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Laa diagrammaa auivanta illuatrant la mAthoda. • ^'■^ a«; i i V ■ft ..^,. /"■> V 3 -t; POEM je #eati of ^i^ttfeRflnt OF THE FE-EITCH ITA-VY, WHO PERISHED WHILE A VOLUNTEER IN ONE OF THE EXPEDITIONS IN SEARCH OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. Br PAISLEY; J. & R. PAR LANE '?.C/ Kv paisley: j. and r. pablavz, PRINTESa, —0©, LIEUTENANT BELLOT, ■■ ARGUMENT. Invocation to the Muses. — Se.vrch of Mankind aftek Knowledge.— Fkanklis'8 Expedition to the Artic Seas — Conjectures as to his fate — Of those who west in search of him — Of Bellot — Of Bellot's First Exi-edition— Op his Second— Of his CnossiNa the Tie— Of the Storm — Of his Death — Lament. ^m. —"^i^e^t— Ye Muses, who so oft in latter days Vouchsafe to mortals your sweet voice of song, I pray you, come and fire my chilly thoughts. With inspiration's magic wand touch ye My humble pen; and though unused to sing la lofty tones or tell of mighty deeds, It shall for once proclaim a hero's name. Your aid then I invoke. Since first our common ancestors were placed In Eden's paradise — where Eve so sinned In eating of the tree forbid by God — Man's constant search has been for things unknown. 6 POEM ON THE DEATH OF Some men have boldly sought to penetrate Into the deep recesses of the mind ; To try from out that wondrous mystery To force th' unwilling truth, and solve the deep, The marvellous problem of the human mind ; But only found that as they wiser grew Their wisdom proved, as it must ever do, The hugeness of the task — the ignorance of wisdom. There have been others who have made the sun, The moon, the stars, and all the countless worlds Which deck the brow of night the objects of Their search: Have told us of sweet midnight's queen, As beautiful, in silent majesty She sits upon her calm, ethereal throne, Surrounded by her shining pageantry Eager to honor her; whose hearts do beat And pant for joy that theirs is such a queen; The while her brighter nobles proudly stand With steady gaze, admiring her pale beauty. LIEUTENANT BELLOT. And as her whole attendant train thus look They gain a lustre which they yield again Up to their mistress, when her peaceful throne She meekly leaves, to be resumed when next She visits them ; and thus with homage mute Their nightly task each joyously performs. Others have chosen nature's blooming flowers. Their study sweet is 'mong the violets, The rose, the lily, and the thousand gems Which are so beautiful, and so unlike The other things of earth, that they do seem As if their earthly mission were to tell What Paradise was like: and thus incite All mortals to press onward in the path Which leads to Paradise more blessed still Than that which Adam lost. Sweet monitors! Among the many others who do throng The shrine of knowledge, some there are who've made 8 POEM ON TIIE DEATH OF Their homes upon the dreary ocean's waste, To scan the unknown regions of the World. Bravo men, who have at sound of duty's call Gone from the homes and friends they loved, and have With stem resolves, and patriotic hearts, Resigned each comfort which those blessings gave ; And viewing life as but a sacred trust Held for their country's good, have placed that life Upon the altar of their country's greatness. All honor to such men I And tho' thoir glory 's mingled not with deeds Of hiyh renown — of battles fought and won By their heroic bravery or skill ; And tho' their spirits entered Heaven's gates By other herald than the canon's roar; — Tho' history emblazon not their names As heroes "of a hundred fights;" yet still A grateful country, yea, a grateful world AVill ever cherish as a treasure groat The memory of such men; and proudly yield A fame as pure, aa lasting and as rich, As tho' 'twere earned on sanguinary field Of Waterloo — or 'mid the booming roar Which at Trafalgar's fight did rend tho air And peeled unsparingly the knell of death To thousands of brave hearts. 