The Song of the Exile-A Canadian Epic Part 5

The day has broke, the sun now brightly shines, And each can plainly see the other's lines.

XXIX.

Then from the French battalions comes the fire Of musketry, and bullets hissing loud Pierce through the English ranks, yet but inspire The veterans to vengeance, and their blood Boils in their veins. Yet silently they still March on, awaiting their commander's will.

x.x.x.

At length is heard the general's command To fire. A fearful volley from their ranks Then belches forth, and, sweeping o'er the land, The bullets carry ruin to the Franks.

In deep dismay the Frenchmen hesitate One moment; then, with valour desperate,

x.x.xI.

They turn again, restrengthened, to the fight.

But fruitless all the bravery they show; Repulsed anew, ere long they take to flight, Pursued by English bullets as they go.

And from the time the battle first begun, But fifteen minutes pa.s.sed till it was won.

x.x.xII.

But deadly was the devastation wrought On either side, and dearly was the day Of glory by the English army bought.

Thrice bullet-pierced their young commander lay.

He lived to hear the cry of victory, Then yielded up his spirit willingly.

x.x.xIII.

Good reason had the conquerors to mourn; Yet had the vanquished greater cause than they.

The day was lost, and sadly had they borne Their leader from the battle-field away.

Beloved Montcalm, the generous and brave, Upon that field had found a b.l.o.o.d.y grave.

x.x.xIV.

And what of her who sat in silent grief, And listened vainly for the step of him Whose coming only could afford relief, And stay the tears in which her eyes will swim?

Ah! History has nought to say of her, Nor speaks it of the sorrow she must bear.

x.x.xV.

The full extent of war's resulting curse Is never known: the country's gain or loss Is reckoned by its victory or reverse, The dead are numbered--but the heavy cross Of suffering, which womankind must bear, Is reckoned not among the deeds of war.

x.x.xVI.

Nor can it be: while war is arbiter Between the nations, private suffering Must count for nought; affection must defer To duty, whatso'er the pain it bring.

The soldier must obey the bugle call; The wife must weep, and pray he may not fall.

x.x.xVII.

While war is arbiter--but must it be Forever arbiter? Will not the day Of lasting peace dawn ever? Will not ye, Ye Christian nations, raise your voice, and stay The march of war throughout the universe; And rid you of its agony and curse?

x.x.xVIII.

It lies not in your pow'r to order those, The nations still uncivilized, to cease From war, and, if they make themselves your foes, Ye must resist; yet can ye order peace Among yourselves. And, sure, ye Christian lands Would wash the blood of war from off your hands!

x.x.xIX.

Slow, slow, the march of Christianity, Yet sure--more sure because its march is slow; And settled now in peace and amity Are issues which, but fifty years ago, Had been the cause of bloodshed and of strife, And cost each country many a n.o.ble life.

XL.

Then let the infidel or atheist, Or him who doubts if ever G.o.d can be, And questions the existence of a Christ, Mark well the fruits of Christianity, And say what other power has ever wrought The good that Christianity has brought

XLI.

No myth or vain delusion can achieve What love of Christ has done; no mockery Can bring the troubled comfort, or relieve The broken heart; nor can idolatry Inspire our hearts with love and charity: These follow only Christianity.

XLII.

I pause before a simple monument, And read inscribed thereon the n.o.ble names Montcalm and Wolfe. Their enmity is spent, And each from French and English justly claims An equal reverence. This humble stone Stands emblematic of their union.

XLIII.

And are the nations so united now, In Canada, that nothing comes between To break the bond, or disannul the vow Of friendship and of fealty to our Queen?

Do they not rather live each wide apart From other, bound in name but not in heart?

XLIV.

Well nigh a century and thirty years Have run their course since Canada became An English colony; and yet appears, Within her sh.o.r.es, a unity in name, And name alone, between those races who Should live as one, but still exist as two.

XLV.

What boots it that an oath of loyalty To Britain's Queen is taken by the French, If they but wait the opportunity To give that man support who seeks to wrench This vast Dominion from the British Crown, And tear our n.o.ble red-cross banner down?

XLVI.