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Lorsque le docuntent est trop grand pour etre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 • v ) c ReBERVAb A DRAMA; 1 ALSO The Emigration of the Fairies AND The Triumph of Constancy A ROMAVNT. Br JOHN HUNTER DUVAR, Author of "The Bnamorado," Etc. SAINT JOHN. N. B. J. & A. McMillan. 98 Prince William Street 1888. 1577G3 Entered, according to Act of Parliament of Canada, in the year 1888, Bv JOHN HUNTER DUVAR, In the Ofljce of the Minister of Agriculture. > 41 11 CONTENTS OF THIS BOOK. De Eobebval, a Drama, ^"^j The Emigration of the Fairies, 153 The Triumph of Constancy, a Komuunt, 175 'I DE ROBERYAL. A DBA MA. 60 PREFACE. The first French colonization of Canada by the Chevalier Jeiian FRANyoYS DE LA RoQUE, Seigneur of Rouerval, in Picardy, is inter- esting. His commissions (extant) from Francis I give liim authority as Lieutenant General of the King in Canada, Ochelaga, & > nenay, and countries adjacent. Little is known as to the details of his enter- prise. Such incidents as have survived are embodied in the drama. So little is known of Roberval himself that one TarvET, who pro- fesses to have known him personally, says he was assassinated " near the Innocents." It seems certain, however, that he perished at sea. I have endeavored to depict his character from the few traits of him left us by his contemporaries. The writer of the present drama sufiers by not having access to any authorities beyond those in his own little library; yet he ventures a hope that the accessories are preserved, and that the tone is not inappropriate to the gay and chivalrous, but somewhat flippant, time of the First Francis. It is unnecessary to add that the drama is not written for the stage. Hernewood, p. E. I. De ROBERVAL. DRAMATIS PERSONiE. Jean Francois de la Roque, Sieur de Roberval, a gentleman of Picardy, Viceroy and Lieutenant-(}eneral of King Francis I., com- manding tlie expedition to Canada; called by Francis "the' little king of Vimieu." Francis I, King of France. Marguerite of Angoulesme and Valois, Queen of Navarre, author of the " Ueptameron ;" sister of King Francis. Lords and Ladies op the Court. Paul d'Auxillon, second in command of Canadian expedition. Jacques Cartier, of St. Malo, Grand Pilot. Jean Alfonse, of Saintonge, Pilot. Pont Briant, De Beaurepaire, ■ Gentlemen Adventurers, and others, Margaret Roberval, niece of the Viceroy. Ohnawa (swift brook), a girl of the Iroquois. Passepartout, ^ PiCOT, I ^^^^^^' . Gentlemen, priests, soldiers, savages, and minor personages. Temp.-Francis I, A. D. 1542-4; afterwards Henry If, A. D. 1549. -S'cene— Alternately in France and Canada. De Roberyal. ACT I. Scene I. May-Dav, a. D. 1542, The Court of France at Fontainebleau. Skirts of the forest ; a fete. Courtiers and others. 1st Courtier. Come, let us imitate the peasantry. 2nd Court. Alas ! how can we ? We have no sabots, No shepherds' crooks, no hats of oaten straw, No rustic pipes of hollow elder stems. No three-legged stools, no tubs, no tambourines. Ladij. No gilt-horned oxen to 'upply us cream. 2nd Lady. No pretty sheep, with curly silken hair, And countenances like old Boisy nuns. Srd Court. No land-tax, corvde, vingtidme, grandes gabelles. Ath Court. No peasant traits but mirth and jollity. 1st Court, You, vicomte, are accomplished in all arts Profane and sacred — most, from choice, profane, — Trill us a catch appropriate to the time, Trees, fountains, grass, blue skv, and May-Day buds. And lords and ladies in their promenade To welcome our Queen Marguerite back again, I think 'tis full live years since she has shone Here in her brother's Court as welcome star. Vicomte. V faith, the tasi: is rather hard on me. In college days the tutors of Vienne Hammered on me as Charles Martell might. But not one classic fable could beat in Except the fable of Kogue Cupli's shafts. A fable, did I say ? No fable there ! For I have seen young Eros' arrow shot Straight from the little masquerader's bow And liit the white butt of a maiden's breast So full and fair the blood hath nuuitled up, And in a blush betrayed the hidden wound. DE ROBERVAL. ^st Court. Say it in rhyme. Vicomte. LOVK, THE HUNTER. Allay thy terror, flying heart, All vain are thine attempts to hide, Behind, before, and at thy side The sly imp, Love, lurks with his dart. A hunter he, and not a foe. Although his shafts lay many low. Come, cease thy trembling, timid heart. Accept thy doom at Love's decree. For true love dealeth leniently — A sudden stroke, an instant smart, And lo! the victim hath not swooned, But kisses Love, and hugs the wound. Isl Courtier. Quite in the latest fashion of tlie Court. 2nd Court. There is a hid the Duke of Orleans lias, Eighteen years old or there or thereabouts, Ronsard by name, who seems to me to have A soup^on of the gift of poesy. Doctor of Sorbonne. Few gallants now who cannot rhyme a rhyme, From seventeen up to seventy or beyond. I much compassionate poor Erato Invoked at all hours by the feeble brains Of youths and dames thirsting for poetry. Or for its substitute — smooth, infirm verse. The French Muse is a fribble, curled and pied ; Her mincing lips speak no soul-rousing lays ; * Epic is dead, dead since the Song of Roland. A Court. Forfend an era that produces epics ! 2nd CourL Our humourous Rabelais makes mock of verse, Yet writes it, and abominably ill. Doct. Sorb. Our portly doctor's wit outruns discretion, He should remember that His Majesty Has stood 'twixt him and charge of heresy. Vicomte. Resolve me now a case of conscience, sir : If, as is oft, I feel an inward void, Craving, and want to speak in numbers' lines, DE ROBERVAL. 3 a rhyme, A longing towards a large infinity, Tell me, this feeling, comes H from above. Or is it instigation of the devil ? DocL Sorb. The ease is fairly put, and I opine. Judging from the slight specimen I've heard. That if you have a haunting, craving, need, Inward propulsion to break forth in rhyme, The inspiration, clearly, is not heaven's. bth Court. "My heart pants like the hart for water-brooks" Is all the order since Clement Marot Adapted David's psalms to dolorous drones. \sl Court. Talk not of Marot nor of David's psalms, We have a monarch minstrel of our own List to the latest sonnet by the King, The name he gi\ s it is LE MAL D'AMOUR. Love! thy pain is more extreme Than those who know thee not may deem ; What in all else were transient care Is fraught to lovers with despair : Complal.it and sorrow, tears and sighs, A lover's restless life supplies ; But if a beam of joy arise A moment ends his miseries.* All. ^'eat, loyal, royal, and most Francisesque. 2nd Court. Talking of Marot : dwells it in your minds, Before the Switzer fanatics had got him, That he could turn a very pretty stave, And rhymed much to the Queen, his patroness? ^^ Of course you know the lines both sweet and true, "Entre autre dons de graces immortelles." 3;-rf Court. I cannot sav I do. "Ind Court. Then here they are — " By Francis I. Louisa Stuart Costello's translation. DE ROBEBVAL. ON THE QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 'Mong her other gifts of living graces Her power of pen for wisdom and for wit Is such, surprised astonishment reitlaces One's sentiments, and one is lost in it; But when, besides the genius of her pen, Her sweet voice aids our senses to enthral, One can but blush in wonderment, and then One wonders one should feel surprise at all.* A Court. Stilted somewhat ; but true as verity. Enter two Courtiers, meeting. Hast heard the latest scandal ? \st 2nd. 1st (whispers) Tell it me. That tale is from the cent nouvelles Nouvelles. (They pass.) Enter Dowager Mdme. Loyse de Daillon, with a bevy of young ladies, promenading. Mclme. Loyse. Yes, my dear girls, our gay and gallant King Is the first sovereign of the realm of France Who has had ladies' presence at his Court To chasten and reiine society. In Louis Orleans' time there were a few, A circle rather limited, but when The r'eventh Louis sat upon the throne No modest woman dared to show her face Beyond her castle walls — a dreadful time. YouiKj Lady. I'm glad I did not live in Louis' reign. Mdme. Loyse. You would not be a maid now if you had. But, girls, not all the ladies here are nice ; There is that brazen creature. La Fosseuse — A thorn indeed in poor Queen Marguerite's heart ; If I had been the (^ueen I would have beat her. Young Lady. A horrid fright, whatever did she do ? Mdme. Loyse. She tried to steal rough Henri Albret's love, That bearish King. I would not for Navarre, , And all the Basque and Biscay given to boot. Have such a husband, and our Marguerite ' By Clement Marot. i)^ ROBKRVAL. 6 (lies. (They pass.) romenading. leart ; er. (They pass.) Sdffered in lulenoe, tlionorh she felt it much. But let us take this all(^e if it leads 'I'o the Ma.sque coming off. Ah, there it is. MASQUE. A dais of State for the King, two Queens, and members of the Royal House ; front- ing which a raised phitforni, valanced to conceal tlie machinery beneath; the surface being a stage covered with l)luish-grccii velvet to represent the sea, from which the characters rise. Figures of the nine Muses at the edge of the stage, leaving the front open. The whole roofed in with a gold-edged crim- son canopy, supported on a trellis of gilt spears, and surmounted with the arms of France, Portugal and Navarre. Musicians under the leadershij) of ("lenient .Tunnequln, who also act as chorus, dis- guised in heraldic shapes as grittins, wyverns, chimeras, unicorns, sagitarii, hommes sauvages, demi-femmes, etc., crawl from under the platform and sur- round it on three sides. Instrumental Overture. Chorus. On hif,^li Olympus, etc. Ji'Livs CiESAK rises. I do not know this land. Can this be Gaul That I subjected to the Roman thrall ? Why from black Styx do you my ghost recall ? Farewell, brave chieftains and fair ladies all. Julius Ctcsar sinks. Sympiiony. CiiAiu.KMAOXK rises, crottmed. I know this land ! It is my very own, Its founder I, and I its Emperor known. Though o'er my bones at Aix luive centuries flown. And my successor yet will reign upon The German, Spanish, French and Lombard throne. Charlemagne sinks, to music. St. Dknis rises, armed cap-a-pie. Already once I rose from death, pardie, And led the Christian hosts 'gainst paynimrie ; So from my grave again, when time shall be, I'll rise and lead fair France's chivalrie. St. Denis sinks. ^lusic and chorus. Pale Ghosts of armed warriors rise, bearing a crown which they otTer to King Francis. We are pale Ghosts of warriors of pur sang. Who guard the triple crown of Charlemagne, Ghosts sink. 7)^ nOBERVAL. Neptune, with trident, rises, accompanied l)y nude girl-children representing sea- babes, and bearing a gilded galley in shape of a nautilus, which they lay at the feet of Queen Eleanor (of Portugal), wife of Francis I. Gift of the Sea and Oceanides To the crowned daughter of the reahn of seas. They sink. The Goddess Florida rises in an islet of flowers, attciuled by nude boys winged like cupids, and bearing a chaplet of white daisies Intertwined with pearl, which they place on the head of Queen Marguerite of Navarre. Accept sea-beads and purest garden sweets, O fleur des perles and perle des marguerites. They sink. Enter, from opposite sides, Jovk and (4on the Father. As they enter, a shower of arrows, tipped with fire, is shot off on Jove's side to indicate thunderbolts; on God's side a flight of white and blue doves. Jove speaks : Not long aforetime earth and heaven were mine, And all men did adore me as Divine ; But the old Gods die out, and I resign And abdicate my power to the Benign, Jove fades. The Father extends his wings in the attitudeof benediction, and fades from view. Herksy rises as a negro, in a black Geneva cap and gown ; is surrounded by devils in red, who flog him with whips of scorpions, amid much laughter and applause. Sinks in a flame of fire. Dance of Nymphs and Satyrs to barbaric music. Scene closes. Courtier. What think you of this pleasant mystery ? 2nd Court. A mixture of the sacred and profane. Female Bohemian passes, playing on a mandolin. Cmirt. I know that strain, it is a Moorish air Begotten where they never felt a frost. I will put words to it such as they'd sing Above tlie vine line on the Vosges Hills. RAIN OF ROSES. As I looked through my window pane Of olive-green stained glass I beheld, yes I did ! a rain Of snow piled on the grass, " Why this is a marvel," cried I, " Sure the time of snow has gone by." bt: nOBERVAL. Out to my garden green I rushed with my head all bare, And, what do you think ? a sheen Of rose leaves feathered the air, Falling down soft in a shower On the fountain and jessamine bower. Now, whence did these rose leaves come? I never yet knew for sure. Perhaps from a whirlwind's hum, Or a leak in the blue heaven's floor, Or anywhere else one supposes. But it rained, and the rain was roses. Enter a Bearwarden with three Bears. B'ward. Gentles, these are the highly cultured beasts. Court. Have they been circumcised, or eke baptized ? And have their god-fatljers bestowed them names? B'ward. The Mister, Mees and Hombr^ are they called. Court. Which is the Hombr^ ? B'ward. The ragged one. Mees is a she bear. Court, (aside). Mary of Hungary. B'ward. The Mister's given name is Hal, because Plis paunch is mighty and his manner bluff. This tawny one is known, for short, as Orange. Up, monsters ! Bears stand up and dance. 2nd Court, Srd Court. 4th Court. Ist Court. What pleasant countenances. I think the Mister Has the Elector of Saxony's phiz. All have the Hapsburg brutal underlip. Eather the j:nglisli jowl ; 'tis all the same. There's a coranto coming soon wherein Our Cock of France will lead them such a dance. Exeunt Bearwarden and Bears. C(Mir<. What shall we do? We have seen everything. How most depressing to attend a f6te ; One cannot all day long absorb dry wines, 8 DE ROBERVAL. Nor stuff" one's self for hours witli sugared cates ; One's legs grow feeble with one's complaisance, And talk prolonged may end in idiotcy. Naught else is left to try ; let us play bowls. 2nd Court. Were I a monk I'd preach a homily Better than Gesta Romanorum tale On the similitude of bowls to fate ; For every man sets up a special jack And hopes to keep it covered from attack — When, lo ! the thunderous ball comes rolling in. And, when least looked for, knocks it out of time : Thus is it with the rolling balls of fate. They smite and spin our cherished jack-bowls. Dixi ! 3rd! Court. Your moral lecture probes one to the soul ; Meantime, come knock about the spheres. Marchons ! Exeunt. 11 ACT I. Scene II. Same Day. Palace of Fontainebleau. A salon opening from the Gallery of the Odyssey. Queen Marguerite of Navarre, Ladies, Francis I., Courtiers, Rober- val. In a group that takes no part in the dialogue, Eleanor of Portugal, wife of Francis I. 1st Courtier {in Gallery). This gallery, when completed, will be grand. 2nd Court. Rather narrow. Srd Court. Look at its length. A man In its far vista seems a popinjay. Grand it should be. The best Italian art Lavished on it. Pity the artisans Should quarrel so, and be so dilatory. 2nrf Court. These artist men are not reliable : There was the tailor. Ut Court. Del Sarto ? t)E ROBERVAL. 9 2n(l Court. Truly, yes. That snip from Florence behaved HhaniefuUy. I've lieard the old men tell of it. He fled, And pocketed large sums entrusted him For the buying of antiques. \al Court. Granted so, And yet that masterpiece of " Charity," And the grand " Virgin with the Holy Child," Hei'e in the Gallery, do counterweigh More, much more than the pelf he bolted with. Ind Court. How can these artists, in themselves, may be. Base, sordid, dissolute, have such high dreams — Such glimpses of the inner world of heaven. And with mere brush and color reproduce, So that men gaze in wonderment and awe ? Ist Court. .Jeing nor saint nor artist, I can't say. Lady {in Salon). Observe that cavahei who pensive looks, As if his mistress had forsaken him. 2nd Lady. That is DeLorge, hero of the lion. And of a vain coquette's embroidered glove. 1st L. What glove? what lion? 2nd L. Know ye not the tale ? A damsel whom he favored cast her glove Into the King's black Afric lion's den. DeliOrge leaped o'er the barrier, brought the glove. And cast it with contempt in her fair face. The King said, pithily : " It was mere vanity, Not love, that set that hard task to humanity." * Ist L. I should say with the King, — a vain coquette. 3rd L. I saw to-day a lovely orfevrie, 'Twas a gold beetle, with rose pearls for eyes. Its horns were rubies, its legs brilliants. And on its back a naked cupid sat Winged with two emeralds. The sweetest thing * Robert Browning. 10 DE ROBERVAL. 4th L. Look at this medal from f'ellini's hand, A very cliarmlnj? Ariadne's liead. The deft Italian seulptnres rather well. Queen Maryuer'Ue. MarquiH, I think your hilt is of his work? Marquis. Madame, it is. It shows the Twelve Apostles. Uubucklos sword. Q. Mary. Why the Apostles on a rapier hilt? Marquis. Madame, recall : 'Tis said in Holy Writ They came not to send peace on earth, bnt sword. This is the sword. Q. Marg. I love to see a sword. Yet have I seen too nmch the hurt it does. Marquis. The fashion now is well-appointed blades. Those foreign artists take good care of that : The King of France is to them — Providence. Q. Marg. And stretching far. Among his latest gifts The King, my brother, sent a golden chain To Pierre Aretin. Lady. A sad mocker. 2nd Lady. \v t he wrote "Tears of Angels." 3rd Lady. How sweetly Come through these windows dainty orange scents ! Such a fair day, a day so balmy fresh. Makes one wish to be out-of-doors ; one longs To spend the hours in Queen Pampinea's Court, In a garden scarce a league from Florence, As told so charmingly by Jean Boccace. Q. Marg. or French Decameron. Primaticcio Shall paint one with his most attractive touch ; The scene, we'll say Our Lady's of Serrance ; Foreground, a meadow by the Kiver Gave, Where the turf is o soft and delicate It wants no carpet, and the trees so dense i)J5 ttOBiHRVAL. 11 That from the sun one needs no canopy ; Wlu'iT, on tin- houghs, day h)ng, thf small hi rds chirp, And all tlie hrief night sings the nightingale. What says our Nomerfide ? * Marguerite de France. Her Majesty Queen Parllamente shouhl better know than I. Q. Marg. And Knnafuite? Anne de Vivonne. Slie thinks it would be nice If one were Parliamente, who, as you know, Is ever cheerful, never melancholy. Q. Marg. Fairly tilted, my sweet Ennasuite. For gallants, — let us see ? — Madame de ChastiUon, Say Saflredent, And Geburon, and Dagoucin, and one Simontault, who in utmost honor dares To raise his eyes to her who wears a crown. Q. Marg. Do not forget the pious dame, Osille. King Francis passes. K. Francis. Fair ladies, it would seem that ladies' talk Is mystic as the Delphic oracle. What say you, Nicolas ? Nicolas the Tutor. I say, sire, horses of the Arab sands, Or unicorns with horns a cubit long Should not extract from me the merry quip, That is to say, if 1 knew what it were. Ladies exchange smiles. Q. Marg. Fran9ois, my brother, ladies oft weave plots Deep, but less guileful than the King's bureau. His Majesty, my brother, doth not know Nor need to know, Save that this is not a conspiracy. , K. Francis. Sweet sister, if it be conspiracy It is between the muses and yourself, We know your lettered cabals very well, * For explanation, see the Heptameran, by Marguerite herself. Hf 12 M' ItOBEUVAL /' Nor even is tliis sporinl myHtory So nuich unknown to uh as yoti may deem ; If liiippy enough we ever be to shed Some lustre on the land becjueathed to tis, A great and shining glory of our reign Will be our sister. I'lisnes. Q. Marg. Dear Franpois. And now — y . IJut stay, who comes ? the Viceroy Roherval. A Lady. Hath he forgiven that silly niece of his? 2nd Lady. His niece? I tliink not. He has heart of bronze. 3rd Lady. Tell me, my dear, quick, who is that fine man ? 4lh Lady. My love, I do not keep a list of men. But whicli one ? where ? Zrd Lady. Have you no eyes, my dear ? Now speaking to the King. Old General. Man from Burgoyne — Bearing despatches — goes with Roherval. 5tli Lady. Who else goes with the little Chevalier? Old Qen. Many go with him. His Lieutenant, — hum. Good man, — is Paul d'vVuxillon de Sanneterre, 6th Lady. Sans terre ? Old Gen. Santerre in Carcasonne. Roborval approaches. Roherval. Lady, receive my devoirs. Woe is me ! This is my last glimpse of the Court's fair heaven For many long years, or perhaps for aye. Q. Marg. Go you so soon to the far savage land ? Rob. A few days see me sail from La Rochelle. A Lady. Have you room for a lady volunteer ? Methinks I would delight to sail the seas Far to the sunset, and there ever dwell. Rob. Would it might be ! but, if we hear aright. The land is not yet fit for angel's home. DE ROBERVAL, 13 Q. Mary, (iold grows there, I am told, and gems, they say, And curl-lipped whells, and yellow fragrant amber, And all the riches of the Spaniards' Ind. Hob. These treasures yet have to be sought and found ; But it has wild beasts clad in furry robes. That, stripped and dressed, may serve to deck a queen. Madame, 1 hope to lay these at your feet. Ermine ? \at Lady. 2nrf Ludij 'ird Lady 4th Lady. Q. Mary. Ermine, of course. Lions ? Tigers ? Perhaps among them stri[)ed J lyrcanian bears. Rob. Miulame, you shall have an Hyrcanian bear If sucli grows in the bounds of my domain ; Or, if you would prefer some brown-skinned boys, I will set springes for them. Yes, some boys, Small savages, like copper Mercuries ; What pretty pages they would make for one ! Chevalier, your gallant enterprise Will much redound to the fair fame of France. So t will, ere your ships set sail for sea, Send to you, as the King my brother's friend, A little etching, as a souvenir, Of my poor visage in a Bearnese cap. Good wishes. And adieu. While I have life, 'Twill need no souvenir to bear in mind . The Queen and Pearl of France and of Navarre. Kisses Queen's hand, and exit. A Lady. Q. Mary. Rob Admiral. Admiral and Chancellor talk apart. This force with Koberval can ill be spared. We shall have need of all our strength anon, Besides, I disbelieve in colonies ; A foray on an enemy is well, 14 DE ROBERVAL, Chancellor, Or if we knew of Ophirs and Perns 'Twoiild be legitimate to swoop on them ; But this rude country they call Canada Is but a barren wjuste, and valueless. However, 'tis His Majesty's command. I know that it lia« strained the treasury, And emptied a long row of leather bags ; But I am the King's servant. Time will tell. Exeunt. ACT I. Scene III. Same day. Foutainebleau. A terrace. Ro' erval walks apart, to him Bishop Duch iiel, King Francis I.'s Librarian. Bishop. A gorgeous scene is this, Sir Chevalier. Rob. A tailor would approve it more than I. This blaze of silk and laces much suggests The awakened innocence of Adam and Eve When they gre.v suddenly aware and said " Lo, we lack Hg-leaves." Bp. The King of Vimieux 'mong the moralists ! It must be change of moon. ; . Rob. . About half moon ; But even half-wit may suffice to know Of all the trials of the episcopate, The hardest is to suppress its little joke. Bp. (laughing softly.) Your wit is caustic, Monsieur de Roberval ; But I assent. Fair hit. Rob. Yes, I suppose it comes Within the current nature of all things That we, mere soldiers, as our days slip by Become a little rusty. It striken me We live now at the juncture of two times. Two enis — cultures, worlds, or what you will. DE ROBEBVAL. 15 This present age we live in we know well, A world hard, seliish, open in its wrong, Stiff-necked perhaps, not on the whole unsound. But men and things are changing day by day So rapidly, no day is like the last. In our Ilaiian campaigns we learned ill, — Women and squalling eunuchs elbow us, Abbeys with general's pay are given to fee jMenders of broken pots and image vendors. And all is changed since Bayard's chivalric time. That Bayard from v.'liose most reproachless sword The King himself took knighthood. New tawdry foreign modes have given new birth, Well called Renaissance, to this age of ours ; Although it seems to nie not like a birth In which the growing life wlioleson^'^ expands And bodes mature and lusty coming manhood ; Kather it seems as if the stalwart State "W^ere growing feverish, and sickening out Into a delicacy that is not health, But whitening of the liver and the brain. What cluuige of manners may come by antl by I know not, and sliall not be here to see. If I know anything of governing men, It well may be that time will substitute For roughness, fraud ; for plainness, equivoke; For strength, deceit ; for health, corruption ; For loyalty, rank ti'eason. \nd yet we say 'tis the renaissance Of the blind mental baby we call man. Bp. You speak well. Chevalier, and with forecast keen Of the sure tendency of this dangerous age. It is the lesson of all history That luxury's increase hastens decadence : (treed, envy, hatred, guile, becon^'^ ferocious; The mob upheaves, a social contest comes, The natural governing orders go to the wall ; Society gangrenes and disintegrates. Monsieur knows it was so in Greece and Rome? 16 DE BOBERVAL. Rob. My reading somewhere speaks of pei'ished Gods As well as peoples. Bp. Impious idols all ! The Church, my friend, is quite another thing. Men destroy, it rebuilds. States die, it lives ; And from its over-life rise other States. For 'midst the hottest, fierce terrestrial fires, Even should the liquid all-pervading flames Rise, pyramid-pointed, as they rose o'er Troy, Chastened, not 'minished, purer, more refined, It stands, nee tamen consumebatur. Rob. So be it ; yet I like not this renaissance. And, if it please God and good St. Kiquier, A stout prohibitory tarifl^ shall Exclude from the New France I mean to found All but the fashions of Old Picardie. Bp. In no hands could the trust be better placed. And now, my son, pray lend a lenient ear, ■ While in my office I assume to plead The sufferings of a most afflicted lady — Margaret, your once-loved niece. That she has erred Is not to be denied, but she is yoimg. And youth's main faults are of the blood, not brain. In which case 'tis not hard to palliate. She was but little more than a mere child When, stung by some small necessaiy restraint. She ffed for sympathy to one whose heart She deemed was her's because he had her own. W^rong, very wrong ! But she knew not the world ; She was not long out of her convent school. And her fond fancy made her friend her hero. And built for him a shrine to worship in. Setting him up above all earthly good. Kepentance now hath come. She sees her fault, And finds her idol was but partly clay, Yet will not from pedestal cast him down. She begs to be forgiven, prays for your love ; Or, if love be withheld, craves your consent (, fi ili^ DE ROBEBVAL. 17 To honorably wed her lieart's one mate. For him : he is not of the people, though His blood be not so rich and blue as her's Yet 'tis of good account, but your displeasure — , I say not 'tis unmerited — proscribes Him from all profitable use and venture In this our worldly and rank-haunting land. Kestore them your forgiveness, and thereby Open the way for honorable employment To him to whom she gave her maiden heart, So that the girl herself may lift her head From her abasement, and be yet received In the full ordinance of Holy Church. This I beg of you — chiefly as a friend, But partly as director. Bob. Lord Bishop, I have heard you patiently. It is the clergy's mission to pray heaven To blot the record of repentant sinners. Re-ope the sheep-fold and invite them in ; But as all laymen have their favorite faults. So have I mine ; and, leaving out of count The trifle of a touch of vanity, A little hastiness, some arrogance, Besides the failings that are almost graces, My most besetting sin is pride of name. My niece hath wounded, unforgivably, The honor of her house. I, as that house's head, will not defile The ashes of my ancestry, nor pardon Her who debases them by mesalliance, Nor give consent to my name's ignominy, — Before high heaven the vow is registered. Bp. Full power is given to me to loose from oath That kept, in sight of heaven, were plighted sin. Boh. Forbear to weary heaven on my account. For him, her paramour, if ere he meet Me in his path, I'll lay my order by And execute his death with mine own hand ; 18 DE ROBERVAL. i His blood sliall wash her honor's stain away. As she hiith made her bed so shall she lie. Bp. If our kind King should ask it as a boon? Rob. Francis is gentleman, and will not ask. Bp. {angrily). And do 1 live to hear a Christian man Thus take the discipline from Church's hands, And sit in judgment on her erring ones ! Dei)rive them of her ordinance, put beyond ' Their [jower confession and due penitence. And consequent remission from their sin ! O, what a dulling thing is absolute power, That with a word a man condemns his fellows To toil and trouble, danger, solitude, Remorse, despair, not for a year or two, — Though that were punishment — but beyond time ! Wer't even a little while, say seven years — A full tithe of the longest promised life — Bethink, were one or both, nay three, to die And go to their account in uns'liriven sin. That you would have a single, double, triple And sacrilegious nuirder on your soul ! The spirit moves me, by my liumble lips, But full inspired by power of prophecy, To warn you, ruthless soldier, godless man, What to yourself may hap in seven years ! In that time on your head may vengeance fall. That date may be the crisis of your fate, The very end of your ambitious schemes. Unless, forthwitji, you do revoke this doom. And give these souls back to their waiting Mother. Beware! Recall ! And this I charge to you. As you yourself in day of misei'y Would find remede Implacable ? No blessing can befell The Colony under such man as you. Rob. My deeds are mine. For them responsible Unto my Sovereign only. I DE ROBEBVAL. 