But she cried "Alas! it may never be,
For my heart is pledged to the young Louis,
And I love him, O Sire, so tenderly,
Tho' he's only a poor Chasseur, my Lord,
Only a poor Chasseur."
"Enough," spake the Knight with a courtly bow,
"Be true to thy lover and maiden vow,
For virtue like thine is but rare, I trow,
And farewell to my dream of love, and thee,
Farewell to my dream of thee."
And they say the gallant Count Bellefontaine
Bestowed on the couple a rich domain,
But you never may hear such tale again,
For he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear,
He was a Grand Seigneur!
M'SIEU SMIT.
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISHMAN IN THE CANADIAN WOODS.
Wan morning de walkim boss say "Damase,
I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce,
So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Philéas
An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.
"He'll have I am sure de grosse baggage—
Mebbe some valise—mebbe six or t'ree—
But if she's too moche for de longue portage
'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee."
W'en we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere,
An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien,
'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre
Was spik heem de crowd on de "Parisien."
Fonny way dat Englishman he'll be dress,
Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee,
Wit' coat dat's no coat at all—only ves'
An' hat—de more stranger I never see!
Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log
An' swear heem in English purty loud
Den talk Français, w'ile hees chien boule dog
Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd.