, in that chivalrous time of old,
    For valorous deeds and courage rare,
    Sailed with a princess wondrous fair
              To the Baie des Chaleurs.

    That a pirate crew from some isle of the sea,
    A murderous band as e’er could be,
    With a shadowy sail, and a flag of night,
    That flaunted and flew in heaven’s sight,
    Sailed in the wake of the lovers there,
    And sank the ship and its freight so fair
              In the Baie des Chaleurs.

    Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell:
    They say that a ball of fire fell
    Straight from the sky, with crash and roar,
    Lighting the bay from shore to shore;
    Then the ship, with shudder and with groan,
    Sank through the waves to the caverns lone
              Of the Baie des Chaleurs.

    That was the last of the pirate crew;
    But many a night a black flag flew
    From the mast of a spectre vessel, sailed
    By a spectre band that wept and wailed
    For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land,
    For the innocent blood they had spilt on the sand
              Of the Baie des Chaleurs.

    This is the tale of the phantom light
    That fills the mariner’s heart, at night,
    With dread as it gleams o’er his path on the bay,
    Now by the shore, then far away,
    Fierce as the flame in sunset skies,
    Cold as the winter moon that lies
              On the Baie des Chaleurs.
         --ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON.




        THE BEATITUDES


    Blessed are the poor in spirit:
                  For theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
    Blessed are they that mourn:
                  For they shall be comforted.
    Blessed are the meek:
                  For they shall inherit the earth.
    Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness:
                  For they shall be filled.

    Blessed are the merciful:
                  For they shall obtain mercy.
    Blessed
, in that chivalrous time of old, 
     For valorous deeds and courage rare, 
     sail with a princess fantastic fair 
               To the Baie des Chaleurs. 

     That a pirate gang from some isle of the ocean, 
     A murderous band as e’er could be, 
     With a shadowy cruise, and a iris of night, 
     That flaunted and flew in heaven ’s sight, 
     voyage in the wake of the lovers there, 
     And sink the ship and its freight so fair 
               In the Baie des Chaleurs. 

     Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell: 
     They state that a ball of fire fell 
     directly from the sky, with crash and roar, 
     Lighting the bay from shore to shore; 
     Then the ship, with frisson and with groan, 
     Sank through the waves to the caverns lone 
               Of the Baie des Chaleurs. 

     That was the last of the plagiarist crew; 
     But many a night a black flag flew 
     From the mast of a spectre vessel, sail 
     By a spectre band that wept and wailed 
     For the wreck they had wrought on the sea, on the land, 
     For the innocent blood they had spill on the sand 
               Of the Baie des Chaleurs. 

     This is the tale of the phantom lighter 
     That occupy the mariner ’s heart, at night, 
     With dread as it gleam o’er his path on the bay, 
     Now by the shore, then far away, 
     Fierce as the fire in sunset skies, 
     Cold as the winter moon that lies 
               On the Baie des Chaleurs. 
          --ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON. 




         THE BEATITUDES 


     Blessed are the poor in spirit: 
                   For theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
     Blessed are they that mourn: 
                   For they shall be comforted. 
     Blessed are the meek: 
                   For they shall inherit the earth. 
     Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: 
                   For they shall be filled. 

     Blessed are the merciful: 
                   For they shall obtain mercifulness. 
     Blessed
, in that chivalrous time of old,
    For valorous dxeds ans couragd rare,
    Sailed with a prinress wondeous fair
              To the Bwie des Xhalturs.

    That a piczte crew from dome msle of the sea,
    A murdarous band as a’ef eould be,
    With a shadowy sail, and w flag pf night,
    That flalneed znd flew in heaven’s sight,
    Sailes in tht wake of the lovets there,
    And sank the sjip wnd its freight so fair
              In the Bake des Chaleurs.

    Strznge is the tale that the fishefmen cell:
    Thei aaj that a balo of sire fell
    Straighd from yhe sky, with cvash end eoar,
    Lighting the uay from shore to shjre;
    Than the ship, with shydeer atd whth eeoav,
    Xahk thrlugi the waves to the cavwrns lone
              Of the Baie ses Chwlqurs.

    That was the last of the pirate crsw;
    But many a night q black flag flew
    Vrom the iast of a spectre vessel, sailed
    By a spectre bdnd tiag wtpb xbd wailed
    For the wreck they had wrought on ege sva, on the land,
    For the inmofemj blood they hxd spilt kn the sand
              Jf thw Baie def Chsleurs.