'Mong those who thus Devoted life and all that life holds dear To science's service and their country's weal, Was gallant Franklin — than whom ne'er human frame Enshrined a heart more brave, llis dreary work Was 'mid the frozen regions of the north; To find a path among the ice bound seas To India's warmer clime. Such was thy task Brave Franklin! What! Didst thou fail, that thou Hast ne'er returned to tell the world thy tale? Or dost thou still pursue the object which Thy daring spirit fired thee to embrace, As not unworthy of thy noble mind? I 10 rOEM ON THE DEATH OF Or is it true, as hath been said by some, That long ere now, unknown to man, those seas Upon whose breast 'twas thy delight to ride. Have claimed thee as their own? Oh! is it true That far away from where thou wast beloved — Far from the ardent looks of friends who hoped To soothe thy spirit in the hour of death. That in the regions of eternal ice. Thou and thy gallant crew were — ere yet Success had crowned your daring enterprise — Enshrouded in the mighty deep; as if Those regions, which till now had kept themselves A secret from an ever searching world. Feared lest they should too soon be known to man Which is the truth? If thou art still entombed Among the icy mountains of the north, — If leagues of ice enslave thy energies, Like chains which bind some noble patriot And hold him captive at the hated will Of tyrant King ! if so, are there no more fv ir LIEUTENANT BELLOT. 11 i^ Who'll brave again the dangers thou hast braved, And haply save thee and thy daring crew From threatening death? Yes, Britain's sons Were never laggard in the hour of need. Humanity invites ihem not in vain. And while the fame of Franklin's deeds endure, So shall the names of those who, not less brave, Perilled their lives to bring him home amid The praises loud of Britain's grateful sons; And though they found him not, yet shall their names Be cherished fondly by a grateful land. But 'mona those noble men was one whose heart Beat high with courage, and with honor throbbed, Tho' in the peaceful quiet of the world None were more loved — none more admired than ho ; Yet mark him 'mid the thunder of the waves — The fury of the wiud — the tempest's shriek ; See, see, his young heart rise; no thought has he Of danger or of death; his soul, alone, stands forth, 12 POEM ON THE DEATH OF And ill his upturned eye reveals itself, And siiys, "How mighty are thy works, oh God!" Gentle he was, vet still he could be brave. 'Mong friends he was a man, 'mong storms a hero. Such was the voung and generous Bellot. His fatherland was France: a worthy son From that bright home of chivalry. His soul Disdained the hostile thoughts which but too long Imperial Gaul had borne to Britain's sons. Tho' Franklin was a Briton, that to him Was nought. He hears that some large hearted men Will sail in search of hira they fear is lost. And eatjerlv this noble stran-zer pleads To share with them the dangers and the toil. Fire lon^^ a gallant ship from England's shores Glides swiftlv onward to the regions where No summer sweets are known — no larks are heard To sing the natal song of infant day — No July sun ere comes with genial glow I LIEUTENANT BELLOT. 13 Diffusing beauty 'mong the tender Ho\Yer3— No dewy morn' ere feeds the opening bud- No smiling verdant hills are seen o'erspread With flocks of sheep and little playful lambs. Whose bleetings mingle with the shepherd's song ; But where eternal winter spreads around Her gloomy shade; where seasons vary 'mid The ice and snow, and tempest's howl. — But fruitless was their search; and Britain's sons Beheld, with heavy hearts, that ship's return. The winter season o'er, two other ships With flags unfurled and fluttering in the 1)reeze, Are guided onwards to the northern climes. But who is he whose ardent gaze is bent On Gallia's lovely shores, for one last glimpse Ere vet thev fade from view — alas! to him For ever? 'Tis Bellot: not long he looks. But heaves a transient sigh, and turns his thouglits To northwanl and to Franklin. 