The Voyageur and Other Poems Part 1

The Voyageur and Other Poems.

by William Henry Drummond.

The Voyageur

Dere's somet'ing stirrin' ma blood tonight, On de night of de young new year, Wile de camp is warm an' de fire is bright, An' de bottle is close at han'-- Out on de reever de nort' win' blow, Down on de valley is pile de snow, But w'at do we care so long we know We 're safe on de log cabane?

Drink to de healt' of your wife an' girl, Anoder wan for your frien', Den geev' me a chance, for on all de worl'

I 've not many frien' to spare-- I 'm born, w'ere de mountain sc.r.a.pe de sky, An' bone of ma fader an' moder lie, So I fill de gla.s.s an' I raise it high An' drink to de Voyageur.

For dis is de night of de jour de l'an,[1]

W'en de man of de Grand Nor' Wes'

T'ink of hees home on de St. Laurent, An' frien' he may never see-- Gone he is now, an' de beeg canoe No more you 'll see wit' de red-s.h.i.+rt crew, But long as he leev' he was alway true, So we 'll drink to hees memory.

Ax' heem de nort' win' w'at he see Of de Voyageur long ago, An' he 'll say to you w'at he say to me, So lissen hees story well-- "I see de track of hees botte sau-vage[2]

On many a hill an' long portage Far far away from hees own vill-age An' soun' of de parish bell--

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Far, far away from hees own vill-age An' soun' of de parish bell."]

"I never can play on de Hudson Bay Or mountain dat lie between But I meet heem singin' hees lonely way De happies' man I know-- I cool hees face as he 's sleepin' dere Under de star of de Red Riviere, An' off on de home of de great w'ite bear, I 'm seein' hees dog traineau.[3]

"De woman an' chil'ren 's runnin' out On de wigwam of de Cree-- De leetle papoose dey laugh an' shout W'en de soun' of hees voice dey hear-- De oldes' warrior of de Sioux Kill hese'f dancin' de w'ole night t'roo, An de Blackfoot girl remember too De ole tam Voyageur.

"De blaze of hees camp on de snow I see, An' I lissen hees 'En Roulant'

On de lan' w'ere de reindeer travel free, Ringin' out strong an' clear-- Offen de grey wolf sit before De light is come from hees open door, An' caribou foller along de sh.o.r.e De song of de Voyageur.

"If he only kip goin', de red ceinture,[4]

I 'd see it upon de Pole Some mornin' I 'm startin' upon de tour For blowin' de worl' aroun'-- But w'erever he sail an' w'erever he ride, De trail is long an' de trail is wide, An' city an' town on ev'ry side Can tell of hees campin' groun'."

So dat 's 'de reason I drink to-night To de man of de Grand Nor' Wes', For hees heart was young, an' hees heart was light So long as he 's leevin' dere-- I 'm proud of de sam' blood in my vein I 'm a son of de Nort' Win' wance again-- So we 'll fill her up till de bottle 's drain An' drink to de Voyageur.

[1] New Year's day.

[2] Indian boot.

[3] Dog-sleigh.

[4] Canadian sash.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Flower]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Moose]

BRUNO THE HUNTER

You never hear tell, Marie, ma femme, Of Bruno de hunter man, Wit' hees wild dogs chasin' de moose an' deer, Every day on de long, long year, Off on de hillside far an' near, An' down on de beeg savane?

Not'ing can leev' on de woods, Marie, W'en Bruno is on de track, An' young caribou, an' leetle red doe Wit' baby to come on de spring, dey know De pity dey get w'en hees bugle blow An' de black dogs answer back.

No bird on de branch can finish hees song, De squirrel no longer play-- De leaf on de maple don't need to wait Till fros' of October is at de gate 'Fore de blood drops come: an' de fox sleeps late W'en Bruno is pa.s.s dat way.

So de devil ketch heem of course at las'

Dat 's w'at de ole folk say, An' spik to heem, "Bruno, w'at for you kill De moose an' caribou of de hill An' fill de woods wit' deir blood until You could run a mill night an' day?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "So de devil ketch heem of course at las'."]

"Mebbe you lak to be moose youse'f, An' see how de hunter go, So I 'll change your dogs into loup garou,[1]

An' wance on de year dey 'll be chasin' you-- An' res' of de tam w'en de sport is troo, You 'll pa.s.s wit' me down below."

An' dis is de night of de year, Marie, Bruno de hunter wake: Soon as de great beeg tonder cloud Up on de mountain 's roarin' loud-- He 'll come from hees grave w'ere de pine tree crowd De sh.o.r.e of de leetle lake.

You see de lightning zig, zig, Marie, Spittin' lak' loup cervier,[2]

Ketch on de trap? Oh! it won't be long Till mebbe you lissen anoder song, For de sky is dark an' de win' is strong, An' de chase is n't far away.

W'y s.h.i.+ver so moche, Marie, ma femme, For de log is burnin' bright?

Ah! dere she's goin', "Hulloo! Hulloo!"

An' oh! how de tonder is roarin' too!

But it can't drown de cry of de loup garou On Bruno de hunter's night.

Over de mountain an' t'roo de swamp, Don't matter how far or near, Every place hees moccasin know Bruno de hunter he 's got to go 'Fore de grave on de leetle lake below Close up for anoder year.

But dey say de ole feller watch all night, So you need n't be scare, Marie, For he 'll never stir from de rocky cave W'ere door only open beneat' de wave, Till Bruno come back to hees lonely grave-- An' de devil he turn de key.

Dat 's way for punish de hunter man W'en murder is on hees min'-- So he better stop w'ile de work is new, Or mebbe de devil will ketch heem too, An' chase heem aroun' wit' de loup garou Gallopin' close behin'.

[1] Were wolf.

[2] Lynx.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

PRIDE

Ma fader he spik to me long ago, "Alphonse, it is better go leetle slow, Don't put on de style if you can't afford, But satisfy be wit' your bed an' board.

De bear wit' hees head too high alway, Know not'ing at all till de trap go smash.

An' mooshrat dat 's swimmin' so proud to-day Very often to-morrow is on de hash." [1]