The Laurentides where he had spent
So many happy, happy hours
Safe from the storms of life, content
Amid the Pêches’[1] tranquil
Twas thus he spoke : "O why was I
By youthful traveller’s tale beguiled
To quit the pleasant Pêche and die
In this inhospitable wild ?
What lured me on to cast aside
The simple pleasures of my youth
Until I longed for Godbout’s tide
And cared no more for trout forsooth !
O rash vas I to lend an ear
To all those legends of the sea
To bring my faithful legion here
Does this reward their constancy ?
I cannot say, but this I know :
Should I behold the Pêche again
Could I but see its water flow
I’d be the humblest of the train
That worships there — no more l’d roam
In search of other piscine fields
Contented with my humble home
With all that old Laurentian yields
I’d gladly live and cheerful die."
But here his accents’ gan to sink
We thought his hour had come, till I
Administered a generous drink.
The veteran gasped but when the flask
He sawb — tho’ feedle as a child,
Bravely essayed the pleasent task
Of trying to empty it and smiled
Yes, though he had almost passed away
In one brief moment from our ken
Yet wondrous ’twas to see that day
His rapturous look as he smiled again
New strength came back to the wasted limbs.
The roses bloomed in his cheek once more
And the sound of our glad thanksgiving hymn
Rang out o’er Weymahegan’s shore.
He prayed us to pardon his misdeeds
- ↑ Lac la Pêche, maison du Club des Laurentides.