19 ay. tids, d ows d time ! Bp. And to God. Rob. When He doth question, I will answer it. Exit Bishop. Enter Paul D'Auxillon. D'Auxillon. What says our worthy Bishop of seven years ? Where shall we all be in that length of time? We may be dead, he canonised. Rob. D'Auxillon, In less than seven years all shall see a flag Of rising empire o'er the Atlantic wave, Whose glory, growing greater day by day In width and magnitude, shall far outshine The petty thrones of I'^urope ; And you and I will build the substance of it. D'Aux. Go to. I am with thee. Exeunt. ill, klother. ACT I. Scene IV. Next day. Roberval in his cabinet, walking thoughtfully. Rob. (solus). Now, Jean de Roque, your fate is at the full : Fortune and risk have answered to your call. The rest is in God's hands and in your own. Had Alexander, that old Grecian king, Been given the chance that 1 have now to-day, He need not, womanly, have spiteful wept Because there wex*e no other worlds to steal ; Had he but fitted out a quinquereme, And through the gates of Hercules daring steered Westward, until he reached the then world's edge, Or till he made the shores of golden Ind ; Or, being in Ind, had he but boldly sailed P]ast, towards sunrise, till he reached the West, He might have saved all his ambitious tears. Ambitious ! aye, a good word is Ambition, It means an overmastering desire in 20 1)E ROBERVAL. Conjoined with an intention to excel. Excel in what ? in what e»ne deems most good. Men of my race have ever set their good In stainless honor — such be my ambition. A right ambition seeks not laud from men, Its end arrived at is its meet reward. Mine be a pure and passionless ambition To do as, time since, brave Columbus did ; I'll add to France a newer, vaster France, Nor touch the personal power that I might grasp ; Blotted from life, my name be gibbetted With Ganelon's and foul Iscariot's names If but a shadowyjthought should e'er besmirch The trust that France and Francis place in me. Yet could I frame wild possibilities. Once more let me peruse the route. (Seats himself at a table and examines charts. Enter King Francis.) {Rising in surprise.) Your Majesty ! K. Francis. I've found your quarters out. So, you are poring o'er those new sea-charts ; Vague yet, of course. Cartier draws rather well, Although he puts but few names on his plans. I see you have written there the words " New France " In letters covering three thousand miles. Be it. Ere long the facts shall make it truth. Be seated. (^hey sit.) Are you ready to set sail ? Rob. A week hence, from Rochelle. K. Francis. Good. It is well. All your commissions have been signed and sealed ; The Cbancellor has issued warrants, powers, And formal orders iiom the Admiralty. You have them ? Rob. All. K. Francis. So much for the bureaus. Hear me explicitly now state my views. And Jirstly : This new Colony is penal. D^ ilOBERVAL 21 All grades and shades of sinners heretofore Have been looked on as irreclaimable. I now will try another policy. A new time has arisen. I foresee Crimes will be done with less of brutal force, And more of danger to the common weal — Fraud will supplant more open violence, And justice must look more before she leaps; Perhaps our present criminal code may be Vindictive rather than reformatory. Of course there are grave crimes, as heresy, Leze-majest^, coining and the like, The which, for high State reasons, must be met With the full weight of punishment at home. Offenders of the ordinary class Shall be given one more chance to mend their lives By annual jail delivery throughout France. This raw material shall be sent to you ; Put them to serviceable uses, make them Hewers of wood, drawers of water, thus They may in time be rehabilitated. Rob. It is benevolently ordered. Sire. K. Francis. Second : As to the products of the land — Certainly rich furs ; perhaps the metals (Though there is no assurance of these last). All these, of course, you will export to us. Bob. With deference. Sire, I fear so new a land Will, for a certain time, be unproductive. K. Francis. Tush ! we are not traders. In third place : This, our old France, i*equires its revenues. Leaving for pensions less than we could wish To private soldiers who have served in war ; This shall be remedied by grants of land. These military settlers are a class That you must liberally deal withal, Let each of them possess a home and hearth ; i I :! ill -nM u 22 DP. ROSmVAL. Men's Ijomes are patriotism, and lieartlistones Are the foundations of all loyalty. Be kind to my old comrades, Chevalier. Rob. With a full heart will I fulfill this trust. These views, your Majesty, I long have held ; They were the basis of the power of Rome. K. Francis. Fourthly : This new found land is mine own fief. Direct from God, to hold by land and sea. It hath a harvest in its water-depths ; Its green waves are alive with fish that swim — Seal, macceraus, tunny, salmons, baccalore, With birds whose feathers Avill be golden fleece. No one but I shall reap that water field — That sailor nursery ! for there is where Our hardy Bretons shall acquire the skill To fight the waves ere time shall come to fight Galleons and treasure carracks on the deep. None shall intrude there ! None ! See to it well. No foreign hoy shall dare to wet a keel, Nor one fish-poacher drop a herring-hook. Rob. Such will be likely from Biscayan ports. K. Francis. These points bear well in mind. Now, look yon, sir I Borgia, the Pope, who was made arbiter Of the partition of the unknown seas, Ran a pretended sole dividing line Between the Spaniard and the Portugue, And quite forgot to leave a slice for France. Good Father Adam's will doth not read so. The time, at length, has come for me and you To cut a cantle out for France's share, And abrogate that partial medial line. Take notice ! your sole boundaries are — your will And military strength to hold them good ; For this new world, though large as is the old, Is not too large to lie beneath one sway ; There is not room in it at ail for Spain. ^^» DE roherval. 23 Where in this land tliese robber Spaniards are We know not, but they are nowhere in f(,ree ; Tliey may be far or near to Canada. In this new, mighty workl there eertainly Must be great water-courses — I)anul)es, Uliiues — To serve as highways all throughout the land. Harry the outposts of these brigand dons ! Fit out llotillas in your land of wood, Drop on them with the current of the streams, Burn, sink, destroy ! then will / strike a stroke That will undo all that Columbiis did, And some one else than Spain shall reign in Ind : Which brings us to our subject. Mark me well ! John Verrazano sailed five hundred leagues Northward from near the line of e(]uinox. And diligently scoured the whole coast edge. Yet found no break nor inlet of account. Observe this mappe-monde drawn by the own hand Of Leonard Vinci, the artilleryman, From the log of Americus Vespuce. See, here is open sea that leads to Jnd: In my new France miisl be the chamiel-way That forms the passage to the golden East. This Gulf, you call St. Lawrence, stretches wide; Its coast line has been scanned, but not explored, Yet we know it has inlets and deep bays Running for leagues and splitting up the land. One of these is the gate. Ee your's the task To enter through that gate and find the way ; For, after all, the world is very small — Eight thousand leagues, or less, around its waist (And Cathay lies not half that length away), A six months' voyage westward by the sea. Find me this passageway, and, hear me swear, Foi de gentilhomme, I'll make you king Of one of the best countries of the West. The ancient kingdom of my crippled France Shall swell into an empire, with its States Governed by subject-kings who shall have brains ! .Ill vfl 24 tot: noBERVAL. Not like tluit quiiHi-Cierman boar of Spain, Or that dull dolt our brother of Navarre. Find nie this pJiHsage, Viruieux, and a king In deed, as well as name, you sure shall be. Rob. Your Majesty, I have myself thought so ; Here is an inlet called Le Saguen^, That, 'tween two gates like those of Hercules, Seems with a cbannel to divide the land. K. Francis. Pass through it Roberval, and meet the sun ! That is the highway of the radiant East; It must be, and my dream is all fidfilled. And now, a secret for your private ear : I am on edge of a great war again. This little Charles grows intolerable. Now, mark me, sir! five years have yet to run Of the peace pusillanimously imposed By that most venerable soft, Pope Paul, In terror lest I should let loose the Turks. Ha ! ha ! events oft reproduce themselves. Are we not Christian King as Charles was ? (Our ancestor, not this Don Austrian) Yet he made compact with the Turcomans. Par foy, 'twould take me little to let swoop Upon Spain's shores the fleets of Solyman ! Meantime, the little Charles is asleep. Dreaming of five years' slumber yet to come. Charlemagne left his empire to my trust, To have and hold and fill its lines again, With capital at Paris, not at Aix ; Had it not been for traitor Ganelon, Ere now there would have been no Pyrenees. If we can cut the Spaniard's gold mines off. And have in New France a sea-hornets' hive To sting ;. i ships, I undertake to take Myself the field, let fly the oriflamrae, DE liOliERVAL. 25 And through tlie nas(|ue and mountain passes pour In strength to reaeh Madrid, to Beize and hohl Cantile and Leon — h)st l)y Charlemagne, And sweep down to the rock of (Jih el Tar; Stir up the fens of Flanders, wake Hurgoyne, Rouse up against him AForiseoes and Turks, And put an end to the proud Spanish sway. By heaven ! the very thought makes my veins tlirob, And sounds sing in my ears like swIhIi of rain; I only wait ostensible jjretext. Meantime, I have live armies well equipped, Nearly provisioned, and exactly trained, Which, wlien I Mow my trumpets, shall break loose On five most vulnerable points at once — Five thunderbolts shall smite his double crown. For you, my Koberval, your mission is Across the sea, but I may need your aid. And if I should I'll send for you again. Bob. My Gracious Miister, my poor life is yours. Let me remain. Send Cartier or D'Auxillon To teach this infant Colony its steps. My place is at your side — your glory mine — Retain me for old cameraderie. K. Francis. No, my tried servant. Your good faith I know. Your valor and discretion. Now, obedience. For other things: We all of us respect the Holy Church, None more than I. You, therefore, have with you A full and competent religious staflj Whose mission is, besides care of your souls. To, if they can, convert the savages ; Use you this staff judiciously and well To strengthen and consolidate your power, As well beseems, for that a State-paid Church Should be a powerful prop to Christian king. You will permit no heresy. Last word : There must be ranks in all Society, 2e Di: ROBERVAl. Yet theHc young gallants of good family, Who join in your adventuiv but in play, Will be least manageable. They have been spoiled By women, wine and wassail, and the peace That for three years has somnolised the land; Promise them seigneuries, keep them employed, And give them taste of fighting now and then. For youth prefers to live, not vegetate. l)o this, and they will answer to your call, For the good reiiHon they are gentlemen. Have 1 ought more to say ? No ; that is all. The power of life and death is in your hands, I have conviction you will use it well. Kemember, Jean ! And now embrace thy friend, No less than Sovereign. Roh. {in tearH). God save thee, Fran9ois, for the noblest King That ever sat upon the Gallic throne. Scene closes. ACT I. Scene V. Scene changes to La Rochelle. A street. Passepartout, a valet to Roberval, passes ; meets Picot, an ex-servant. Passepartout. Do I see a revenant? Picot's ghost! 'Tis he, in most dilapidated shape — Unwashed, unfrizzled, squalid, shabby, lean ; Take off thy rags that I may count thy bones. Ex-valet, — what art doing to thyself? Picot. I am starving. Passe. Relate me thy mishaps. 1)E nolil'JRVAL m Pic, I took Hglit Hcrvice with a little IMiinjuis, To tie his oravut, set lii« wig aright, And truHrt his points. It grow monotonous; And so one evening, 1, without his leave, Borrowed my uuister's name and gohl-laced suit To pay my court to la helle (iabrielle ; My artiiir was prospering, when the chamber-groom Announced the Manpiis de la Casserole. " Wha« AC of them ? " cried my host, and kicked me out. Piifme. Tt was nr nconsiderate in the Marquis. Pic. Thus, driven by the cruel shafts of fate, J took new service with Vicointe Varenne ; He was a miser, with a tradesman's soul. And kept his caskets locked. I felt the atlront, And left him. Paase. Self-respect required it. Pk. The next I honored with my services Was a mere Baron from the Provinces : Much too free with his cane, but otherwise Endurable when sober, which was rare; A bully ran him through. 1 sold his mails, And left, but did not mention my address. Passe. No one who prizes valets' privilege Could have done less. Pic. For full three months or more I gaily lived upon my peiquisites, Calling myself De Pique, a younger son Whose family had been wiped out in wars ; Ruffled and gamed, and had good fortunes too, Tjntil one night a most unpolished clown Found the dice . jaded. 1 was set upon And beaten to a jelly, and thrust out. This was another cruel st»'oke of fate. Passe. None of us can escape our destiny. Pic. Thereafter I demeaned myself to live In families of citizens, but — ah — '1 1 i' \ 1 \ 1 i i t 1 1 1 I i ; ' ■ . ; . : ! ! '' i 'l , . ,; T- i i ■- : ■■■ r f. jES\ J 28 DJ^ ROBERVAL. Their habits were repugnant, and their women — Keally — ah — so lacked the refinedness, The spirituality, the sais pas quoi, It caused me to retire to private life. Such private life agrees but ill with me. The business of eau sucre is genteel. Ripe-roasted chestnuts .y a dividend, And some men have grown rich by rabbit skins; But all these callings smack too much of trade, I could not stoop to anything so low, So, naturally, I preferred to starve. Passe. Fortune hath turned her wheel. Thine hour is come. Henceforth / am thy patron. Mark me, man ! Thou art my chattel — mine — my brindled ass, My beast of burden on whose back shall lie ■ All my transgressions ; my love emissary. My pimp, my go-between ; and in return, , Our noble Viceroy, for mere form's sake. Shall pay thee stealings, wage, and perquisites, Together with the creditable rank Of second personal valet under me. Pic. Good ; I accept the service. Is it true We sail to-morrow for another land ? Passe. True as evangile. Sing lans Deus thou ! Pic, thou shalt pick up gold. Meantime, my friend, Go seek an unclean Jew and get thee c jthes. Wash well thy face, anoint thy mad dog's mane. Here is the means. Coin grows on trees just now. Meet me at noon ; and here is thy firpt message : Take me this letter to the Ursulines, And ask for Madame Margaret Pie. So, t ! Will nothing less than convents serve thy turn? Passe. Peace, fool I Know she is a noble lady. Pic. And doubtless young. • \l DE ROBERVAL. 29 Passe. 'Tis but our chief's address, Whidi it imports her much just now to know. Truly, when I reflect what knave thou art, I'll find another messenger. Enter an old man. One of our Colonists, old Father Adam. What, ho ! Jacques Bontemps, art with us for sea? Old Man. Aye, my line gentleman, please God, I go ; I've sold my lands my sires held many a year — Four measured arpents of rare cider trees ; I've got the money in my pouch, God wot. My son Pierre goes too — an honest lad, Besides my grandson, little Pierrot. - ' Across the sea I am to get a farm, Longer in length than Maitre Durand's meadow. Aye, aye, I'll plant it for my little lad, And we'll drink cider when he grows up man. I've sold my lands, and have my moneys here. Passe. My aged sire, better lay out thy means In comforts for thy poor rheumatic limbs. In this new countiy we are going to There is no use for coin — thou can'st not spend it. Old Man. So much the better, 'twill be safer then For little Pierrot. Aye, aye, kind sirs. The wind is tempered to the shorn sheep. I lost two sheep by wehr-wolves ; aye, did I. Give ye god'den, both my fine gentlemen. Pic. This wretched peasant knows not how to spend. Or lighten his dog's life with meat or wine. His grandson, no doubt, is a sickly brat ; The chances are they both die on the way, And Pierre will fall heir to Pierrot. Passe. Meet me as ordered, then 1 will commend thee To our old major-domo as j)ossessod Of all the reqrisites of perfect valet, Such as poltroonery and ingratitude, lusol'^nce conjoined' with sycophance, Exit old man. t J , i i il 30 DE ROBERVAL. Unlimited conceit, dishonesty, Insatiable aptitude for lies. Besides the greater and the lesser gifts That ht so fine an office. Go ! get clothes. Come back here less loud-smelling and laore clean. Exeunt. ACT I. Scene VI. La Rochelle. Roberval's quarters. Roberval and D'Auxillon De Beaurepaire and gallants of the expedition. enter Roberval. Gentlemen adventurers, welcome all ! Is this a deputation, or a muster, Or merely a lounge in to kill the time ? DeVaulvrain. A little of all three; we came to ask. In passing, speeds the embarkation well ? D'Auxillon. Almost complete. The men turned fairly out, Knajisacke'.^. and armed as ready for a march; The women lugged out noseless cider-mugs, Pots without ears, and hiltless frying-pans. And would have filled one ship with spinning-wheels. Rob. Pshaw ! they must know the space is limited. UAux. De Beaurepaire wants all the decks for dogs. He has some huge boarhounds of Burgundy; Duvar ha.s terriers, Rimbauh, levriei's, And Quentin some facetious water-poodles. Jean Alfonse nearly sunk tlie fleet with oaths When he saw all this baggage coming in ; He swoi*e he'd throw the dog-coops overboard, And make a bonfire of the spinning-wheels. Quentin. But tell me. Viceroy, this new land of yours, Is it a pleasant land that bears the vine ? Is your chief city built? The boulevards, Are they well shaded ? Are the hostels good ? DE ROBERVAL. 81 Rob. Ask our Lieutenant ; he knows well as I, And has, besides, a much more vivid fancy. UAux. The land, as yet, is rather in the rough — No city, town, bouvg, hamlet or hameau. How can we dwell there ? Quent. D'Au£. Quent. L'Aux. Well, I scarcely know ; For some weeks we shall have to roost on trees. Does Cartier climb a tree ? All Maloese do. And Cartier, as Grand Pilot, leads the way. Like a sea-spider, warps hand over hand Up to the leaf-vane on the topmost bough. In my opinion, he would like to climb Much higher yet if he could get the chance. Is this true? As true as travellers' tales. I did not calculate on this. Nor I. Quenl. D'Aux. Quent. Laverdy. Rob. Cartier knows best how to arrange these things, We hope to meet him there ere many \/eeks. I)e Lnunoy. His name is Quartier, not Cartier. De Rruys. Carte, or tierce, or quart, or quatrefoil, He is the man who found our new land out. D'Aux. Jacques Cartier is an honest mariner, Though bluH" and gruft' a little it may be, And somewhat credulous in what he sees : He saw a bear stand up on its hind legs. Philippe de Loan. Did he so ? I have seen a bear do that. D'Aux. But not, when fired at, coolly turn its rear, Stand up, and twirl its postulate of a tail. And stalk away with long strides of contcmi)t. Quent. There seems but little to attract in this. i\. j 32 DE BOBERVAL. Bob. Remember, each shall have a seic urie. Laverdy. What is the use to have a seigneurie If all the vassals are wild "'ivages That take pot shots at one n i. slings and spears? Bob. I am empowered to say His M<)j«iSty Will keep us well supplied with emigrants, So in short time you may surround yourselves With your dependents from your own cantons. Quent. That is the future. For the present time I think that I must beg to be excused ; I know that I could not live up a tree. Bob. Not quite so bad as that. The Pilot Cartier Has had two years to smooth the way for us. And, though he has not made report of late, He has some lumdred colonists who should, Ere this, have organized and parcelled out The lands in settlement around the fort ; So, on the whole, it may not be more dull Than when you from the noisy Capital Go to the Provinces to take the air. De Yon. Is suitable employment for us there ? Bob. What say you to a little piracy? We must possess the country, land and sea, The fisheries and nurseries for the fleet, And we must suffer no intruders th-^re. Especially those English water-rats. De Yon. Delightful ! Write me down a pirate bold. Sang dieu ! I'll be RoUo o'er again. And lay hands on another Normandy. Kerbabu. Give rne land pillage. Brave my soul may be, But my paunch is a coward on the sea. De Launoy. Poetry is penal, — fine one livre. De Beaurepaire. Come, gentlemen, we have to show ourselves, And clear up ancient scores in this Kochelle ; Kuffle a little in the casinos. 1. ■ i!i l)t: ilOMRVAL. 83 And pay old liates off with polite adieux; Must, with our kerchiefs, wipe oil' Hoods of tears, And patch up broken hearts witli promises To be redeemed or not as time may tell. Ho ! for the new New France of the new West ! Roberval thinks us bores, so let us go. Exeunt all but Roberval, Enter Servant Sei'vant. A lady waits. Rob. . , Who? Sei'v. Sieur, Sieur, T know not ; In sorrow, as I think, but young and graceful, And clad in mourning garb, Rob. Admit her straight, (Enter Margaret Iloberval, veiled. Roberval escorts her gallantly to a seat, and stands uncovered.) Fair lady, for I know that you are fair, Whence comes this honor that you wait on me? This cabinet is more the abiding place Of logs and muster-rolls than ladies' bower. Marg. Alas ! I come a sad petitioner. Rob. The happier, I, who have the power to aid. Marg. Rob. Marg. If not in your power, then not in man's power, But in the hand of God. Lady unknown. Much may lie in my power. Not all, but much. My duty to my King, my self-respect. Are almost all can lay restraint on me. You seem in trouble : friends, perchance, have lost. And that I cannot remedy. Consider, If it be in the compass of ni} mission. Your prayer already granted. Thanks! Thanks! Thanks! And dare I humbly ask if, of your grace,' You'll patient hear me. ■ 1. I'- 1 1 . i i \ \ ' ! i i i \ 34 I)E ROBERVAL. 2i()h. Lady, there is no need For this reiteration. Pray, unveil. Miirijaret removes her veil. Marg. Uncle ! dear uncle ! liear me, sir — Bob. Avaunt ! Hence, woman ! dare yon steal upon me thus In the disguise of modesty ? Begone, Ere my wrath break in rude discourtesy On your fallacious sex. Begone, I say ! Marg. What have I done, — Hob. What have you not done, — Discredit to my house, vile, traitress, wanton. Marg. Upon my knees, dear uncle, let me plead — Bob. Pleading is vain, and is insult to me. Marg. Still, let me plead. Still, let me kiss your feet. It is not for myself. For me sweet death Were welcome. 'Tis alone for him I plead. I love him, uncle, dearer than my life. For you to grant, 'tis but a little thing. That you, as guardian, let me wed my mate. Consent, my lord, and ease my breaking heart. Another boon there was I fain had sought. Well? Bob. Marg. That you would let us go to the New Land, And there we can together live our life In any humble work or menial toil, Together straining, that the coming time May overgrow the past. Bob. {laugJiH bitterly). Why not? Among my colonists are choicest thieves. Cut-throats, and galley-slaves, and monstrous drabs, Trulls of the camp, and all the market jades That could be found in all the prisons of France. ^ i ^''- \ D^ ROhERVAL. 35 Mary. Rob. Why not, I say ? There's room enough for you. Hut, as you say there 's h)ve between you fools (There may for aught I know), J, to prevent Foul prattle as to name of Koberval — As would be were you 'mong that festering crew, Will take a diHerent order in your case. Guardmn's consent to wed I will not give ; Yet, as you wish to lose tht orld for love, And long to found a new Arcadian liome, And as you've stolen by your practiced art, My promise to comply with your recjuest. You shall both go to Canada. O, uncle ! Mock me not with thanks. Here, take this passport To the Captain of the "Caron " caravel, Now lying at the mole. God help thee. Go, Margaret ! Thou wilt see my face no more. Exeunt. ACT I. Scene VII. On the mole at Rochelle. Syndic and deputation of Traders. Roberval and attendants. Syndic. Signor, I am the Syndic. Excellency, 1 am a fish-monger, — hum, — Chevalier, I am the Syndic and a lish-monger, — hum, — Corn' d'ung c'hoq I The speech my clerk wrote has made its escape. i ' 1 ! III I 30 DE ROBimVAL. Take this good sword from good Kochelle: The citizens had it forged, And paid for it, And give it to your little Excellency. Buckle it on your hip. Don't be afeared. We know you know how to make it flourish Against the King's enemies. Zip-zip-hnzza ! lioberval unbuckles his own sword, and replaces it by the citizens' gift. Rob. Excellent Syndic, and good Kochellese, My heart leaps at the sight of this good sword ! I take it as a pledge 'twixt you and me To live or die for service of the King. Ne'er shall 1 draw it save for France's cause, And never shall I sheathe it save with honor As pure and stainless as its polished blade. (Jitizens. Zip-zip! Wireworkers. The skilled men who spin iron into wire, And weave in wire as spiders weave in thread, By their guild-fathers, now in presence here. Beg your acceptance of a gross of mouse-traps. Rob. Perhaps in the whole range of industry Is nothing I would long for more, the rather That in New France we trap beasts for their skins ; Moreover, these will keep my mind assured 'Gainst depredations on our farmers' cheese. Breeches-makers. Our Art and mystery as old as Adam — For he was our first customer for breeches — Present you with a pair of leather smalls. Rob. These I shall keep for high-class festivals. Chord-spinners. Valiant Commander, our illustrious guild Is passed apprentice to the Muse of Music, And in its name we offer you a type Of industry peculiar to Kochelle — The very primest strain of catgut strings. DE RUBER VAL. :m Rob, Thanks, artist craftHinen ; your gift fills a want. I have no doubt my Colonists and I, When that our toilsome, long days' works are done. Will spend our evenings playing on the zither. (Other nil'ts otlorcd.) Time nor the tide waits not for any man. The signal flies. I must me now on hoard, Even though I see the many gencnnis gifts And samples of your various industries. You others, that, with words of friendliness. Have brought for me, as souvenirs and otrcnnes. The sugar, salt, and yarn, and eau-de-vie. The pitch and tar, the butter, eggs and oil. Pray take them all on l)oard. And now, farewell ! In the new country far beyond the sea My breast will glow at thought of La Rochelle. Einbaik.^s. KnttM- lieaurepaire and Kalliuits. Beau. I took a last look round the Viceroy's room, My dog Dent-brize with me, whom you know ; The gamesome cur, thinking that lie had foimd A nest of leverets, ujjset a basket, And from the scattered ]>a[)ers brought a scroll. Knowing the dog's intelligence, met bought He'd found a love-letter, but it was not ; It was in Koberval's own hen-stratcli scrawl. And here it is. liead. An adieu to France. PoniBrianL Was it quite fair, your curiosity ? Beau. All things ai'e quite permissible in love. Dog thought wa.s love, and 'tis but doggerel. ADIEU TO FRANCE. Adieu to France! my latest glance B'alls on thy port and bay, Rochelle; The sun-rays on the surf-curlw dance, And siiriufj-tinie, like a pleasing Mi)ell, ITarnioniourt holds the land and sea. How long, alas, I cannot tell. Ere this scene will come back to nie. ■ i ■ 38 DE ROBERVAL. Tlie hours fleet fast, and on the mast Hoon shall I hoist the parting sail ; Soon will the outer bay be passed, And on the sky-line eyes will fail To sec a streak that means the land. On, then I before the tides and gale, Hope at the helm, and in (iod's hand. What doom I meet, my heart will beat For France, the debonnairc and gay She ever will in memory's seat Be present to my mind alway. Hope whispers my return to you Dear land I but should fate say me nay, And this should bo my latest view. Fair France, loved France, my France, adieu I Salut a la France ! Salut ! DE ROBERVAL. ;^u ACT II. Scene I. Ciucbec. Colonists debiirklng from two sliips. Tliioti other shipH coming up. Kobcrval, Pont firiant and ofticers aHcending the heights. Robcrval. Here, then, we stand on the Caniulian shore, My foot the first; this steep-walled promontory — The key by land and sea to Canada — (That fort of Cartier's is hut badly placed, ' But I will remedy that fault anon ; Marvel the savages have let it stand) — And all the natural features of the scene Excel descri])tion with reality. Here is a roadstead where all Europe's Heets Might make manoeuvre in their battle line. And seem but cluiloupes sailing on a pond ; Here deep coves timbered to the water's edge, And rivers with such volume in their streams Their tides are felt at sea. Pont Briunl. \ should say so. 1 don't suppose this half the world was made At a date later than the other half; If not, the Gods and Titans knew this place, And might have fought their mighty battles here. The Mediterranean, though -Ji good French lake, Is much too small for all, we're told, was done ; But here is fighting room. Can you not see The Titans on this round-backed promontory, The Gods on yon adjacent mountain range, TI i Winds all howling out of those grey caves, Old pitch-forked Neptune lashing up the main, And the air thick with lightning, rocks and spray? 