POEMS WHICH ILLUSTRATE REFERENCES IN THIS BOOK
NOTE.—The author, title and first lines of the poems are given, except in
the case of “Richelieu.”
MILLER, JOAQUIN
COLUMBUS.
Behind him lay the gray Azores
Behind the Gates of Hercules,
Before him not the ghost of shores,
Before him only shoreless seas.
The good mate said, “Now must we pray,
For lo! the very stars are gone.
Brave admiral, speak, what shall I say?”
“Why, say ‘Sail on! sail on! and on!’”
MCGEE, HON. THOMAS D’ARCY
JACQUES CARTIER.
“In the seaport of Saint Malo, ’twas a smiling morn in May,
When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed away;
In the crowded old Cathedral, all the town were on their knees
For the safe return of kinsmen from the undiscovered seas;
And every autumn blast that swept o’er pinnacle and pier
Filled manly hearts with sorrow, and gentle hearts with fear.”
Songs of the Great Dominion, edited by W. D. Lighthall. (Walter
Scott.)
DRUMMOND, W. H.
THE WRECK OF THE “JULIE PLANTE”.
On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre
De win’ she blow, blow, blow,
An’ de crew of de wood-scow “Julie Plante,”
Got scar’t an’ run below.
The Habitant (Putnam.)
KEATS, JOHN
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN’S HOMER.
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft, of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific—and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH
EVANGELINE.
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
CARMAN, BLISS (Mitchell Kennerley)
CHAMPLAIN.
“When the sweet summer days
Come to New England, and the south wind plays
Over the forests, and the tall tulip trees
Lift up their chalices
Of delicate orange green
Against the blue serene,” etc.
The Rough Rider and other Poems.
LYTTON, SIR EDWARD BULWER
RICHELIEU.
Adrien de Mauprat, men have called me cruel,—
I am not; I am just! I found France rent asunder—
The rich men despots, and the poor, banditti;—
Sloth in the mart, and schism within the temple;
Brawls festering to Rebellion; and weak laws
Rotting away with rust in antique sheaths,—
I have re-created France; and, from the ashes
Of the old feudal and decrepit carcass,
Civilization on her luminous wings
Soars, phœnix-like to Jove!—What was my art.
MACAULAY, THOMAS BABINGTON
THE BATTLE OF IVRY (1590)
Now glory to the Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories are!
And glory to our Sovereign Liege, King Henry of Navarre!
Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,
Through thy corn fields green, and sunny vines,
oh, pleasant land of France!
MOORE, THOMAS
CANADIAN BOAT SONG.
Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We’ll sing at St. Ann’s our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight’s past.
HEMANS, FELICIA
THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS—(1620)
The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods, against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed,
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o’er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
BROWNING, R.
HERVE RIEL (1692)
On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-two,
Did the English fight the French—woe to France!
And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks pursue,
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the Rance,
With the English fleet in view.
PICKTHALL, MARJORIE
PERE LALEMANT.
I lift the Lord on high,
Under the murmuring hemlock boughs, and see
The small birds of the forest lingering by
And making melody.
These are mine acolytes and these my choir,
And this mine altar in the cool green shade.
The Drift of Pinions. (Lane.)
SULLIVAN, ALAN
BREBEUF AND LALEMANT.
Came Jean Brebeuf from Rennes in Normandy
To preach the written word in Sainte Marie—
The Ajax of the Jesuit enterprise,
Huge, dominant and bold—augustly wise.
JOHNSON, PAULINE
THE ARCHER.
Stripped to the waist, his copper coloured skin
Red from the smouldering heat of hate within,
Lean as a wolf in winter, fierce of mood—
As all wild things that hunt for foes, or food.
Flint and Feather (Musson, Toronto.)
LONGFELLOW, HENRY WADSWORTH
THE SONG OF HIAWATHA.
Should you ask me whence these stories?
Whence these legends and traditions,
With the odors of the forest,
With the dew and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With their frequent repetitions,
And their wild reverberations,
As of thunder in the mountains?
FOOTNOTES
[1] Colonel George Nasmith in his book, “On the Fringe of the Great
Fight,” tells of the departure of this first contingent of the Canadian
Expeditionary Force in the autumn of 1914 within six weeks of the
outbreak of the Great War.
“Imperceptibly the pier and the lights of the city receded and we steamed
down the mighty St. Lawrence to our trysting place on the sea. The second
morning afterwards we woke to find ourselves riding quietly at anchor
in the sunny harbour of Gaspé with all the other transports about us,
together with four long grey gunboats, our escort upon the road to our
great adventure.... Never before had there been gathered together a fleet
of transports of such magnitude—a fleet consisting of 33 transports
carrying 33,000 men, 7,000 horses, and all the motors, wagons, and
equipment necessary to place in the field not only a complete infantry
division and a cavalry brigade, but in addition to provide for the
necessary reserves.”
[2] “The Wreck of the Julie Plante”:
“On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,” etc.
[3] These are known to us as muskrats, the Algonquin name being
mooskovesson, from which we get the name of the fur, musquash.
[4] Keats: “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer.”
[5] There is in the museum of the Chateau de Ramezay in Montreal a part
of the rock that formed the key stone of the arch over the doorway (which
is reproduced) of the house, in which it is said Champlain was born.
This was presented by President J. H. Finley, of the University of the
State of New York, who visited Brouage when writing his famous book, “The
French in the Heart of America.”
[6] Three hundred years afterwards this battle scene was reproduced on
Lake Champlain by descendants of the Iroquois, and this illustration of
the great matters which are kindled by little fires was portrayed by the
Indians with a zest that drew great audiences and held them spellbound.
[7]
“Faintly as tolls the evening chime,
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time,
Soon as the woods on shore look dim,
We’ll sing at St. Ann’s our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row! the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the daylight’s past.”
[8] When Quebec was taken in 1629 the white population in that city was
only 60, and in the whole of Canada, less than 100, whereas the English
colony of Virginia had more than 4,000 souls.
[9] River of the Holy Ghost, Colbert, and finally Mississippi.
[10] The pomp and splendour of the armies of Louis XIV. was worthy of a
prince in a fairy tale. Every campaign ended in a sort of royal pageant;
coaches of crystal and gold, horses draped in cloth of gold, courtiers
and conquerors dazzling with diamonds, ladies all silks and plumes and
laces.
He built Versailles where two hundred years afterwards the Conference
following the Great War of 1914-18 met to settle the terms of peace—“a
palace such as the world had never seen, glittering with mirrors and
gold, paved and lined with precious marbles, decorated with paintings
representing the battles and triumphs of the great monarch and looking
over an immense park peopled with bronze and marble statues and reflected
in vast sheets of water where lovely fountains played.”—DUCLAUX.
[11] Colbert had troubles of his own in trying to provide money for the
extravagances of his king, Louis XIV. Colbert was the son of a merchant
of Rheims, a hard-working, economical minister, a hater of waste and
profusion. He was a marvellous administrator; in ten years he doubled
the king’s revenues. But his factories and model farms, his canals and
his colonies, his fleet, his finance could not bring money in as fast as
Louis could spend it. Colbert was at once Chancellor of the Exchequer,
Minister of Agriculture, Director of the Board of Trade, Chief Lord of
the Admiralty, Home Secretary and Colonial Secretary. It was in this last
capacity that he had special connection with New France.
[12] As a matter of history the island is called after another Perrot
much less distinguished.