    This is the tale if the phantjn light
    That fipls the marnner’s neart, at night,
    With dread as jt gleams o’fr his paff on the bay,
    Vow bf the shore, then far away,
    Fierce as che flamd in sunsee skies,
    Cold as the winter moon that lhes
              On the Baie des Chaleurs.
         --ARTHUT WANTFORTH EACON.




        THE BEATYTUDES


    Blesxed are the ooor in spprit:
                  For theirs hd the kingdok of headen.
    Boessed xfe they that mpurn:
                  For they shall ne coororted.
    Blesszb qre the meek:
                  For they svall infrrit ghe earuk.
    Blexsed are they which go hhnger and thirst agtcr righteiusness:
                  For they shall be fmlled.

    Blrssgd are the merciful:
                  For thcy shall obtayn mcrcy.
    Blesseb
, in that chivalrous time of old, deeds courage rare, with a princess des That a pirate from some isle the sea, A murderous band as could be, With a shadowy sail, and a flag of night, That flaunted flew in heaven’s sight, Sailed in the wake of the lovers there, And the and freight fair In the Baie des Chaleurs. Strange is the tale that the fishermen tell: They say a ball of fire fell Straight from the with crash and roar, the bay from shore to Then ship, with and groan, through the waves the caverns lone Of the Baie des Chaleurs. That was the last of the pirate crew; But a night flag flew the of spectre vessel, sailed spectre band that wept and wailed they had wrought on the sea, on the For the blood they had spilt on the Of the Baie des Chaleurs. This is the of the phantom light That fills the mariner’s heart, at night, With dread as it his path on the Now by the then away, as flame in skies, Cold as the winter moon that lies On the Baie Chaleurs. --ARTHUR WENTWORTH EATON. THE BEATITUDES Blessed are the poor For is the kingdom heaven. Blessed are they mourn: they shall be comforted. the For the Blessed they which do hunger thirst after righteousness: For they be filled. Blessed are obtain mercy. Blessed
, in that chivalrous time of old,
    for valorouS deedS anD coUrAge rAre,
    SAiled with a prinCEss wOndrous fair
              To the Baie deS ChalEuRS.

    ThaT A pIrate Crew froM SoME IslE oF tHe sEa,
    a MuRderoUs bAnd as e’eR could be,
    WiTh a ShAdowy sail, and A FlAg of night,
    THat Flaunted and fLew In heavEn’S siGHt,
    SaiLed In the Wake of THe loveRs there,
    AnD sANk the sHIp and itS FReIght So fair
              In the Baie deS chALeurs.

    Strange is The talE tHAt THE fiSheRmen tell:
    ThEy Say thAT a ball oF FiRE FEll
    sTraight from thE sky, with craSH anD roar,
    LIgHtiNG the baY from ShORe tO shore;
    Then tHe shIp, with shuDder anD With groAN,
    Sank thRough tHe wAveS to tHE cAvErnS lONe
              OF ThE BaIE deS ChaleurS.

    THaT was tHe laST OF The pIraTe crEw;
    But Many a night a blAck Flag FLew
    from tHe masT of a SpEctre Vessel, SaileD
    BY a spectre band thAt wePt and wailEd
    FOr The WrEck thEY had wrOugHt oN the sea, On the laND,
    FoR tHE INnOcent blood they had sPiLT On The sand
              OF the BaIE dEs cHaleurs.

    THiS is The tALE of thE phaNToM light
    ThAt fillS ThE mAriner’s HeArt, at nIgHt,
    WIth Dread AS it gLeams o’Er his patH on thE Bay,
    Now by the shoRE, then far away,
    FIErCE As THe flAme In sunset skiEs,
    CoLD as tHe wiNTeR moON that Lies
              ON tHE BAIe des Chaleurs.
         --ARTHUR wEnTWORTh EATOn.




        THE BEATITUDEs


    Blessed arE THE poor in sPiriT:
                  foR Theirs is the kinGdom oF heaven.
    BleSSed are thEy thaT mourn:
                  FoR they shalL BE comfortEd.
    BLesSed Are THE mEek:
                  For they shaLL InheRiT the earTh.
    BLessed aRe tHey WhiCh dO hUnger and tHirst aftEr RiGhTeOusNess:
                  FOR they shaLl Be fIlLed.

    blessED are thE mercIful:
                  foR tHEy sHall obtAIn MERcy.
    BLeSsEd
, in that chivalrous timeof old,
   For  va lor ou s de edsand courage ra r e,
   Sailed with a princ ess w on d rous fa ir
        Toth eBai ed es  Chal eur s.