'Faith, I believe it, quite as much sis that The world stands on a tortoise, though, indeed, One hears so much 'tis hard what to believe. In some such niighty brawl the angry gods. Smiting the land, no doubt rove this great Gulf, And in the skirmish scuttled the Atlantis. M i 40 DE ROBKRVAL. An Officer. I'mil llriiiiil's "lassie ronuniKcences Trij* up the lu'ols of hi"> theology. An Officer. Tliese siivaf;;es rmist he a timid folk. At tlie first thunder of the anchoring gun They fled liivell beseems We take it to our hearts and love it well. The path is practicable : let us ascend And see the vista from a higher plane. While, as is good and meet, the priests below Return our thanks to God for bon voyage. They pass. Enter four Colonists. 1st. Col. Shall we still climb? I am a mountaineer. No higher up ? Then seat us on this ledge. What think'st thou of it? 2nd Col. I like it not at all. I see long years of heavy grinding toil Ere these great woods be wheat lands bearing grain ; I have my doubts if it will ripe the vine. I would 1 saw the C^vennes slopes again. t! t f; in; If mm 42 DE ROBERVAL. \sL Col. Why cam'st thou here then ? 2nd Col. Well, 1 hardly know ; I heard a good deal of it at the forge, And after Maws we'd get in little groups, And talk about the King and Koberval. '6r(l Col. 1 would have stayed at home on mine own croft, And earned my honest bread in peace and joy, But my next neighbor was a bad, bad man. Who had too many children for his size, 8o that my dame's hens could not lay an egg But tluit the egg mysterious disappeared. And worse than that: could you believe it, sirs? Down my clay chimney he would drop dead cats — We think he must luive been a Huguenot. 4lh Col. I would have knocked your neighbor with a flail. And dropped his brats into the nearest pond. 1 have brats of mine own (bless 'em), for them Says 1 to my good dame: "Look here! ma'mie, When these boys grow tiiey'll drag them to the wars. And these bright girls must drudge as peasants' wives; (ret up, ma'mie, and let us cross the sea! What matters thou and me will have to toil For all our lives mayhap, so tliey be well, And have great farms and orchards of their own. With no harsh lon.s to lord it over them! Content be we if, when we've played our play. They keep our names in kind remembrance. And lay a wreath of flowers upon our grave." \st Col. For me, 1 came because I hate to work. I am a hunter ; 1 can send a shaft Straight to a running mark ; with muske^oon Can stop the great brown eagle in his soar. And 1 have hit a swallow on the wing. (Sincjx) Trillililloao, trillililloaloo! From these gi'eat shady forests, witii the dogs Monsieur de Beaurepaire has promised me, 1 mean to pave my farm with clioicest skins iiw-n^™ DE ROBERVAL. 43 Of elk and wolf, trilliloa-loalou ! Let us descend and join them in the prayers. They descend. Enter three soldiers. \sl Soldier. Atop of this high hill a hundred men, Behind a stockade, could defy assault, Though led hy Bayard or Rolitnd himself. 2nd Soldier. l.s< Soldier. 'Ind Soldier. Srd Soldier. Isl Soldier. 2nd Soldier, ord Soldier. 2nd Soldier. Strong, sure enough, and no assault to lead, 1 fear we'll have but little lighting here, Our only foes canaille of savages. Those savages have girls ! Depend on that. I saw a savage once from Africa ; Black as a lump of charcoal, kettle black, But fat as any high Church dignitary, And greasy as a friar mendicant ; Bohemians bought her for a kind of show, As a descendant of the Queen of Sheba. 1 hope our quarters will be lower down ; That mountain's .side is stiff" for legs to climb, And much too near to heaven — the devil take it- For us to steal a leave some starless night And loot the women's huts. Gare there, my lad ; You don't know Roberval. Hist ! comrade, hark ! What may it mean, those voices from below ? It is the service to the Mary Mother, In whose protection this new land is placed. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. (Coming in snatches, bi keuly, from below.) Regina coeli , O, Star of Sea, We dedicate this salvage land to Thee : I n !! ■ 44 DE ROBEBVAL. Woman clothod with the glorious sun, The hornt-.l inoon for Thy feet to rest upon, And on Thy head seven stars when day is done: Lily that in the King's closed garden grows : O, typic Vine fruited houghs : Pomegranate hranch that budded : Mystic Rose : Garden enclosed from mortal hurts and harms, Not barren Thou though angels fenced Thy charms With a close treillage of their linked arms : Mother of travail, spotless Maid Divine, Make our homes fruitful, bless our corn and wine, And of this land be this the name and sign Terra Marite dulcis . . . They stand uncovered until the chaunt ceases and dies away in eclio. ACT II. SCKNE II. Same day. Roberval intent. Enter I'ont Briant, laughing. Boberval. You're merry, Pont Briant. It is dull here, I'niy let nie share the niirtli. Ponl Briant. Ha! ha! I laugh, Tiie garrison has been increased by one. Rob. A scout canie in, you say. Who? wliy? from whence ? Pont. A scout who, if she sliould live long enough, May be the mother of a line of scouts. Rob. Explain. Ponl. Jacques I.onrdre's little Norman wife Hath just presented him a sturdy girl, The iirst child that is born in this New F' ranee, And all the gossips, mid-wives, girls and i)riests Are closetted in dire conspiracy That you should act as god-father. ■ PE nOBERVAL. 45 Bob. Not I. But, as tl)is thing does not hap every day, You sliall be god-father, and name the child. Pont, {alarmed). I pray excuse. Rob. Pont. Rob. Pont. Rob. Pont. Rob. Pont. Rob. Excuse you I will not. I trust you for the all-sufficient reason, Ere she be marriageable you'll be too old To do her mischief. « But, sir — Without there ! (Enter attendant.) Harkye ! Monsieur Claude de Pont Briant Will take on him the vows as god-father And parrien to this unexpected child. Mademoiselle Ca-nil-da. Nay, but sir — — And let the garrison — man, knave and boy. Have each a double runmier-can at noon. To drink the young one's health. Attendant retires. Pray hear me, sir — 'Tis time t^'"t you were settled, my friend Pont, And what more interesting sight could be Than see you help to guide her infant steps. Teach her her prayers, — Oh! ^i| — strap her on your knapsack, And whistle to her on a long day's march ! You cannot think how sweet a thing 'twill be To act the nurse to your god-daughter's love. Pont. Mort de ma vie ! god-father I will be, And father too to this same forest kid, — Ca-na-dii mie, CTinrida mignonette, I feel as if she were child of my reins ; I'll go and have my little imp baptized, And woe to him wJio makes a mock of us I ^i it\ r ; 46 Dj& ROBERVAL. Rob. Thou'rt. a good fellow, Pont Briant. Yet stay, Here, take this purse to buy a basinette ; * Her future charge be shared 'twixt me and thee. Exit Pont Briant. Enter Jean Alfonse, Pilot. J. Alfonse. Come ashore, sir. The ships ride at anchor, All three made fast; and a clean bill of health. Rob. Any trouble with your convict crews ? J. Alf. Nothing to speak of: a revolt or two ; Occasion to fire down the hatchways twice ; Two men thrust through a port-hole ; an attempt To lire the magazine, and, by the way, I had to tuck three hands to the yard-arm ; Home mutiny on board the smaller ships. But, on the whole, nothing to speak of. Rob. In virtue of the powers conferred on me, My clerk shall write you out an amnesty For these most necessary instances. A man and woman prisoner who were given With privately sealed orders, what of tliem? J. Alf. Alas! sir — J2o6. Point direct, sir, answer me. J. Alf. Viceroy, I know what you have done for me ; Have chosen me for yoiu- Pilot, and right well I know your word is law. All this I know And strongly feel ; but when the moment came To carry out your orders, in my breast Compassion and obedience went to war, And I had thought — had hoped — jlol^ Say on, sir. Well? J. Alf. Obedience triumphed. With what grace I might I made her doom known to the Lady Mar — jjoj^ The prisoners. J. Alf. The prisoners; they also had with theiri A horrible old witch or nursing mother, — Ro J. Ro \mv" D^ ttOBJEitVAL. 47 'Fore Gad, I'd rather face five savages Tlian tliat old spitfire ; witli iier claws she flew At all around, and lo ! marines of France Fled like Napolitans before her charge. With nuich-scratched visages , e'en I myself Had to be rescued by my port-ensign, Else had I throttled been ; at length she clung To her loved lady, who stood pale and dumb, But trembling much, and then into the boat We lowered them, while the sailors at the oars W^ere silent in the presence of such grief; But, when we left to come on board, there came Over the surge such wild burst of despair It (juite o'ercame us, and I had to turn And vent some rounds of good sound Gascoyne oaths As a mild diluent to soothe my feelings. The place of landing was, as by this chai't, An island you will see on Cartier's plan At tiiirty-six leagues distant from the coast Across the mouth of the known estuary — Rob. 80 that 'tis done tell me not where 'twas done. J. Alf. The wind had fallen, and our idle sails Lay pinned against the mast. Some twenty hours We lay in a dead calm, and from aloft Could see the fragile gently -nurtured dame Dragging huge stones and staggering under faggots, Helping the man and witch to build a hut. Then, as a breath came round by nor'-nor'east. We spread our wings and left them to their fate. Rob. (asifle). And so this is the very last and end Of the delusive fever women call love, jTet, after all, — poor Margaret. {Aloncl.) Hasten now To land our vagabonds, and let us see What discipline can do to turn such carrion Into good colonists. Keport anon. Exeunt. V H .. i i I ■ ' 48 I)E ROBER VAL. ACT II. Scene III. Next day. Two soldiers on rampart of Cartier's fort. Is/, Soldier {new comer). Comrade! come read a riddle puzzles me. Who are we? where are we? what country's this? Is 't the beginning or the end of land? Or is 't a country in the world at all ? Or whither away ? or under what king's reign? 2nd Soldier. May I be halberted if I can tell What bit o' the world it be. Jacques Cartier knows. I don't. 1st Soldier. Yet I and thou know who is King, — The brave, the gay, the King most Christian, A handsome monarch with a pontoon nose, Brown hide, black hair, our gallant Franyois One, Whom God preserve. 2nd Soldier. Vive le Roy Fran9ois ! They touch their caps in sahite. Ut Soldier. Where is the headquarters of the force ? 2nd Soldier, /am the force. J am the garrison. The captain, commandant, and connnissary. What would'st thou have ? lancespede and private man Of Canada and Norembergia, Admiral and vice-admiral of the same. When our Grand Pilot Cartier struck his tents, And ordered all to ship on board his fleet, I volunteered to stay, but was refused. So, when the roll was called I was amissing, And here have held the fort from then till now, With the old dame that boils my pot an feu As the sole army under my command. But mark me, comrade mine, my pay rum on, And I shall come on our new army chest For billet money, 'lowance and arrears. 1st 2n(i 1st 2nd 1st; Dt: P.OBERVAL. 4d \st Soldier. Old soldier, thou ! but rather thou tliau me. Wert thou not set on by the savages ? 2nd Soldier. No, no. The savages are bon cain'rades; They took up an idea I was crazed. And, therefore, treated nie right royally. They have a great respect for idiotcy. Is/ Soldier. When, twelve leagues oH'the coast, we met your ships, On which they crowded sail to pass us by, The Viceroy signalled for them to lay to. The which tliey did, but evening (piickly fell, And in the night they sneaked themselves away, 'Twas well for them 'twas night, as ('artier knew. Had it been daylight Koberval had sunk theju. Else I am much mistaken in my man. Of course this spread among us much dismay To find ourselves abandoned and betrayed ; Some thought that we would stndght return to France, But those who knew our Icatler best knew not ; So here we are to do the thing we may. 1 doubt if the King knows this state of things. 2nd Soldier. Ha,st seen our gracious King? 1st Soldier. Aye, 'faith have I. Three years since 1 was in the Koyal (iuard. When our gay King received the Emperor At Chatelheralt, and brought him to Versailles; A brave scene it was then. The hombres stared To see the high magnificence of our Court, That quite eclipsed their (ierman-Spanisli show With feathers, silk, and arms, and women-kind, For Francis loves to have the ladies with him. There had been talk of choosing volunteers For this New Land, and I was one of them ; So after the day's martial show was done, The King himself inspected our parade, And, as he passed, he, with his jewelled hand, Smote me, hail-fellow-met, upon the shoulder: " Comrade," said he (the King said "comrade "), " ho I 50 i)^ noIiERVAL. One for the wivages of onr New France ? Be faithful to your King— ha! foi de nioi, We'll send you out another little king — Onr tried and trusted little King of Viniieu," And then passed on. You woidd have heard the shout Three leagues olf when the brave King ealled us conu-ades. lie ealled us " comrades," and we knew hiiu conn-ade. 2nd Soldier. Who might this other little monarch be ? Ist Soldier. A tried and trusted leader, true as steel, But martinet in body and in bones ; Ere now he has hung men for stealing straw. And fettered thieves for theft of twenty sols ; Hard and implacable, yet soldiers' friend, Looking aye to their comfort ; otherwise He is profuse and careless of his pay, And sows his gold like millet. 80 they say. 2nd Soldier. Is't he comes here as Viceroy ? 1st Soldier. . , Hist ! he comes. Observe him well. Colonists marched in. I-^nter lloberval the Viceroy, IVAuxillon, second in com- mand, with officers and giuuds. Rob. All freemen, who have never been within A prison wall, will please fall out of line. (Greater number leave the ranks; criminals remain.) Rogue on the right, what record dost thou bring ? 1st Criminal.. An't please your worship, I'm an ill-used man : My secret foes trumped an inifounded charge ■ To the eftect I was a conunon thief. Something, too, of a ruffian, and the judge Was prejudiced, and condenmed me. Next one. Excellency, I was falsely charged With arson, but I really felt quite grieved When told that a young cliild had been consumed. There was no proof against me, sir. False oaths Were broitght to weigh down all my alibi ; 4tl 5tfi Gth 1th Sth 9lh Rol Rob. 2nd Orim. 3rd Orim. {To. ir I)E nOBERVAL. hi They could not prove 'twas T that robbed the post, And yet, though innocent as any chlhl, They seared me with hot irons. Such is hiw. Alh Oriin. Breach under trust, but it was a mistake; The public prosecutor had his bribe, And the result was that I lost my ears. 5th Crim. Sir, I am victim of the town police, My premises were not a strangler's den, But a respectable hotel. Qth Crim. They said 'twas I, but I am not the man To take a freedom with the King's oi-troi. Not I, indeed ! 'Twas a conspiracy Of sho})keepers to send me to the galleys. 7th Oi'im. Not likely I would rob Montmarte, sir, And ilrive a traliic in my comrades' bones; It would not pay, would not buy bread and salt, Chirurgeons give so little for a corpse. Even when 'tis dug up from a new made grave. Sth Crim. Sir, some one spread the monstrous calumny I was a poison vendor. Several died Mysterious deaths, and, therefore, they blamed me. Despite iny innocency, 1 was whipped And set upon the pillory; and this Was my reward for pure philanthropy. 9th Crim. My lord, the guard called me mauvey garson ; And 1 says to the Prefect, " Prefect," says 1, " Could they identify me in a mask ? " Yet I, though innocent, was sent out here. Rob. Enough, enough, and much more than enough. You godly company of innocent men, Lest that your purity should be defiled. You shall be told oil' in a separate gang To work on the fortifications. See to it, D'Auxillon. {To Soldiers) Soldiers! my veterans whom I know and trust, The King, our master here, has given to me il 52 DK ROBERVAL. Power abHoluto, tlie gift of life and death. I am myself a soldier, one of yoti, And know the soldier's duties, wants and jovs. Here, in this foreign land, the serviee ealls For vigllanee, but duty will be light. Except a brush with natives now and then ; But this I tell you, that the discipline Will be as strict as army's in the field. Or as routine of royal garrison. As for the rest, so far jus 1 have means, Your wants shall careful be attended to, Your pleasures not too much infringed upon. Bear in remembrance tli. I am your friend. Keep in your memory, officers and men. The rule of guidance of this garrison Is discipline, and concord in the ranks. Soldiers. Vive le Koi ! vive Roberval. Rob. (to Colonists). Gentlemen Colonists ! our voyage o'er, Your duty now is quickly to get housed ; The ladies, who have honored us and shared Our tiresome passage o'er the stormy sea, Expect that much, and long to have a home ' Where each may busy her with women's cares, And rear up sons to people this fair land. For the land, fresh from Nature, is right fair. Though wild, indeed, compared with pleasant France, Yet soon the patient hand of industry Will turn the mighty woods to fertile fields. Set then to work. Allow me to suggest You parcel yourselves out in working bands Under some special gentleman of name, And throw your whole force on a single house. And then another, and another, so By night to-morrow many will be housed. Some parties of fatigue will give you aid. Do not omit to smooth a dancing-green, With benches for the ladies and the band ; A chapel afterwards. 'T, DE ROBERVAL. 53 The land around, In r('as()nal)lo distance of the fort, Has been hiid ofl' by ('artier and surveyed, And will he given for settlement hy lot. Keineniher tliat I am your eivil chief, As well as military, and my duty Cliiiiies in with my desire to aid, protect. And strengthen your brave patriotic aims. And 80 (iod speed you all. Exeunt Roborvul and stuff. Enter Passepartout and Picot. Pansepnrlout. Dost know tiie tavern of the Thirty Spoons? Picol. Rue Morgot. Passe, On the left side of the street. Pic. Right-hand corner of the bsirber's alley. Would we were there ! Both. Passe. Pic. Passe. Trictrac! Pic. Passe. Pic. The so U[)s ! The red, red wine ! The dominoes ! The hand-maid Jeanne ! Passe. Both. Pic. Surely some evil genius ruled my birth, And watched my early cradle hours. Else, had we never come to (.'anada. Now, we are here, have those varlets unpacked The rich camp equipage of the Viceroy? And mine. Passe. He hath none. A rush pallet for a bed Is all he needs ; a knife and spoon and platter, And for his provend, private soldier's fare. Pic. O Lord I I am a miserable man, I that have eaten soup of tourterelle,* And drank deep chopins from the spigot-hole, And spent my wage at booths of gamesome fairs, * Turtle dove, not turtle. |ii I, M JJE ROBERVAL. Jlelas! helHHl () ni'iHerable me, My fate i« sealed. Place of strength. When a chief dies we give our choicest furs Of mink and martin, wolf and bear and beaver. These white men seek for furs; let us collect A general stock of fur, and then propose To buy from them their tubes of thunder-fire, Thus could we conciuer all the neighboring tribes; With these invaders we would keep the peace Only till we could league the other tribes, And then united drive our foes to sea. I know not if these men that have come here Be all their tribe, — })erchance such may not be, And, if not so, they may bring from their land A multitude in many war-canoes; Though but few now they are good warriors. And better have concord with thera than war ; Let us treat with them till the time shall come To take up the war-hatchet. I have spoken. Young Men. The Aged Chief hears the leaves rustle. Ugh ! His eui-s are open to the wood-owls' hoot. The White Chief is the knife-arm of his tribe, !|. i! U n 68 I)E nOBERVAL. The heart, the will, the life-blood iiiul the head, All that thev do and say lie savH and does ; Take of!" the head and the whole body dies, A knife-thiMiKt or a hurled axe will do it. Low. Eye. My voice is with the young men. All {in approval). Ilaihai! A Brave, We will pull up a pine, — paint the axe red! All. Haihai! Aged Chief. Let ns go see this Cliief ; He promises safe conduct, anil 'tis said That, being Royaner,* he keeps his word. Onr Councillors will talk with him. Young men! Keep you witliin an esiwy arrow-flight, But, on your lives, without my special leave, No axe be hurled nor a bow be drawn. Wampimi-keeper ! you can talk white tongue As tauglit to you by the lialf-})ale trapper Wlio fled to us from tlie first white man's sliip, And wliom we luive adopted in our tribe ; I do not wish that he should spe-ik with wiiite, Lest that his speecli be false. Wampum-hearer. I will speak truth, The voice of the Red Man shall be with me. Council breaks up. * Noble. I DE ROliERVAL. 69 ACT II. ScKNi.; VIII. Roberval's qiiarteiH. Kntor MiHsiuiiury and two RcliRCUsea. Mimonary. Klxcellency, we have come to iiiiike report. RobcrvaL (irace to all. How fares it with our Houls? Have you inadt' any converts 'nionj? my villains? Two of tliem have been insiihonlinate — Two thorough knaves, (Jalloys and Jehan de Nantes — They will be hanged to-morrow. Make their peace. Miss. Those wretches are impenitent ; they scoff' And set aside our most attentive cares, 8till, what soul's [)eace is left them shall be made. Among the other criminals I rejoice To find a slight awakening, slight as yet, ]>ut not without some feeble tniits of grace: Mue has learned all the penitential psalms, Huroc of Lang'.iedoc can say his prayers, Coupgorge admits that he is sinful man, And several others whose dull memories Unfit them to remember godly words, Promise much when their prison shall be done Provided that I use my influence To gain some relaxation of their toil, And some slight emendation in their fare, For, truly, when a man is overworked And underfed, his mind is little keen To spend his surplus force on sacred things. Rob. Speak of these matters to the Hieur d'Auxillon. And for our honest settlers, how fare they ? Miss. The blessing, sure, of heaven will rest on them, The female portion do their duties well. And miss no chance of holy services. The honest men, too, do the best they can, But, with their heavy labor all day long ■^^^. 70 I)E ROBERVAL. In this enervating', relaxinj? clime, It often liapjiens, 1 regret to note, That in the midst of v.\\ niosi touching themes And candid exhortation for tlieir good. Their eyes grow heavy and they fall asleep. Slid) toil'n effect, for to no other cause Can I attribute their strange weariness, Roh. Most likely you have right divined the cause. 3/ts.s. We have hopes, fair hop^s, in short time to make Of this New France a model Christian school. In which the faith shall rule her children, all Attuned to due ohedience, wiiere shall come No claim of i)rivate judgment, no dissent. And no distraction horn of evil times, For with the sea around us there will be A thousand leagues 'twixt us and heresy. Rob. Good father, it is well, for heresy P^re we 're much older surely will provoke Most cruel wars. Mis!^. Such and so may it be, For in the sacred precejtts it is ",vrit E\'\\ mr.st be put down by power of sword, For evil cannot dwell with good, and hence Was organized this .settlement to form A model fit Id for purest Christian work. Such were the views of our most gracious King. Rob. His Christian Majesty's exhimstivr views In found ir.g this outlyi'ig olony Are known to me. Mks. The King is most devout. Another thing 1 now would lain submit : A place of public worship. The rude liut Temporarily consecrated i.-, too small. And luimlle as the stall of Bethlehem, DE ROBER VA L. Rob, True. You will have som^ marriages ere long, With hjiptisTus afterwards, when I have sent For two or three shiploads ,1' rnaids from France To turn our hachelors to married men. Meantime, as all our familie.s are well lioused. And their first home • wn crops are growing green, The wliole force of the settlement shall join In the erection of » house of (lod. I will present it with a ring of hells Cast bv the ablest toupders of Rouen, P'or J have still some scraps of revenue Jn the exchequer tliat will pay for them; It will be sweet to all ol" us again To hear the carillon. Further report? JZ/ss. Father (Jeronynms (a saintly sov.i) I lath made a solemn vo- to sweet St. Aime To icave the college wails and to expend His few remaining years in solitude. And with his aged hands he hath fenced in A little garden and conunodious cave On a green terrace of this beetling cliff, And will retire there as an anchorite. I ill Rob. X good and pious act, and yet, methinks, All special land grants come direct from me. But, as it is in our Religion's cause, 1 will confirm the site that he has tii'en ; l''urther, I pray you, fathers, take in charge That such poor comforts a.s Ills vows permit Be well provided for the holy man. Continue, sirs. Mm. The garrison have need of all our i)rayers. These soldiers try our patience past remcde. They are mere sons of I'elial, hcaven-f(»rsook. They brawl and swagger, gamble, howl and swear, And are exempt from toiich of modesty. 'Tis verv sad. Let us in charitv 72 BE ROBERVAL. Think 'tis their bringing up and not their fault. Specially those who fought in Flanders' wars Have brought back with them coarse Low Countries' oaths, With which they interlard their expletives. Would it be i)Ossible by rules of war To order that no man shall swear at all ? Or if it be a part of discipline That they must swear, could it not be arranged Thsa i,hv-y shall imprecate by milder saints, As Martha, Bridget and the Cologne nuns, Or, mnles, by Pius, John, or St. Eloy ? Thus would the rough edge of their talk be smoothed. And their demeanor very much improved. 4 Rob. The subject shall be well and duly weighed. Miss. And now, your Excellency, let me urge Our special mission in these savage lands Js to convert the heathen, but a« yet No heathen have come in, and it beseems You, as the secular arm, to drag them in, Ho that thev may with reverent thankfulness Embrace the faith en mnsse, and be baptized, Failing which it behooves to do on them The i)unishment of infidels, and this It is my sacred mission plain to say. These holy dames will further predicate. Ist Religeuse. May't pleji.se Your Excellency, thus it is: That we poor sLsters, vowed to holy vows, Are used to take our lives within our hands, And spend our strength in heaven's holy cause, And specially our mission is towards The feeble sisters of our weaker sex, That they in pious grace may be made strong. These forest heathen are our destined care, jVnd Mary aid our etlorts. Among them There nuisl be salvage women, else, 1 think, It is not likely would be salvage men, if ''- ■■' ' ^''■' ' DE ROBERVAL. 73 Tliese heathen women we request of you. Witli joy we should accompany your wars If it would better serve to bring them in. Rob. Rest you content, for we shall go anon To hold some parley with these sauvages, And, as you say, there must be womankind Of some sort, else there could not well be men, They shall be handed to you bodily To do your mission on, and, well I ween. Their souls will be ten times the whiter for Your pious ministrations, gentle nuns. 2.nd Reiig. No less did we expect at your kind hand. There is a savage maiden who comes here — Rob. Aye, what of her ? 1st Rdif). She is means to an end. Her errands here can scarce be commendable, Yet she can deftly aid our mission work ; Pray have her seized when next she comes again, And given over to our sisterhood. Where she shall be placed under discipline. And after short novitiate may be Sent as an emissary to her tribe, By name of Martha Bridget I'rsula. Rob. Trebly eu[)honious, and ap{)ropriate As " chick-a-bid " would be to a young eagle. Miss. Sir, 'tis your bounden duty so to do. Rob. Not you, but 1 command this Colony. I will not have this girl converted. No I Miss. The care and cure of souls are ours alone. ' Rob. 1 will take this one's soul in mine own lumds. What would you have? Tlie Christian graces are Modesty, crcdulence and faithfulness, A touch of gratitude, a sense of trutli, 74 I)t: ROBERVAL. And some dependence on the deity. She lisis them all. She shall not be converted. (Enter Ohnilwa.) Come hither, child. Tell me, Ohnawa 'mie, Wilt thou abjure thy god, give uj) thy faith, And be baptized for Jlim who died on tree, The Christian Three-in-one ? Ohii. The < i reat Spirit, Master of Life, is good ; lie sends the rain ,\nd sun that makes the yellow corn to grow. And, when the ice l)reaks uj), makes fish to swim. And game return at time of opening leaves. We are the creatures of His unseen hand. Our God has never died, but lives. We hear His whispered orders speaking in our hearts, And, though he knows, to show we reverence him We cast shells in the streams and burn sweet weeds; In war our warriors offer sacrifice. He loves the Ked Men. When the lami) goes out From forth our bodies, if we do His will He will relight the light of life again. And lead us to the happier hunting woods. Mm. Blasphemous ! Huguenot ! idolatrous ! The outcrop of a damnable heresy I Viceroy, beware ! and learn this thing from me, That he who can and stamps not out the sin Shares in the crime and courts the punishment ; This savMf^o, infidel as any Jew, Is thrice accursed in that by heathen spells She hath 'mposed on the King's ofHcer, — This will bring on us incensed heaven's ire. And vengeance down on her protector's head. Rob. Be it. Adieu, in Christian charity. (Exeunt Alissionary iiiul Religeuses.) {To attendant.) Summon the chief chirurgeon hither. (Enter Doctoi ; also D'Auxi'lon.) Ji I)E ROBERVAL. 75 Dominie, here 's a subtle cliance for thee, Thou art disciple of Jerome ( "ardan The Padiian, and I have heard thee say That thou liast seen the very manuscript Of his great work, .l?