A Canadian Epic, VIII–XXXI

'Twas man condemned me to a life of woe, And 'twas not God. The pride of man hath said That I must suffer thus. It must be so Because the baronet was nobler bred. Oh, cruel, cruel wrong! Oh mockery! That bluer blood should sever her from me!

Give thanks to God, Canadians, that ye Have not been cursed with nobility. And, as you love your country, keep it free From those whose utter inutility For any good is proven by their pride Of blood; they have not aught to boast beside.

A noble land is yours, and ye may well Be proud of her. And here before me lies Your greatest city. Would that I could tell One-half the tales of brave self-sacrifice Which those who founded Montreal had shown, Ere yet the name of Canada was known.

But, should I strive to speak of every deed Of sacrifice and brave endurance borne By all your heroes, I should feel the need Of greater time, and heart less sorrow-worn; Nor have the Muses so inspired my pen That I can fitly praise those noble men.

Yet would I strive to sing as best I may Of him who landed first upon this shore; I fain would speak of hardy Cartier: His ship the first St. Lawrence ever bore; His face the first pale-face the Indians Had seen; his deeds well merit utterance.

Three centuries and half a century Have sped their course since Cartier set sail From France, intent upon discovery. He oft had heard the wonder-stirring tale Of distant lands possessed of mighty wealth; These now he would discover for himself.

And westward sailing on his unknown way, In course of time he met his due reward; And sailed this noble river on the day Made holy to St. Lawrence. He implored The blessing of the Saint upon his aim, And called the gulf and river by his name.

Then, landing on the wooded shore, he knelt Before his God, and offered up a prayer To Him, to show the gratitude he felt Towards the God whose hand had brought him there In safety. And he asked for further aid And guidance in the land where now he stayed.

When men were more unlearned than they are In this our present scientific day, The earth to heaven seemed to be more near, And God Himself appeared less far away. For deeds accomplished, or for blessings given, Due praise was offered to the God of Heaven.

But now our wise philosophers, and those Whose scientific knowledge is so vast That he who knows what has escaped them knows What is not worth the knowing; these, at last, Have reached to such a pinnacle of pride, That God Himself is little by their side.

In truth, their learning has become so great That their imagination can conceive No being mightier than they, and, straight, In God's existence they will not believe. And men untutored listen to their word, And deem those foolish who believe the Lord.

But Cartier was living in an age When Science in her cradle was asleep, And men accounted not themselves too sage To bow to God in prayer, nor to reap The benefits which only can accrue To those whose faith in God is pure and true.

So he besought a blessing from his Lord Before he re-embarked; then, setting sail, The newly-christened river he explored, Till, favored by a gently-blowing gale, He reached the Hochelaga settlement Of Indians, and thence no further went.

A hundred years elapsed, and then there came A little band from France to yonder isle; To found a mission and a fort their aim; And there they laboured for their faith, the while Protecting them as best they might from those Who proved themselves their fierce and bitter foes.

The Iroquois, by cruel hate possessed, Left not a chance untaken to obtain A reeking scalp; and fiercely they oppressed The little band, whose suffering and pain, In Montreal and all throughout the land, Seemed more than human frailty could withstand.

But Maisonneuve and they who followed him Were bent upon a high and holy aim; Their undertaking was no foolish whim, Nor had they come for honour or for fame. A Jesuitic band, they sought to win Those Indians from a life of death and sin.

They sought to win them to the faith which they Themselves possessed, and thought it not a hard, Nor yet an unexpected, thing to lay Their own lives down to win them. Their reward They counted not to win on earth, but knew That each in Heaven would gain the glory due.

What though the Jesuitic creed be not As true and generous a faith as that Which we profess; what though a bloody blot Has stained its page of history; the great And worthy deeds those fathers wrought should raise A feeling in our hearts of loving praise.

They suffered for their God and for their Pope; They suffered for their faith, to them as true And pure as ours to us, and in the hope That God would bless their labours, and endue The savage Indians with a softer heart, And give them with the blessed ones a part.

They merit praise and honour, but the cause For which they laboured merits none of these; A cruel creed, with harsh and bloody laws, The very name of Christ it travesties. An evil Order, working in the name Of Christianity dark deeds of shame.

He whom they call their Master suffered not His followers to mingle in the strife Of politics—not such their chosen lot; Theirs to prepare men for a higher life. And yet He bade them to their king be true, And offer unto Cæsar all his due.

But this do not the Jesuits; they fain Would undermine the power of the land In which they dwell, and every effort strain To take the civil sceptre in their hand. They creep, as serpents, smoothly on their prey, But subtly spread their poison in the way.

And these, Canadians, have found a home Within your shores. Ye know not what ye do In harb'ring them. Be sure the day will come When ye will bitterly and sadly rue Your action. Other lands will not permit The entrance of the hated Jesuit.

But why should I presume to thus dictate To ye? And what know I of all the things Which influence your Ministers of State, That I should utter forth these murmurings? By greed and selfish motives unpossessed, They, in their wisdom, must do what is best!