Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 3

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 untasted by, While jest, and mirth, and song went round. There sat and jested, drunk and sung, The captain of an Erie boat, With Erin's merry heart and tongue, A skilful captain when afloat-- On shore a boon companion gay; The foremost in a tavern brawl, To dance or drink the night away, Or make love in the servants' hall. The merry devil in his eye Could well all passing round him spy. Wanting picked men to man his boat, Eager to be once more afloat, His keen eye knew the man he sought; At once he pitched upon Rajotte. The bright, brown man, so silent there, He judged could both endure and dare; He waited till he caught his eye.