-.s Mdcpui. See these stones, Collected by a messenger of mine, Say which are gold? which silver? and which gems? Which anything of untold mineral wealth? This one is surely good. Doctor (after n pause). I do opine These chi{)s are valueless. The reason why? Whoever first created all the rocks Did it by means of fire. Hence founders' art Kequires retort, aludel, crucible. To segregate the metal from the clay By calcination and by sublimation. Without which not in moulds will metals run. The masters teach all metals are composed Of three intrinsical component parts : Salt from the water, sulphur from the air. And living mercury from out the earth ; Wherefore it seems this country is too young. The baser metals, brass, lead, copper, tin, Have not had time to fuse and crystallize. And transnuite into gold. In time they may. As to the Hux of the metallurgists — Rob. Pass we these formuhe of Paracelsus, Basil Valentine and the alchemysts. Crold, gold, 1 ask for. What this specimen ? Doct. This I should say is brass. Rob. Is brass found pure ? Doct. 'Tis rather rare. Here is a tiny speck Of silver pure, and this is copper ore Bedded iit Hitn. This, 1 think, is lead, And all the rest are iron. w is. 76 DE ROBERVAL. i2o6. Past belief ! The subject raetiils and not find tlieir king, The sovereign of them all ! What rock is this ? Doct. This is pyrites of magnetic iron, Rob. And this is? r>oct. Meteoric iron stoni;. Rnh. This shining crystal, — is it emerald ? Boct. Sulphate of the peroxides of iron. Rob. Hold ! here is one has tinge of gold. It is ? Doct. Botryoidal si)hcerosiderit of iron. Rob. Perdition seize Albertus Magnus' slang! Is there no gold ? Doct. Yes, in this river sand Here is gold powder. Doubtless 'twill be found In summer torrents coming from the hills And higher country, but in many streams, As in the brooks that swell the Rhone and Rhine, Such golden grains are found. D'AiLciUnn. In quantity ? Doct. In particles. Ohn. Tliese be but worthless things. Chief, dost thou care to seek such childish toys? To us they are more valueless indeed Than the same quantity of sea-beach sand. Rob. Peace, infant I we have passed the age of stone, Also of bronze ; we've missed the golden age, And seem to have come on the age of iron. Ohn. I know where thou can'st gather wigwams full ' Of these same shining gauds, — but far away. All. Ha! Ohn. Twenty summer days by swift canoe If thou dost follow straight the sunset line, All. Ohr All. 01,7 All. RoL DE ROBERVAL. 77 Tliere is an ocean, but the water fresh, ^Vllere are great rocks all made ol" this, — and this. Silver and copper! And then come the plains, And then the mighty stream, father of streams, That Hows to left-hand of the evening sun, And reaches a far country by the sea ; Red men there, who are not of our full kin, But make their knives and arrow-heads of this — All. Ohn. All. Ohn. AIL Gold! White men in ships have come there and made war, Cortes and Pizarro ! 1I' Rob. {excited). Ohnawa, when thou cam'st to visit me Thou said'st thou could, with sliver on the sand, Trace out a line of march. Here, take this pen, This paper, mark on it this fresh-waved sea, This mighty river and this land of gold. (Ohnawa takes paper.) Thanks, Doctor, for your service. Now, adieu. (Exit Doctor ; Ohnawa gives Roberval plan.) Thou art my very guiding angel, child. See here. Lieutenant: a great chain of lakes — A water-course straight to the silver mines ; Nay, better (leaving out a breadth of land — March of a week or two), we tap the stream Will Hoat flotillas to the Spanish main. A dream of empire opens. I will give Ten years, no more, before the fleur-de-lys Shall flower alone o'er all this Continent, And shame for aye Castille's red-blazoned towers. We have the means. D'Auxillon, you and I Know what with wood and iron can be done ; Iron grows here it seems, ship-timber too, The gold grows elsewhere. Kiss me, Ohnawa. 78 1)P. ROBEttVAL ^ A \% 1 ACT H. Scene IX. The fort. Roberval, D'Auxillon ami officers. Roberval. By tlie way, D'Auxillon, our liulian friends Are innocent as serpents; thev come here In force to-day to make complaint of grievance. Admit the first six, then close fast the gate, Get the men under arms and train the guns. Useless, perhaps, but it can do no harm. (Enter six delegates of the Iroquois with interpreter.) Are ye the sachems and tiie warriors (^f tlie brave friendly nation Iroquois ? Come ye in amity? If so, well come; If otherwise, let us hold Council liere. Interpreter. These are the Council Ho-d^-no-sau-nee. This the Great Sagamore, the aged pine On which have birds of wisdom built tlieir nests Since age grew on him like the evening grey ; This the great war-chief Lowering Eye, a chief Upon whose lintel flutter many scalps ; These are great warriors, bravest of our braves In war, and sagest at the Council fire ; I am great prophet and a medicine man. Rob. {to Sagamore.) What would my royal brother of the woods? Full powers are given me in our great King's name To hear, receive, dismiss and grant petitions And to adjudicate on m1i affairs. Lowering Eye. The pale-fjiced men have slain our forest deer. Rob. Deer have been slain, the garrison required it. Lmv. Eye. All the deer in the woods belong to >is. / Rob. I think not, Indian. All game is tlie King's. Low. Eye. Hunters from out your camp hunt on our paths, And as their thunder-claps roll through the woods The deer pricks up its ears and flees away. R. Pi Ri R , In i)E ROBERVAL. r9 The woodgrouse hide the closer in the boughs, The cranes rise heavily from out the swamp And soar high in tlie air with warning croak, The porcupine dives down into its liole, And tlie tired hunter finds no bird to kill No- h o \ % i;^ # 23 WEST MAIN STREF.T WEBSTER, N.Y 14580 (716) 872-4503 i^ i: 82 DE ROBERVAL. And tlie two tlinnder-nations shall be one. This done, the nation I fo-de-no-san-nee, As a peace-token to the great White Chief, Will give a boy and girl. Rob. We have boys enough ; Boys are a nuisance till they grow to men, And may be spies withal. And for the girl, Will you give me Ohnuwa? (Signs of dissatisfaction.) Sagamore, your request is natural. But, none the less, it is impossible. For this half of the world is wholly ours, And all belongs to Francis, King of France ; Ye are his subjects, and your lives must be Conformed to the requirements of his State. Aged Chief. We ask but peace on our far hunting grounds. Is this request refused ? Rob. It is refused I Aged Chief. Chieftain ! when the Great Spirit made the earth And gave it to all men to dwell thereon. He placed the Paleface by the rising sun. And set great seas to keep him in his place. To Jlis Red vSons he gave these forest wilds And meted out to each his hunting bound ; To Ilo-dd-no-sau-nee He gave these woods Along the river where your rock-fort stands ; There have our tribe been born, there they have died. And there have stood the lodges of our sires; Our dead lie 'neath the trees in mossy mounds, . On which our women sing their funeral wails. Why do ye come to drive us from our homes ? There is not room enough for us and yon. We cannot, when our young ones ask for food. Tell them that strangers have driven game away, And that they claim to own our hunting lands. We do not know this robber King of France, And will not bow consent to him or you. Thtj white man's carbines have a deadly aim. I of sharp jagged fangs like teeth of sharks, On peak of one of which Balboa stood And saw two oceans lying at the base. But 'tis not there to seek the channel-way. Leaving the vasty Bay of Islands where The palm trees seem to root in the green sea. North past the Cape of Florida, still north, And on and on past many dented shores. The which we searched as well as search we might, Till our course ended in a cul-de-sac. Where the fierce tides came rushing in a bore Full twenty metres high, there is no strait Nor inlet where a passage-way may be ; Then, rounding a rough-edged peninsula, We came into this noble Gulf or Bay We call St. Lawrence/ 1 And we are here. i I Rob. Good Pilot, those grey eyes of yours are keen, Your explorations able, and I hear m DE ROBERVAL. 11 J. AIJ. Rob. Will Hoon be put in shape in printed book, And issued with the privilege of the King. Tliree friends of mine — Messers. Vincent Aymard And Mangis \'uinenot, warm nHr('}.ants both, With my old mate and comrade on the main, Oliver Bisselin — have the log in hand. And is it true Mellin de Saint Gelais, The Anjou poet, has attuned his lyre To sing your fame that " twenty and twenty years Has filled all Neptune's thousand, thousand seas " ? J. AIJ. {lau(/hs). They say so. 'Tis the fashion of the sea. Cartier writes ballads, and if fame speak true Your Excellency also wooes a nmse. Rub. Arma virumque cano, Jean Alfonse. J. Alf. No doubt. Not being clerkly, cannot say. Rob. Now to our task. Here are Jacques C'artier's charts. Here is the strait you call the Saguen^, — You tell me that five hundred fathoms line Can reach no bottom, — which 1 well believe, Because it is a cleft between the seas. An earthquake'ij rent down to the world's core. Why should there be a gateway and no road ? Yet here a mountain stands with iron jaws Most grandly cut to let grand navies in, And you will find the passage widen out From straits into broad-stretching water plains, And great seas in the bosom of the hills. Nature is duplex, she ne'er breaks the mould. And with one specimen is ne'er content. What she has once done well she does again But betters on it. Look around and see ! ' , The Mediterranean wants but thirty leagues To join the sea where Pharaoh's hosts were drowned, And, by my faith, 1 think those thirty leagues Should be a station where our galley slaves With shovels should dig out a channel-way, TT" DE ROBERVAL. 87 And, 'fiiitli ugiiln, our France will souie day do it, And put a toll-bar on that route to Ind ! There are the fiords of Norway, which you know, — The 8kager, Drontheini, Tana, Porsanger, Besides Loftbden where the kraken swims, A little more and Scandinavia Would be an island. Pilot ! 1 believe Those inland seas the girl told us of Are but the reaches of the Saguen^, And the vast current she called " sire of streams" Is but the outer opening to the west ; It cannot be it holds a southern course. With a mouth somewhere on the eastern coast, — No such embouchure met you on your cruise ? You saw it not ; and so it cannot be. No ! the great highway to the Orient That the world seeks is here in our new France, — Seek it, my Pilot ! Hud it ! you and I May then say our life's mission is fulfil led. .... But how now ? Friend, is't possible I see Something akin to doubt steal o'er your brow ? J. Alf, Viceroy, you to command, I to obey. There may be, — say there is, — a channel-way Unused since the creation of the world ; In course of centuries, milleuiums. Sand may have silted, bars formed, portages Filled in, and ledges worn to waterfalls. Still we shall search if it be possible. Rob. Use not the word, Jean Alfonse ! mind of man ■ . In wildest flight of fancy dares not say That anything can be impossible ! Possible or not, we will find the way, — The readier if 'tis called impossible. What ecpiipage and transport can we spare ? J. Alf. One guiding ship and seven lesser barques, Which will require a strength of syventy men. ^^^M I DE ROBERVAL. ¥ ' Rob. Victual and fit out for a six months' cruise, Lay in sui)plit's for reg.ilation wants To wliicli I'll make it mine to add a store Of such small comforts as we yet have left. On what day will your sailing Hag be up? J. Alf. Please God, next week, say J une the seventh day. Exeunt. ACT III. Scene II. End of June. Same place. Roberval and Ohnawa. Roberval. Ohnawa, my wild bird, I thought thou'dst flown. Olmdwa. And so I had, across the rushing sea. Rob. Whither away ? to seek a likely mate Among thy nomad nation's plumaged braves ? Ohn. Many young warriors seek for Ohnawa ; Many would fill for her a lodge with furs. And chief of seekers is the Lowering Eye, Cunning as old grey fox, sullen as bear. Watchful as kingfisher or master-crow. Secret as is the gallery-mining rat. Hungry as wolf, silent as wing of owl. Deadly as black snake at the gendering time, And jealous as is dog of master's praise. He hates my father and he hateth thee, And, scheming to be chief, means to surprise " This fort and massacre thy people. Rob. Ha! Ohn. He held a secret council, where he said The old Chief's daughter is the White Man's friend, Let not a curlew whistle of our plans Else she will learn and tell them to our foe, And if she tells she dies. Rob. That shall she not. DE ROBERVAL. 89 Ohn. He knew that thou wert sending out thy ships, Counted the cannon, learned how many men. And fitted out a ticet of war canoes, Sailed, and lay hy some forty leagues away In secret hiding-place to seize the ships. Rob. Ohnfiwa, thou knew'st this, and told me not ! Ohn. Would'st thou have had me bring wrath on my tribe ? Rob. Is it too late ? Ohn. Alone in my canoe I sailed before him down the Gulf. I knew The place of rendezvous. I have been there. Your ships are sailing peaceful on the sea And he hath missed his chance. Rob. Brave Ohnawa ! Ohn. I came upon a little rocky isle And lay close in the shadow of the shore Until thine eight ships should come sailing by, And there a strange thing happened : • . On the beach I saw a white squaw gathering weeds for food ; Weary and weak and ragged she did seem, I landed and spoke with her. She had been Left with her nurse and husband on the isle. These both had died, and she with her bare hands , Had scraped the sand and buried them. Herself Would have died soon. I took her straight aboard. Spread my M'ing, sailed out and soon met the ships And gave her to them. Then they edged away, Escaped the snare the Lowering Eye had set, ' And went upon their voyage merrily. Soon with a slant of wind my course I shaped, And lo ! am here. Rob. Confusion ! this is fate, — The destiny that upsets the plans of man. Thou know'st not thou hast done me ill, Ohnawa, And, innocent, hast wrought me much annoy. Exeunt. M :'i 90 DE ROBERVAL. :* .i ACT III. Scene TIL The scttlemcut. MidHummor fair. Settlers, male and female, silting or ati'olliii}; about. Passepartout, Picot, and others. Passepartout, (lood Feather (loriot, upon my word, Younger than when 1 saw liim at Rochelle ! How dost, good father? is it well with thee? How is it with the son and little lad ? Hast thou had fruit yet from the cider trees? How has it been with thee in thine affairs? Pere Gorioi. All has gone nicely, my fine gentleman ; My son is dead, Pierre, my son ; yes, yes. . This is my little lad, my grandson lad. My monies are all safe here in my pouch, All safe and sound for little Pierrot. Girls {coaximjly). Come, sing us now a song, Pere Goriot; Your cheeks are red as winter apples' cheeks, And then your nice white hair. Sing ! do, now, please. Pere G. {sings, quaver ingly). De uous se rit le Franf;ois ; ■^ Mais vrayeraent, quoi qu'il en die, Lo sidre de Normandie. Vaut bien son vin quelquelbis. ' Coule &. val, et loge, lege ! II fait grand bien a la gorge.* Passe. Cease, cease your demi-semi-quavering. In mercy spare us further. I will sing. Sentimental, mademoiselles ? eh, girls ? (Sings grotesquely). Quant ung cordant Veult corder ung corde. En cordant trois cordons - Et line corde accorde ; Et se I'ung des cordons De la corde descorde, Le cordon descorde Fait descorder la corde. f *From vaux-de-vire of Olivier Basselin, — not Jean Alfonse's shipmate, t Allain Chartier. I)E ROBERVAL. 91 liiife' se. 1st Oirl. So rich ! so sweet ! does it mean any tiling ? Pasae. Thou know'st it doth ; it means that thou art fair. Id Girl. It means not me, for I am nutty brown ; But brunette is a color washes well. I'lmse. Brunette to me is rosier than the rose And whiter than the lily. 2nd Girl. It means me If that is what it means. Passe. It means yon both, The blonde bloom and the olive, fruit and llower. Isl Girl. How honied is his tongue! "Znd Girl. Quite ravishing. 1st Girl. So handsome, too. 2nd Girl. A full-grown Cupidon. 1st Girl. And sings like a Provenyal nightingale. Passe. Yes, so I do. ( To Picot.) Brother, this demoiselle Says thou art handsome. Picot. Thanks ; which demoiselle ? She with the ancles ? 2nd Girl. Has she ancles, then ? 1st Girl. Thou know'st I have, thou great web-footed thing. Passe. Ladies, dear ladies, at the Court of France, Wherein I learned the rules of courtesy. One would not use words of the bourgeoisie. But thou, my dear, would take this other dear In fond embrace, and kiss, and whisper " Dear Don't mind it if thy limbs are knitting-pins." What is thy name, my belle, my fleur-de-lys ? Ist Girl. My name is plain Lolotte. Pft«se. Not plain, I vow. And thou, fair other damsel of the limbs? 2nd Girl. La Gueusette. * Passe. My little pitcher, Hast thou long ears? Tell me, which is thy mouth? (Kisses her). * Gueusette means a pitcher. 92 DE ROBERVAL. \i ! 2nd Girl. 'Tis an oflence. Pilose. A capital oflence. Picot (advancintj). Delightful ! 2nd Qirl. Hold! one hrotlisr i.s enough. Ut Oirl. We know you both as gentlemen of the fort, But not your names. Pasi^e. 1 am called Maitre Picot. Picot. I'm called, for short, young Sieur Passepartout, Old Passepartout's son, — whom CJod assoilize. Oirls. A dance ! a dance ! Pasae. The branles of Gascony. (Lively music and dance). Enter Roberval and staff. I^eoplc crowd arouud and oxiiibit various products. People. Vive the Viceroy, vive ! Robei-val. Dear Colonists, This festal fair of varied industries In its comi)leteness does astonish me; You who have been so short time in the land Have conferred honor on yourselves by this. And show at once your industry and skill. For all our blessings let us thank kind Heaven, The more so, that, although our lives be rough, The Colony has suffered not in health. What's this: some skilful products of the forge? . Let me examine them. I like them much. Success of new communities depends I n a great measure on the armorer, Because the ploughshare and the sword are twins. Furs! — an assortment rich and valuable ; These are the staple of the colony. In worth already they exceed our imports. And by this traffic we shall all grow rich In course of time, — but every man is rich Who has, with house and clothes, enough to eat. Come bye-and-by, when we have moved apace, We'll organize oui oourriers-des-bois i)^ ROBtlRVAL. 93 cts. And here and there establish trading posts To gather peltry from the savages. I'lirsue this trallic ! hunt the fur-bearers, Kill them in season only, dress them well, Enndate if you can Simon the tanner. Mesdames, is there not a nursery rhyme Whieh says that eher i)ai)a has gone away To Ihiy a wolf (I tiiink it was i wolf) To wrap mama's dear baby bunting in? ^ (The women laugh.) From all these piles of wolfskins I surmise You all mean to sleep warm o' winter nights. And here are coverlets, like mosaic work. All stitched in s(piares by women's patient lingers; In truth for all colonial purposes An honest woman armed with a needle Is worth more than a soldier armed with sword. Linen and woollen yarn and homespun cloth, — Keminding me of bleaching by the brook And droning music of the spinning wheel. I recommend you farmers to raise flocks. The soil, the climate, and nutritious grass Are well adapted to that industry, — The woolly people are the farmers' friends ; Sheep are most generous of all quadrupeds, And yearly give their coats as well as young. What have we in these flasks here : oil, and honey ? The oil is fish oil, and the honey, maple. John Baptist's self could live here if he would. Although, I'm glad to say, we have no locusts. Yet virgin honey grows wild in our woods, And food-fish swim up to our frontages. Above all, men, pursue the fisheries ; We shall have saltpans dug without delay. And send our fish to market in French ports, And for such export our own ships shall bring Out little luxuries and wives' supplies. Dairy work, too ! these excellent specimens Kecall to me the mild-eyed, dun-skinned kine U. 94 BE ttOBERVAL. p. ill People. Hock -deep in clover pastures by the Soane, And little maids in jifrandinotlier-like ca2)s And kirtlris blue, with satchels on their arms, In which laj' hid the golden butter-pats In snow-white napkins and fresh plantain leaves. No fruit, of course, save i)urple heathberries ; But, jiatience ! we shall, in a year or two, Have home-grown cider to quail' with our cheese. Cider is Picard wine, and on the tap For every wayfarer at cottage doors. Furniture ! — it really shows great skill To frame these very rpiaint and graceful shapes With rough tools out of our hard cabinet woods ; Tables and chairs are an important fact. Cradles, I see ! we will do little good If we don't each year launch a fleet of cradles, — And, hear good news for you ! ni} gay young men, I have arranged soon to import from Ivnne The choicest of all v.«od's connnodities, A whole shipload of virtuous girls for wives. (Young men: "Vivo! vise I") These other products of the colony All show you are braced up to tight with fate. And, mark me well ! the man who lights with fate And keeps the battle up is sure to win ! To-day I write our Royal Lord, King Francis, And I will send most favorable report Of hi - good subjects here beyond the sea. And so gOv^d speed us all ! Vive le Roi ! Vive Roberval ! 'Roberval and staff pass.) Clerk {apart to Roberval). Sir, I have made a careful estimate, As ordered, of the quantity of grain Produced on all the farms. Eight months' supply Is all that I can make of it. Rob. No more? That would but bring us down to June. Four months' Deficiency, and therefore scarcity. ^ II DE ROBERVAL. 96 Make out a careful statement of how mucli Of grain I'or seed and food we sliall require Before next crop comes in. Make it exact. We shall have large supplies from France anon. Pastor {to people). The golden sunset slants its parting rays, The shadows deepen to a darker grey, "^■^is time, my hearts, to think of evening praise. And by the hearth talk of this well-spent day. Sing we a song appropriate to the clime, A pleasant homely song of twilight time. ', TWILIGHT SONG. The mountain peaks put on their hoods, (iood night! And the long shadows of th woods Would fain the landscape cover quite, — The tip id pigeons homeward fly, Scared by the whoop owl's eerie cry, > , Whoo-oop! whoo-oop! As like a fiend he flitteth by ; , The ox to stall, tne fowl to coop, The old man to his nightcap warm, Young men and maids to slumbers light, — * Sweet Mary, keep our souls from harm! Good night ! good night ! All going {singing diffusedly). Good night ! Good night ! Good night ! Scene closes. i ! !S.) ACT III. Scene IV. IS The fort. Roberval and D'Auxillon. Roherval. Friend Paul, we now are at the turni ;g point, The very touch and crisis of our fortune ; Had we one year more we should do right well, Our colony would then be self-sustaining. These worthy peoj)le who have left French homes d6 BE BOBEBVAL. To found a nation in an unknown world Knew very little w'uit they were about. At best some vague idea blinded them, I Some misty thought of a new Arcadie, Where milk and honey flowed throughout the land, Not deeming that they'd have to toil for it And spend their strength in grubbing-uj) huge trees ; But, being here, they have addressed themselves With energy and patience to their task, And having made commencement sturdily. They will succeed, — 'tis the first step that cuts. The partial clearings made by Cartier's men Have been worked up and sown with wheat and rye. Which seem to prosper and bid fair to yield ; The huts are really snug and waterproof. And all domestic stock is doing well ; 'Tis a beginning and most creditable. But, mark me, Paul, we do not raise enough ; The whole yield will not give us daily bread; Yet ills that men foresee men can avoid. And obviate troubles if addressed in time. W^hat pleases me, amid anxiety, Is that the people do enjoy themselves, , And seem to be light-hearted and content. jyAuxillon. Yes, they seem gay enough. T take some pains To feel the pulse-beats of the public mien, And, on the whole, 'tis satisfactory. I count as nothing constant grumbling, For that is healthy ; when men do not grumble They're very apt to break out in etneute. Bob. Grumbling is the flood-gate to the dam And carries off the surcharged waters safely. UAux. The clergy through it all have acted well ; Their prompt and meek administrative aid Has been most useful. And another thing — Such of the convicts as you have released Have settled down each to his handicraft DE ROBERVAL. 97 And try to rehabilitate themselves, — All which seems odd to me. Bob. id, ;es; ye, Not odd at all. Man's conscience may be likened to a plant Of strong vitality, which dormant lies Long time, yet oft puts forth new buds and leaves. A scamp is seldom quite incorrigible, Yet does he not evade liis punishment, / ' For in his inner breast awakes a pang Of tliat dread punisliment we call remorse. Of course one must be careful whom one pardons. Have you given any thought to our supplies? D'Atix. In a vague way. Perhaps we have enough. Rob. No, Paul. Here are schedules, just prepared, : The quantity of grain sown, wheat and rye, Product per arpent, and the total yield — It gives us no more than eight months' supply, D^Aux. That is alarming. Rob. D'Aux Rob. D'Aux Q Not more alarming Than is another thing that presses on me, A matter which indeed concerns us all. F'rom careful records given me by the priests The death-rate has been high ; yet, as it seemed To happen in the usual course of things, It has passed by without attracting notice. But much I fear this feverish sickliness May soon become endemic. Say you so ? I see no special reason why it should. My friend, we rarely know God's special reasons. Such therefore being the case, D'Auxillon, I have decided you shall go to France To bring us out essential requisites. This mission 1 will trust to none but you, Because it needs diplomacy and tact. My duty is liere, or there, or anywhere, 98 DE ROBERVAL. Rob. First, for equipment, you can take two ships, The banpie " Canne," and anotlier, (hily manned. For cargo, there is stock of peltry here. And that, no doubt, the colonists will ship Each oi: Ills own account for luxuries. If we could pool it all to purchase grain It almost would completely meet our need, But to propose this would cause wild alarm. And that we nuist vol do, whatever haps. Make your way to 8t. Malo, thence to Paris. You know, I think, that we have foes at Court, Wliere both the Chancellor and the Admiral Will do their best to traverse all your aims. Ignore them ! Go apply to the King himself, For he (God bless him) is our steadfast friend. Submit these schedules to him ; make it plain That, while the colony is flourishing. Ere midsummer we shall be scant of food. These costly wars make it an evil time To ask for aid, but well am J assured Our Gracious Sovereign will sympathize And send us, if he can, the needed aid. Success attend you. Yet we must provide Against all hazards; pen-and-ink delay. Parchment and tape and idle copyists May make us wisli we had made due prevision; So here are letters to my notary To hand you over all my private funds. Should these, when all told, not be large enough. Then you may sell the smaller of the ships. And with the proceeds till the other up. What we want most, l)esides supply of grain. Is ammunition, and some cutting tools. Moreover, I have promised our young men To pick them out a score of girls or two. Stout, broad-beamed women of the rural kind, Suited for honest, faithful working wives, And who in shortest time will lill their (juivers As worthy bearing mothers. On this order "Hf»TTJ«\ DE BOBEBVAL. 99 The Cur^ of Iti Roqne will hand them over. The due proprieties must be observed, Therefore put tliese expectant brides in charge Of two well-recommended ancient nnns. We also want more doctors, two or three; Promise them surgeons' pay and bring them out, We'll keep them whetlier we have health or no : Then with your shipments make a quick return. Should you have, as I hope, two ships with you, ■ And all be favorable, you can bring On your own ship! the doctors and the grain, On board the other the combustibles — I mean the women and the powder kegs. Is there ought else? No, I think that is all. Stay, we have here a convict, ijaiu-ent liarbot, A very composite scoundrel, as I hear, But a good sailor of exceptional skill, Take him with you and make the most of him. If he conduct himself respectably I will remit his sentence on return ; If he gives trouble, shoot him. Now let us overhaul our peltry store Where are two bales of very choicest furs As a slight gift to send to the two Queens. The larger, not the finer yet most choice. Is for Her Majesty Queen P^leanor, Our sovereign, — none the less unlovable. The other bale for Queen most lovable. Queen of all hearts. Queen Marguerite of Navarre. For the King, nothing ; he would take no gifts. But will be pleased we send his sister one. Sure never brother had so sweet a sister. And nevei sister had a nobler brother. As for the third one of the Trinity,* As she is dead we'll say no more of her. When shall you sail ? Ten days or so from now Will see usi hull down. * Louise of Savoy, V D'Aux. 100 DE ROBEBVAL. Bob. As your own valet you can take Picot, A knave well noted for two eminent gifts, — He makes good coffee and he lies profoundly. Exeunt. ACT III. Scene V. The Fort. Pont Briant ; Roberval passing. Attendant. Two young women wait your Honor's leisure. • Boberval. Pass them to Monsieur de Pont Briant. Exit Roberval ; enter Lolotte and La Gueusette. Pont Briant. My little darlings ! handsome, 'pon my soul ! * Consider me your father, brother, lover. Regard me as a hoary-headed priest, And tell me all your little peccadilloes. Perhaps I ought to give the kiss of peace. I want my man. What is the wretch's name? His name is Monsieur Picot. I want mine. Kisses them. Lolotte. Pont. LoL La Gue. Pont. Hast thou a man, too ? O this world, this world ! What dost thou call him when he is at home? La Gue. He is a gentleman, Sieur Passepartout. Pont {holding his sides). O do not kill me ! have some mercy, girls ! This is too overwhelming. Piquante child. Thy man is now ten leagues upon the sea. Lol. O horror! {Screaim.) La Gue. Where is Sieur Passepartout ? Pont. Here in the fort. I'll give him to thee, dear ; The cost is trifling — half a score of kisses. Paid in advance, of course. {Kisses her.) {To attendant.) Call Psissejjartout. Passepartout enters. Lol. My Picot! Passe. Ma'amselle, I am not Picot. Ill Dt: nOBP.BVAL. 101 Lol. Mon Dieu ! My dear man, wilt thon break my lieart ? Paase. No, ma'amselle. Pont {aside). T spy some mystery here. I think I see the trick these knaves have played. Now for a judgment s/orthy Solomon. {To Lolotte.) Ma'mie, 1 feel tliou hast made good thy claim. There stands the rascal. Take him for Picot. Passe. I am not Picot. Pont {to La Gueusette). Then thou, my little one, Take him for Piussepartout. La Gue. Not 1, indeed ! Pont, Then, my fair clients, I dismiss the case ; But, as the course of justice should be clean, And there has been an error of the court In taking up prepayment of the costs, Duty demands that I refund the fees With statutory interest on the same. Attempts to kiss them. All exeunt hastily. ACT III. Scene VI. Fort. Roberval sick. Surgeon Gogues, Doctor Bol, and attendants. Other persons enter consecutively. Surgeon Goyues. Weaker are we to-day ? Ah — so-so — hum! Then must we let more blood, say one pound troy. Doctor Bol. Have we so much left? Surg. Aye, verily. Not more than three pounds have been shed as yet. Bring me a bandage, boy. Passepartout. Bandage, sir ? Yes, sir. Basin, sir? Surg. Basin, of course. The art and mystery Of barber surgeon would be badly off Without a basin. 