Verses and Rhymes By the Way Part 1

Verses and Rhymes by the Way.

by Nora Pembroke.

A STORY OF PLANTAGENET.

In the small Village of St Joseph, below the City of Ottawa, still lives or did live very recently, an ancient couple, whole story is told in the following lines.

PART I

Lays of fair dames of lofty birth, And golden hair alt richly curled; Of knights that venture life for love, Suit poets of the older world.

We wilt not fill our simple rhymes, With diamond flash, or gleaming pearl; In singing of the by-gone times; We simply sing the love and faith, Outliving absence, strong as death, Of one Jow-born Canadian girl.

'Twas long ago the rapid spring Had scarce given place to summer yet, The Ottawa, with swollen flood, Rolled 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 flas.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sed 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 cas.e.m.e.nt run, And pansies smiling at the sun, And wild-wood blossoms fair and sweet, Showed forth how thrift and beauty meet; There was a s.p.a.ce 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, l.u.s.trous 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 suns.h.i.+ne 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 das.h.i.+ng 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 wors.h.i.+ppers 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 hardy voyageur Through the white swells of many a.s.sault Had safely steered his bark canoe, Knew how to pa.s.s 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 pa.s.sion 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 blus.h.i.+ng grew to summer s.h.i.+ne, 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 pa.s.sing 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 pa.s.sed the gla.s.s 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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sing 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.

Then raising up his gla.s.s 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 pa.s.s, "And drown our bargain in the gla.s.s."

"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 pa.s.s 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,"