Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 2

past thy banks, Plantagenet;
Thy banks where tall and plumed pines Stood rank on rank, in serried
lines. Green islands, each with leafy crest, Lay peaceful on the river's
breast, The trees, ere this, had, one by one, Shook out their leaflets to
the sun, Forming a rustling, waving screen, While swollen waters
rolled between.
The wild deer trooped through woodland path, And sought the river's
strand, Slight danger then of flashing death, From roving hunter's hand;
For very seldom was there seen A hunter of the doomed red race, Few
spots, with miles of bush between, Marked each a settler's
dwelling-place. No lumberer's axe, no snorting scream Of fierce,
though trained and harnessed steam, No paddle-wheel's revolving
sound, No raftsman's cheer, no bay of hound Was heard to break the
silent spell That seemed to rest o'er wood and dell, All was so new, so
in its prime-- An almost perfect solitude, As if had passed but little time
Since the All Father called it good. Nature in one thanksgiving psalm,
Gathered each sound that broke the calm.
There was a little clearing there-- A snow white cot--a garden fair--
Where useful plants in order set, With bergamot and mignonette.
Glories that round the casement run, And pansies smiling at the sun,
And wild-wood blossoms fair and sweet, Showed forth how thrift and
beauty meet; There was a space to plant and sow, Fenced by the pines
strong hands laid low. By that lonely cottage stood, With eyes fixed on
the swollen flood, A slight young girl with raven hair, And face that
was both sad and fair.

Oh, fair and lovely are the maids, Nursed in Canadian forest shades;
The beauties of the older lands Moulded anew by nature's hands, Fired
by the free Canadian soul, Join to produce a matchless whole. The
roses of Britannia's Isle, In rosy blush and rosy smile; The light of true
and tender eyes, As blue and pure as summer skies; Light-footed maids,
as matchless fair As grow by Scotia's heath fringed rills-- Sweet as the
hawthorn scented air, And true as the eternal hills. We have the arch yet
tender grace, The power to charm of Erin's race; The peachy cheek, the
rosebud mouth, Imported from the sunny south, With the dark, melting,
lustrous eye, Silk lashes curtain languidly.
The charms of many lands had met In Marie of Plantagenet; She had
the splendid southern eye She had the northern brow of snow, The
blush caught from a northern sky, Dark silky locks of southern flow,
Light-footed as the forest roe, As stately as the mountain pine, A smile
that lighted up her face, The sunshine of a maiden's grace, And made
her beauty half divine. So fair of face, so fair of form Was she the
peerless forest born. Nature is kindly to her own, To this Canadian
cottage lone, A back-wood settler's lot to bless, She brought this flower
of loveliness, Seldom such beauty does she bring To grace the palace of
a king.
A chevalier of sunny France, Whom fate ordained to wander here, To
trade, to trap, to hunt the deer, To roam with free foot through the wild,
He chanced, at husking, in the dance To meet Marie, Le Paige's child,--
And vowed that, roaming everywhere, Except the lady fair as day, Who
held his troth-plight far away, He ne'er saw face or form so fair; From
France's fair and stately queen, To maiden dancing on the green, From
lowly bower to lordly hall, This forest maid outshone them all
When old Le Paige would hear this praise, Then would he turn and
smiling say To the plump partner of his days, "We who know our
Marie well, How true the heart so young and gay, We will not of her
beauty tell. Her love is more to thee and me, And yet our child is fair to
see."
So many a dashing hunter brave, And many an axeman of the wood,
And hardy settler was her slave And thought the bondage very good;
But she, so kind to those she met, She smiled on all, but walked apart,
Keeping the treasure of her heart, The fair Queen of Plantagenet, No
thought of love her bosom stirs Toward her rustic worshippers Until

one came and settled near Famed as a hunter of the deer
The firmest hand, the truest eye, The dauntless heart and courage high
Where his, and famed beyond his years He stood among his young
compeers, He, ere the snow-wreath left the land, Slew two fierce
wolves with single hand, Famished they followed on his tracks, He
armed with nothing but his axe He knew the river far and near, Beyond
the foaming dread Chaudiere, Far far beyond that spot of fear He'd
been a