The Song of the Exile-A Canadian Epic Part 4

And thus have lived our heroes in the past: The army of the brave and n.o.ble 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 grat.i.tude 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 st.u.r.dy 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 domestic joy, before him lies.

One moment gazes he--his hands hard press His forehead, and the hardy soldier sighs-- One moment only, then he turns away, Prepared to lead his army to the fray.

XXIV.

Below the city, anch.o.r.ed by the sh.o.r.e, The fleet is floating; and in silent speed, The soldiers land, Wolfe leading in the fore.

And, if of urging there were any need, His fearless mien and proud determination Would banish every thought of hesitation.

XXV.

But fear is foreign to each n.o.ble heart That follows him, and in the breast of none Has doubt or hesitation any part; Let him but lead, and they will follow on.

They listen to his orders and obey; He fears not death or danger--why should they?

XXVI.

Above them tow'rs the cliff precipitous, Well-nigh impa.s.sable its steep ascent.

How hard the task and how laborious To scale the cliff! Yet forth the order went.

Then, in the darkness, stealthily they creep, And silently approach the rocky steep.

XXVII.

Like Indians soft stealing on the trail Of hated foes, intent upon surprise, And silent moving lest their project fail, When death in premature detection lies; So noiselessly that army scaled the height, While darkness hid them from the foemen's sight.

XXVIII.

At length they reach the summit unattacked, Then form, and silent march upon the plain.

And now they learn the foe has seen their act, For onward towards them comes his shining train.