright, of home and happiness,?Of calm