102 PE ROliERVAL IW 1 ii: 11:' ■\ Passe. Sponge, sir? Sur(j. And camphored brandy; For If our [)alient's slrt'iij^tii must be reduced It is but justice it should be sustained. Doctor. Bring me a slice of venison pared thin, Raw, and if possible from off the haunch. Surg. Dost feel thy stomach crave ? Doct. He, he ! no, no ; I think that 1 have twice had lunch to-day For stomach's sake, for stomach, as you say, 'Tis for our patient. Cold sweat; pulsation weak. This super-cuticle of raw deer's llesh, As it is called, is to enwrap, as 'twere, * Eight boluses of superior magnitude Containing spice, one to be punctual ta'en Each quarter of an hour by the horologe ; Said boluses or spheres, if found too large • To pass the gullet's orifice, the valve, Gorge, trap-door, opening, portcullis, jiortal. Gate of the intestinal kingdom, so to speak, To be forced with a probang. Surg. Hold, sir, hold ! Would'st thou sustain my patient's liealth with spice While all mine eiibrts are but to reduce. Weaken, diminish, thin, attenuate, And keep down his resisting strength by aid Of sound phlebotomy ? Bad diagnosis. Doct. Prognosis says not so. It indicates Not a cephalic evanescent strengtli. But an emulsion to the increment tubes Of the bilious organs of the vitce via, Hence, you perceive, the venison. Blockhead ! Surg. Doct. Surg. Do my ears deceive me ? Do I hear The four great fluid humors thus imjMigned ? I find no warrant, sir, in Aristotle. i Ii ^ DE ttOUERVAL. 103 Doct. A fico, sir, for Messer Aristotle! (io dissect apes with (Jalen. Tul^e tliy (leam And yards of bandaj^e, l)ut talk not to ine ! I plume me as of the most modern school. Sir, I am passed disciple of ''ippocrates And l^hysic liaccalaureus of Bologna. Sir, I have sworn the mystic jusjurandnni, And I maintain these boluses are vital To prepurge phlegm and urge the coctic action ; Unless the patient swallows them, he dies. Surg. A bos Hippocrates, and Bologna, too. The blood, sir, is the life. Apothecary ! I tell thee, in the theatre at Dole 1 have done venesection upon frogs. Dogs, and those other co7-po)'e t)(7t, — . The patient loses more blood; or he dies. £oth. I tell you, sir, that I have Roberval {from couch). Orderly, Turn those men out. Orderly. With right good will. Monsieur. Exeunt Doctor and Surgeon. Enter two priests. \8t Priest. My lord, it grieves us painfully to find The head and hope of all our commonweal Thus stricken by the scourge that hath behapped. Alas ! it seems as if some hidden sin, Pride, or vain glory, or desire of ^'nme, Hath brought on us this heavy chastisement. We come to ofier you our humble aid To purge the unclean thing from out our mid, And to request that you will name a day Of deep humiliation and of prayer To make abasement publicly of all That God would turn His heavy hand from us. Mob. My fathers, your request is right and just. Name such a day. Our clement God is good, But we poor mortals cannot dare assign Each current circumstance to special wrath, 104 bE BOBERVAL. Nor trace the wondrous ways by which lie walks. Cause will pnxhice eflect; we want supplies Of medicines and of vegetable food. We want amusement, too; this torpid life Tells on the general health; some acid wines Would do us good. But what we nmch more want Is better knowledge of the human frame; The liver will not be appeased by prayer, Nor bile be exorcised by barbers' spells. 1 ho})e and think the plague is nearly stayed, But I have lately sent a ship to France For needed aid. Meantime such exercise Of this revered and sound religious rite As your high office bids, arrange and do. But give it more of sunlight than of gloom. Usher. Monsieur, the savage ma'amselle Eau Nave Ah Is urgent for admittance. Bob. May enter. Enter Ohnilwu. 2nd Priest. High sir, we are astonished, hurt, and shocked To see this piece of pagan wantonness Intrude upon our sacred conference And gain admittance to your sickbed's side. Avoid the scandal ! Out ! Dismiss her strait. And have her scourged by drumboys through the camp. Bob. Good fathers, I am but a mortal man. My lusts have not been purified like yours. Erstwhile I've prayed for love with tears of blood. Have sought to purchase it with lavish gold. Have had it flung down wanton at my feet. But found it hollow, selfish, slight, or base. As for this girl, — she is a childish thing. But then she loves me, and I know none else Who doth beneath the circuit of the sun. You (though cowled fathers yet good gentlemen) Know that I can not, and that I will not Dismiss the only thing that cares for me. Ohnawa, child D£: ROBER VAL. 106 nip. Ohn. My lord, it breaks my heart To see a warrior lying helpk'ss here. lint fret not tliou, nor deem death's shadow near. Ohnawa knows the forest roots and gums; These will slie seek, tiiese bring to ease thy pain, And tlien in answer to Ohimwa's prayer The Lord of Life will give thee health again. I will return anon. Exit. \st Priest. Deluded man ! Pin not your faith on pagan herbs and spells; No blessing ean be on recovered health If gained by means malign and heterodox. 'Tls a direct temptation bidding you Peril the soul for the vile body's weal. Reflect ! 'Tis as example you are here, , And not to lead less erring souls astray. We, more in kindness than with Church's power. Beseech you pause ; but as we know that oft A bodily ailment weakens mental force, We now sliall say no more, but take our leave. . K.xeunt. Attendant {enters unth (towers). The lady nuns pray that you will accept This Agnus Dei and this cross of flowers. The sisters all connuend you to (Jod's care And they will wrestle for you in their prayers. Rob. Convey my thanks to the most holy sisters. (Exit attendant.) 'Tis kind in the good sisters ; most of them Are ladies, daughters of good families. Who voluntarily have torn apart Their lives from household and domestic joys Till death shall close their eyes in willing pain And humblest works of Christian servitude. Some from vocation for't, and some I know To aid their house's honor. Had my niece — Perish her from my memory. After all, Women are truly God's best handiwork, And better every way than are we men. » lUG DJ5 BOliERVAL. Attt'ndant. A deputation from the Hettlement. „ . . ' (Enter settlers.) Jtob. How fares it with you, friondrt? My Htron^th is slij^ht, I5ut 1 will ^I'l^'ly I'^t to what you say. Mt'untime a weh^ouie. Ilatii tliis wretched phiguc Yet passed its worst? Metiiiuks the virulencie Is over, and tiuit health will soon return. There are few cases now. • Isl Settler. Your Kxcellenoy Is the last stricken. All the others seem To be but slightly touched, or mending well. We come as deputation from the farms To tender you our earnest sympathy. Rob. Thanks, friends. i 2nd Seltler. It is nigh twenty years agone The eonunune where I lived was stricken so, And great relief was found in drinking beer Of garlic and of rue, a pint an hour. I would advise yourself to try it, sir. 3r(Z Seltler. I've heard my venerated grandmother, Now at her rest, exj)ress her high belief In a ptisan of assafietida. If Your Excellency would deign to use it. Ath Settler. Your Honor, I had once an uncle Jolin Who suflered much with wind-i)alns in his stomach, But found a vast relief in eau-de-vie. Try it. Your Honor, it will do you good. dth Settler. This sickness comes from more than mortal cause ; I fear that there is wicked witchcraft in 't. And 'gainst the Evil One nought has such power As a cock's head wrapped with a bezoar stone In a mole's skin and hung around the neck. If round Y''our Honor's neck you would but wear it. Mob. Messieurs, your kindness overwhelms me quite ; Y''our remedies are good, — I'll try them all I Meantime pray let my faintness be excuse For shortening the interview. Adieu. Exeunt settlers. t>E ROBEliVAL. 10/ I'll, • it. ict tiers. AUemhint. A soldier craves to see the conmiandiiiit. Kntor Sergeuiit of (tunrd, carrying ii MttnunliiK tin canteen. R(th. Welcome, my old inouHtmhe. Wliut liuHt thou there? Svrgrant. X pot of Honp-au-vin, nion (Jeneral. "Ho!" said our lads, "our (Jeneral lieth siek, — Snrh will not do ! Let's send him something ^ood." Ho the crack shots, IJouc and (ialuiclie and llojhe Lay out all nifi;ht and hrouglit a buck-deer in With lard ui»on his rih-bones. ('orporal Trie, A man, my (Jeneral, who has grown so fat Jle scarce can get his belly-band to meet, Went with a fatigue party to the woods To gather herbs, — we chose the corporal l>e(.'ause his cousin wtus a gardener; Menles, a/e« abbot's miller, ground the (lour Ik'tween two stones so that it should be fresh ; liung, former butler, skilfid drew the corks; SApe, ex-(^picier, weighed the spices in ; And six men of the demi-escadron Made a raid on the farms for grated clieese. When all ingredients thus were gathered in. We felt the rest depended upon ('ro(]ues. Croques was an Apostolic Legate's chef. But lost caste from ill-basting ortolans. We swore him on a ladle to exert His highest art to make a grand success ; Two tiles stood over him with bayonets drawn To see he did not overheat the })an. And all the force formed round the tire in square And anxious watched until the souj) should boil ; Tlien all the heads of sections took a sup And all pronounced it good. And here it is. We pray you to accept it with our duty. Roh. By all the saints in heaven I'll eat this soup ! I tell thee, Sergeant, not for golden crowns Would I have missed this i)ot of sotq)-au-vin, — Thank every man of them for Roberval. Here, take this paper to the commissary 108 BE ROBERVAL, \m ill II. Sergeant. Rob. And pick out for the lads a cask of wine, But keep good guard the while you drink my health. Now will 1 tuck my napkin under chin And sup up this bonne-bonche. kSo. You may go; Or would you like to stay and see me do it ? No, no, mon General. Quick health. Adieu. Adieu, mon brave. Exit Sergeant, who joins a crowd of soldiers clustered around the gate; among them Passepartout and some of Roberval's servants. Passe. Now that our patron has dismissed the men Of lint and simples, surgeon and physician, His ci .lice of life is better. A Servant {aside to Passe). That depends. If he should die now? Passe. Then we would bury liim With salt and spices in a leaden box AVith the insci'iption, "Tliissideup — with care," 1 And send him, with Hag at half-mast, to France. 1 know our gallant master would not sleep Soundly save in his own loved Picardy. Excuse me snivelling, — the air is raw. Sei Who would be his heirs ? , Passe, {looking steadfastly at him). How should 1 know ? Serv. He has in his particular cabinet A tiny box of oak with brazen hasps. I chanced one day to see him open it. It held a double string of male sapphires. No doubt the King's, lent for some secret end. If he should die lie'd nave no use for it. Passe. Atrocious scoundrel. Dar'st thou this to me ? Sapphires — sapphira — robber — Ananias — Beats him ofi*. m m DE ROBEBVAL. 109 ACT III. Scene VII. The Esplanade. Doctor Bol and Surgeon Gogueb passing. Goijues. It is monstrous ! Bol Gog. Bol Gog. Bol It is. Unwarranted ! Intolerable ! And not to be endured — A heathen chit should bring her green stuff here And cure our worthy patient out of hand. 'Tis quite opposed to all the rules of art. Gog. What will become of science ? Bol AVhat, indeed ? Gog. Let us console ourselves, my learned brother, Although we wish our chief not any harm, Yet these unautliorized recoveries And unprofessional recuperations Prove nothing save a constitution broken. Bol Let us retire, for valetudinarians, Especially in these abnormal cases, Are sometimes irritable. They pass. ACT III. Scene VIII. In the fort. Roberval, with him Beaurepaire, Pont Briant and officers of exploring survey. Roherval Proceed. 1 listen. Beaure.pnire. Your Excellency was anxious? feared for us? Rob. Anxious, yes, — feax-ed for you, no. When gentlemen of France have work to do There is no room for sucli a thing as fear, The less so when those gallant gentlemen Are Clement Beaurepaire aud Claude Pont Briant. I It! ^1! it 110 DE BOBERVAL. Pont. Clement begin. Though all of us are lean, Your skin, I think, sticks closest to your bones, Jksides, to you most honor appertains. Bob. Honor enough for both to equal share it. Pont. According to your orders, sir, our force Dei)arted cheerily, all were picked men, Myself afloat and Beaurepaire on land Alternate took command. With oars and sails We made up the great river ; nothing much Gave us adventure. Somewhere through ten days Our small flotilla, full of strength and hope. Breasted the current, leaving in our wake A streak of cream, till lo ! the Thousand Isles So vivid in their emeralds, puri)les, blues, And blending colors, — they reminded me Of the attractive isles of Paradise Limned on the border of a breviary. Beau. Our friend is poet, though lie knows it not. Pont. Cease, mocker. With some care we thrid our way To the broad bosom of that beauteous lake,* The which, en passant, we found bottomless. Then with full flowing sheets and wooing breath Of airs from out the East, we in due time Attained the distance you yourself lifT^reached, Tlie rapid outlet of the giant fall ; In two days more we touched the lake's far end. Where naught remained but haul our chaloupes up. And make our journey through the ti'ackless woods. Where Monsieur de Beaurepaire became our chief, — 'Tis his to tell wherein that journey sped. Beau. Excellency, after council as to route, IIow (with due survey of the ground we passed, And other orders) we in shortest time Should strike the stream that feeds the cataract, it was unanimously agreed We should, by steering-needle, west-sou' -west ♦Ontario. I %\ DE ROBERVAL. Ill ds, Make our way on. This, as it proved, an error, — It should have been more nearly duly south. Then all things ready, every man equipped With faith, hopCj charity, and such like gear, All ligiitly borne, besides a hundred rounds Of musketoon artillery, which weighed Like a bad conscience upon every man, We plunged into the woods. Our course was laid Under the guidance of a friendly Indian, — We bought his friendship for a looking-glass. Two Douay pipes, a pocket-knife and scizzors. Besides some empty bottles we threw in ; This brave conducted us most skillfully For scarce a league, then sudden disappeared. Perhaps he thought his contract was expired, I think too well of him to think ought else. Sir, this red man's dog instinct was superb. I, in my day, have hunted the wild boar, And tracked the fox with nose-hounds in Ardennes, Yet never have I seen so subtle scent ; By good St. Hubert, these would be brave picquers. A brace of them attached to every troop Would make superfluous half our commissary. Roh. Your views are accurate. They are my own. Beau. Left by our Ked man, nought remained for us But on our own lines frame our own advance ; Remembering our past gay campaigns, we did As we were wont to do in Piedmont Among the ilexes and olive groves. That time we turned the corner of the Alps And came on the affrighted Lombard plains. Not silent Jis the Indian warriors stalk. But with loose strides and gay bavarderie. In single file, ten paces man from man. In front the tambours and the buglemen Performing Adam Hale his openus. We made a new sensation in the woods. The squirrels asked the blue-jays what it meant ; 112 I /■"'ij^ i i* I DE ROBERVAL. The sable crow gazed with a puzzled look, Wise, yet astray, like prefect of the Seine ; The mystified wood-rabbit sat on end And wiped his silly face with furry paws In dire astonishment whom we might be ; Bear and the fox, both crafty quadrupeds. With worldly prudence kept well out of sight, Having a wholesome terror for their skins ; The clumsy moose laid back his bladed tynes And trotted off; the clean-limbed caribou. With antlers down, sped like a flying cloud ; The red deer, sniffing danger, skirred away ; The snake, knowing himself unpopular, In rapid undulations slid aloof. While the small creatures of the underbrush Fled, making patter on the fallen leaves. The trees were such as cover Canada ; No parasites clung round their stately stems, But massive columns straiglit and tall were they, Roofed in with over-arching domes of green, All points of view a long-drawn colonnade. Through these we made our way, coming on streams Where the fish leaped and the lone heron rose. And ponds wliei'e swimming wildfowl ducked and bowed. And swamps where men not web-footed Avould sink, And opens where we lit our bivouac fires. Then wholly ragged, rather disrepute. Spirits full buoyant but a little fagged, We reached blue water. Pont. Then, having struck the lake, all hands made haste To build a barge like Noah's ark razded, A structiu'e would have made an admiral stare. Long, broad and shallow, with two stumps of masts In height to set two pocket handkei'chiefs. Half-decked, with dog-holes for us to creep in When Avearied out by pulling at the sweeps. For on each side we had a bank of oars. We called our craft the " Skimmer of the Sea," DE ROBERVAL. 113 And well she earned that superficial name. For that same lake is guileful ;* night and day A ground-swell heaved along on which she skimmed When better ships would have been sore beset And tall, slight spars would have gone by the board. With this our "Skimmer" we surveyed the shores And made the circuit of the inland sea, With frequent expeditions on the land, Under command of Captain Beaurepaire. , The shores are densely wooded even as here, No streams debouch of any magnitude, And in no place was trace of minerals. The natives seemed a rather hostilf* race. We had a little fighting now and then And lost some men ; but as a counterpoise Have brought with us some ])orphyry arrowheads That some of us found sticking in our flesh. These are our expedition's sole results. Judging from the alignment of tlic hills There is a farther chain of lakes beyond, Thus making water-highway through the heart Of what will some day be a noble land. Returning as we went, we reached our boats, — Which, strange to say, the Iroquois had spared, — Sailed through the first lake in some day or two. Dropped down the current of this mighty stream. And after these adventures we are here. Our muster-roll, we find, is sixty short. And though the whole of us are thin in frame. We all are ready to set out again. To-day, to-morrow, or whene'er yon will. Gentlemen all, no formal words of praise Or eulogy of mine can reach your merit ; That praise must come, as I am sure it will. From the own lips of our most Royal Master. W^hen time shall serve we will explore again. These intermittent great freshwater seas Show that not there is Cathay's water-route ; My hope is now in Jean Alfonse's search, — — The road to Ind is by the Saguen^. Exeunt. * Erie, n Rob. siiai 114 J)E ROBERVAL. ACT II r. Scene IX. Fall of A. D. 1543. Roberval's quarters. Enter an attendant. Attenikml. A trjuler, sir, has anchored in the roads, Direct from France, to purchase fish and furs ; He also brings despatches, Rob. I will see him. Send Monsieur de Pont Briant hither. (Enter sea captain.) VVelcome, good captain, to this land of ours; You come here, as I learn, direct from home. What of the war? Seu Captain. We have so many wars we hear but little ; . No doubt that France's arms are doing well. Rob. The King? Sea Capt. Is still at Fontainebleau. Rob. No news? Sea Capt. Cartier, they say, is fitting out a fleet. Rob. A fighting fleet? Sea Copt. No, a fleet of transports. Jf2o6. Captain, our people here have wares to trade ; No doubt you can fill up with merchandise. Sea Capt. Excellency, I have further news to tell. Yoii sent a survey party out last June Under that daring sailor Jean Alfonse? Rob. Ha ! what of him ? Sea Capt. At entrance of the Gulf An Indian came off shore, and, making signs. Said that one launch was wrecked and eight men drowned, And all the fleet was fast bound in the ice. Rob. 'Tis a misfortune ; but the sea has risks. (Exit sea captain. Enter Pont Briaut.) Despatches from D'Auxillon. Let me see, — um I He has had many obstacles to deal with. The recently appointed admiral, Claude d'vVnnebaut, opposed him tooth and nail. The Chancellor Poyet (as I prophesied) •■ M DE ROBERVAL. 115 Looked p;riive and said he could not .spare a sou. At length Paul saw the King himself ((rod bless him), Who promised him two carrack-loads of grain. But those confounded clerks and scriveners Have hjidgered him with thousand contretemps, Ho he has had to sell my ship the "Canne," And with the proceeds and my private funds, Is loading at St. Malo ; Provins, the mayor, Is helping him as far as in him lies. The King's ship he retains, the "(iallion," So ere long we shall see him back again. The marslud, Robert iStuart, of Aubigny, Is dead, and so is Adminil Philippe Bryon ; Death has been rather busy, as it seems. The war drags on, but Francis holds his own With constant fighting, though no light decisive. This war is fiercer than the previous three; Francis lias made a league with Solyman, And Turkish galleys harass Italy, While l>arbarossa, with a Hying lleet Of Algiers pirates, picks uj) merchantmen; The Danes and Germans, in diet iit Spires, Have voted four and twenty thousand foot With cavalry to take us on the north. But the great contest lies in Piedmont, Where Don del (luasto, their best general. Faces young Francis Bourbon in strong force. But Boiwbon has good captains under him Connnanding thirteen compimies of iSwis,s, Five tliousand (Ja-scons, ami a large contingent Of Frenciimen generally and Provenyeaux, Near a small town by name of Ceresole. I know young Bourbon ; lie is not the man To spend his time entrenched in idlenes.s. And, if lie were, his ardent councillors, Montluc and other Gascons, would not let him. So I expect a bloody battle there. D'Auxillon says the tone of France is good; The people bear their weight of taxes well. " VRVi 116 DE ROBERVAL. I I think that news is all (reafls) um — um — He mentions tliat the convict, Laurent Rarbot, Had given some trouble, — tried to mutiny. Excited the marines, and so he killed him; He asks me for an exempt for the act. Which shall, of course, be given him. Pont. O, of course. Ri)h. D'Auxillon may be looked for any day. Pont, {lookiny out). The semaphore is making signals now. One ship — two ships — Rob. That must be I^Au rillon. Pont. Three ships — Rob. Say you so ? Pont. Four — five — a squadron! Rob. What means this? Beat to quarters ! Sound the alarm ! What nation can they be ? I'd give a purse of gold if they were Spaniards. Pont. I scarce can make the colors out — it looks Not jaundiced enough for Spain : seems white and gold ; A pennon flaps out — 'Tis the flag of France. Rob. Impossible ! Why a French squadron here ? I had a thousand times it had been Spain, Though backed up by those bull-head Englishmen. Pont. A launch is coming from the leading ship ; We soon shall know. Rob. I like it not at all. Go, Claude, and find out what this squadron means, And introduce the officer in command. Scene closes. i Mi r>^« t)E ROBER VAL. 117 ?old; iS. ACT IV. Scene I. Roberval pacing impatiently. Enter Jacques Cartier and officers. While cliaraeters converse Obnitwa steals in. Rob. Ha! Captain Cartier ! welcome. Well the King Knows his most trusty navigator. What have you brought us ? food ? arms ? horses ? men ? Cartier. Let these despatches make the matter plain. Gives despatches. Rob. So, with permission {aits and openn despatcheH). 'Sdeath, sir, what is this? Know you the contents of these damned sheets? Cart. I do but bear His Majesty's commands. Rob. What are the orders ? Cart. To re-ship all hands ; To re-embark munitions, stores, and men, To give up occupation of the Colony, And, ere we leave, to have the fort dismantled. Rob. Cartier, I blame not any man but you ; An enemy hath done this — you the foe ! How dared you leave me on the Bucelos bank. Setting at nought my orders as Viceroy, And steal your way in secret back to France With full two hundred able fighting men. Leaving me crippled ? How dared you, I say ? Cart. One does not risk one's plans in other hands, Or have his hard-won fame stolen by another. Rob. Stolen ! and by me. By me, Roberval ! Your life shall pay the word. Stand on your guard. Half draws; officers on both sides lay hands on swords; Cartier stands firm. Cart. Chevalier de Koberval, I am not noble. Rob. I had forgotten. Hear me, mariner; If you are ere ennobled Cart. Which I shall be. Rob. Then, thou gross sailor, when that thing occurs I claim full satisfaction, use and wont, I :. .1 i w 118 I)E ROBEkVAL Cart. Bob. 1 1 ;; ■■■; ; 1 For this so foul assault iipou iiiiiU' honor, And 1 will fairly nu't-t you point to point When, how, and wht're comes opportiniity ; Take this, my word, in pledj^e. I take the i)ledge, Will bear it aye in hand, will well remeuiber, And enter it in my log. Re seated, sir ; It was from inadvertence that I sat In presence of the Grand Pilot of France. (Opons till' otlier dcspiilcli and says:) ('artier, I have wronged you. These from the King Tell me the brunt and prospect of the war. Henry of England's fleet is on the sea, i Designed to seize the sea-gate of I'oulogne; The Spaniard, with some forty thousand men, Hangs on the frontier of the Netherlands, And there is prospect that the field of light May centre in my own loved Picardie. Charles, with a powerful force, invades fluimpagne; One army moves through the Alsatian hills. Another fills the ])lains of fair Provence, While in Piedmont hangs a battle pitched. Meantime, in this mixed whirl, 1 clearly see Tlie King has need of all our swords and us. Heard ye of this? Something of this I heard. But you are more in the King's confidence; Yet it is true all France is ordered out To take the field forthwith. What cause assigned ? Cart. We have not yet got over Rincon's death ; Rincon, you may remember him, a gourmand. Was sent as a Frencli envoy to the Porte. One evening, after supper, he cried out His entrails were on fire, and sudden died; Some say he surfeited on pickled eels, Diluted too nuich with an acid wine ; But shrewder politicians more surmise Cart. Rob. n ^ DE UOBERVAL. iiy That Charles the Kniperor had poiwoiied hiiu, Or, if not Charles, the Duke of Milan. It reached our King's ear and distressed him imieh, So much HO he at once coniineneed the war. Rob. (lauylis). Tiie cause was well selected and most fit To loose the pent-iq) thunderbolts of war And shake the pillars of all Europe's thrones. Go to! must we have colics unavenged And die of lluxes caused by (ierman wines? Cart. Some say he was not poisoned, but stilettoed ; 'Tis all the same, such things hap every day. Mob. And therefore should be promptly put a stop to. {Aside.) Admirable Franyois, well 1 see thy drift, And though it grieves my soul now to postpone, — Postpone, but not abandon, — all my plans Of adding new sea-provinces to France And building up States in the wilderness. My place is by my friend and monarch's side. {To Cartier). Pilot, the King commands. Names he a time To pluck our growing homes up by the roots ? Cart. My orders are to await your time and tide. Rob. Gentlemen adventurers, you hear the news. How say you? Can we leave this land till spring? The armies soon will go to winter quarters And our swords would for months rust in their sheaths ; Besides, our honest plodding colonists By no means can make ready in a day. You hear me, Pilot ? we obey the King. De Beaurepaire. The Viceroy speaketh well. All. We all agree. Rob. Now pardon me, Sir Pilot, for the nonce. From these despatches I have much to think of; To-morrow I shall be at full disposal. These wars at home establish their first claim, But it is saddening to U})root our plans. Break up our colony, reduce our fort. And throw the country back to barbarism. ^^I|| y^TT 120 i)h: noBEiiVAL '\ i I 11^ I III One cannot undo work without a pang. To-inurrow tlien. (Exe\iiit all but Uubervul aud Ohuilwa). Ohndwri. This water-soldier is thine enemy? Rob. He is not over-t'riend, Oltii. Then will I kill him. I know an herb who.se juice is medicine, And in it I will steep three feathered shafts From which a stratch will be most certain death, And one of them shall quiver in his heart. Tinh. Young tigercat, half .savage and half tamed, Thy forest training cannot understand We do not liwk to slay our personal foe, r.ut dare him to his face with equal steel * And give him equal chance. Ohn. That is absurd. RoIj. Yet, my Ohnawa, thou slialt not do this ; Such act of thine would bring disgrace on me. Ohn. To thee can never come disgrace, great chief. On me fall the disgrace, — because I love thee, Therefore will 1 remove thine enemy, And thou shalt never know how it hath happed. Rob. It nujst not be, mad girl. This, my command, 1 positively lay on thee, and claim Obeilience to my wish, perhaps my last. For in short time hence I must leave this land For mine own country far beyond the sea. Ohn. Shall we be happy there as we are here ? Rob. Happy! 