{"id":202,"date":"2021-04-01T11:57:15","date_gmt":"2021-04-01T15:57:15","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.ryerson.ca\/flintandfeather\/?post_type=chapter&p=202"},"modified":"2022-02-04T09:46:32","modified_gmt":"2022-02-04T14:46:32","slug":"the-legend-of-quappelle-valley","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/chapter\/the-legend-of-quappelle-valley\/","title":{"raw":"The Legend of Qu'Appelle Valley","rendered":"The Legend of Qu’Appelle Valley"},"content":{"raw":"I am the one who loved her as my life,\r\nHad watched her grow to sweet young womanhood;\r\nWon the dear privilege to call her wife,\r\nAnd found the world, because of her, was good.\r\nI am the one who heard the spirit voice,\r\nOf which the paleface settlers love to tell;\r\nFrom whose strange story they have made their choice\r\nOf naming this fair valley the \u201cQu\u2019Appelle.\u201d\r\n\r\nShe had said fondly in my eager ear\u2014\r\n\u201cWhen Indian summer smiles with dusky lip,\r\nCome to the lakes, I will be first to hear\r\nThe welcome music of thy paddle dip.\r\nI will be first to lay in thine my hand,\r\nTo whisper words of greeting on the shore;\r\nAnd when thou would\u2019st return to thine own land,\r\nI\u2019ll go with thee, thy wife for evermore.\u201d\r\n\r\nNot yet a leaf had fallen, not a tone\r\nOf frost upon the plain ere I set forth,\r\nImpatient to possess her as my own\u2014\r\nThis queen of all the women of the North.\r\nI rested not at even or at dawn,\r\nBut journeyed all the dark and daylight through\u2014\r\nUntil I reached the Lakes, and, hurrying on,\r\nI launched upon their bosom my canoe.\r\n\r\nOf sleep or hunger then I took no heed,\r\nBut hastened o\u2019er their leagues of waterways;\r\nBut my hot heart outstripped my paddle\u2019s speed\r\nAnd waited not for distance or for days,\r\nBut flew before me swifter than the blade\r\nOf magic paddle ever cleaved the Lake,\r\nEager to lay its love before the maid,\r\nAnd watch the lovelight in her eyes awake.\r\n\r\nSo the long days went slowly drifting past;\r\nIt seemed that half my life must intervene\r\nBefore the morrow, when I said at last\u2014\r\n\u201cOne more day\u2019s journey and I win my queen!\u201d\r\nI rested then, and, drifting, dreamed the more\r\nOf all the happiness I was to claim,\u2014\r\nWhen suddenly from out the shadowed shore,\r\nI heard a voice speak tenderly my name.\r\n\r\n\u201cWho calls?\u201d I answered; no reply; and long\r\nI stilled my paddle blade and listened. Then\r\nAbove the night wind\u2019s melancholy song\r\nI heard distinctly that strange voice again\u2014\r\nA woman\u2019s voice, that through the twilight came\r\nLike to a soul unborn\u2014a song unsung.\r\n\r\nI leaned and listened\u2014yes, she spoke my name,\r\nAnd then I answered in the quaint French tongue,\r\n\u201cQu\u2019Appelle? Qu\u2019Appelle?\u201d No answer, and the night\r\nSeemed stiller for the sound, till round me fell\r\nThe far-off echoes from the far-off height\u2014\r\n\u201cQu\u2019Appelle?\u201d my voice came back, \u201cQu\u2019Appelle? Qu\u2019Appelle?\u201d\r\nThis\u2014and no more; I called aloud until\r\nI shuddered as the gloom of night increased,\r\nAnd, like a pallid spectre wan and chill,\r\nThe moon arose in silence in the east.\r\n\r\nI dare not linger on the moment when\r\nMy boat I beached beside her tepee door;\r\nI heard the wail of women and of men,\u2014\r\nI saw the death-fires lighted on the shore.\r\nNo language tells the torture or the pain,\r\nThe bitterness that flooded all my life,\u2014\r\nWhen I was led to look on her again,\r\nThat queen of women pledged to be my wife.\r\nTo look upon the beauty of her face,\r\nThe still closed eyes, the lips that knew no breath;\r\nTo look, to learn,\u2014to realize my place\r\nHad been usurped by my one rival\u2014Death.\r\nA storm of wrecking sorrow beat and broke\r\nAbout my heart, and life shut out its light\r\nTill through my anguish some one gently spoke,\r\nAnd said, \u201cTwice did she call for thee last night.\u201d\r\n\r\nI started up\u2014and bending o\u2019er my dead,\r\nAsked when did her sweet lips in silence close.\r\n\u201cShe called thy name\u2014then passed away,\u201d they said,\r\n\u201cJust on the hour whereat the moon arose.\u201d\r\n\r\nAmong the lonely Lakes I go no more,\r\nFor she who made their beauty is not there;\r\nThe paleface rears his tepee on the shore\r\nAnd says the vale is fairest of the fair.\r\nFull many years have vanished since, but still\r\nThe voyageurs beside the campfire tell\r\nHow, when the moonrise tips the distant hill,\r\nThey hear strange voices through the silence swell.\r\nThe paleface loves the haunted lakes they say,\r\nAnd journeys far to watch their beauty spread\r\nBefore his vision; but to me the day,\r\nThe night, the hour, the seasons are all dead.\r\nI listen heartsick, while the hunters tell\r\nWhy white men named the valley The Qu\u2019Appelle.","rendered":"

