A song of wonderful pathos and beauty had just been brought down
from the wilds of the Ottawa, and become universally sung in New
France. A voyageur flying from a band of Iroquois had found a
hiding-place on a rocky islet in the middle of the Sept Chutes. He
concealed himself from his foes, but could not escape, and in the
end died of starvation and sleeplessness. The dying man peeled off
the white bark of the birch, and with the juice of berries wrote
upon it his death song, which was found long after by the side of
his remains. His grave is now a marked spot on the Ottawa. La
Complainte de Cadieux had seized the imagination of Amelie. She
sang it exquisitely, and to-night needed no pressing to do so,
for her heart was full of the new song, composed under such
circumstances of woe. Intense was the sympathy of the company,
as she began:
"'Petit rocher de la haute montagne,
Je viens finir ici cette campagne!
Ah! doux echos, entendez mes soupirs!
En languissant je vais bientot--mourir.'"
There were no dry eyes as she concluded.
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