Hush! list to the Whip-poor-will’s soft plaintive notes,
As up from the valley the lonely sound floats,
Inhale the sweet breath of yon shadowy wood
And the wild flowers blooming in hushed solitude.
Start not at the whispering, ’tis but the breeze,
Low rustling, ’mid maple and lonely pine trees,
Or willows and alders that fringe the dark tide
Where canoes of the red men oft silently glide.
See, rising from out of that copse, dark and damp,
The fire-flies, each bearing a flickering lamp!
Like meteors, gleaming and streaming, they pass
O’er hillside and meadow, and dew-laden grass,
Contrasting with ripple on river and stream,
Alternately playing in shadow and beam,
Till fullness of beauty fills hearing and sight
Throughout the still hours of a calm summer’s night.
[THE RECOLLECT CHURCH.*]
* In process of demolition when this poem was written. The Recollect Friars purchased the ground on which the church in question was built in 1692, and on it they constructed a temporary chapel. The actual edifice, however, was not erected till about the year 1706. The order is now extinct. After the conquest their property was confiscated by the Government, and subsequently exchanged for St. Helen’s Island, then belonging to Baron Grant. For a time the Recollect Church served as a place of worship for both Protestants and Catholics, and for many years was exclusively devoted to the use of the Irish Catholics.
Quickly are crumbling the old gray walls,
Soon the last stone will be gone,
The olden church of the Recollects,
We shall look no more upon;
And though, perchance, some stately pile
May rise its place to fill,
With carven piers and lofty towers,
Old Church, we shall miss thee still!
Though not like Europe’s ancient fanes,
Moss-grown and ivied o’er
Bearing long centuries’ darkened stains
On belfry and turrets hoar—
A hundred years and more hast thou
Thy shadow o’er us cast;
And we claim thee in our country’s youth
As a land-mark of the past.
Thou’st seen the glittering Fleur-de-lys
Fling out its folds on high
From old Dalhousie’s* fortress hill,
Against the morning sky;
And, later, the gleam of an English flag
From its cannon-crowned brow,—
That flag which, despite the changing years,
Floateth proudly o’er us now.
Thou’st seen the dark-browed Indians, too,
Thronging each narrow street,
In their garb so strangely picturesque,
Their gaily moccassined feet;
And beside them gentle helpmates stood,
Dark-hued, with soft black eyes,
In blanket robes, with necklets bright—
Large beads of brilliant dyes.
Thou’st seen our city far outgrow
The bounds of its ancient walls,
In beauty growing and in wealth,
And free from early thralls,
Till round Mount Royal’s queenly heights,
That stretch toward the sky,
In pomp and splendor, beauteous homes
Of luxury closely lie.
Within this time-worn portal prayed
The sons of differing creeds,
And unto God, in various ways,
Made known their various needs.
Better dwell thus in brotherly love,
All seeking one common weal,
Than stir the stormy waters of strife
Through hasty and misjudged zeal.