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Title: Champlain
Author: William Henry Drummond [
More Titles by Drummond]
"W'ere 'll we go?" says Pierre de Monts,[1]
To hese'f as he walk de forwar' deck,
"For I got ma share of Trois Rivieres
An' I never can lak Kebeck--
Too moche Nort' Pole--maudit! it 's cole
Oh! la! la! de win' blow too.
An' I 'm sure w'at I say, M'sieu Pontgrave
He know very well it 's true.
But here 's de boat, an' we 're all afloat
A honder an' fifty ton--
An' look at de lot of man we got,
No better beneat' de sun--
Provision, too, for all de crew
An' pries' for to say de prayer,
So mes chers amis, dey can easy see
De vessel mus' pass somew'ere.
If I only know de way to go
For findin' some new an' pleasan' lan',"
But jus' as he spik, he turn roun' quick,
An' dere on de front, sir, stan' de Man.
"You was callin' me, I believe," says he,
As brave as a lion--"Tiens!
W'en we reach de sea, an' de ship is free,
You can talk wit' Samuel de Champlain." [2]
Wan look on hees eye an' he know for w'y
Young Samuel spik no more,
So he shake hees han', an' say, "Young man,
Too bad you don't come before;
But now you are here, we 'll geev' t'ree cheer,
An' away w'erever you want to go--
For I lak your look an' swear on de Book
You 'll fin' de good frien' on Pierre de Monts."
So de sail 's set tight, an' de win' is right,
For it 's blowin' dem to de wes'--
An' dey say deir prayer, for God knows w'ere
De anchor will come to res'--
Adieu to de shore dey may see no more--
Good-bye to de song an' dance--
De girl dey love, an' de star above
Kipin' watch on de lan' of France.
Den it 's "Come below, M'sieu Pierre de Monts,"
Champlain he say to de capitaine--
"An' I 'll tell to you, w'at I t'ink is true
Dough purty hard, too, for understan'--
I dream a dream an' it alway seem
Dat God hese'f he was say to me--
'Rise up, young man, de quick you can
An' sail your ship on de western sea.
"'De way may be long, an' de win' be strong,
An' wave sweep over de leetle boat--
But never you min', an' you 're sure to fin',
If you trus' in me, you will kip afloat.'
An' I tak' dat ship, an' I mak' de trip
All on de dream I was tellin' you--
An' oh! if you see w'at appear to me,
I wonder w'at you was a-t'inkin' too?
"I come on de lan' w'ere dere 's no w'ite man--
I come on de shore w'ere de grass is green--
An' de air is clear as de new-born year,
An' of all I was see, dis lan's de Queen--
So I 'm satisfy if we only try
An' fin' if dere 's anyt'ing on ma dream,
An' I 'll show de way," Champlain is say--
Den Pierre de Monts he is answer heem,
"All right, young man, do de bes' you can--
So long you don't bring me near Kebeck--
Or Trois Rivieres, not moche I care,
An' I hope your dream's comin' out correc'."
So de brave Champlain he was say, "Tres bien,"
An' soon he was boss of de ship an' crew
An' pile on de sail, wedder calm or gale--
Oh! dat is de feller know w'at to do.
Don't I see heem dere wit' hees long black hair
On de win' blowin' out behin'--
Watchin' de ship as she rise an' dip,
An' always follerin' out de Sign?
An' day affer day I can hear heem say
To de sailor man lonesome for home an' frien',
"Cheer up, mes amis, for soon you will see
De lan' risin' up on de oder en'."
Wall! de tam go by, an' still dey cry
"Oh! bring us back for de familee's sake."
Even Pierre de Monts fin' it leetle slow
An' t'ink mebbe somebody mak' mistake--
But he don't geev' in for he 's boun' to win'--
De young Champlain--an' hees heart grow strong
W'en de voice he hear say, "Never fear;
You won't have to suffer for very long."
Alone on de bow I can see heem now
Wan mornin' in May w'en de sun was rise--
Smellin' de air lak a bloodhoun', dere--
An' de light of de Heaven shine on hees eyes.
A minute or more he is wait before
He tak' off de hat an' raise hees han'--
Den down on de knee, sayin', "Dieu merci!"
He cross hese'f dere, an' I understan'--
"Ho! Ho! De Monts! are you down below,
Sleepin' so soun' on de bed somew'ere?
If you 're feelin' well, come up an' tell
W'at kin' of a cloud you be seein' dere."
Den every wan shout w'en de voice ring out
Of de young Champlain on dat summer day,
"Lan'! it is lan'!" cry de sailor man--
You can hear dem holler ten mile away.
Port Rossignol is de place dey call
(I 'm sorry dat nam' it was disappear);
An' mos' ev'ry tree dem Frenchman see
Got nice leetle bird singin', "Welcome here."
An' happy dey were, dem voyageurs
An' de laugh come out on de sailors' face--
No wonder, too, w'en de shore dey view,
For w'ere can you see it de better place?
* * * * * *
If you want to fin' w'at is lef' behin'
Of de story I try very hard tell you,
Don't bodder me now or raise de row,
But study de book de sam' I do.
[1] De-mo.
[2] Shaum-pla.
[The end]
William Henry Drummond's poem: Champlain
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