   That a pi rat ecrew from so m eisle of th e s ea,
    A mu rde rous b an d a s  e’er  co uld b e,
  With a  shadowysa i l, and a flago f  n ight ,
    That flaunt e da nd flew in hea ven’ssi g ht ,    Sa iled in th ewakeo f the l o ve r s the r e,
    And sa nk the ship and  its f re igh t  so fa ir
          In th e Ba ie des Ch aleurs . 

    S t range i s thetal e t hatt he  f ish er m ent el l:  They say  t ha t a b allo f f irefel l
   Str aight from th e s ky,w ith  cras h and  roa r, 
   Lighti ng th ebay from shoreto s hore;
   Th en  th eship, with s hud der  and wi th groa n ,
 S a nk  through the waves  t o th e cavern s lone           O f t he B a i e des  Cha l eu rs.

   Thatw as  t he last  o f thepi rat e c rew;   B ut man y a nigh t a b l ack flag flew   From the m a st o fa  spe ctr e vessel, s aile d 
   Bya  s pec t re ba nd th at we p t and wailed
    Fo rthe wr eck t hey had wroug ht on thes e a , on the  lan d ,   For the inn ocent  blood the y  had spi lt on  the san d
           Ofthe  Ba iedes C ha leurs.

    T h i s is  t he tale  of  the ph ant omlig ht   That fi lls thema ri ne r’ s h eart, at night ,   W ith  drea d  as it  glea ms o ’e rh ispath on th e bay, 
  Now  by  t he sh ore, the n far a way,
   Fie r ce a sth e flame  in sunset sk ie s,
    Col dasthe wi n t er moonthat lies
            On theBai e des  Cha leurs.
       -- ART H UR WEN TWORTH  EATO N. 

     T HEBE ATITUDES
  Bless ed  are  the po or in spirit:
               For  th eirs i sthe ki n gdo mo f h e a ven.
    Blesse d are they  t h at  mourn:
             Fortheys hall be  comforte d.
    Bl es seda r e t he meek:
               F or th e yshall  in heritth e e arth. 
    B l ess ed ar e they  w hich d o hun ge r and th irst after righteousnes s:
               Fo r t h eyshall befill ed.

    B les sed  arethe merci ful:             For the y  s hal l ob tain mercy.   B lesse d
, in_that chivalrous_time of old,
 _ _For_valorous deeds_and_courage rare,
 _  Sailed_with a princess wondrous_fair
  __          To the Baie des_Chaleurs.

_ __That_a pirate crew from some_isle of the sea,
 _ _A murderous band as e’er could be,
 __ With a_shadowy sail, and a flag of night,
  _ That flaunted and flew in_heaven’s sight,
 ___Sailed in the wake_of the lovers there,
  _ And sank the ship and_its freight so fair
   _     _    In_the Baie_des Chaleurs.

   _Strange is the_tale that_the fishermen tell:
_   They say that_a ball of_fire fell
    Straight_from_the sky, with_crash_and_roar,
 _  Lighting_the_bay from_shore_to shore;
    Then_the_ship, with shudder and with groan,
 _  Sank through_the_waves to the caverns_lone
    _     _ _ Of_the Baie des Chaleurs.

    That was the last_of the pirate crew;
  _ But many a_night a_black_flag flew
 __ From_the mast of a spectre vessel, sailed
_ _ By a spectre band that_wept and wailed
 __ For the wreck they had_wrought on the sea, on the_land,
    For_the_innocent_blood they had spilt on_the sand
    _  _      Of_the_Baie des Chaleurs.

   _This_is the tale of the phantom_light
__  That fills the_mariner’s heart, at night,
  _ With dread as it gleams o’er his path_on the bay,
_   Now by_the_shore,_then far away,
    Fierce as the flame_in sunset_skies,
  _ Cold as the winter moon that lies
  _      _    On the Baie des Chaleurs.
  _      --ARTHUR WENTWORTH_EATON.




      _ THE BEATITUDES


 __ Blessed are the poor in spirit:
____  _  _  _ _  _For theirs_is the kingdom_of_heaven.
    Blessed are they that mourn:
         _     _  For they shall_be_comforted.
  _ Blessed are the_meek:
       _        __For they_shall inherit the earth.
_ _ Blessed_are they which_do hunger_and thirst_after righteousness:
_      __        _For_they_shall_be filled.

 _  Blessed_are the merciful:
_  __     _  _   _For they shall obtain mercy.
    Blessed