1 think not. (Amle.) Mort Dieu, it would be A cunning thought to take her back with me. Young, piquante, fresh, and strangely })cautiful, She could not choose but climb. De h'oix, d'Estampes, l^a belle l''crronierc, and more have done it. And this young savage overshines them all. No, no ! I will not pluck this forest liower To see it gaud out in the air of Court. {To Ohnawa.) Happy, did'st thou say, Ohnawa? No ; War's fever leaves no room for happiness ; ir^f'' I)E ROBERVAL 121 I ^o to take my share in mighty wars And pageants tliou know'st naught of. Ohn. I can (ight ! Rob. Thine eyes bhize, girl. Ohu. It is the light of war. If girl I am, my blood is Iroquoise; 1 can be serpent, too, as well as girl, And on the warpath 1 will guard thy steps, Hide in the bush, and creep among the fern, So that no lurking knife steal on thy trail. Thou slialt teach me to tire the thunder-tube And slay thy foes beyond their arrows' range. And though I be a "girl," I'll bring thee in As nuiny scalps as e'er a practised brave. Rob. Excellent minion ! women do not fight In the land wherein now I go to war. Ohn. Tell me of the women. Dost thou love them ? Hob. Love in my land is a fantastic thing, A thing of frothy verbiage and conceits; Smiles are won by false oaths, and paid in gold; Hearts, now days, are incapable of love. Ohn. There is no one thou lovest like (Jhnawa ? Rob. Not now, I think. We will talk more anon. I am perturbed somewhat. Leave me, my child, And come back by-and-bye. Exit OliuilHa. ACT IV. Scene II. A convocation of the Colonists. I'Monrish of trumpets. Enter Roberval, attended. Rui lertua My friends, I come to speak in the King's name. Those long-tongued sailors lying in the roads Have set alloat reports which, if unchecked, Might catise an.xiety and disquiet you. And therefore 1 have, as the King's Viceroy, ffc 122 DE ROBERVAL. ■ f W, . T' ■I J VM , m Deemed it expedient now to summon you, Hy Koyal Prochuiiation, to appear And meet me liere for li'ariiig of the trutli. l"'raiK'e, our loved France, is plunged in grievous wars, — A voice. Must we lal Aged C. The White Chief is great warrior. Rob. The Aged Chief Is stately as the world-old mountain pine. Upon whose honoured limbs are thunder scars Showing as trophies of a thousand storms. The Iroquois are many, but my people Are countless as the pebbles in the stream. - Aged C. Their numbers here are but a sheaf of arrows. Rob. My nation is more powerful than the tiiunder. Aged C. We listen to the tongue of the White Chief. His words are good. His tribe, no doubt, is great ; But it is far. Rob. But not too far to bring a grove of ships And warriors many as the forest stems. . Those who are now here go but for a time, And ere twelve moons have shown their double horns Look in the sunrise for our rising sails. And down the Gulf for coming of our fleets. We wish to make a treaty with your tribe. Aged C. If the (Ireat War Chief goes beyond the sea Why should he make a treaty with our tribe? Rub. Because, red friends, we shall come back again As certain as in morning comes the sun, And in my absence we require of you To interfere with nothing of our gear ; So shall the French and Iroquois be friends. I W " | ^ j| BE ROBERVAL. 125 al and it; horns Aged C The Iroquois are not the white man's friends; The Frenchmen do not love the Iroquois, Their words of friendship are the words of squaws. , The red man in his council speaks the truth ; The white man lies. (Symptoms of anger). Rob. I pray you, sirs, be calm ; I would not make oath to the red man's truth, Rut the old chief is not so far from truth That white men lie ; most of them lie. {To IndinnH.) Think well. Shall it be treaty and a peace, Or shall it be no treaty and defiance ? Aged C The Iroquois will make no treaty-troth With those who stole their forests, slew their deer, And talk to them squaws' words. It shall be war. Rob. Be it. Beaurepaire. Excellency, if I might suggest, We have a store of trinkets to embark, Or give away, or cast into the sea. Or make of them a gay auto-da-f^ ; Why not distribute them ;us subsidy ? Rob. A bad precedent, Beaurepaire, — blackmail. Pont Briant. The red men and our men in equal force Are drawn up on the glacis, where they glare Upon each other with vindictive eyes ; Give but the signal and we shall disarm Their warriors, or, if need be, wipe them out. This is a remedy, and radical ; Or, if too radical, then seize these cliiefs And ship tliem off in hostage for their tribe. Rob. Monsieur de Pont Briant, yon forget yourself; Kidnapping has been done too ofl already. This aged chief, unlike old Donacona, For us, at least, shall die in his own home, And our safe-conduct shall be kept intact, So help me God and our Lady of la Koque. (To Indians.) You, Iroquois I the red fox in a trap Is not more in the trapper's power than you f 126 DE ROBERVAL. Are in my power within these armed walls ; My cannons' mouths are trained to sweep you off"; My young men hid me make the sign to lire ; Our force without woiild march towards our gate, While yours would be within artillery range, And ere they could escape would be cut down As autumn leaves are by the norland blast; For you have yet to learn that Indian cunniug Is not quite half a match for white man's craft. The White Chief has the power, no doubt the will. If ye would chaunt your death song, chaunt it now. JB m A ged Bob. Aged Bob. Aged Bob. Boh. C. The llo-dd-no-sau-nee's funeml song Shall not be uttered within mocking ears; Warriors and Chiefs can meet their death, — and nmtc. Shall it be peace and treaty, — and your lives? Or shall it be no treaty, — and your scalps? C. I have said. Warriors and Chiefs ! Brave men ! Have ye not my pledged word ? My manly foes, Go forth, and free ! If war be, let it be. .(Iiidi.au8 retire). Theae men lire gentlemen. Did you observe Their dignity in all they said and did? Even when they thought we had them in the toils No nuiscle quivered and no brown cheek blanched, Nor black eye dimmed with sign of craven fear. They are a stalwart race and soldierly. When we return 'twill be my special care To win their confidence by amity. And by all means to gain them to our side; For in the coming time these tribes, 1 see, W^ill be our allied, not our enemies. S )M DE ROBERVAL. 127 iimto. ire). lis led, ACT IV. Scene IV. The fort. Roberval and Beaurepaire. Beaurepairc (aside, with paper and stylux). "Vassals!" (no, that won't do). " Dear Farmers!" (no, Not "dear,"— Ihave it— ) " Agricidturists ! And Persons of the Manufacturing ("lass!" (Good) " Cobblers, and such like," (that won't do, either), "I am your Seigneur" Roherval. You seem in travail there ; what is't you do ? Beau. I'm writing an address to men unborn, Men who will, in a century or so. Come out and settle on my seigniory. But, lo ! I lack the gift of oratory. Rob. The easiest thing in life is oratory, — First believe what you say, then speak it out. So much for nature ; but art has its tricks : Begin in a low whisper, — this attracts And takes your audience into confidence ; Gain strength anon until you reach high tide, Then gush upon them like a floodgate burst ; Ope your mouth wide in shape of a round O ; Bellow, draw out your handkerchief and weep ; ' Stamp on the lloor and wave your arms aloft ; Drag out your hair, and tell them "On your soul They are your very dear constituents." Beau. I will go practice in the open air. Exit Beaurepaire ; enter OhnSwa. Rob. What shadow dax'kens thy brown cheek, my child ? Surely young Ohnawa should not be sad. Ohndwa. Sad, sad am I, Great Chief. I fain would speak. Yet know not what to say. Rob. A dilennna Two-horned that has tossed many orators. But I have heard the charming female sex Are never at a loss for what to say. But that may be a libel. Tell me, child. 128 I)E ROBERVAL. Is it some matter of thy silly own ? If I can aid, command me. Freely speak, Thou know'st I love to hear thee speak, Ohnawa. Ohn. It is not of my own. Roh, O, of mine, then ? Good girl, speak out, say what thou lust to say. Ohn. Your wall is lowly and our braves can climb. Rob. My darling girl, no nicer messenger K'er warned of an Jissault by escalade. Ohn. On the third night take heed. Rob. Good girl again ! Your braves will find us all on the alert, And (for your sake) shall loss of life be small. ' Scene closes. I; ; I i: '1 Midnight Ist Slra(j(jlcr 2nd Str<((/. 1st Sti'uy. ACT IV. Scene V. Two stragglers from tbo fort making their way through a storm in the woods. A river in a tortuous course between tall trees. I know not when I've seen so vast a storm. Hark ! what soimd is that ? It is the trees Riving and wrestling with each other. No! It cannot be, — yet must be. Once again A sound of writhing and of anguished groans As if their limbs were torn away by giants, — And tlien a heavy fall,— and then a lull. 2nd Strag. Some mighty tree is blown down by the roots. 1st Strug. Yet not a breath of breeze here. Listen notv. That awful roll as if 'twere thunder near. Or, as I've heard described, a lion roar. Mixed as with shrieks of human agony. Ha! there it comes, — 'tis hard to keep one's feet. 2nd Strag. 'Tis a wind tempest from the fierce nor'west. When I was but a little lad at school ^\ DE ROBERVAL. 129 J 1 n the They tinight me somewhere was a hellish cave Whence the winds burst to fight against the churches.* Something like that, I think, the story ran. If iv be true, foul fiends are out to-night, And fighting hard, although there are no churches. I wish we saw the watch-light on the cliff'. \sl Strag. A bed in barracks would feel soft to-night. They pass. Enter Ohniiwa, sola; she falls on her knees in abasement. Ohndwa. I am the very meanest thing that lives, The wickedest, unfilialest, and worst ; I love this paleface Chief, and have for him Betrayed the secrets of our Council fires. My nation would abhor mo did they know. And the ghosts from the shadowy hunting grounds, Who do know, frown on me with grief and pain. Ach ! (shudders) my dead fathers are about me now ; 1 see them standing tall among the leaves, — They look on me with grave rebuking eyes. Oh, worthless me; ah, wretched Ohnfiwa. Spirit! who did'st exhale the breath of life And give it to the Ho-d^-no-sau-nee That they might be thy people — secret, brave. Enduring, unforgetting, truthful, they Who with a smile should face the knife and fire Rather than whisper of a secret known, I am unworthy now to be thy child, And know no M'ay of penitence but this : From out thy roll of children blot me out — Forget that I am Maid of Iroquois, And look on me but as a paleface girl Who knows no better than to give iier life — Herself, her all, her people — for her love; Hold me in thy remembrance nevermore. (ireat Spirit ! hear my prayer. True, that I told him what our braves had [>lanned, — What could I do ? I could not have him slain, For I do love him, love him, loving love. ^^=■11! 1 *An anaehronism in quotation here, 130 DE RORERVAL. i ;Mii i OS i. Pi ■3 mi Yet loves he me ? Alas ! I do not know ; My heart is white, but my ways are not white, And when a little time has flitted by He may grow weary of my ignorance And cast away his gathered forest flower. (Rises.) Now must 1 try the Maiden's prophecy ; For T have heard the older women say If any loved maid prays the water-witch, That lives and sings within a sand-paved stream. To guide a love-lit lamp, and if it burn ^ Unquenchf d and clear till it be out of sight. The maiden's lover to her will be true. 1 lere is a little barque tliat I have sewed From out one round of whitest birchen bark, And here a pearly shell on which I place A taper made of pure white waxberries. With this firestone I light the medicine flame, ■ And from this quiet lily-padded cove Upon the running stream I launch my hopes. It graceful glides, the flame burns clear and still. {Clasps her hands.) Nov,' it iias reached the current, yet it burns! White pitying water-spirit, lend thy care ! Sail on, my love-canoe, drift smooth and slow ; Burn bright, my love-lamp, keep thy living flame ; Joy ! now 'tis past the bend — alit — joy ! joy! O cruel wind, O blow not with thy breath. It floats! it floats! alive and lit, it floats. Now it draws near the eddy — Sweet Ista, Mother of Maidens, help thy lovelorn child ! 'Tis past the danger — once more smooth it sails. A moment more and 'twill be out of sight. And joy will come back tc Ohnawa's heart. It burns ! — no ! no ! — it flickers — it is out ! Falls prone. ii ■^' I w'li^'M DE ROBERVAL. 131 ^s! one. ACT IV. Scene VI. Rampart of the fort. Early morning. Roberval, Captain-Commandant, and soldiers. Roberval. Your watch is early, Commandant. Good-morrow. Is it to see the sun rise from the sea? Commandani. Naught so romantic lialed me from my couch. Two singnhir incidents at dawn to-(hiy Called my attention, which I had reported As soon as you were visible. The first: A sentry on the wall, ere break of grey, On his beat pacing, listlessly observed A quadruped, or something on four feet, Rooting about in shadow of the wall. "A hog," he thought, if he gave thought at all ; But something in the motion of the bea.st Seemed strange; so, properly, he called his comrade. The creature, when close to the palisade. Leaped up erect, and to the rampart climbed. The guard turned out and found an Indian brave Hid in a recess near the magazine. He fought so hard, it was a lively thing To drag him out. They did not kill, but kept him Until Your Excellency or I should see him. The sergeant of the guard will tell the rest. Sergeant, relate. Sergeant. General and Commandant, 'Twas the same Indian here the t'other day. Called Lowering Eye, or Squint Eye, or such name ; An't please Your Excellency, the prisoner Got off scot free. Rob. It doth not please me. How ? Sery. Fell flat upon his face and lay as dead, And when, a moment only, eyes withdrawn. To ask what should be done, the lissom toad Dropped o'er the wall, and ere a musketoon Could get him within aiming range, escaped. 132 DE ROBERVAL. Rob. Who wjw the sub-officer in charge ? Serg. Buote. Rob. Put him in irons for neglect of duty. Com, The second incident is sensational : This morn, at early dawn, this Indian arrow, Which had been in the night shot o'er the wall, Wa« sticking in the flagstafi' half-way up. A drummer-boy climbed up and brought it down. The arrow has a strip of birchen bark Twined round the shaft and sealed with pear-tree gum, And the birch bark seems written on. Rob. {lakes and unrolls bark.) Writing is here, done in some colored pigment. In good set French of vile orthography. Let us see what this flying shaft of Cupid May have to say. Ha ! this affects us much : (Reads.) "A Frenchman, trapper with the Iroquois, Tells to the garrison : A mousquetaire Is captive, and to-morrow he will die By torture ; place of sacrifice, three leagues Due northwest ; and the Indian girl Ohnawa Is prisoner as a spy." Ctom. It is that dolt-brained ass, PoToudrefeu, Company One, who had a hunting leave. Why should he go and fall into their hands ! A little torture now would do him good, If not too lively. What is to be done ? Rob. 'Ml The scout will make his way back to his tribe. Or he may yet be lurking near the fort; In either case we must anticipate him. How soon can all our force be put on march? Com. Less than twelve minutes after bugle call. Rob, Sound the assemble. Exeunt. . r -^ DE noBKH VAL 133 m, emble. int. ACT IV. Scene VII. The forest. French troops advancing swiftly but stealthily. Roberval. Tliis is to wind a fox, not to make war. We keep our t'ourse — northwest, tlie trapper said. Look carefully for marks upon the trees. Beaurepaire. Here are the axe-marks that have guided us. Bob. So far, so well ; the man hath proved his faith, If it lead not into an ambuscade. Beau, I think not ; but we should be near the place. Here are the smothered ashes of a fire, The moss seems somewhat trodden down, and now Methinks I hear a distant sound jf cries. They listen. Rob. No, 'tis some forest bird, or brooklet's noise ; There are strange whisperings in these solemn shades ; One would suppose that silence would reign here, But through the silence a faint undertone Seems to imply the woods are full of life. Hark! hear you nothing? Pont Briant. 'Tis the insects' hum. They wheel in clouds beneath the domes of leaves. Rob. Forward there, silently. No word, my men ; Step on the moss to deaden your footfall. Use well the shelter of these stout tree stems, Remember, it is renard that we hunt. Beau. One of the soldiers in advance makes signs. Rob. He doubtless hears this same suspicious sound. Pont. I hear it, sir; something like distant song. Rob, For some time it has been plain on my ear. But I had thought it was the cataract That, fitful from its bass, strikes sharper chords Which would be heard a long way in the woods. Spread out our front in form of a half moon ; Ten paces man from man ; close on alarm. Beaurepaire, take the right ; you, Paul, the lefl j 134 DE ROtiERVAL And Hteiulily julvance our lighting line To overlap the enemy unaware. I, with Htx seoutH, will steal u|) this dark glade; It may be possible to reach their rear. The sounds are plainer now. A Scout enter-^. I made my way, Mainly by creeping, some way to the front, To where, upon u broken rocky mound, A tall tree- proudly overtops the rest. The which I climbed, and could discern a fire And hear demoniac yells and orgies wild. Roh. We have them now ! forward ! witluv ^ sound Until you hear my bugle; tlu rge home. Contingent ! come with me ; we .not march In open rank, and so like wolves will prowl. (Uoberval and scouts plunge into dark glade.) Cheerily, men ; cheerily, avanyons ! Ohnilwa rushes from the bush and throws her arms around Roberval. Ohn. Backl Chief! back, on thy life ! * ' Rob. Ohnawa! art thou my first enemy ? I thought thee prisoner, and I came to seek thee. Ohn. Back ! back ! retreat, brave Chieftain, if you love me ! Our outlying scouts are crouching all around; Come but a few steps more I could not save thee. But must stand by and hear thy death-song sung. Even now our deadliest knife is on thy track ; I stand between thee and the arrow's point \ Ah I (An arrow whizzes from the covert ; it strikes her ; she falls ; Roberval bends over herj. My chief, my warrior, e'er my lips grow cold, Clasp me close — closer — kiss me — for I love thee. Dies. Rob. (rising). Dead. She is dead. The truest, loving maid. Here thou, Jean Bourdon, and thou, Jacques Richaud, Ye both have wives at home in Picardy ; Take post behind this tree, guard her corse well, !! (They fire; Lowering Eye falls). The wolves will save him sepulture. Comrades, a heavy tjvsk is still before us. This paltry victory has entailed us loss Of one who did well prove herself our friend. Let us return and pay her honor due. (They return to the dead Ohnawa.) Here lies a hapless girl most foully sped. We cannot dare to give her Christian rites, Or lay her corse in consecrated ground, But we will give her soldier's funeral — Three volleys o'er her grave. Form a litter; The youngest of you gather balmy leaves i: ■::! ,> 136 DE ttOBEBVAL. Soldier. Bob. To be meet shroud for her ne'er -fettered limbs. You, four of my best veterans, bear the bier, I am myself chief mourner for the dead. There is a lone spot that Ohnawa loved, — A little plateau by the river's edge. Shut in by five great trees that overhead Spread a thin canopy of slender sprays. And make a twilight all the summer day ; "Where, under leafy eavea, the robins sing Their lovesongs in the spring j>t pairing time ; Beneath, the turf is springy, short, and green, Margined with flowering mosses, interspersed Witii trailing vines of pearly Avaxberries, And white star-flowers that turn to scarlet fruit. This lonely resting place in quiet lies, Silent, but for the never-ending hymn And requiem of the distant waterfall. There will we take my loved dead forest child, There bury her. Pity to see this poor brown robin slain. Take her up —gently — so. (They raise the bier). Reverse arms ! slow — march ! Exeunt, marcliiiig. ACT IV. Scene VIII. Embarcdtion. The slopes of Quebec. Eoberval, Cartier, et al, descending to beach. Cariier. The colonists are all embarked. Eight ships Already have been some hours under sail. An armed galley leads ; the Vicero3''s ship Will follow and soon overtake the convoy. In six weeks' time from now, if weather holds, We shall be ancliored under Oleron. Ojificer of Staff. The passengers embarked in seeming heart ? Cart. On the whole, yes. There were the usual growlers, But the main part seemed but to look on it ■**p»f*(ll bE ROBERVAL 137 ing As an excursion to revisit home. They all seemed confident in their return. Officer. The Viceroy certainly means to return ; They have great faith in him. Cart. That T could note. De Koberval is like the rest of us; He hiis his faults and failings, as we all, And to myself is little favorable. Yet are there few men so administrative; He personally is the very soul And lifeblood of an enterprise like this ; Witliout him it bid fair to be a wreck. Officer. His friends and equals — in whom I embrace The Gentlemen Adventurers — like him. Enter Roberval, who calls Cartier aside. Roberval. Pilot, one more thing I have on ray mind. I acted rudely when you landed here. And have since made but half apology. This distant land smooths all degrees of rank, — I offer now the amnlest satisfaction ; Our swords the same in length, and here a spot Behind this rock where we may do the deed. I seek it not; 'tv/ould do me ill at home. Let the past pass. VV^ell, then, let us be friends. The proper thing would be to tune our lyres Instead of useless spilling of our blood. You write good rhymes, good Pilot ; I have seen them. Cart. Humph ! I suppose that I may play the fool As well as another. Rob. O certainly ; That is a gift that comes direct from God, And many men unwitting fill the role. They pass. Pont Briant. Turned out of Eden ! hoy, friend Beaurepaire? Beaurepaire. How is the god-child? Pont. What, little Coucou? Egad, I had forgotten. I must see. Exit. !: ;:i :|1* Cart. Rob. 138 DE ROBBRVAL. m M An Adventurer. For me, I'm filled with rage and discontent; We've been too long here, or not long enough. Beaxi. We've been here long enough to acquire the right To tell wild tales of fabulous adventure, — How we have been among a fearsome race. Horns on their heads, and feathers in their tails, Who make their breakfast off their prisoners, And when enraged, breathe out live coals and smoke Like Satan in an Easter Mystery. My friend, we can cap conversation's lies Till the most rooted liar, cowed, must say These are the men have been with salvages. A Priest enters. Where is the Viceroy ? Beau. Musing, in the rear. Priest {to Roberval). Excellency, the aged holy man Who lived a hermit halfway down the cliff, Was found this morning on his pallet, dead. 'Tis said 'twas he that former prophesied Bourbon the Constable would fall at Rome. Before he died nls angel came to him And touched his lips with fire of prophecy ; His fervent words I here have written down. Rob. I know not how it is those anchorites Who hide in caves and dwell in half-obscure, And keep their thoughts confined to one idea. And purge themselves from lusts and appetites. And macerate their fiesh by abstinence. May be brought nearer to the spirit world, And thus acquire the gift of prophecy ; Or it may be but a congested brain, Or but a queasy stomach breeding vapors. That daylight and boiled beef would quite dispel. Kead it, Sir Clerk. Priest. That will I reverent do : "Clouds seem to roll before my sightless eyes; They thin, they break, — I see the coming years 1 The soldier Koberval puts out to sea With all our people in his home-bound ships. D^ MOBtJRVAL. A silence follows till the century dies ; Years glide, until the sapling grows a tree, And grass sheds seed on the grandchildren's gropes, The gnarled hemlock turns to hollow bole, Yet no white sail is coming up the Gulf. Still roll the years. Then wars and rumored wars Along the lines and lakes of Canada. Two European peoples, divers-speaking, Struggle together which shall hold the land. I see upon this cliff a citadel, A city towered and walled, and France's Hag On many forts and sailing down great streams. Marking a thousand leagues beneath its sway. A lurid cloud comes up, and ghastly shows The red men ranged with the conflicting foes, Intensifying the dire deeds of war. A battle lost ivjon this crested cliff. Another at a fortress by the sea. Till, all but honor lost, the flag goes down. But not for France's line the conquered's fate ; Victors, though vanquished, they impose their laws. Religion, language, customs, tone, and thought. And in time coming sway the aims of power. I see a congeries of lesser states Moulding by destiny towards one whole, Under a Statesman genial, strong, and sage, Till they absorb in one sole commonweal, Constructive, one, and indivisible. With laws well codified, with vital force To cope with evils of her inner life, And put down treason, treachery, and wrong ; Unlike the social s^ystems of to-day, In her the unit, from his being such, Carries responsibility of the whole; And the whole, from its being aggregate. Exists but by equality of the unit. Bank is therein, for life is btised on rank, But here 'tis the rank of pre-eminence. The decades pass like Hashes. Then I see i 'I If I 140 t>E MOBEBVAL. This new and welded State of Canada Take her place on the nation's roll beneath A broad emblazoned banner of her own, Until she shines a light among the lands, With keels of cr'mmerce upon every main. Then follow peace, strength, and prosperity. Years roll. With aggrandisement cometh pomp. Thev roll, — the vision is more blurred and dim — My eyes are closing fast. It is the dark." Bob. A Delphic seer. I have no fault to find, Excepting witli the hundred years or so In which no white man { cads upon this strand. I shall not live a hundred years ; and yet I shall return and tread tliis land again, And hold it fast in spite of prophecy. Several. And we ! and we ! Vive la gai France Nouvelle ! Boberval {falling behind the others). Fair scene ! a lingering and a latest look. Although it needs me not to count or scan To stamp the features on my memory. This is the land where I had hoped to live. And where I would have no regret to die. A touch of tenderness, a clasp of grief. Fingers the inner tendrils of my heart. I have dreamed dreams that wanted but due time To grow material and reality ; These for a time must yet remain in sleep. Blue skies ! I think no skies can be so blue. Ye clifts ! look for the coming of my ships. Ye woods ! recall ray merry bugle note. Ye waters ! on whose breast my light chaloupe Swum like a sea gull, give fair winds and tides To bring me back, and keep a a\ elcome for me ! France needs my nid as mother needs her child's. Yet not the less it touches me. My foot. As 'twas the first, shall be the last to press This wild and noble shore. A fond farewell I Farewell, farewell, fair country, fare thee well 1 As they embark, the Indians, who have crept down, deliver a shower of arrows, replied to by musketry from the boats. •P"! DE BOBERVAL. 141 i I Early spring, A. D. ACT V. Scene I. 1549. Port of St. Malo, France, quarters, pacing excitedly. Roberval in his urrows, Buberval {solus). Fran9ois, it was an evil day you died, For France, for me ; as to this second Henry, Tliat grasping, sclieming, old and ugly widow, Diane de Poictiers, has got hold of him. And rides him with a ribbon-rein of steel. I owe no gratitude to him or her. Now in bold enterprise would lie no danger. Danger — pshaw! Danger tracks us everywhere, — In promenade, at prayers, in lady's bower ; At feast is equal peril as in fray. But at this juncture there could be no danger. Except, perchance, that able lad, young Charles, Should reach the throne;* that might be dangerous, And yet he'd have his full resources taxed In carrying on those senseless holy wars. Why should I have a qualm except for France ? France has not held, nor does she seek to hold. Nor seem to value, that most noble land Wherein might soon the day of empire dawn ; Then why not I ? What hinders me to take The not unpleasant name, "Adventurer?" Viceroy — Adventurer — with the power the same. Why quibble for a name ? There is a name Higher than Viceroy, and some one, some day, Will call himself the King of Canada. Vice me no Viceroys, Moi, Roque le Roi ! Those savages are splendid fighting stuff'; Their tribes, if leagued, would stretch from sea to sea ; No force that ever could be stowed in ships Could root them from the woods they know so well. Yet am I certain I could govern them By their own habitudes and their own gods. A footing made, I would keep open house * Which he did, twelve years later. 