 | Voices and visions |  |
1
WOLFE AT QUEBEC
September, 1759
Cloudy that momentous morning, over sheer Canadian steeps,
Broke upon the insurgent silver that St. Lawrence bends and sweeps.
Broke upon the insurgent silver that St. Lawrence bends and sweeps.
Bourgainville had rashly blundered; Vergor did his trust betray;
Brave Mountcalm stood guard at Beauport, miles from where the danger lay.
Brave Mountcalm stood guard at Beauport, miles from where the danger lay.
Off at Cap Rouge, cloaked by midnight, clomb the intrepid Wolfe, even then,
Struggling through the tangled pines with seventeen hundred sturdy men.
Struggling through the tangled pines with seventeen hundred sturdy men.
Up and on they pushed and clambered, briar and rock and slag their track,
Up and on, with each his musket slung behind his straining back.
Up and on, with each his musket slung behind his straining back.
2
Though achieved this arduous vantage, yet beyond still gleamed the goal;
‘Now for victory or for ruin!’ murmured Wolfe to his own soul.
‘Now for victory or for ruin!’ murmured Wolfe to his own soul.
Troops ere long tumultuous joined him, from the war-ships massed below,
On the Plains of Abraham, with redcoats reddening its plateau.
On the Plains of Abraham, with redcoats reddening its plateau.
Troops ere long tumultuous faced him, whitecoats of Quebec each one,
Scampering from the gate St. Louis, scurrying from the gate St. John.
Scampering from the gate St. Louis, scurrying from the gate St. John.
Languedoc's tough legion, victors in Ticonderoga's fray;
Rousillon's, that made the ramparts of Fort William Henry sway;
Rousillon's, that made the ramparts of Fort William Henry sway;
Bold Béarns, that whelmed Oswego, ere its hour of ghastly sack;
These, and more, that plunged through slaughter at Crown Point and Frontenac.
These, and more, that plunged through slaughter at Crown Point and Frontenac.
Swift they sped, while Indian allies, wrath and scorn in every glance,
Swelled with war-paint, shrieks and scalp-locks the battalions of old France.
Swelled with war-paint, shrieks and scalp-locks the battalions of old France.
Strategist of rapier cunning, soldier of superb command,
Wolfe, undaunted as a whirlwind, met and smote them with his band.
Wolfe, undaunted as a whirlwind, met and smote them with his band.
3
Front and flank their fire beset him; knoll and thicket devilish grew,
Where with ambuscaded muzzle sly sharpshooters crawled and slew.
Where with ambuscaded muzzle sly sharpshooters crawled and slew.
Weak of body, although in spirit staunch like his bright warrior sword,
Recked he but of King and Country, heedless of renown's award.
Recked he but of King and Country, heedless of renown's award.
While the clansmen's Highland slogan pierced through storms of British cheers,
Charged he in the teeth of peril with his Louisbourg grenadiers.
Charged he in the teeth of peril with his Louisbourg grenadiers.
Hot shot buzzed and showered about him; wounded, he would still persist—
Binding quick a random kerchief round one bullet-shattered wrist.
Binding quick a random kerchief round one bullet-shattered wrist.
Keen at last the death-blow came, and staggering from its hurt he fell;
Hands of eager comrades caught him—camp-fire friends that loved him well.
Hands of eager comrades caught him—camp-fire friends that loved him well.
Ere he died they bore him tidings of the enemy's routed host;
Then, with passionate thanks to God, he rendered up that gallant ghost!
Then, with passionate thanks to God, he rendered up that gallant ghost!
4
Large from history's pale perspective doth his valorous image press,
Towering o'er the dusk of discord with memorial stateliness;
Towering o'er the dusk of discord with memorial stateliness;
His indeed the loftier laurel, his indeed the patriot's palm,
His the fame Time's benediction should immortally embalm.
His the fame Time's benediction should immortally embalm.
Dear to England shines his honour, yet with radiance not more mild
Than to us, o'er tracts of ocean, England's transatlantic child.
Than to us, o'er tracts of ocean, England's transatlantic child.
America, 1896.
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