English poem
The Phantom Light Of The Baie Des Chaleurs
by John C. Saul
’Tis the laughter of pines that swing and sway Where the breeze from the land meets the breeze from the bay; ’Tis the silvery foam of the silver tide In ripples that reach to the forest side; ’Tis the fisherman’s boat, in a track of sheen, Plying through tangled seaweed green O’er the Baie des Chaleurs.
Who has not heard of the phantom light That over the moaning waves, at night, Dances and drifts in endless play, Close to the shore, then far away, Fierce as the flame in sunset skies, Cold as the winter light that lies On the Baie des Chaleurs?
They tell us that many a year ago, From lands where the palm and the olive grow, Where vines with their purple clusters creep Over the hillsides gray and steep, A knight in his doublet, slashed with gold, Famed, in that chivalrous time of old, For valorous deeds and courage rare, Sailed with a princess wondrous fair To the Baie des Chaleurs.
That a pirate crew from some isle of the sea, A murderous band as e’er could be, With a shadowy sail, and a flag of night, That flaunted and flew in heaven’s sight, Sailed in the wake of the lovers there, And sank the ship and its freight so fair In the Baie des Chaleurs.
Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell: They say that a ball of fire fell Straight from the sky, with crash and roar, Lighting the bay from shore to shore; Then the ship, with shudder and with groan, Sank through the waves to the caverns lone Of the Baie des Chaleurs.
That was the last of the pirate crew; But many a night a black flag flew From the mast of a spectre vessel, sailed By a spectre band that wept and wailed For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land, For the innocent blood they had spilt on the sand Of the Baie des Chaleurs.
This is the tale of the phantom light That fills the mariner’s heart, at night, With dread as it gleams o’er his path on the bay, Now by the shore, then far away, Fierce as the flame in sunset skies, Cold as the winter moon that lies On the Baie des Chaleurs. --ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON.