THE POETS OF CANADA. 33 



Grameau aud Chauveau briug us down to 1850, when the greatest of French-Canadian 

 poets steps upon the scene and opens the galaxy that has gone on multiplying aud bright- 

 ening until our day. Octavo Crémazie, born at Quebec in 1830, followed the calling of a 

 bookseller. His poems appeared between 1852 and 1862, in which year he was involved 

 in financial ruin aud took refuge in France, where he died of a broken heart in 18*78. 

 In this place, last year, I expressed the hope, that a national monument would be set up 

 to the memory of Crémazie in the shape of a complete edition of his works. I am pleased 

 to say that my hope has been fulfilled by the publication at Montreal of a splendid 

 volume, which every Canadian lover of letters should have on his book-shelves. The 

 character of Crémazie's inspiration is sublimity. His thought soars on broad and sweeping 

 pinions ; his images are grand and salient ; and, when he strikes the minor key of national 

 regret aud disappointment, the eftect is deeply pathetic. I am convinced that, if his life 

 had not been blasted, and he had continued to write in freedom of mind aud amid the 

 associations of his childhood and native land, he would have created poems not unworthy 

 to rank with those of the best writers of contemporary France. The " Chaunt of the Old 

 Soldier," composed on the arrival, in 1855, of the French corvette. La Capricieuse, sent out by 

 Napoleon III to open commercial relations between France aud Canada, is simply a 

 masterpiece. The blind and tottering veteran, hearing the sound of cannon on the river, 

 and fondly imagining that it heralded the return of the French fleet, is led to the ramparts 

 by his son, aud breaks out in a thrilling lamentation on being told that it is the Red Cross 

 of England streaming from the mizzen. But his confidence remains unshaken, and day 

 after day he repairs to the same spot, in the hope that his old companions in arms will yet 

 come back from over the sea. The time arrives at last when he is no longer seen on the 

 heights, and we are told that he has died in the arms of his son, murmuring : " They will 

 return, but I shall not be there." Then we have the poet's outburst :— 



" Tu l'as dit, ô vieillard ! La France est revenue ! 

 Au sommet de nos murs, voyez-vous dans la nue. 

 Son noble pavillon dérouler sa splendeur ? 

 Ah ! ce jour glorieux, où les Français, nos frères, 

 Sont venus pour nous voir, du pays de nos pères, 

 Sera le plus aimé de nos jours de bonheur." 



And a shadow is seen on the wall, wavering in the breeze. It is the old soldier standing 

 at his post to assist at the glorious scene. Nor he alone. 



" Tous les vieux Canadiens moissonnés par la guerre, 



Abandonnent aussi leur couche funéraire. 



Pour voir réaliser leurs rêves les plus beaux. 



Et puis on entendit, le soir, sur chaque rive, 



Se mêler, au doux bruit de l'onde fugitive, 



Un long chant de bonheur qui sortait des tombeaux." 



Equally powerful and majestic is Le Drapeau de Carillon, an ode addressed to the lily-flag 

 of Royal France which floated on the main bastion of Fort Carillon, or Ticonderoga, on the 

 day when Montcalm achieved a brilliant victory over Abercrombie and his gallant High- 

 Sec. II., 1884. 5. 



