Verses and Rhymes By the Way

by Norah

PART II

Spring flung abroad her dewy charms,
And blushing grew to summer shine,
Summer sped on with outstretched arms,
To meet brown autumn crowned with vine,
The forest glowed in gold and green,
The leafy maples flamed in red
With the warm, hazy, happy beam
Of Indian summer overhead,
Bright, fair, and fleet as passing dream.
The autumn also hurried on,
And, shuddering, dropped her leafy screen;
The ice-king from the frozen zone,
In fleecy robe of ermine dressed,
Came stopping rivers with his hand
Binding in chains of ice the land;
Bringing, ere early spring he met,
To Marie of Plantagenet,
A pearly snow-drop for her breast.
An infant Marie to her home
To brighten it until he come.

Twice had the melting nor-west snow
Come down to flood the Ottawa's wave.
"The seasons as they come and go
Bring back," she said, "the happy day
To welcome him from far away;
Thy father, child, my hunter brave."
That snow-drop baby now could stand,
And run to Marie's outstretched hand;
Had all the charms that are alone
To youthful nursing mothers known.

'Twas summer in the dusty street,
'Twas summer in the busy town,
Summer in forests waving green,
When, at an inn in old Lachine,
And in the room where strangers meet,
Sat one, bright-eyed and bold and brown.
Soon will he joyful start for home,
For home in fair Plantagenet.
His wallet filled with two years' pay,
Well won at distant Hudson's Bay,
And the silk dress that stands alone,
For her the darling, dark-eyed one.
Parted so long, so soon to meet,
His every thought of her is sweet.
"My bride, my wife, with what regret,
I left her at Plantagenet!"
There came no whisper through the air
To tell him of his baby fair.
But still he sat with absent eye,
And thoughts that were all homeward bound,
And passed the glass untasted by,
While jest, and mirth, and song went round.
There sat and jested, drunk and sung,
The captain of an Erie boat,
With Erin's merry heart and tongue,
A skilful captain when afloat—
On shore a boon companion gay;
The foremost in a tavern brawl,
To dance or drink the night away,
Or make love in the servants' hall.
The merry devil in his eye
Could well all passing round him spy.
Wanting picked men to man his boat,
Eager to be once more afloat,
His keen eye knew the man he sought;
At once he pitched upon Rajotte.
The bright, brown man, so silent there,
He judged could both endure and dare;
He waited till he caught his eye.
Then raising up his glass on high,
"Stranger, I drink your health," said he,
"You'll sail the 'Emerald Isle,' with me.
"A smarter crew, a better boat,
"Lake Erie's waves will never float,
"I want but one to fill my crew;
"I wish no better man than you;
"High wage, light work, a jolly life
"Is ours—no care, no fret, no strife.
"So come before the good chance pass,
"And drown our bargain in the glass."
"Not so," Rajotte said with a smile,
"Let others sail the 'Emerald Isle,'
For I have been two years away,
A trapper at the Hudson's Bay;
Two years is long enough to roam,
I'm bound to see my wife and home."

The captain shook his curly head,
"Did you not hear the news?" he said,
"Last summer came from Hudson's Bay,
A courier from York Factory.
He brought the news that you were dead—
Killed by a wounded grizzly bear
When trapping all alone up there—
Found you himself the fellow said;
And your wife mourned and wept her fill
Refusing to be comforted.
But grief you know will pass away,
She found new love as women will;
And married here the other day."

Not doubting aught of what he heard
He sat, but neither spoke nor stirred.
His heart gave one great throb of pain,
And stopped—then bounded on again.
His bronze face took an ashen hue,
As his great woe came blanching through,
And stormy thoughts with stinging pain
Swept with wild anguish through his brain;
But not a word he spoke.
They only saw his lips grow pale,
But no word questioned of the tale.
You might have thought the captain bold,
Had almost wished his tale untold;
But careless he of working harm
When coveting that brave right arm.
At last the silence broke:
"He who brought news that I was dead,
Is it to him my wife is wed?
Was it? I know it must be so.
It must have been Antoine Vaiseau."
"Yes," said the Captain, "'tis the same,
Antoine Vaiseau's the very name."

So ere the morrow's morn had come,
Rajotte had turned his back from home,
And gone for ever more,
Gone off, alone with his despair,
While his true wife and baby fair,
Watched for him at the door.

The rough crew of the "Emerald Isle,"
Had one grim man without a smile,
So prompt to do, so wild to dare,
Reckless and nursing his despair.
The merry light had left his glance,
His foot refused to join the dance.
His heart refused to pray.
"Oh to forget!" he oft would cry,
Forget this ceaseless agony,
To fly from thought away."
Woe spun her white threads in his hair,
And bitter and unblessed despair
Ploughed furrows in his face;
Grief her dark shade on all things cast;
None dared to question of the past,
His sorrow seemed disgrace.

When rumour rose of Indian war;
Troops mustering for the west afar,
That wanted them a guide;
Rajotte said "I'm the man to go."
War's din he thought would drown his woe,
'Twas well the world was wide.
The Black Hawk war began—went on:
(Men dare not tell what men have done—
The white's relentless cruelty
O'ermastering Indian treachery;)
Rajotte, a stern determined man,
Sought death, forever in the van
On many a fierce-fought battle plain;
His life seemed charmed—he sought in vain.

Spring came and went—the years went past;
War ended, peace came round at last;
But war might go, and peace might come,
Rajotte thought not of turning home.
Till, failing strength, and fading eye,
He turned him homeward just to die.
Perhaps although he felt it not,
In his fierce wrestling with his lot,
There was a drawing influence
From the dear home so far away;
And faithful prayers had risen from thence,
To Him who hears us when we pray,
Who watched the lonely waiting heart
That nursed its love and faith apart;
And, pitying her well borne pain,
Ordained it should not be in vain.