Phil-O-Rum�s Canoe and Madeleine Vercheres
9781465531063
pages
Library of Alexandria
Overview
MADELEINE VERCHERES. I've told you many a tale, my child, of the old heroic days, Of Indian wars and massacre, of villages ablaze With savage torch, from Ville Marie to the Mission of Trois Rivieres; But never have I told you yet of Madeleine Vercheres. Summer had come with its blossoms, and gaily the robin sang, And deep in the forest arches, the axe of the woodman rang; Again in the waving meadows, the sun-browned farmers met And out on the green St. Lawrence, the fisherman spread his net. And so through the pleasant season, till the days of October came When children wrought with their parents, and even the old and lame With tottering frames and footsteps, their feeble labors lent At the gathering of the harvest le bon Dieu himself had sent. For news there was none of battle, from the forts on the Richelieu To the gates of the ancient city, where the flag of King Louis flew; All peaceful the skies hung over the seigneurie of Vercheres, Like the calm that so often cometh ere the hurricane rends the air. And never a thought of danger had the Seigneur, sailing away To join the soldiers of Carignan, where down at Quebec they lay, But smiled on his little daughter, the maiden Madeleine, And a necklet of jewels promised her, when home he should come again. And ever the days passed swiftly, and careless the workmen grew, For the months they seemed a hundred since the last war-bugle blew. Ah, little they dreamt on their pillows the farmers of Vercheres, That the wolves of the southern forest had scented the harvest fair. Like ravens they quickly gather, like tigers they watch their prey. Poor people! with hearts so happy, they sang as they toiled away! Till the murderous eyeballs glistened, and the tomahawk leaped out And the banks of the green St. Lawrence echoed the savage shout. Like tigers they watch their prey. O mOther of Christ, have pity! shrieked the women in despair; This is no time for praying, cried the young Madeleine Vercheres; Aux armes! aux armes! les Iroquois! quick to your arms and guns, Fight for your God and country, and the lives of the innocent ones. And she sped like a deer of the mountain, when beagles press close behind, And the feet that would follow after must be swift as the prairie wind. Alas! for the men and women and little ones that day, For the road it was long and weary, and the fort it was far away. But the fawn had outstripped the hunters, and the palisades drew near, And soon from the inner gateway the war-bugle rang out clear, Gallant and clear it sounded, with never a note of despair—'T was a soldier of France’s challenge, from the young Madeleine Vercheres! And this is my little garrison, my brOthers Louis and Paul? With soldiers two, and a cripple? may the Virgin pray for us all! But we 've powder and guns in plenty, and we 'll fight to the latest breath, And if need be, for God and country, die a brave soldier’s death. Load all the carabines quickly, and whenever you sight the foe Fire from the upper turret and loopholes down below, Keep up the fire, brave soldiers, though the fight may be fierce and long, And they 'll think our little garrison is more than a hundred strong. So spake the maiden Madeleine, and she roused the Norman blood That seemed for a moment sleeping, and sent it like a flood Through every heart around her, and they fought the red Iroquois As fought in the old-time battles the soldiers of Carignan. And they say the black clouds gathered, and a tempest swept the sky, And the roar of the thunder mingled with the forest tiger’s cry, But still the garrison fought on, while the lightning’s jagged spear Tore a hole in the night’s dark curtain, and showed them a foeman near. And the sun rose up in the morning, and the color of blood was he, Gazing down from the heavens on the little company Behold, my friends, cried the maiden, 't is a warning lest we forget, Though the night saw us do our duty, our work is not finished yet. And six days followed each Other, and feeble her limbs became Yet the maid never sought her pillow, and the flash of the carabine’s flame Illumined the powder-smoked faces, aye, even when hope seemed gone, And she only smiled on her comrades, and told them to fight, fight on. And she blew a blast on the bugle, and lo! from the forest black. Merrily, merrily ringing, an answer came pealing back. Oh, pleasant and sweet it sounded, borne on the morning air, For it heralded fifty soldiers, with gallant De la Monnière. Saluted the brave young captain
