The Star in the West.
QUEBEC—1635.
Hezekiah Butterworth.
’Tis the fortress of St. Louis,
The Church of Recoverance,
And hang o’er the crystal crosses
The silver lilies of France.
In the fortress a knight lies dying,
In the church are priests at prayer,
And the bell of the Angelus sweetly
Throbs out on the crimsoned air.
The noblest knight is dying
That ever served a king,
And he looks from the fortress window
As the bells of the Angelus ring.
Old scenes come back to his vision,
Again his ship’s canvases swell
In the harbor of gray St. Malo,
In the haven of fair Rochelle.
He sees the emparadised ocean
That he dared when his years were young,
The lagoons where his lateen-sail drifted
As the Southern Cross over it hung;
Acadie, the Richelieu’s waters,
The lakes through the midlands that rolled,
And the cross that he planted wherever
He lifted the lilies of gold.
He lists to the Angelus ringing,
He folds his white hands on his breast,
And far o’er the clouded forests
A star verges low in the West!
I.
“Star on the bosom of the West,
Chime on, O bell, chime on, O bell!
To-night with visions I am blest,
And filled with light ineffable!
No angels sing in crystal air,
No clouds ’neath seraphs’ footsteps glow,
No feet of seers o’er mountains fair
A portent follows far; but lo!
A star is glowing in the West,
The world shall follow it from far—
Chime on, O Christmas bells, chime on!
Shine on, shine on, O Western Star!
II.
“In yonder church that storms have iced—
I founded it upon this rock—
I’ve daily kissed the feet of Christ,
In worship with my little flock.
But I am dying—I depart,
Like Simeon old my glad feet go,
A star is shining in my heart.
Such as the Magi saw; and lo!
A star is shining in the West,
The world shall hail it from afar!
Chime on, O Christmas bells, chime on!
Shine on, shine on, O Western Star!
III.
“Beside the Fleur de Lis of France,
The faith I’ve planted in the North,
Ye messengers of Heaven, advance;
Ye mysteries of the Cross, shine forth!
I know the value of the earth,
I’ve learned its lessons; it is done;
One soul alone outweighs in worth
The fairest kingdom of the sun.
Star on the bosom of the West,
My dim eyes follow thee afar.
Chime on, chime on, O Christmas bells!
Shine on, shine on, O golden Star!
IV.
“What rapture! hear the sweet choirs sing,
While death’s cold shadows o’er me fall,
Beneath the lilies of my King—
Go, light the lamps in yonder hall.
Mine eyes have seen the Christ Star glow
Above the New World’s temple gates.
Go forth, celestial heralds, go!
Earth’s fairest empire thee awaits!
Star on the bosom of the West,
What feet shall follow thee from far?
Chime on, O Christmas bells, chime on!
Shine on forever, golden Star!”
’Twas Christmas morn; the sun arose
’Mid clouds o’er the St. Lawrence broad,
And fell a sprinkling of the snows
As from the uplifted hand of God.
Dead in the fortress lay the knight,
His white hands crossed upon his breast,
Dead, he whose clear prophetic sight
Beheld the Christ Star in the West.
That morning, ’mid the turrets white,
The low flags told the empire’s last,
They hung the lilies o’er the knight,
And by the lilies set the cross.
Long, on Quebec, immortal heights,
Has Champlain slept, the knight of God;
The Western Star shines on, and lights
The growing empire, fair and broad.
And though are gone the knights of France,
Still lives the spirit of the North;
The heralds of the Star advance,
And Truth’s eternal light shines forth.