: Marguerite; or The Isle of Demons and Other Poems by Martin George - Canadian poetry 19th century

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MARGUERITE.

PREFATORY NOTE.

The story narrated in the following poem is one of the most touching of the many romantic legends of the early history of Canada. Some foundation in fact it undoubtedly has, for it forms the basis of one of the stories in the collection of Queen Margaret of Navarre, written while the chief actors in the tragedy were alive. The version of Queen Margaret differs from that of Thevet in many respects. He gives for his authorities Roberval and the unfortunate Marguerite herself.

Parkman, in the first volume of his admirable series of histories--the Pioneers of New France--gives the story as related by Thevet. The subject readily lends itself to poetical treatment, and, if the heroine in the poem is made to put a more favourable construction upon her conduct than the chronicler, it is surely no more than, as the narrator of her own story, she might have a right to do. The harsh and tyrannical character of Roberval is drawn in dark lines by Parkman. His cruelties, in the short lived colony at Cap Rouge, were such than even the Indians were moved to pity for his victims. On his return to France he was assassinated at night in the streets of Paris, probably by the hand of one who had suffered from his tyranny.

SONNET.

O Love! thou art the soul's fixed star, whose light-- A rapture felt through all the rolling years,-- Absorbs with silent touch the mourner's tears, A guide, a glory through our mortal night;-- All other passions, be they dark or bright, All high desires are but thy subject spheres, And captive servitors, whose pathway veers, Obedient to thine all-pervading might;-- And therefore I no hesitation make In choosing thee, a theme accounted old, Yet ever young, and for poor Marguerite's sake I trust some kind remembrance to awake That shall in tenderest clasp her story hold, Even as a rose a drop of dew doth fold.

MARGUERITE

OR THE ISLE OF DEMONS.

The interior of a Convent in France: Group of Nuns listening to Marguerite narrating her adventure.

You ask me, Sisters, to relate The story of the wanton fate That over sea, with dole and strife And love and hate enthralled my life, Entwined with his, whose gentle eyes, That never lost their winsome smile, Illumed for me those sullen skies Which canopy the haunted Isle, A tale so wild, I pray you think, May ill beseem and prove amiss For such a hallowed place as this; A chain it is whose every link Is rusted with some earthly stain, The which you may esteem profane And from its hapless wearer shrink, I would not, Heaven knows, offend The sanctity of sinless ears, Nor vex the pious soul that hears Good angels on soft wings descend, Illumined, from the starry spheres, To tread these cloistered aisles and bend O'er dreaming couches lily pure. But since your suffrance makes secure, And since you kindly deign assent, And graciously with eager look Dispel the fluttering fears that shook My contrite heart, I am content.

Mystic Mother! who erewhile Sought me on the Demons' Isle, Sought, and with compassion mild Shielded thy afflicted child; Shielded, and with vengeance new Scattered the Satanic crew: Blest Madonna! aid me now, Lift the pressure from my brow; Bid the thunder-cloud depart From my overladen heart; Tune my tongue, my lips inspire, Touch them with celestial fire; Shape the lay as meet to set, Like a modest violet, In Saint Cecilia's coronet.

Three gallant ships that owned command Of Roberval's imperial hand Thundered to France a proud farewell And sailed away from brusque Rochelle; Sailed on a breezy April day, Sailed westward for a land that lay, I heard the people wisely tell, Betwixt the ocean and Cathay. From shore to ship, from ship to shore A thousand parting signals flew; Ah! hopeful hearts, they little knew That many were there who never more Must see those faces that faded away, And were lost in the distance cold and gray. With troubled breast and tearful eye, In fear and doubt, I knew not why-- Unheedful of the sea-winds chill-- I watched the land recede until The mountain peaks had passed from sight, Like clouds absorbed in morning's light, And ocean's border touched the sky.

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