PILOT.


Merry Carlo, who runn'st at my heels
Through the dense-crowded streets of the city,
In and out among hurrying wheels,
And whose run in the suburbs reveals
Only scenes that are peaceful and pretty.

Raise to mine your intelligent face,
Open wide your great brown eyes in wonder
While I tell how lived one of your race
Years ago in this now busy place--
Ay, and ran at the heels of its founder.

Mistress Pilot, for that was her name,
And you could not have called her a better,
Was a gallant and dutiful dame--
Since her breed is forgotten by Fame,
For your sake I will call her a setter.

Pilot lived when _Ville Marie_ was young,
And the needs of its people were sorest;
When the rifle unceasing gave tongue,
And the savage lay hidden among
The Cimmerian shades of the forest;

When the hearts of frail women were steeled