142 DE ROBERVAL. m For all the fighting scoundrels from all shores ; Through every land of Europe's discontent Would I have preachers go and preach crusade ; In every land a Peter Eremite Would bring recruits, and first my gay Picards, Who trust in me, would rally at my call ; Not buU-dogue P]nglishmen, but stubborn Scots, The raw material of the archer guard. Would I enroll and trust to guard a throne. Dull Flemings, who might serve to ditch and plough, And drive their Flanders mares with needed stores. Even would I take Don Espanol to teach Most stoney cruelty with haughty mien ; Wily Italians to make treaties for us. And overreach while swearing on their souls. These should amalgamate — a race of men. For women — why, the world is wide enough. And maids are plenty and like to be wooed, As were the >Sabine girls for Koman wives. Thus a strong nation would be made to hand. And neither Spaniards, French, nor Englishmen, Nor their united navies, could dislodge Us from that mountain fort beside the sea. The thought is bold, the fact is practicable. Much is unread jet in the Book of Fate, And France, perchance, may see what she shall see. But, tush ! my fancy runs away with me, — We now embark, the rest is accident. Enter Passepartoul. Yes, sir ! Rob. How now, fellow ? What! Passepartout? Passe. Your servant, sir. 'Tis true you have discharged me On the plea that you need no valets now, But as I know 'tis quite impossible You can dispense with me, I have returned. Rob. Thou art a faithful fellow. Passepartout. Truly thou slialt go with me on this trip, — Not lus a valet, but as something better. Meantime, see to my mails. DE ROBERVAL. 143 ;h, Passe. Excellency, It shall be done. Rob. Call me not Excellency ; Call me Sir, Master, Captain, what you will ; Though no more Viceroy, I am yet — thy Friend. Passe. Kind, my good lord. I am a bearded man, Although an tiss. Pray do not make me weep. Exit Passepartout hurriedly ; enter attendant. Attendant. Two pious dames without would be admitted. Rob. Tell the good sisters I decline to see them. (Attendant exit). They seek, no doubt, to send a mission out. No ghostly aid for me — no supervision ; If reign at all, I'll reign like Lucifer. Attendant re-enters. The holy ladies say they are encharged With message which it much imports to hear. Their audience will be brief. Admit them, then. Enter two nuns. Great Sir, the Lady Marg The schoolmistress? Attend. Rob. Nun. Rob. Nun. ;e. Now living at Dinan in holy works And in the inner pale of sanctity, Hearing you are about to leave the land, Sends by us her complete forgiveness For all the ills you may have brought un her. Rob. By heaven ! it needed nought but this. Tell her, As reciprocity has won the day, I also do forgive, and with a hope She may save other souls besides her own. Exeunt nuns. Enter Andre De Roberval. Andre. Good brother Jean, my mind is quite made up. I go with you. My mails already shipped, Adieux all made, and all my weeping done. I'm wearied of these Guises thin disguised Under the cover of a wanton king 144 DE ROBERVAL. i' Akiu his old woman. In anotlier land Shall you and 1 show what our swords are worth Should there need be ; if not, we'll settle down Into stout farmers and wear wooden shoes, Or set up booths and grow rich as fur traders. Rob. Andrd, my brother, welcome to our band, If you have calmly thought the matter o'er; We all, each man of us, know well your worth, And 1 shall make it my especial care To see your interests attended to. But, brother, weigh this twice ere you decide, — Do not embark in this thing hastily; Think well while there is yet time to retreat. Because — because to you alone I'd say I feel depressed about this voyage out. Perhaps it is a true presentiment — Perhaps it is that all our means are risked. / bishop told me that in seven years Would be the turn and crisis of my fate. Seven yeai's ago I first sailed from llochelle. Andre. I go in cheerful case, and so should you. Rouse up ! my Jean, and va presentiments ! A sluggish liver gives a jaundiced view ; Try some dry Xeres wine. I will return. Exit Andre. Enter a Gentleman. Gent. Our Leader scarcely seems himself to-day. Rob. {moodily). I comprehend how men grow querulous, Peevish, and carping as the years go on ■ With a succession of dull petty cares. For me, to-day, I feel unlike myself. Just in the mood a man asks usury. And sells his debtor up without remorse. Of late I have been tired and jaded out By keeping tally like a commissary. Biscuit and beef have been upon my brain, And I've tapped casks like any woodpecker ; Have dealt in clothing, like the Wandering Jew, Moses, the son of Aaron, and so on ; W DE ROBERVAL. 145 Docquets and clearing-oaths have irritated Till I have longed to sack the custom-house. I want fresh air, I want the smell of sea, The lip-lap of the water in the calm, The racing of the bracing waves in storm ; I want my foot upon an oaken floor, With but an inch between me and the brine. (Enter Officers and Gentlemen). Gentlemen Adventurers, give me your hands ! Ho ! for New France. So gaily all a-feather ! That's right ! We are a goodly company. Scions of the best blood that France can show. If heaven speed, earth will yet ring with our names. All is in readiness — the sails unbraced. The sailors all have answered to the roll. We drop past Oleron Island with the ebb; Four hours hence we will see the last of France. And if for evermore, — well, be it so. God speed our enterprise, {Cheerily). Man's fate is moulded by an unseen Power Greater thaa he. {Cannon heard.) The gun! let us on board. Going. Passepartout heard singing witliout. Jacques of the Bois donned Sunday suit, Took in his fist a stout vine root, And made his way to monarch's court, Where mighty Lords and Kings resort. Growled out the Chancellor, gruff and old, " Those peasantry are growing bold ; Who's that, there, in the buckled shoes?" Replied the valet, " Pray excuse Me, for, God wot, I know him not." Just then the King passed, grand and fine, With four-and-twenty Lords in line, " Ohc I my subject, leal and dear," Cried he, " tell truth, what brings you here? You have, I trust, for cash no lust, For, foy de uioy, My purse holds not one sol turnoy. But I can knock you down with sword And bid you rise again — a Lord I " 146 DE ROB Eli VAL. I 5"*' I Gent. Bob. Quoth Jacques, " My Christian Sire . nd King, I would not think of such a thinn; No cash I'roni (hy lean purse I lack. And, foy de Jacques, I'd rather not he Lord or Knight." " That's right," The King said This knave of yours keeps up a merry heart. We all have need of merry hearts, my friend. They embark. ACT V. Scene II. Mid-Atlantic. Deck of flagship. Roberval asleep.* Enter Shade of Francis I. Out of the limbo where repentant souls Do expiate the deeds unthinkingly, Or of set malice in the body done, I am permitted to revisit thee And bring a warning from the shadow-land. Great doings yet will be for Canada, Greater than even I and thou had planned. But not by thee nor in thy time be done. Jean Eoberval, Join thy own name with mine in orisons. For in brief time hence thou wilt be with me. Shade of Francis sinks. Enter Shade of John Verazzano. Robber ! the noble lands I found for France, Which thou would'st steal, are France's, and not thine. Verazzano sinks. Shade of Bayard enters. Friend in my lifetime, gallant Roberval, <- Good sword at Mezieres and Sesia, Nor yet unloved although years have slid by ^ And brought thee to thy mind's maturity, * Roberval had known personally all the personages whose ghosts appear. DE ROBERVAL. 147 inks. [thine. links. While my grave rcHtful is in D.'uiphind, Bethink thee well a knightly faitli once pledged To France and King is irrefrangible, And country seized from pride or rankling slight Is but a brigand's haunt. Smirch not tliy faith. Bayard sinks. Enter Shade of the Constable de Bourbon, Brave Picard, I, too, had endured affront • And slights from the injustice of a king; I, too, had planned a kingdom of mine own. \ In one hour more my kingdom had been reared, — A hundred days and stable had bi-on throne; But in the middle manhood of my life Fate came to spoil my well-considered aim, Slain by a base mechanic's random shaft, Sped from the almost escaladed wall Of that Rome I had meant for i>apital. First galled by wrong, then goaded by ambition, Which urged me further than my first intent, I ranged myself among my country's foes. Demeaned my house and stabbed with deadly wounds The loving bosom of my mother France. My sole reward is history's obloquy, — In life distrust, in death the name of traitor. Take lesson from the fate of Bourbonnais. Bourbon sinks. Enter Shade of Bonnivet. Jean Roque, there is a Queen we both have loved. Whose eyes would drip to see the honor stained Of him on whom her brother leaned his faith. Bonnivet sinks. Siraulacre of Marguerite of Navarre in robes of mourning, with a Bearnese cap, rises and passes. Broken pictures of places in Picardy and elsewhere come and go. Phantasmagoria glide past, grotesquely reproducing incidents in the death of Ohnawa. Ghosts of victims of war ri^e and flit confusedly. , Woe to the victors! woe! Skipper. Aloft there! reef topsheet, Cheerily O! (Flapping of sail and rattling of blocks and cordage). 148 DE ROBERVAL. BobervcU (awakea, panting). At Hca! iisleep, — tlie long waves (piict heaving! Then have I been in the weird hind of dreams. Meth»)nght that friends long dead and sepulchred Were here and spoke to me, and perturbed shades Rose up like rising smoke wreaths, crying " woe ! " Skipper. Excellency, the breeze stiffens. If it hold Within a })oint or two as now it blows, Our voyage will be brief and prosperous. Rob. lie it — by favor of sweet Mary Mother, Star of the Sea. (Aside.) Evil dreams avaunt! Yet, can it be ? Do dead men come when sleep Prostrates the body and relieves the soul From the gross fetters of its organism ? The vision was most vivid. Francis, king ; John, the sailor; stainless Pierre Terrail ; Charles, of Bourbon, constable and traitor; Bonnivet, the dissolute admiral, too. What do they want with me ? I like them not. Let them walk through their purifying fires • And talk no more with me. My pitch is low, My nerves unstrung. Be thyself, Roberval. \ Ship sails on. ACT V. Scene III. OflF the coast of Newfoundland. Long seas rolling in after a storm. Mer- maids singing. A gallant fleet sailed out to sea With the pennons streaming merrily. On the hulls the tempest lit, And the great ships split In the gale, And the foaming fierce sea-horses Hurled the fragments in their forces To the ocean deeps, Where the kraken sleeps, And the whale. T)f: ROliEUVAL. 149 The men arc in tlio lodges' clefts, Dead, hut witli motion of living guise ' Their hodios are rooking there. Monstrous .soa-flsli and efts Stare at them with glassy eyes As their liiul)s are stirred and their hair. Moan, O sea! O death at once and the grave. And sorrow in passing, O cruel wave! Let the resonant sea-caves ring. And the sorrowful surges sing. For the dead men rest hut restlessly. We do keep account of them And sing an ocean rcciuiem For the hrave. Dn. lii if is m I < %6 \ 1*1! 1 1 m Mer- f **' li THE EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. 'i\ :: i. :i: ■■: V li J « "M m efif M THEIR EMIGRATION, 'TwAS in a sweet nook of the English coast — . It is not now so many years agone — Where of a Grand Hotel was ne'er a ghost, Nor of machines for batliing never a one, But yellow sands lay slanting to the sun And grew to golden as the day grew done. ' The merry wavelets swift came running up Beribboned with a narrow fringe of cream, Then raced away as from a canted cup. While all along the wetted margin-seam, Like to a rapid fire of gusty joke. In puffs of glowing prism the bubbles broke. The upper plates of fragile sea-brought shells, Like tiny tazzas filled with dips of lymph. Flecked the gay sands, minute oasis wells, Each one a tub-bath for a tinier nymph. While small white molluscs, like Carrara domes. Of hermit crabs and mite fays were the homes. The hugest marine monsters of that shore Were launces lithe and lean, with silvery scales, Four inches long (which in the silex bore. Or, swimming snake-like, undulate their tails), And so ferocious seemed, so glib and gleaming, They made the shore-fays scuttle off' a-screaming. The largest game were sandpipers, whose feet. In dancing step, stamped deltas on the sand, The little creatures, so genteel and fleet. Hopped a long running race or saraband. With perky gestures picking up their food — A comic trait in that sweet solitude. (163 154 t:M Id RATION OF THE FAIRim. No obscene raven sought the water-line To gorge on flotsam, for no ghastly wrack Came drifting in ; no slimy tangles' twine, Nor odious bladder-weeds, that wilt and crack, Nor glutinous fibres twined in curling forms. Like dead men's hair that had been drowned in storms. The only jetsam was red clover heads, Or wild rose petals that lewd eastern gales. In rude wind-play, had ravished from their beds, And rosy shells like women's finger nails. And willow pollen, for nought ere unclean Along high water mark was ever seen. Within the inner bend the wash was still, Or gently restless, but, beyond, the lap Of waves heaved, each a running ridge of hill That momentary showed its flashing cap, For 'bout a mile off' lay — the chart c' ;poning — A harbour bar, although it did no moaning. 'Twas said that now and then a nautilus Had been observed to hoist his purple sail And put out oars, as if to ferry thus A passenger or budget of the mail. And I believe it, for along that coJist •' ''I'was well known that the Fairies had their host. A cable's length or two at sea there flew The restless murrs, in floating rings, like hawks At lesser height, yet still so high, the blue Softened to mur-mur their harsh strident skwauks. Which, apropos of nothing, overhead They gadded garrulously about and said. Afar at sea, where is the gannet's bath, The white sails slid, like pageants, to and fro Upon some definite but trackless path ; '''._. While now and then, with faint-heard throb, would go Some long low ship of steam, black like a coffin, With a long trail of smo! out in the offing. I ■Hr.,v tlMlOttA TION OP THE FAItilES. 155 The north horn of the bay — a giant head, Was a tall headland of primeval schist That broke the northern breezes as they sped And checked and rolled up the land-drifting mist ; The other horn of the half-moon did trend Down to the sunny south, without an end. The strip of yellow sand that made the beach Was backed by a broad stretch of pleasn t downs Of blended colors, far as eye could reach, As nature paints : greens, purples, russet browns. And white tree-blossoms set in tid-bit scenes. And full of gentle dells and small ravines. Where'rose the land the highest on the left A rift had worn, at some time long ago, From watershed, till, deep down in the cleft, A saucy brook of no great width did flow. And on the sea-marge did its best to make A slight expansion might be called a lake. Between the sea and lakelet lay a fall Some two feet high, a jewel-bright cascade. That sung, for wantonness, rhyme, trill and call. And day and night a pleasant concert made, For chime of tinkling waterdrops in ringing Made orchestra complete when birds were singing. Within the lakelet lay a floating isle Or eyot, of a rood or two, round-edged And lying low like float upon the Nile, And it, wherever most the pond was sedged With waterlilies, anchored most, — the story Is it had been a peaty promontory, 'Neath which the brook laid cunning water mines And screwed hydraulic jacks, till, riven up, The buoyant floor of matted old-time pines Rose like a bubble or a lotus cup, And imperceptibly, without a wake, It drifted back and forth around the lake. 156 MflGRATION OF THE FAItiinS. The sheep had nibbled till the turf was short Of the smooth banks that sloped down 'o the brim Of the round lake, which lay down in a sort Of cone, with margin velvetty and trim. Baptismal font, or punch-bowl, if you will. Set in a sward all pied with daffodil. The waters in this demi-bowl or cup Changed as does mercury in the weather tube: When rain fell heavily, the bowl filled up. And when the droughty sky was dry and rube, Fell till the yellow gravel-bed was visible, And fishes flapped in manner quaint and risible. ^ Oft the belated fairies of the beach, O'ertaken when the dark too soon came down, Would skirr along, the floating isle to reach. And there would each one wrap up in her gown And slumber snug and sweet, as bird in nest. Within their island bower on the lake's breast. For on the base of peat and rotted stems Was fertile soil, where shady sweet shrubs grew. And fringe of wildflowers round the thicket's hems. And carpet of short grass of emerald hue. Where rest was wooed by the isle's rocking motion And lulled by hush-a-bye of mother ocean. But on a time when 'twas expected least — One eve, above the sea a sable band Of Avatery clouds piled, darkening all the east, And spreading dense and grey o'er all the land. Whence dropped, at first, Scotch mist, then sprinkling mizzle, Which quick augmented into downright drizzle. Soon outpoured rather water-sheets than rain. That fell with heavy swish into the lake And made a hissing when it stnick the main, A new Noachian deluge seemed to break, And the vexed waters from the lake's swollen face Ean rushing o'er the ledge-fall like a race. — H rP^' EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. 157 The fairies waked up in their mossy beds And wondered what this watery war might mean ; Then with their wings more closely hid their heads Beneath their water-tight pent-roof of green, And tried to take another snooze till morning Till they should see sunrise the scene adorning. But sudden, savage, in resistless swoop. The mad wind Eurus, shrilling angry shrieks. Burst from the east with wild and maniac whoop, ' Blowing his breath as he would crack his cheeks, And — plunging right before the blast — ah me ! The floating isle was carried out to sea ! AT SEA, 7,1 e. Straight out to sea ! upon the ebbing wash Of a receding wave the light isle slid With little motion (on the rollers' dash Aught could have ridden Jis it buoyant did), Till sudden caught 'mid the resistless forces Of the fierce gallop of the white sea-horses. The shock woke up all hands, and, rudely tossed, The fairies clung together sore affrighted, For darkness hid the land that they had lost, Though shoreward they could see a pharos lighted, One of those red round eyes that faithful urges " Beware ! " to mariners across the surges. After long tossing like a dancing feather Among the wicked foam crests of the breakers, Whose crash was — (nastiest of dirty weather) — Enough to crush the ribs of tall three-deckers, A strong gust swooped upon the isle and caught her And swept her out beyond the broken water. 158 EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. I ' There, pitching, rolling, plunging, eke and spinning, Like a teetotii..i, or a Norway sloop Caught in a raaelstroem with the eddies grinning Their white teeth, the poor fairies on the poop (Jasped short with fear and clasped each other tight As on they drifted in the lighthouse light. The red light died, and still the waves rushed by In dire Cimmerian and Neptunian strife, For dense there lay alike on wave and sky Slab blackness one could slice up with a knife, From out of which their boomed unceasingly The awful turmoil of the angry sea. Through the slow creeping hours of dark the swish Of the seas sweeping by was very eerie, And when great flakes of foam, like gleaming fish, Leaped up, the fairies, wet and faint and weary, Gave uf), and as each lurch their terror heightened. They crouched together, mazed and sad and frightened. It seemed as if it never would be day — How many prayers were for the rising sun ! But when day broke 'twas all one steely grey, And of a glimpse of sunlight there was none, For all was as if seen through spiders' web, While like a race before them ran the ebb. It blew a three days' howling eastern gale ; O thou long-winded Eurus, how it sped ! And meant to keep on blowing, nor to fail. Until one might discover overhead A patch of blue (so jack -tar sky-lore teaches). To make a Hollander a pair of breeches. When down in the sea-trough the raft subsided. As to the bottom of a watery pit, It seemed as from all sides the waters glided As from a centre, and that not a bit Of progress made they, rising up and sinking, r r But not at all advancing, to their thinking. * ^} Uf EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. 169 t. ; They could not see their island move; they thought The waves that bore them were but rushing by ; Succeeding day and night no changes brought In the horizon's ring; the selfsame sky Uj)on them darkly frowned — all seemed unchanged, And changelessness inexorable reigned. Not knoA^ing contrary, they feared that ever Their raft might wallow on the restless breast Of cruel ocean, and that never, never With life remaining could they be at rest. Despair came, as to tourists in the Channel, Who call for death, and brandy and hot flannel. They called for none of these, but crept below The thickest of the thicket and there burrowed. While all around graves yawned amid the flow As if great Neptune's plough the sea-field furrowed ; And, as they crouched there, words could not express The sense of their exceeding loneliness. The thing became monotonously dull, Till from monotony faint hope revived ; The bolder spirits, in some transient lull. To move upon the green deck bravely strived. Till ere three days, as if they trod on eggs. Some few of them had got their weather legs. This gave the rest encouragement. A saint Must loud have laughed to see their anxious faces, It was so very comical and quaint Their way of tottering round with staggering paces, As if astride a visionary saddle. And walking, as do sailormen, astraddle. The while, though seeming still, they scudded fast About as many knots as runs a clipper. Their thicket served as sails upon a mast, And 'twas a voyage that required no skipper. Before the gale their buoyant craft was hurled Due west, as Colon went, to find a world. ^ m- * 160 EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. I've frequent thought that it is quite a pity Life does not hist for, suy, five thousand years (I mean these words for truth and not for witty), Twould take that time to see lialf that appears Of the Infinite Love and Beauty that surround us — But then it is a fleeting life that bounds us. Man's earliest years are taken up with trifles. His middle time is slave to divers fashions. And not till age, remorse, or what not, rifles His brain of prejudice and heart of pji&sions, At brightest shines his purer mental spark, Then, sudden, out the lamp ! and all is dark. These thoughts are apropos how our wrecked fairies Thought sometimes how their stomachs might be tilled, For though !is easy fed as are canaries, Beneath their belts that worm that won't be stilled, Called Hunger, hinted to them sundry dishes. If even 'twere a fry of flying fishes. 'Twas fortunate for them their appetites Were not at all the kind possessed by gluttons, Demanding meringues and marinites, Witli poultry fricassees, and roasted muttons, Nor even what seamen deem as things of course, Hard weevilled biscuit and soft salted horse. Manna was given them ; for though salt the air And nipping with the salts of flying spray, Nature's alembic, with alchemy rare, Distilled and filled their leaf-cups day by day With fresh sweet dew, nutrition strong and mild. For Nature ne'er neglects her slightest child. Some nights were clear and looked down cruel bright, No sympathy within the starry eyes. But a cold, baleful, taunting, mocking light, Till one who had been studying the skies Cried, after noting the horizon bars, " See, brothers, see ! these are not the same stars ! " EMIGRATION OF THE FAfRfES. 161 !.' After that, as tlie Ar«Man shepherds pazed, Tliey nij^lilly ma ''eo iieavenly bodies' places And noticed ii aa- le had erased Orb after orb, and mat the phmet's traces Were to less orbits ci. uniscribing, provinjij, Where'er their isle wjis going, it was moving. They judged this by tlie lower nightly range Of bold Orion, for his belt lights are A guide to altitude and other changes With reference to the changck'ss pohir star. And to ti'.at star in Charles' wain, wa/.s shift, Once waggoner that gave the Christ a lift. One evening when the gale iiad l)lown its best And cahn had settled on tlie troubled sky. There wiis a tinge of ruby in the west, As if the morrow would be warm and dry — The first real burst of sunshine in my story. For the sun rose up in a gleam of glory. Then the sea fell. The hectic of the sky (Jrew balmy mild, with ambient tints of rose, And till the shut of eve light clouds slid by. Throwing great breadths of shadow ; the repose Was almost languor, sunny was the clime. And so for days it was a lazy time. Fond memories came to them. Their hearts are warm With strong attachment to locality ; So in their gentle slumbers would the charm Of home make them forget they were at sea, And the great rushing of the waves would seem The humming of the land brooks in their dream. To their closed eyes the wide sea seemed a field Or rolling plain of grass pf olive green ; They deemed the distant vapour wreaths concealed The well-loved features where their haunts had been, Or seemed but the dim outline of the woods Or tops of low hills in their morning hoods. 1G2 EMia RATION OF THE FAIRIES. ;« I I I giiesH the yjini told to tlic weddinj? gueHt By ("oleridge's iinciont niarinere Caused the said giu'st to cry, "May 1 be blest If such a story I did ever hear !" Yet strange guess-tales fall often from the lips Of those who go down to the sea in ships. For instance, once — it was in early dawn — Our fairies had a terrible alarm, For near the raft uprose a thing of brawn, A monstrous, scaley, black and shiny arm. Then nuiny more arms, then a ghastly creature Swum up and stared at them with liorrid feature. This was a poulp. Its wicked gleaming eyes Struck the fays with extremity of terror, For all believed that truly in this guise Had come the devil (which was not an error). To this sea-devil's tricks you'll iind a key In Victor Hugo's "Toilers of the Sea." Another time our voyagers grew pale. And that their end had come they never doubted, For close beside them a huge Greenland whale Heaved up its mighty body-bulk and spouted ; They thought it was an island with a fountain, And magnified its size into a mountain. And, one more time, a snake a furlong long, A maned and knobby python of the sea, Swum past; but, halting, coiled in spirals strong. And reared above them like a thick bent tree. Then dived and splashed, nor could they in the least Guess the intentions of the monstrous beast. One other morning, in the twilight cold. And drifting right before them to the west. They saw a strong box, barnacled and old, That looked as 'twere some shipwrecked seaman's chest, And might have been, although one thoughtless mocker Asserted it was Davie Jones, his locker. -- ^ EMIGRATTON OF THE FAfRFES. IfiS On crispy nights, from out of cloud there loomed Broad sheets of silver, rose and pale green tinges, TliroMgii wiiieii a stream of tiery arrows flumed In flame that softened off' to quivering fringes, As in their antic djereed play came forth The merry dances of the polar north. Another time the sultry summer sheen Piled up the clouds in one of ocean's changes, And lo! a stately transformation scene, — The still sea circled round hy mountain ranges! Like a vast lake among the Kho'tian alps, What time the rose-snow lies upon their scalps. One midnight, .as the moon rose soft, serene. Music came softly stealing o'er the hrine. And caused the fays to marvel what could mean From out the sea to come a voice so fine, Such melancholy tone of feeling bringing? The fact is that it was a mermaid singing. One day bore down on them a hill of light, An alp of crystal, pinnacled and towered, A berg of ice of purest dazzling white. With points all diamond-glittering, caved, and bowered, A mountain island in its lone weird glory, With many a shining cape and promontory. Its summit reached the clouds, its crystal hue Unbroken save one dark spot in a rift. What that might be none of the fairies knew (A dead nian, or a polar bear adrift) ; MajesticaHy grand the berg, untossed. Slow drifted southward stealthy as a ghost. How many dead are hidden in the womb Of thy engulphing and remorseless waves, O sea ! at once the murderer and tomb ; If all thy victims came from out thy caves • ' And shipped as deck-hands, they would much too much man That weird old galleon called the Flying Dutchman — 1()4 EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. A ship that I believe in, for I know A ten-gun brig of France to-day that cruises In the St. Lawrence Gulf, but long ago Went down with all hands in the quicksands' oozes, But oft coma's up again 'twixt suns and suns With all her gunners standing by their guns. Ah ! who can trust wind, wave — still less the two, For one night, in a sky of copper yellow The sun set hu-id, the waves tool: the cue, And all the winds of heaven began to bellow, And sea-gods, meaning mischief, 'gan to snorfc And toss their heads in wild Neptunian sport. And, as the waves grew frolicsome and high, A number of small birds around them came, Never alighting, but would rapid fly Along the mountain rollers, near and tame; iSorae call them Stormy Peters, but one fairy Thought they were chicks »j^longed to Mrs. Carey. Sud "len the long-pent threatened tempest burst V/ith discord, as if demon hosts were slirieking ; Tne powers of evil joyed to wreck their worst And set old ocean like a caldron reeking And writhing in the spasms fierce and frantic Of a wild night storm in the raid-Atlantic. Descriptii/n fails. Suffice it here to tell The buoyant fairy nift rode out the gale ; But how, amid that troubled watery hell, li, or a Nautilus, should, under sail. Float while ships sink, I really cann t say, Br i, '^;>-it did it, and kept upon its way. ^ The stoutest war-boat ever built by hands Is feeble at such time as floating chip, The mite called Man plans, but the Sea commands r Coward and bruve alike in strongest ship Fidi prostrate, ar.rl jicknowledgc reverently God of tlu^ elements in storm at sea. tlMIGllATTOl^ OP THE FAIRTES. 