I am the one who loved her as my life,
\nHad watched her grow to sweet young womanhood;
\nWon the dear privilege to call her wife,
\nAnd found the world, because of her, was good.
\nI am the one who heard the spirit voice,
\nOf which the paleface settlers love to tell;
\nFrom whose strange story they have made their choice
\nOf naming this fair valley the \u201cQu\u2019Appelle.\u201d<\/p>\n

She had said fondly in my eager ear\u2014
\n\u201cWhen Indian summer smiles with dusky lip,
\nCome to the lakes, I will be first to hear
\nThe welcome music of thy paddle dip.
\nI will be first to lay in thine my hand,
\nTo whisper words of greeting on the shore;
\nAnd when thou would\u2019st return to thine own land,
\nI\u2019ll go with thee, thy wife for evermore.\u201d<\/p>\n

Not yet a leaf had fallen, not a tone
\nOf frost upon the plain ere I set forth,
\nImpatient to possess her as my own\u2014
\nThis queen of all the women of the North.
\nI rested not at even or at dawn,
\nBut journeyed all the dark and daylight through\u2014
\nUntil I reached the Lakes, and, hurrying on,
\nI launched upon their bosom my canoe.<\/p>\n

Of sleep or hunger then I took no heed,
\nBut hastened o\u2019er their leagues of waterways;
\nBut my hot heart outstripped my paddle\u2019s speed
\nAnd waited not for distance or for days,
\nBut flew before me swifter than the blade
\nOf magic paddle ever cleaved the Lake,
\nEager to lay its love before the maid,
\nAnd watch the lovelight in her eyes awake.<\/p>\n

So the long days went slowly drifting past;
\nIt seemed that half my life must intervene
\nBefore the morrow, when I said at last\u2014
\n\u201cOne more day\u2019s journey and I win my queen!\u201d
\nI rested then, and, drifting, dreamed the more
\nOf all the happiness I was to claim,\u2014
\nWhen suddenly from out the shadowed shore,
\nI heard a voice speak tenderly my name.<\/p>\n

\u201cWho calls?\u201d I answered; no reply; and long
\nI stilled my paddle blade and listened. Then
\nAbove the night wind\u2019s melancholy song
\nI heard distinctly that strange voice again\u2014
\nA woman\u2019s voice, that through the twilight came
\nLike to a soul unborn\u2014a song unsung.<\/p>\n

I leaned and listened\u2014yes, she spoke my name,
\nAnd then I answered in the quaint French tongue,
\n\u201cQu\u2019Appelle? Qu\u2019Appelle?\u201d No answer, and the night
\nSeemed stiller for the sound, till round me fell
\nThe far-off echoes from the far-off height\u2014
\n\u201cQu\u2019Appelle?\u201d my voice came back, \u201cQu\u2019Appelle? Qu\u2019Appelle?\u201d
\nThis\u2014and no more; I called aloud until
\nI shuddered as the gloom of night increased,
\nAnd, like a pallid spectre wan and chill,
\nThe moon arose in silence in the east.<\/p>\n

I dare not linger on the moment when
\nMy boat I beached beside her tepee door;
\nI heard the wail of women and of men,\u2014
\nI saw the death-fires lighted on the shore.
\nNo language tells the torture or the pain,
\nThe bitterness that flooded all my life,\u2014
\nWhen I was led to look on her again,
\nThat queen of women pledged to be my wife.
\nTo look upon the beauty of her face,
\nThe still closed eyes, the lips that knew no breath;
\nTo look, to learn,\u2014to realize my place
\nHad been usurped by my one rival\u2014Death.
\nA storm of wrecking sorrow beat and broke
\nAbout my heart, and life shut out its light
\nTill through my anguish some one gently spoke,
\nAnd said, \u201cTwice did she call for thee last night.\u201d<\/p>\n

I started up\u2014and bending o\u2019er my dead,
\nAsked when did her sweet lips in silence close.
\n\u201cShe called thy name\u2014then passed away,\u201d they said,
\n\u201cJust on the hour whereat the moon arose.\u201d<\/p>\n

Among the lonely Lakes I go no more,
\nFor she who made their beauty is not there;
\nThe paleface rears his tepee on the shore
\nAnd says the vale is fairest of the fair.
\nFull many years have vanished since, but still
\nThe voyageurs beside the campfire tell
\nHow, when the moonrise tips the distant hill,
\nThey hear strange voices through the silence swell.
\nThe paleface loves the haunted lakes they say,
\nAnd journeys far to watch their beauty spread
\nBefore his vision; but to me the day,
\nThe night, the hour, the seasons are all dead.
\nI listen heartsick, while the hunters tell
\nWhy white men named the valley The Qu\u2019Appelle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":29,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-202","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":136,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/202","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/202\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":321,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/202\/revisions\/321"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/136"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/202\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=202"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=202"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=202"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/flintandfeather\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=202"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}