Loud booms along the glistening wave the din of shot and shell;
The breeze-borne notes resound afar a generous people's knell;
The time-worn soldier stands aghast, religion bends the knee,
And silence sceptres ruined homes, where mirth flowed full and free.
Still, firm within thy battlements, upon thy steadfast throne,
Thou beauteous city of the heights! defeat thou would'st not own;
Abode thy Chieftain by thy side, nor left thy ample shield
At tempter's scheme, or skilled device to war on open field.
Yet courage waned not, yet again were outward posts assailed;
But every effort met rebuff, all stratagem had failed;
Who fell not by the Frenchman's arm to perish in their gore
Were fain to find a sure retreat, from off that hostile shore.
Sick of chagrin a fever laid the English leader low,
Ambition, high resolve retired before a stubborn foe;
Were't not that Townshend's able wit one final scheme revealed
Perchance the maple leaf might grace fair Gallia's ancient shield.
III.
THE BATTLE.
Out over the quiet waters, in sheen of the starry night,
With sword, and gun, and bayonet, equipped for fervent fight.
On, on by the towering headlands, in shade of frowning steep,
Ere flickering day-dreams banished sweet dreams of friendly sleep.
Ere lingering morn had oped its eyes to greet the orient sun,
They moored beneath a rugged cliff, they scaled it one by one.
Up over moss-hid precipice, with tangled growth o'erhead;—
Well was it he who led the van was of the mountain bred.
Up went the hardy Highlanders, with eye and footing clear,
As when, in their own mountain land, they chased the nimble deer.
O'er broken boughs, through network green, the bright-hued tartan wends
In single file, a living streak with darksome foliage blends.
When, hark! midway the sentry's ear had caught the muffled sound;
He halted the approaching step ere paced his further round.
"Qui vive?" he queried; quick response dispelled all fear of wrong;
"La France," came back assuringly; he heard and passed along.
Before the darker hues of night gave place to morning grey,
A force well nigh five thousand strong stood firm in war's array.
They clomb the heights, they chose the ground upon the rearward plain,
Prepared to fight for Britain's might, no worthless prize to gain.
A land of nature's lavish gifts, a store of boundless wealth;
Rare land! where pestilence ne'er stills the bounding pulse of health.
Where, over richly-yielding plains majestic rivers roll;
Where tyranny may forge no chains to bind the freeborn soul.
Though Britain's war-blast sounded forth its warning loud and shrill,
Though Britain's daring rank and file be-crowned the rock bound hill,
Montcalm, undaunted of surprise, with soul to honor dear,
Ne'er faltered in his manly voice, ne'er blanched with heart of fear.
With prompt and steadiest action he ranged his battle plan,
Inspiring with his ardent will the will of lesser man.
Clear ran along the listening lines the order to "Advance,"
And golden eagles waved aloft, and shouts went up for France.
Alas for prudent reckoning! sole valor led the way,
And hasted on to conflict dire, whose only succor lay
In calm, reluctant rallying within their fortress walls,
Till compassed of invading tide, till neared the bugle calls.
Unbroken columns moved ahead; with firm, free step they trod
The plain where many a hero's blood would early damp the sod.
Upon their well matched foe they oped with rain of deadly fire;
The British stirred not from their post, but hailed their presence nigher.
Ho! courage of the mariner who dares the fiercest storm!
Ho! valor of the warrior who fears no hostile form!
Yet braver he who stands erect nor bows the craven head,
Though murderous fire is laying low the living with the dead.
Not theirs to flinch, though comrades fell, theirs only to obey;
Their brave young General had said, and who might say him nay,
As manfully, in face of death, he hasted to and fro;
"Reserve your fire till forty yards divide you from the foe."