165 And so our fairies' floating raft of peat Rode out the storm where navies would liave shattered, It ran before tlie tempest light and fleet; No damage, but the shrubs a good deal battered ; But our crew thought the lot of tinker, tailor, Was preferable to the role of sailor. Jijy to the castaway ,.■( ! for came in view A broad-beamed, homeward-bounden English craft, That, till the gale blew out, was lying-to With a small rag of mainslieet close-reefed aft; Their ciuick eyes scanned her stern, and in the lull They read her name — the "Bonny Lass of Hull." Pier skipper spied the raft, and thought to send The second mate, with two hands, in the longboat, But second thoughts induced him to amend Lest he should And himself quite in the wrong boat ; He therefore merely entered in the log: " Lon. 50.59, passed floating bog." For some days our adventurous fairy crew Had seen a change of color in the tide, The seas were shorter, of a nniddier hue, And broke with greater wash and surf beside. Because, in fact, they now had reached the gorges Of the fish banks that fishers call the Georges. A fog here shut them in, fog dense and dank, Through which they heard men halloo and ply oars, And once a sharp putl" partly raised the bank. When round them, lo ! were fishing boats in scores An instant seen, and or» f:;:iart eoddlng-man Cried he had seen a floating catamaran. A f'^w days more they drifted, ever west. Where seabirds now would fly around and swim, And the air freshened more, froui which they guessed Land near — indeed they saw its outlines dim Lie low like smoke, till one elf at the prow Sung out, "A stretch of land on the lee bow !'* IGl) EM JG RATION OF THE FAIRIES. A long low line of beach, with crest of trees, With openings of rich verdure, emerald hued. And as the string o' the tide and landward breeze Wafted them nearer, in a thankful mood They blessed the land and beach of ruddy brown, And off' the shore lay bobbing up and down. Now this fair land was Epaygooyat* called. An isle of golden grain and healthful clime. With vast fish-teeming waters, ocean-walled, The smallest Province of the Maritime. Up on the beach the Fairies' Raft was cast. And on Canadian land stuck hard and fast. THEIR NEW HOME. With what amazing, boundless, heartfelt joy They leapt on shore ! First, all hands to express Their sense of ransom from the sea's annoy. Joined in a Miriam's song of thankfulness. Then formed in battle order on the strand And inarched into the bowels of the land. This improvised invasion by our sprites Was really picturesque, if on,> had seen them. Like to howadjis gazing at the sights. Or, rather, with their women folks between them. With mirth and story trudging, joyous very, Like Chaucer's pilgrims going to Canterbury. Here many things were new and passing strange To eyes familiarized to English scenes; The skies were bluer, larger was the range Of color, ruddier reds and brighter greens, Tiie skyline farther, longer was the trail, * iid everything upon a larger scale. ♦Prince Edward Island. •^, EMIGRATION Of THE FAIRIES. 107 l> The trees grew tliicker, rougher, taller-siemmed, Set in a thicker copse of underwood, The roadn were narrower and with bushes lienuned, The horizon line more well-defined and slirewd, The land less under tilth, enclosures fewer. And the whole aspect inchoate and newer. First halt. They heard within a sugar patch The rhyming tic-a-tac of axes chopping, So scouts were sent :iliead to try to catch A glimpse of whom or what 'twas caused the lopping. And bring back a description of the natives — If they were cannibals, or friends, or caitifls. The scouts returned, and said where they had stole They'd seen a score or so of stalwart creatures In flannel shirts, not smock frocks ; on the whole They rather liked their friendly bearded features. And that the first glance of these live Canadians Impressed them favorably — (they were Acadians). Then onward. Sudden on the horizon came A burst of blaze, like to a town on tire, While smoke in cohunns and tierce tongues of tlanie Rose grandly heavenwards, high and high and higher - They were so scared they went by with a rush, And did not know 'twas choppers burning brush. With feelings as on field of Waterloo, They came upon a space of blackened stumjjs ; "Alas ! " cried they, " hei'e greenwood temples grew. And cohunns, ruined now, have stood in clumps." They though*^ that war had here wiped out a nation And left this ghastly scene of desolation. They reached a scatlbld frame beside a weir, With criss-cross beams and rafters gaunt and slewed, And in It agonizing screams could hear, And saw a whirling fiend devouring wood — It was a sawmill — and, too feared for ^jeech, They skirred away beyond the monster'^ reach. if' 108 EM TG RATION OF THE FAIRIES. i It pleased them mucli to see the birds about, And one boy cried, "A robin ! big as thrush ! Ma, can that be Cock Robin grown so stout ? " AVhereon his niotlier, with lier thoughts a-rnsh With Englisli memories, said (and cliecked a sob in), " My dear, tliat is a fowl, and not a robin." They saw woodpeckers hanging by the toes, Blue jay they thought was a professional beauty ; They looked for rooks, but only lit on crows, Whose only link with rooks is both are sooty; And as to linnets, finches, and those others, They looked on them in light of little brothers. At length they reached a log hut in a clearing. The habitation of a piop<^er. And broke ofi' when they were the house a-nearing, That through the settler's window they might peer To see the inside of the habitation, And learn some traits and habits of the nation. They sav a strong-built mother boiling porridge, All in a chamber somewhat bare but neat (The goodmau with his gun had gone to forare, W'hile the goodwife kept home alive and feat). And, helping her, six baiefoot little spartans. All clad in iiomespun giey instead of tartans. Then one of our most grizzled, shrewd, and wise Old elfmen said: "Lads! look you here, and (ind out The worth of health, strength, will, and enterprise. For in such life as this you will see lined out The elements of a strong, he'Utliy .State — Thie is a nat'on destined to be g'*eat." When through the farmer's window they vvere poking They noticed something that amused them much; It Vvas that in no grate no coals were smoking, Kor porcelain stove, nii used among the Dutch, But fire of wood, such as the liearthstone ruddi^^s With faces in the fire and buck-log studies. j^^'*i. ;?l,,- "!!«;; '^i ;!f EMIGRATION OF THE FAlttlES. i6d The water-well was not with moss o'ergrown, Nor oakt n bucket floated in its deep, But 'stead of wheel there was a chunk of stone Appended to a young fir as a sweep, On principle of Archimedes' lever; Yet the device was clumsier than clever. Another thing they noticed between whiles Failed not their curiosity to catch, The which was houses roofed with wooden tiles Instead of comfortable wheaten thatch. And much they marvelled if the fireside ingles Could be kept warm beneath these roofs of shingles. They, above all things, missed the hawthorn hedges. And cottages with ivy-trellised gables, And rows of beehives resting on the ledges. And neat gates leading to the fields and stables — And grieved the una>sthetical pretenses That farmers plead for building zigzag fences. A luuiiber of strange other things they noted As cpiite unlike what they had seen at home. To all of which they curiously devoted Atten:ion as a gentle hill they clomb. Where on them burst a true Colonial scene Of W')od and meadow land of living green. Between two brooks, both running diamond-bright, A mile apart, there rose a fiat-topped mound, So low the acclivity was very slight And suitable to form a camping ground ; Fair grass fields, too, and interspersed \\\i\\ these Were groves and scattered clumps of standing trees. Behind the fields, with oiUHne brave and bold, Besprent with many a tint of greenerie. There stood a great belt of the forest old, W'lose topmost sprays aye rippled like a sea To every breath of wind that that way strayed, And a soft susnrrus of whisper made. 170 EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. Within the woods were winding woodland piitlis Made long ago by devious Indian trails, And now kept light and open by the maths Of short sweet grasses and the autumn swales Of fallen forest leaves, that showered adown And spread a foot-mat, crimson, green, and brown. On one point of the landscape, where tlie brake Was cut away, was seen a still tiord That, backed by farms, lay looking like a lake Embedded between verdant banks, and shored By a smooth narrow ribbon of lirm sands, Where fairies well might trip and there take hands. It was, in truth, a (piiet shady place, A nook apart from trafiic's toil and moil ; Nor fair nor market, but unbroken face Of lush green pastures on a fertile soil, ^\ I'll clothed with wealth of woods, by nature's bounty. And known as Heknkwood all throughout the county ; For the blue herons there would build their nests High up on the tall tops of withered pines, And sit there with their bills upon their breasts, Or on one leg erect would stand in lines, Fishing along the inlet's marish sedges. Like sculptured ibises on old Nile's edges. The fairies much approved the meads so green, But yet they missed the daisies and primroses. Though thyme and violets and herbs unseen Sent a most grateful perfume to their nose.s. And all tlie ground was dotted With white stars Of bird-berry blooms and yellow butter-jars. In short, 'twas just the spot for fairy raids. With shifting points of view and ample space, W:th cloistered avenues and sheltered shades, Not yet infested by the human race. But lying in the bosoui of the woods And full alike of fields and solitudes. 'IT>. EMIGRATION OF THE FAIRIES. 171 Which, when our pilgrims saw, with wild delight They cried " Eureka ! we have found it now ! J lere are new meads, new woods, new brooks of light, A Home as fair as our old haunts, we trow. And" (as in Indian tongue it is expressed), " Here, ala-ba-ma, we set up our rest." Then, Avithont title or search of archives. Or warrant iu the leaves of dooms-day book, They swarmed about, as bees about their hives, And made themselves at home in every nook, And without deed of gift or formal cession Then and there forthwith entered on possession. They pitched their camp without ere more ado. And made their minds up never more to roam, A genial, jocund, roUic, happy crew, Who, after perils past, had found a home. They were at home — but, not to mince such matters, To all intents and purposes were squatters. It happened luckily the place was not Reserved by Government, nor was it tit To sell as building lots, but was a spot Belonged to one who loved (and lived on) it, A man who, with a harmless eccentricity, In a rude country life sought his felicity. So that, so far from sending for a bailiftj Or for a clergyman to exorcise them, He (like Ilaroun al Raschid, the good caliph). Sat down to ponder how he could devise them In shape of a small permanent annuity, The lands they'd squatted on, in perpetuity. Therefore he framed some rules for his dependents, A sort of autocratic moral law, Binding upon himself and his descendants That, under pain of dog-whip, hoof nor claw Nor boy should trespass on the fairies' spot, And all men who disturbed them should be shot. 172 EMTG RATION OF THE FATHIES. Under this gnidint? iind paternal care Tlie Fairy I'olks liave grown and nndtiplied, And in their Xew Home, wilder, not less fair Than their old English haunt, they now abide, And have resumed their froliesome old iiabits — As lithe as squirrels and as smug as rabbits. So that 'tis not uncommon now to see, On quiet, restful nights, at full o' the moon. When all things are outlined so charmingly, In the chaste splendor of the night's white noon, And light and shade the May-flowered moss besmirches, Fairy processions 'mong the white-stenmied birches Or, on soft summer days, among the branches, To iind them on the bending leaf-sprays swinging. Or hunting butterilies across the ranches, Or beating tambourines, and small bells ringing, . In lively rigadoon reels gaily dancing, With their white cymars in the sunlight glancing; Or on the faint and mellow autumn eves. Wading knee-deep in aftermath of clover. Or playing hide and seek among the sheaves. Or blindman's buflj and rolling o'er and over, Or on the orchard fence, with jigs and grapples, All busily engaged in stealing apples. When some old friend can spare a long day out, In my old woods to chat of days agone. And when he asks, "Who plays like Colin Clout, That piped so merrilie was never none?" And vows he hears the sound of pipes and tabors; J tell my startled guest '"^Vs my Good Neiijhbors." Thus have I told the true cale, as I find Writ in our annals, how the fairy folks, Unwitting driven by fate — Fate is not blind — Kow dance 'neath maples 'stead of English oaks, And how, obeying Colonization's law, The genial F'airies cnrae to Canada. THE TEIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. A ROM AUNT. m Hi i The triumph of constancy. Sir Pallinor was faithless. Prince (lodefroy Himself had given him knightly accolade, And in the chapel royal at Paris, The archepiscoi)al of Aries had read And channters from Avignon's (|uire had simg. Isotte, the fairest maid of Daiiphine, Had hasped his brooch and clasped his mantle on, And little Oriant, with her silky hands, Had featly buckled golden spur on heel, And I'rince (Jodefroy had charged him: "Go, good lance, Among the faithful he, Knight Pallinor!" And Pallinor had bowed his tri-plumed head, And, mounting his brown steed, had rode away. But Pallinor was faithless. As the bee That sees no llower but that it lists to sip In very wantonness its sweetliness. He ne'er saw maid but that he loved her well, Or to his mind the fancy seemed he did — And whom he loved ln' vauntt d under shield In joust joyeus or stricken lield of arms. For braver knight ne'er buckled harness on. And, unto men, none faithfuller than be ; But in the lists, when heralds made acclaim. And kn'ghts rode out, men looked upon his crest And said, "This knight's love hath her colors green;" But, ere the day was done, among his plumes A broidered sleeve of bluest azure streamed. And men said, " Nay, liis love is blue, not green." And yet anon around his burnished helm Would a blanche favor float like a white cloud, And men would gibe : " This knight's love keeps not green, And his blue sky of love is under cloud." (175) i|| IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) / O V ^ w-^/ ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 • W |2J 2.2 IIIIIM lIM 140 IIIII2.0 1-4 111.6 Am (P a >> O cf^l -r c^l ^ c^J ^># ^> OJ^, ^ %• PhotogiBphic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 672-4503 Q- S' s % \ 176 THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. Yet each fair maid whose colors that he wore Deemed she was lovedest and believed in him, For he had that bad gift, a glozing tongue Of gallant nothings and sweet sugared words That promise little yet imply so much ; So that, when time passed and he rode away, His course, like to a meteor's of the air, Was followed by a plaintive wind of sighs. Ill rode behind him ; for once on a day. When journeying, squireless, by a great wood's edge. That made a boundary to a champaign land, And thinking not of those who thought of him. But careless, singing, wending in and out Among the sentinel outlying trees. Along a track so lone and little used. His steed's hoofs crushed the lemon-thyme and fern, A band of robber caitifls set on him, As buzzards on a tercil; beat him down, And, with their gross thief instincts all aflame, Despoiled him of his gypsire and his arms. And by his shiin steed and tlie tiueves he slew Left him prone on llie trampled turf for dead. -Just then the one child of a sorcerer. Who dwelt anear, came on her palfrey by, A sparhawk on her list, and at her heels A dun dwarf, who was set to wait on her ; For this girl-child was barely woman grown. And faery fair as sorcerers' daughters are. And from the great wood's heart, where dwelt her sire. Would, as a butterfly from shady place, Come out to preen herself in open sun. She had been taught the leecli's crafty skill, And knew white magic ; and she, seeing him '■ Thus stricken down and fallen like an oak, Looked carefully, and deemed tlie life in him ; Then spoke with fmgers to the tongueless dwarf, AVho, barrel-builded, and with bullock's neck, Muscular limbed as is a Uri bull, THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. 177 1 Hejived up the corpse-stiff, heavy-armored knight, As feather-light, and bore him to her bower. Long time lie lay 'twixt death and conscionsness, While low the flicker of his life, and faint ' As phosphorescent wandering will-o'-wisp That settles on the corpses of slain men ; But life's lamp crescent grew, for, being fed With shrewd alchemicals and spirit-oils, Tlie light waxed brillianter and steadier Till the look on his face grew rational ; Yet long he lay, a figure on a bed. Without volition, save he strove to raise His heavy lids, but found them leaded down. So that but flickering, curt, fantastical. ' Like sunbeams shimmered from a water glass, Were the surroundings that he thought he saw ; Yet wsus he conscious of one shapeless sliape. In a loose formless robe that flowed adown And hid the wearer, for, when e'er he spied, It hovered near or by liis pillow sate. Like to death's angel waiting for his soul, Until his light delirium passed away, And he took notice that it tended him With kindly offices, and when, sometimes, He opened wide his heavy -lidded eyes. It seemed as he saw waiting bowermaids And a dwarf watching by the door of hall. ! Thus grew he slowly convalescent man, • And saw more clearly ; then it was he knew ' jj The hands that tended him were woman's hands, 1 { And very soft and velvetty ; the voice ,1 That sometimes spoke from out the sable hood i Had woman's intonation, soft and low, i And to his mind it came that she was young ; j | That she was kind he knew, and might be fair, And then the fountain of his gratitude Brimmed up and up until it bubbled o'er. At long and length, when he hud stronger grown, ; -% 178 THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. The figure in the black robe spoke to him: "Sir Knight, now thou art on the road to life, Do the fair courtesy to tell thy name." Then said the knight, "Men call me Pallinor." " The Faithle.HK!" said the figure, quietly. Whereon a vision of his past passed by With lightning quickness, and he answered her, Soul-stricken : " Nay, if so, I know it not — That name bewrayeth me ; for One would find Me faithful as a tried and trusty steel, If Thou wert She, for, maid, I love thee well." Then for a little space both silent were. And might be seen the fringes on her hood Vibrate as with quick breath, and the glass jets That hasped her mantle coruscations threw, As if the bosom underneath were stirred. And then the Knight: "Now of thy courtesy. Good maiden, lift a space thy shrouding veil." After a little while the maid spake low : "Thou lov'st fair ladies — I am black as char. And when thou see'st will pledge no faith with me." " Nay ! " cried the knight ; " I love thee, maid, par fay ! And twice, and thrice, I swear it by my fay, An' thou wert black as sooty Sathan's dam — And now that I have pledged my plight to thee, I pray thee, gentle donzelle, draw thy veil." Then humbly said the maiden, " Be it so," And with a little motion of the hand Undid tlie pin and let the curtain fall That showed a youthful face, but dusk as Ind ; Then with a little sigh responded he : " Donzelle, thy face is dusky as the night. But in that night thine eyes are as the stars ; Yet have I sworn to love thee day and night, And once again I swear it, knightly fay ! " So was the wooing done ; and when again . Sir Pallinor was hale and hearty man, THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. 179 He claimed the maid, and when her mystic sire, Who knew the secrets of the C. A. B. A. L. A., Abracadabra, and the Cross of Rose, Had given assent, they sought an anchorite To weld the chain ; and then, light swung a-croup The dun bride with her husband rode away. I Now, gentles ! it beseemeth this is true: Who feedeth but on honey sateth soon, 80 ere few moons had passed it fared but ill With married Pallinor at Argenteuil. A weariness fell on him — he would roam Out on the moorland wastes with no crossbow, Or in the vaulted arches of the tower, Where his hounds, sleeping, dreamed of venerie. Would pat his steed, but took him not from stall ; Or, restlessly would whistle to his hawk. And cast her off' with hood and jesses on. So that unflown at on the weedy mere The mallard fearless swum, and the blue heme Stood like an image on the mossgrown stone ; Or in the hall he would unsheathe his brand. And, glancing at the blade from point to heel, Would hang it on the antlers on the wall ; Or poise his lance, then lean its slender shaft Beside his burnished armour listlessly. Till, seeing him thus listless on a day His dame brought to him sword and jousting cap, And thus spake to him as he sat and mused : "My Pallinor! thy black bride wearies thee; > Go forth into the world as thou wert wont And an' thou tirest come again to me." Then did the knight, half-guiltily surprised, With one long searching look into her eyes, Let his own fall, and answered, " Let it be." On which the dame said : "Ere thou leavest me Accord this fancy : Here be seven rings. Of diamond, topaz, ruby, amethyst. Emerald, and sapphire, and chalcedonie, 180 THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. Each with the legend, ' Courtesy, not love,' Should in thy wanderings any fair donzcUc Accord thee loyal hosi)itality ; vVnd here be seven more of curious gold, Fined in the royal mines of Ispahan, With prisoned sunlight in them from the land Where Magians once gave worship to the sun. And on each ring is carven " C(i here, Which heaven hinder ; " whereon, graceful leaning Upon her floating, crimson pillow, she, The Lady of the Bath, said sweetly : " Nay, This is t. d (iarden of all Love Delights ; Stay with us, brave and gentle stranger, stay. Nor s?ek a-field for further aventure.' But all abashed the knight cast down his eyes And mused a little space, then took two rings. One of the gem and one of curious gold. And thought the question : " "Which one shall it be ? " Till at the length he said : '' O Lady mine ! Most ravishingly beautiful, more fair Than minstrels from the clime of orient sun, Tell of the queen that lives among the lilies, To whom all night the loving lovebir».ls sing; Such leaven of bliss not bliss of mine may be. But yet I pray thee of thy courtesy Accept this ring of topaz, in whose heart Burn red and yellow embers — look on it, And think it is my heart almost aflame. But ask no reason why no more may be." Then, raising up the curtain, he passed through Out of the temple, in among the limes. And thence along the sloping grassy dales, Much picturing to his fancy love delights. But saying soft : " No, no, it might not be." Ere long the dell grew wild and many-coved, Taking the features of a mountain glen, Down which the brook, no more a mirror, flowed, But leaped and fretted in the cloven rifts. Making a sullen murmur 'mong the stones, ' Which, as he followed up towards its source, It led him to a hill of difliculty All seamed and riven, with landslips and dens Where stunted pines hung grasping with their roots, And plats of quaking bog beset the way. Where the black newts swum wriggling, and the efts THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. 189 Among the bulrush spesirs sat up and stared. With a great castle was the steep hill crowned, Grey lichened, ruin-touched, and thunder-scarred, With wall embattled and eight towers of brass That glowed with a dull light of red and green; But Pallinor, nought fearing, to the wall Rode up, and stoutly blew the strangers' horn, At which a knave the wicket slid, and said: "Enter! thou'rt waited for;" whereon the knight, Dismounting, followed up the turret stair. There at the head of a long board, upon An oaken set'le raised upon a dais, A giant five ells tall there sate, and plied A dagger-knife as long as a sword-blade, With which he hungry sliced the boar and brawn, While by his elbo\' . reaming o'er, there stood A bush el -measure nuig of humming ale, Which ever and anon he swigged full free ; Beside him sate a lady beautiful. Who cast sweet glances at the stranger guest. Causing him in his hidden mind to say : " This gracious dame is like the pomegranate, A bud of sweetness in a ragged bush." By her the knight sate, treated honorably, While in rude revelry below the salt Were knave and varlet, each in his degree, And buxom strapping wenches and men's wives. The banquet o'er, the giant with his child Led the guest forth to a withdrawing room. And thus addressed him : " Know, thou stranger knight. My winsome daughter came of age to-day, And, when a child, a fairy godmother Did prophecy that on her woman's day A knight should come to mate her — thou art he ! Nor is she portionless : but hath for dower The land thou from this hilltop see'st, jvs far As in two hours a long-winged hawk can fly, Or o'er whicii in a day a hound may run ; And 'tis as a Jew's gypsire, rich and warm 190 THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. With ruddy copper and crisp manganite, Lodestone and argal, and red jaspar stones, Lurking in sandy veins of porphyry ; And in the forest is a fount of life That whoso drinks thereof straightway is young ; With this a blush of grapes and mulberries, Thickets all golden-balled with oranges, And olives ripening into flasks of oil ; Herself thou see'st — a winsome thing enow, And, faith ! for thee I think her something fain- Take her or leave her ! " As he sjDoke, the maid Looked blushing up, expectant of her fate. Sir Pallinor with courtesy made reply : " Most doughty Geaunt, my stout Lord Bardn, And sweet of sweetest dames, it may not be " More had he said, but that the giant sprung And with a knotted club beat down the brand That Pallinor, as swift, defensive drew. Then, with the strength of twenty runyon men, He seized the baffled and maze-stricken knight And swung him like a kitten by the nape. And, opening a floor-trapdoor, dropped him in, Then closed the hasp and took away the key. How long he lay the knight knew not, for all Was dark as sin and Sathan — but had time To think of his own home in Argenteuil, Where his young wife, though dun, was kind to him. And to the zither sang his slumber songs, Or played with him and spiced his clary wine. Now had he vowed a vow, but ere 'twas framed Some creature came and plucked him by the sleeve. And, heaving back a pivot-turning stone. Led the knight out once more beneath the moon. Then did the varlet who had set him free Place in his hand a riband written on With small, light cyphers that expressed : " Loved knight, Send me some token that thou lovest me. And I will fly with thee ; " whereon the knight THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. 191 i Drew forth his last ring, the chalcedony, With its cold legend, "Courtesy, not Love," And in the riband wrapping it, he gave Into the varlet's palm, and saying thus, " This for thy ladie," rode adown the hill. Until, ere long, the grey presaged the dawn. Then, musing on his aventures, he took The road he deemed would lead to Argenteuil. There strode he into hall, and his dun bride, Up from her tambour rising, smiled on him, And he : " Here be your rings of gold again, The seven gemmed I gave for courtesy." Which, as he said, she clasped him round the neck, And, piping-voiced, cried : " Pallinor ! help Me ! " My wife is black and freckled like a toad !" Wear it thyself, or give it to thy Saint I " Although it be a bauble for a Queen I " Prithee, hath Ferracutus still the key ? " Sweet child, forget all but thy courtesy!" ^^ Next with a merry laugh and moon-round eyes : "() H^ly Paul ! there is some glamour here I" Then with both hands she took him by the hand And gently led him to the fountain room, Undid her zone and let her drapery fall. And in the deep bath lightly leaping, flung A showery splash of prismy water-drops— Like a brown cygnet dived, and he could see Beneath the water a bright silvery wake. From out of which, all beautiful, emerged Up to the surface buoyant, dun no more. But radiant ixs the blush-white water-lily That rises up receptive to the sun. In wavy brilliance, a most perfect form, As sweet as lily, and the once black bride, Now lily, in her bath of fragrancy Lay floating — a white splendour. When robed again she took him to lier bower, And sitting on his knee, said : " Pallinor, 192 |ai;| THE TRIUMPH OF CONSTANCY. Here be the rings thou gav'st in courtesy, The diamond, topaz, ruby, amethyst, The emerald, sapphire, and chalcedonie, And all those seven rings did'st thou give to Me! — 'Twas not for nought thou wed the sorcerer's child. Although my magic is but white, not foul." Whereon he, taking counsel with himself, •••, Half shamed, half vexed, yet wholly satisfied, Made vow within himself to stray no more — Nor did he, for throughout his honored life Sir Pallinor the Faithful was he called. And on his tomb Fidelis Pallinor. * "TW ^^^ f^^ V. e! — ild, \ * .*