THE BAY OF SEVEN" ISLANDS.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1568, 22 July 1882, Page 6

THE BAY OF SEVEN" ISLANDS.

The bkippor sailed out of the haibor mouth, Leaving the apple-bloom of tho South For the ice of the Eastern seas, la his fishing bchooncr Breeze. H.mclsomo and bravo and >oung wao he, And the maidens of Newbury sighed to bee His lessening white sail fall Under the sea's blue wall. Through the Northern Gulf and the misty screen Of the isles of Mingiu and Madeline, St. Paul's and Blanc Sablon The little Breeze sailed on. Backward and forward along the shore Of wild and desolate Labrador And found at last her way To the seven Islands Bay. The little haralet, nestling below Great hills white with lingering snow, With its tin-roofed chapol stood Half hid in tbo dwarf spruce wood ; Green-turfed flower- sown, the- last outpost Of summer upon, the droary coast, With its ganlons small and spare, Sad in the frosty air. Hard by where the skipper's schooner lay, A fiiaherman's cottago looked away Over isle and bay, and behind On mountains dim-defined And there twin sifters, fair and yonug, Laughed with their stranger guest, and bung In their nativo tongue tho lays Of tho old Provencal days. Alike were they, save tho faint outline Of a scar on Suzett's forehead line ; And both, it so befell, Loved the heretic stranger well. Both wero pleasant to look upon, But the heart of the fekipper clave to one ; Though less by his eye thau heart He knew the twain apart. Despite of alion raco and Creed, Well did his wooing of Marguerite speed j And the mother's wrath was vain As the jealous sister's pain. The shrill-tongued mistress her house forbade, ' And solemn warning was sternly said ' By the black-robed priest,. whose word ', ' ' ' „ As law the hanilet heard. But half by voice and lialf by signs J ( , The sunshines » \'j , watch,^till I come hacfi, t -, i.',Audtfvhen you? see, from nlydnasi-head, /Tiie^signahfly^ofiva^kerChi^i^dj ,£?] % -„ , p >\t{- ■shqre/sha^l jwa.it j '& ti ifu^loqm§ t \%\

Under the night, on the wet sea sands, Slowly unclasped their plighted hands : One to the cottage hearth, And one to his sailor's berth. What was it the parting lovers heard ? JN T or leaf, nor ripple, nor wing of bird, But a listener's stealthy tread On the rock-moss, crisp and dead. He weighed his anchor, and fished onc< more By the black coast-line of Labrador; And by love and the north wine driven, Sailed back to the Islands Seven. In the sunset's glow the sisters twain Saw the Breeze come sailing in again ; Said Suzette, " Mother dear, The heretic's sail is here." " Go, Marguerite, to your room and hide ; Your door shall be bolted !" the mother cried : While Suzette, ill at ease, Watched the red sign of the Breeze, At midnight, down to the waiting skiff She stole in the shadow of the cliff ; And out of the Bay's mouth ran The schooner with maid and man. And all night long, on a restless bed, Her prayers to the Virgin Marguerite saicl: And thought of her lover's pain Waiting for her in vain. Did he pace the sands ? Did he pause to hear The sound of her light step drawing near ? And, as the slow hours passed, Would he doubt her faith at last ? But when she saw, through the misty pane, The morning break on a sea of rain, CouJd even her love avail To follow her vanished sail ? Meantime the Bieeze, with favouring wiud, Left the rugged Moisic hills behind. And heard from an unseen shore Tho falls of Manitou roar. On tho morrow's morn, in the thick, gray weather They sat on the reeling deck together, Lover and counterfeit, Of hapless Marguerite. With a lover's hand, from her forehead fair Tie smoothed away her jot-black hair. What was it his fond eyes met ? The scar of tho false Suzette ! Fiercely he shouted : " Bear away East by north for seven Isles Bay ! The maiden wept and prayed. But tho ship her helm obeyed. Once more the Bay of tho Isles they found They hcaid the bell of the Chapel sound, And tho chant of the dying 1 sung In the harsh, wild Indian tongue. A feeling of mystery, change, and awe Was in all they heard and all they saw : Spell-bound tho hamlet lay lv the hush of its lonely bay And when they came to tho cottage door, Tho mother ro.se up fiom her weeping sore, And with angry {features met The scared look of Snzutte. "Here is your daughter," the skipper said : " Give mo the ono I love instead." But the woman sternly spake : "Go, see if the dead will wake !" Ho looked on Her sweet face still and white Aud stiange in the noonday taper light, She lay on her little bed, With tho orobb at her feet aud head. In a passion of grief the strong 1 man bent Down to her face, and, kiting it, went Back to the waiting Biceze, Back to the mournful vscas. Novcr again to tho Mcirimac And Nowbury's homes that bark came back. Whether her fate she met On the shores of Carraquetle Miscou, or Tr-tcadie, who can say ? i But even yet at Seven Isles Bay Is told the ghostly talo Of a weird, unspoken sail. In the pale, sad light of the Northern day Seen by the blanketed Monfcairnals ; Of squaw, in her small kyack, Crossing the spectro's track. On the deck a maiden rings her handy : Her likeness kneels on the gray coast sands ; One in her wild despair, And one in the tranco of prayer. She flies before no earthly blast. With the red sign fluttering from her mast, Over tho solemn seas, The ghost of the schooner Breeze. — John Greoilcaf Vint tier.