No more for thee the maddening, mystic bells,
The haunting horror--and the falling snow;
No more of Shylock's fury, and no more
The Prince of Denmark's woe.
Not once again the fret of heart and soul,
The loneliness and passion of King Lear;
No more bewilderment and broken words
Of wild despair and fear.
And never wilt thou conjure from the past
The dread and bitter field of Waterloo;
Thy trembling hands will never pluck again
Its roses or its rue.
Thou art no longer player to the court;
No longer red-robed cardinal or king;
To-day thou art thyself--the Well-Beloved--
Bereft of crown and ring.
Thy feet have found the path that Shakespeare found,
Life's lonely exit of such far renown;
For thee, 0 dear interpreter of dreams,
The curtain hath rung down.
October, 1905.
JEAN DE BREBOEUF
Jean de Breboeuf, a priest of the Jesuit Order, came to Canada
as a missionary to the Indians about the year 1625. He belonged
to an old and honourable French family that had given many sons
to the army, and was a man of great physical strength, one who
possessed an iron will, that was yet combined with sweetness
and gentleness of temper.
He lived with the Indians for many years, and spoke the dialects
of different tribes, though his mission was chiefly to the Hurons.
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