Madeleine Vercheres

I've told you many a tale, my child, of the

  old heroic days

Of Indian wars and massacre, of villages ablaze

With savage torch, from Ville Marie to the

  Mission of Trois Rivieres

But never have I told you yet, of Madeleine

  Vercheres.

Summer had come with its blossoms, and gaily

  the robin sang

And deep in the forest arches the axe of the

  woodman rang

Again in the waving meadows, the sun-browned

  farmers met

And out on the green St. Lawrence, the fisher-

  man spread his net.

And so through the pleasant season, till the

  days of October came

When children wrought their parents, and

  even the old and lame

With tottering frames and footsteps, their

  feeble labors lent

At the gathering of the harvest le bon Dieu

  himself had sent.

For news there was none of battle, from the

  forts on the Richelieu

To the gates of the ancient city, where the

  flag of King Louis flew

All peaceful the skies hung over the seignerie

  of Vercheres,

Like the calm that so often cometh, ere the

  hurricanes rends the air.

And never a thought of danger had the

  Seigneur sailing away,

To join the soldiers of Carignan, where down

  at Quebec they lay,

But smiled on his little daughter, the maiden

  Madeleine,

And a necklet of jewels promised her, when

  home he should come again.

And ever the days passed swiftly, and careless

  the workmen grew

For the months they seemed a hundred, since

  the last war-bugle blew.

Ah! little they dreamt on their pillows, the

  farmers of Vercheres,

That the wolves of the southern forest had

  scented the harvest fair.

Like ravens they quickly gather, like tigers

  they watch their prey

Poor people! with hearts so happy, they sang

  as they toiled away.

Till the murderous eyeballs glistened, and the

  tomahawk leaped out

And the banks on the green St. Lawrence

  echoed the savage shout.

"Oh mother of Christ have pity," shrieked

  the women in despair

"This is no time for praying," cried the young

  Madeleine Vercheres,

"Aux armes! aux armes! les Iroquois! quick

  to your arms and guns

Fight for your God and country and the lives

  of the inocent ones."

And she sped like a deer of the mountain, when

  beagles press close behind

And the feet that would follow after, must be

  swift as the prairie wind.

Alas! for the men and women, and litle ones

  that day

For the road it was long and weary, and the

  fort it was far away.

But the fawn had outstripped the hunters, and

  the palisades drew near,

And soon from the inner gateway the war-

  bugle rang out clear;

Gallant and clear it sounded, with never a note

  of despair

'T was a soldier of France's challenge, from

  the young Madeleine Vercheres.

"And this is my little garrison, my brothers

  Louis and Paul?

With soldiers two- and a cripple? may the

  Virgin pray for us all.

But we've powder and guns in plenty, and

  we 'll fight to the latest breath

And if need be for God and country, die a

  brave soldier's death.

"Load all the carabines quickly, and whenever

  you sight the foe

Fire from the upper turret, and the loopholes

  down below.

Keep up the fire, brave soldiers, though the

  fight may be fierce and long

And they 'll think out little garrison is more

  than a hundred strong."

So spake the maiden Madeleine, and she roused

  the Norman blood

That seemed for a moment sleeping, and sent

  it like a flood

Though every heart around her, and they

  fought the red Iroquois

As fought in the old time battles, the soldiers

  of Carignan.

And they say the black clouds gathered, and a

  tempest swept the sky

And the roar of the thunder mingled with the

  forest tiger's cry

But still the garrison fought on, while the

  lightning's jagged spear

Tore a hole in the night's dark curtain, and

  showed them a foeman near.

And the sun rose up in the morning, and the

  color of blood was he

Gazing down from the heavens on the little

  company.

"Behold! my friend!" cried the maiden, " 't is

  a warning lest we forget

Though the night saw us do our duty, our

  work is not finished yet."

And six days followed each other, and feeble

  her limbs became

Yet the maid never sought her pillow, and the

  flash of the carabines' flames

Illuminated the powder-smoked face, aye, even

  when hope seemed gone

And she only smiled on her comrades, and told

  them to fight, fight on.

And she blew a blast on the bugle, and lo!

  from the forest black

Merrily, merrily ringing, an answer came peal-

 ing back

Oh! pleasant and sweet it sounded, borne on

  the morning air,

For it heralded fifty soldiers, with gallant De

  la Monniere.

And when he beheld the maiden, the soldier

  of Carignan,

And looked on the little garrison that fought

  the red Iroquois

And held their own in the battle, for six long

  weary days,

He stood for a moment speechless, and mar-

  velled at woman's ways.

Then he beckoned the men behind him and

  steadily they advance

And with carabines uplifted, the veterans of

  France

Saluted the brave young captain so timidly

  standing there

And they fired a volley in honor of Madeleine

  Vercheres.

And this, my dear, is the story of the maiden

  Madeleine

God grant that we in Canada may never see

  again

Such cruel wars and massacres, in waking or in

  dream

As our fathers and mothers saw, my child, in

  the days of the old regime.