THE GIFT OF | 
 
 a^.si,...\^\vAi. I 
 
 hrLA^Ar^'b .a..\..ilAv\..\.a.. 
 
 6896-2 
 
PS 2792.SM "iMg""*" '""'"^ 
 ®°"Sliii?!ii,ffi?,.,teSPMf,n[...P.!..Laiie Champ 
 
 3 1924 022 163 665 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022163665 
 
SONG 
 
 FOR THE 
 
 TEE-CENTENARY 
 
 OF 
 
 LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
 
 CLINTON SCOLLARD 
 
SONQ 
 
 For the Ter-Centenary 
 
 of Lake Champlain 
 
SONG 
 
 FOB THE 
 
 TER-CENTENARY 
 
 OF 
 
 LAKE CHAMPLAIN 
 
 [JULY, 1909] 
 
 CLINTON SCOLLAED 
 
 CLINTON, N. T. 
 
 George William Browning 
 
 3 909 
 
 
SONG 
 
 For the Ter-Centenary of Lake Cliamplaiiii 
 
 Midsummer ! — and the world a full-blown flower, 
 This wide new world as virgin as its sod; 
 
 As wondrous seemed it that unfolding hour 
 As did the blossoms upon Aaron's rod! 
 
 That distant hour when first his falcon eyes 
 Gazed on this far out-rolling inland main, — 
 
 A flawless jewel under flawless skies, — 
 
 The knightly-hearted, valorous De Champlain. 
 
 No man of pomp, no silken courtier he, 
 No selfish grasper after Glory's star. 
 
 But one who wore undimmed the flexir de lis 
 Like his brave patron, Henry of Navarre! 
 
Bred where Biscayan gales fling up the brine, 
 His look was level as a couched lance, 
 
 A valiant son of that intrepid line 
 Which gave fair lustre to the fame of France. 
 
 Eoland and Bayard! — he was kin to these; 
 
 Swerved he no more than magnet from the pole 
 As forth he sailed upon the uncharted seas 
 
 With dreams of high adventure in his soul. 
 
 What foes he faced, what dangers dread he dared,- 
 
 Patient in peace, in war unwavering I 
 Unmoved he toiled, unmurmuring he fared, 
 
 Like saintly Louis, the beloved king. 
 
 Since then the Great Recorder of the Days 
 Thousands has scrolled upon his golden book, 
 
 Yet still a sheet of shimmering chrysoprase 
 The great lake spreads for whomso'er may look. 
 
Behind the peaks that panoply the west 
 Still burn the sunsets like a mighty forge; 
 
 Still, with its voice of wandering unrest, 
 The swift Ausable rushes through its gorge. 
 
 Slope capping slope the awakening east along, 
 Vermont's broad ranges show their emerald dye; 
 
 And still, their meadows opulent with song 
 And glad with grain, the Hero Islands lie. 
 
 Across the water, as it breaks or broods, 
 In twilight purple, or in dawning gold. 
 
 Majestic from their airy altitudes 
 
 Mansfield and White Face signal as of old. 
 
 For howsoe'er man's genius bares or drapes, 
 Or cleaves or curbs by frowning height or shore, 
 
 Nature's sequestered elemental shapes 
 Preserve their primal grandeur evermore! 
 
Grandeur and beauty! — here the twain combine. 
 Clothing the landscape with a varied veil; 
 
 And while before our eyes their splendors shine 
 Let the grave Muse of History breathe her tale! 
 
 Sea of the Iroquois! This was the path 
 Of those swart braves whose story casts a spell, 
 
 Who cut a swath of ruin and of wrath 
 Where'er in stealth their vengeful footsteps fell. 
 
 As wise as wary they! Yon shadowy cove 
 Once caught the glimmer of their council-flames; 
 
 And yonder, in that dim primeval grove. 
 They lurked to gain their sanguinary aims. 
 
 Then came Champlain and gallant Frontenac, 
 
 As daring as the keen conquistador. 
 And ever, where they voyaged, upon their track 
 
 Trailed, like a banner, the black smoke of war. 
 
England and France! the vision will not pale; — 
 
 The lilied oriflamme, the double cross; 
 '* Saint George!" and "Saint Denis!" — adown the gale 
 
 Surge upon surge the cries of conflict toss. 
 
 Ticonderoga felt the bloody brunt, 
 
 And grizzly cannon roared their deafening psalm, 
 When Abercrombie flung his fearless front 
 
 Upon the bristling bastions of Montcalm. 
 
 Another thrilling scene that fortress knew 
 When, ere the Maytime morning's earliest glow, 
 
 Bold Ethan Allen and his fearless few 
 
 Seized its embattled walls without a blow. 
 
 Still can we hear him ; — in the gray light see 
 The firm-set features of his mountain boys; 
 
 "Up with your firelocks, you who'll follow me!" 
 And every soldier held his gun at poise. 
 
Here Arnold strove, — (alas, the later hour 
 That stained a patriot name aforetime pure!) 
 
 Whelmed, yet undaunted, by the foeman's power 
 Beneath thy coppiced headlands, green Valcour! 
 
 With triumph vision, on exultant feet. 
 Here passed Burgoyne and his imposing train 
 
 To that grim day of desperate defeat 
 On Saratoga's memorable plain. 
 
 And here McDonough, prince of sailors he, 
 Eesting his cause with the Almighty Will, 
 
 Hewed a red path to fame and victory 
 While from the shrouds a game-cock clarioned shrill. 
 
 Ah, pageant of the past! the trump, the fife, 
 The reeling shock of arms, to-day are banned; 
 
 Down closing vistas fade the stress and strife; 
 Now concord reigns, fair Gateway of the Land! 
 
Three hundred years! How wide a space of time, 
 
 Yet we may cross it on the Bridge of Dream, 
 
 And very real, though none the less sublime. 
 
 Transcendent figures such as Shakespere seem! 
 
 The great are not remote. Their statures loom. 
 Although they lie in moss-encrusted graves; 
 
 So view we him who, with the year at bloom, 
 Here led to battle his Algonquin braves. 
 
 Stanch De Champlain! he of the questing sou! 
 
 And the impetuous heart ! — ah, who shall say 
 If he beheld not back the lustrums roll 
 
 With revelations of our broader day? 
 
 For his we know was the unleashed surmise, 
 The lofty impulse, the inspiring thought, 
 
 Yet must we doubt if his presaging eyes 
 
 Divined the wonders that mankind has wrought. 
 
His fragile shallop — 'tis a steam-sped barque I 
 His forest torch — 'tis an electric globe I 
 
 A touch, and lo, an emanating spark 
 As surely fatal as was Nessus' robe! 
 
 Speech flies through space as though on spirit wings; 
 
 We dive beneath the sea; we cleave the air; 
 Beyond the portal of what unseen things 
 
 May not tomorrow's new explorers fare! 
 
 And yet the old — the datmtless De Champlains! — 
 Let us be mindful of the debt we owe! 
 
 A splendid ichor coursed along their veins; 
 They quailed nor faltered whatsoe'er the blow! 
 
 Meagre their tools, and starveling were their aids, 
 Yet mark the marvel of their fruitful deeds! — 
 
 On verdured banks, in fertile-bosomed glades, 
 We reap the harvest where they sowed the seeds. 
 
Then hail them, heroes of an elder hour! 
 
 Death's mandate only bade their struggles cease; 
 Still be their memory as a fadeless flower 
 
 As march the centuries toward the Bourne of Peace!