now.
'Tis hard to read with tearless eyes this record of the past,
It stirs our blood, and fires our souls, as with a clarion blast.
What, though beside the foaming flood untombed their ashes lie,--
All earth becomes the monument of men who nobly die.
Daulac, the Captain of the Fort, in manhood's fiery prime
Hath sworn by some immortal deed to make his name sublime,
And sixteen soldiers of the Cross, his comrades true and tried,
Have pledged their faith for life or death, all kneeling side by side.
And this their oath, on flood or field, to challenge face to face
The ruthless hordes of Iroquois,--the scourges of their race.
No quarter to accept nor grant, and loyal to the grave.
To die like martyrs for the land they'd shed their blood to save.
And now these self-devoted youths from weeping friends have passed,
And on the Fort of _Ville-Marie_ each fondly looks his last.
Soft was the balmy air of spring in that fair month of May,
The wild flowers bloomed, the spring birds sang on many a budding spray,
When loud and high a thrilling cry dispelled the magic charm,
And scouts came hurrying from the woods to bid their comrades arm.
And bark canoes skimmed lightly down the torrent of the _Sault_,
Manned by three hundred dusky forms, the long-expected foe.
Eight days of varied horrors passed, what boots it now to tell
How the pale tenants of the fort heroically fell?
Hunger and thirst and sleeplessness, Death's ghastly aids, at length.
Marred and defaced their comely forms, and quelled their giant strength.
The end draws nigh,--they yearn to die--one glorious rally more
For the sake of _Ville-Marie_, and all will soon be o'er.
Sure of the martyr's golden crown, they shrink not from the Cross;
Life yielded for the land they love, they scorn to reckon loss.
The fort is fired, and through the flame, with slippery, splashing tread,
The Redmen stumble to the camp o'er ramparts of the dead.
Then with set teeth and nostrils wide, Daulac, the dauntless, stood,
And dealt his foes remorseless blows 'mid blinding smoke and blood,
Till hacked and hewn, he reeled to earth, with proud, unconquered glance,
Dead--but immortalized by death--Leonidas of France;
True to their oath, his comrade knights no quarter basely craved,--
So died the peerless twenty-two--so Canada was saved."

The historian says: