ROBERVAL.
A LEGEND OF OLD FRANCE.
Never did rosy morning
Sweep o'er the skirts of night,
Calm nature's face adorning,
With more intense delight;
Never did earth exultant
Summon her offspring all,
To life-work, love and duty
With more inspiring call,
Than in the young spring season,
Three centuries ago,
When Roberval set sail from France
To skim broad ocean's flow.
Nobles, rich, young and restless,
Statesmen and soldiers too,
Women of birth, and sailors,
Composed the adventurous crew.
Leaving St. Malo's harbour.
They steered in Cartier's wake,
For that New France which Francis hoped
A source of wealth to make.
For of it wondrous stories
Were floating in the air,
A very Paradise it seemed
Of joy beyond compare.
A vast, mysterious country,
Studded with gems and gold,
Where virgin soil and forests grand
Were girt by headlands bold.
A land of beauty, where 'twas said
Celestial fountains played,
Whose waters made the aged young,
And Time's dread havoc stayed.
Such were the thrilling stories
Of ancient Florida.
And of that favoured part of it
Now known as Canada.
France, prompted by ambition,
Was on its conquest bent,
Though Rome to Spain had given
The whole vast continent.
To subjugate a people
In wildest freedom bred,
Whose trade was armed barter,
To utmost hardship wed,
To potent savage nations,
To teach the white man's creed;
This was the hardy project
That France's king decreed.