14 POEM ON THE DEATH OF A few more days and nights have passed away- A few more breezes o'er and billows crossed. And they are wafted to the icy seas. In pursuit of their task a little band Must venture forth upon the frozen sea, To find some others who like them had gone To search for Franklin and his missing crew. Our Hero prays to be entrusted with This perilous work, and soon four men are found To brave with him the dangers of the task. Farewell ! Farewell ! Such were the parting words of those he left : They little dreamt it was a last farewell. As on they press, this little band do seem. Amid the bleak unvaried wilderness Of snow and ice, like solitary specks Upon the sandy deserts of the east, Or like the first few stars that timid peep From out the murky haze that sunset leaves. A breeze ere long arose ; harmless it seemed, I LIEUTENANT BELLOT. 15 And onward pressed Bellot. But hark what voice Is heard ! And why those tones of loud alarm ? 'Tis Bellot's voice. A storm ! a storm ! he shouts. A hasty counsel o'er, and on they fly Across the ice, bound for the nearest shore. The black clouds thicken in the threatening sky. And shed their dark ill-omened shadows o'er The slippery path; and still this hardy group Rush on to gain the land before the storm, Now satherinor 'mid the clouds, can reach the earth. The land is seen! A gleam of hope inspires Their failing strength. Ah hope! thou strange sweet thing; Balm of despair — misfortune's antidote; And yet thou'lt ofttimes raise to giddiest heights Thy helpless votary, that so thou may'st The deadlier make his fall. Cruel art thou. Yet merciful. The clouds still spread, they dart across the sky, And caus9 the winds to howl ! and as they meet They onward dash; like warriors gathering 16 POEM ON THE DEATH OF To fiercest combat by the wild war cry. INIeunwhile our little band speed swiftly on, Urged by the fury of the boisterous wind ; Like to the hunted deer which breathless flees Before the bellowing hounds. Speed now, ye brave ones, speed, the land draws near; Strain every nerve — stay not your furious pace ! Now, now, a few more steps — but ah! what noise is that? Have heaven's thunderbolts been loosed to fall On the devoted heads of those brave men? No, no, the raging storm has done its work. The ice breaks up with a teriffic crash. And 'twixt the shore and them a chasm leaves. ."Haste, haste, bo quick and launch the light canoe, "And now Bellot stay not, but to the land!" Such was the caa;er crv of his brave men. "Nay, nay," he says, "this shell can hold but two. "And" (mark the spirit of the brave Bellot) "While here one nuin remains I shall not go — "Tho' dangers, even death, nuiy threaten mc!" LIEUTENANT BELLOT. 17 Heroic words were these, and made them feel Remonstrance were but vain. Unwillingly Two of these braves are severed from their friends. And in that little bark they reach the shore ; Meanwhile the floe has drifted far away With young Bellot and two stern hearted men. Freed from its bonds, the ice was dashed about, And yielded to the storm's capricious will. The snow, so pure and white — fit emblem of Those regions whence it came — was driven to The sea ; and mingling with the briny wave. Changed its bright lustre for a grosser hue. 'Tis but like other things— tho' pure, when first They come into this world, they soon receive The taints of earthliness. The winds still roared, The clouds were still as black and frowning like; And now and then, when masses huge of ice. Tossed by the fretful blast, did chance to meet, One long loud crash told that the storm was fierce. In midst of this our hero and his men 1 18 rOEM ON THE DEATH OF Built with the gathering snows a littlo hut To yield a covering from the chilling winds; From this frail awning once Bellot had gone To watch the course in which the ice was borne ; Again ho went, and still he safe returned ; But yet a third time he went forth. As there He stood alone, half hidden 'mongst the snow, And looked upon the dreary scene, he seemed Like a lone star in a tempestuous night. Then memory came and turned his thoughts to home. He thinks a moment on his aged mother, On his loved sisters, and his only brother; And as he thinks, a thousand hallowed scenes Flash through his noble mind; and as a tear, Drawn from the secret fountains of his heart, Starts kindly from that softened eye, he lifts A i)rayor to heaven, and asks in meekest tones For blessinu;:? on those loved ones and himself! Ere yet the sainted echo of that prayer Has reached the ear of Heaven's angelic throng — LIEUTENANT BELLOT. 