Quebec
Of
old,
like
Helen,
guerdon
of
the
strong
—
Like
Helen
fair,
like
Helen
light
of
word,
—
"The
spoils
unto
the
conquerors
belong.
Who
winneth
me
must
win
me
by
the
sword."
Grown
old,
like
Helen,
once
the
jealous
prize
That
strong
men
battled
for
in
savage
hate,
Can
she
look
forth
with
unregretful
eyes,
Where
sleep
Montcalm
and
Wolfe
beside
her
gate?