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William Henry Drummond - Madeleine Vercheres
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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.
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