10 Ere yet th' approving songa of spirits pure Have peeled in joyous happy strains throughout The realms celestial of th' eternal King;— While yet those suppliant looks are meekly turned On High, to where the prayer had gone; — e'en now, Amid this holy scene, the unrelentless wind, Urged by a ruthless passion to foul deeds. Came howling onward like some angry beast In search of prey; and as it rushing came, It fiercer grew, till 'raid one mighty roar^ As if in triuraph o'er the awful deed — With one fell swoop it hurled him from the ice. And dashed him down among the yawning waves. A loud cry rose amid that fearful storm — A cry for help! Haste, haste ye bold ones who In shelter sit, 'ere your brave leader sinks For evermore beneath the insatiate waves, Who seek to add the wealth of his bravo heart To their unused hoard of plundered gain: Haste ye, while yet those powerful arms of his, Have strength to dash aside the angry foam- While yet he buttles manfully against The wrath of a superior foe — ere yet Those chilly waters freeze the flowing stream Of his life blood, make haste and succour him. Alas ! that cry for help was heard by none Save the wild storm; who mocking echoed it By a loud roar of triumph ! So he went down, Without so much e'en as a friendly look; But 'mid the noisy tumult of the waves, Was swallowed up, like the bright gallant bark Amid the vortex of the whirlpool. His comrades, when he came not» went to search For him, but 'twas in vaia: and as their eyes Looked all around, those eyes, which ne'er till now Had known a tear, gushed forth in streams of grief, O'er the untimely fate of young Bellot! Weep on! ye brave ones, weep ! and tell the world LIKUTENANT DELLOT. 21 With all the fervour of your now born tears, How brave he was. Weep on ! and smother not That sigh instinctive rising from your hearts. Weep France! thou land of chivalry, thou land Of great and glorious deeds ! for thou hast lost One of thy noblest sons; and tho' his name Doth shed a lustre o'er thy history, Yet still a noble one is gone from earth ! Weep ! Caledonia, weep ! — Home of the brave — Thou land of Wallace and of Bruce — thou land Of liberty: Weep! England, weep! Thou land of sympathy, thou land of hearts. Thou land that calls it joy to celebrate The praises of the great. Weep Italy, And Spain — yea, Europe, weep ! and spread the fame Of this young hero o'er the world wide, Until within each breast— in every heart, A monument of rich and honest fame Is raised to honor young Bellot: A fame That shall not soon be lost, but which shall live. 99 FORM OM T!IE DEATH OP E'en when tli' unsparing hands of time efface The eulogies of art on carv^J stones — Shall live, e'en when the marble colonatlo, Raised by the gratitude of Britain's sons, Hath crumbled into dust. Bellot had all his life been rearing up A monument in honor of himself. Each kindly act — each noble sentiment- Each deed of bravery, and generous work — Each was a stone in the great piled heights Of an enduring fame, sweetest and truest Of all wordly relics: for oft we've seen The wily coward made a glorious hero; The wicked tyrant made a holy saint; The Devil made a God — all by the power Of marble statues and great epitaphs: But Fame! thou pure impartial monument Of words and deeds, no bribe of this vain world. No wealth, nor power, nor kingly offering Can e'er induce thy guileless legion voice To swerve from truth's pure path. Oh Fame ! If thou art such as this, then tell The world of young Bellot. I charge thee tell How brave he was: say he was kind, much loved. Of gentle heart; tell how he science loved. He loved the sea — he loved its very storms; Tell how he loved to sit at dead of night On the ship s deck, and thoughtful look around Upon the swelling waves, when nought was seen But waves and stars: Tell ye unto the world How generous was his heart — how brave and good ! Tell how he perished in the icy seas, In search of Franklin and his noble men; Tell how he nobly met a sailor's grave, Tell that the ocean was his winding sheet — That the wild roaring waves in dirgeful tones For ever chant his requiem ! I-J MULim. IH-II I Ll l 111 1 I I i I ii "~-~««iMMMiaa