And ever and anon the bats,
In clusters, seek their homes,
As night, with shrouding mantle,
On the Mission Chapel comes.
Oh! 'twas not thus, when Jesuit priests
Their chaunt at evening sung,
As, echoing o'er the river's shores,
The vesper bells were rung.
Now, while we linger round its walls,
Its history would we learn?—