Chapter II: The Bombardment

Red glowed the sun of summer morn athwart the shining deep,
All radiant in its still repose, as child in restful sleep;

And as it higher streaked the heavens, and further gilt the wave,
There dawned a sight that chilled stout hearts within those
erstwhile brave--
A sight which called the soldier forth to guard his every post,
Which moved the patriot soul to hope, though hope was well-nigh lost;
Had fallen Ticonderoga, Niagara lost the day,
And now the victor's flag streamed out o'er fair St. Lawrence Bay.

A British squadron, fifty sail, with well-trained soldier band,
Led on by Wolfe of martial fame, of skilled and daring hand,
Had anchored on the Orleans coast to watch, if need be wait
Till golden opportunity should crown the course of fate.
'Twas not mere common _role_ of arms, to measure strength for strength,
To storm with shot or fiendish shell, to fight at sabre's length;
'Twas to out-plan the well laid scheme, out-match with matchless skill
The great opposing elements, vast work of zealous will.

So huge the perfect system of well arranged defence,
Small marvel if prompt action waived, subdued of grave suspense;
The city, perched upon her heights, in solemn far retreat.

With thousand willing hearts guardant in fealty at her feet;
Along the river's northern rim, to Montmorency's shore,
Redoubt, earthwork and battery defiant aspect bore;
Whilst at each point of access, for miles and miles around,
Stood youth and age, a patriot guard upon a hallowed ground.

High banks and shallow waters, the warships idle lay;
Discouraged and perplexed the Chief, held thus so far at bay;--
Oh, treacherous shining waters! those frowning crags that lave,
Ye folded in your cold embrace eight hundred of the brave,
The bravest of old England, who, fifty years before
Unfighting met their destiny at threshold of that door
Now barred against the invader; much wonder was it then
Though gravest doubt should dull the mind of England's mightiest men?

Mayhap before their vision loomed those feats of former day
When British fleet, in Phipp's command, besieged that fortress grey;
When messenger with flag of truce, was ushered in blindfold
Before the noble Frontenac, that veteran leal and bold.
No coward blood e'er nursed the life of him, the loyal veined,

Proposals for surrender mean, who scornfully disdained;
"Go, tell your General," he said, proud flashed his wrathful eye,
"That surely by my cannon's mouth, shall be my fit reply."

Oft, over dire extremity, a sudden radiance falls;
Though sealed those portals, bullet-proof those adamantine walls,
Swift, as of lightning's vivid flash, Wolfe's eager eye descried
A site for prowess to effect, though skill and force defied.
Where Mount de Levi sits aloft upon the other shore,
Incessant devastation might bridge the waters o'er;
Might bring to woman's, childhood's ears, sore tidings of dismay,
Might picture scenes would dim the eye, through many a lustrous day.

Loud booms along the glistening wave the din of shot and shell;
The breeze-borne notes resound afar a generous people's knell;
The time-worn soldier stands aghast, religion bends the knee,
And silence sceptres ruined homes, where mirth flowed full and free.
Still, firm within thy battlements, upon thy steadfast throne,
Thou beauteous city of the heights! defeat thou would'st not own;
Abode thy Chieftain by thy side, nor left thy ample shield

At tempter's scheme, or skilled device to war on open field.

Yet courage waned not, yet again were outward posts assailed;
But every effort met rebuff, all stratagem had failed;
Who fell not by the Frenchman's arm to perish in their gore
Were fain to find a sure retreat, from off that hostile shore.
Sick of chagrin a fever laid the English leader low,
Ambition, high resolve retired before a stubborn foe;
Were't not that Townshend's able wit one final scheme revealed
Perchance the maple leaf might grace fair Gallia's ancient shield.