By Thomas D’Arcy McGee




In the sea-port of Saint Malo ’twas a smiling morn in May
When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed             away;
In the crowded old Cathedral all the town were on their knees
For the safe return of kinsmen from the undiscover’d seas;
And every autumn blast that swept o’er pinnacle and pier


Filled manly hearts with sorrow and gentle hearts with fear.


A year passed o’er Saint Malo—again came round the day
When the Commodore Jacques Cartier to the westward sailed             away;
But no tidings from the absent had come the way they went,
And tearful were the vigils that many a maiden spent;


And manly hearts were filled with gloom and gentle hearts with             fear
When no tidings came from Cartier at the closing of the year.             [Page 12]


But the Earth is as the Future, it hath its hidden side,
And the Captain of Saint Malo was rejoicing in his pride
In the forests of the north—while his townsmen mourned his loss


He was rearing on Mount-Royal the fleur-de-lis and cross;
And when two months were over and added to the year,
Saint Malo hailed him home again, cheer answering to cheer.


He told them of a region, hard, iron-bound and cold,
Nor seas of pearl abounded, nor mines of shining gold,


Where the wind from Thulé freezes the word upon the lip,
And the ice in spring comes sailing athwart the early ship;
He told them of the frozen scene until they thrill’d with fear,
And piled fresh fuel on the hearth to make him better cheer.


But when he chang’d the strain—he told how soon is cast


In early Spring the fetters that hold the waters fast;
How the Winter causeway broken is drifted out to sea,
And the rills and rivers sing with pride the anthem of the free;
How the magic wand of Summer clad the landscape to his eyes,
Like the dry bones of the just, when they wake in Paradise.
             [Page 13]



He told them of the Algonquin braves—the hunters of the wild,
Of how the Indian mother in the forest rocks her child;
Of how, poor souls, they fancy in every living thing
A spirit good or evil, that claims their worshipping;
Of how they brought their sick and maim’d for him to breathe


And of the wonders wrought for them thro’ the Gospel of St.
            John. (2)


He told them of the river whose might current gave
Its freshness for a hundred leagues to ocean’s briny wave;
He told them of the glorious scene presented to his sight,
What time he reared the cross and crown on Hochelaga’s height,


And of the fortress cliff that keeps of Canada the key,
And they welcomed back Jacques Cartier from his perils over             sea. [Page 14]