Jacques Cartier'S First Visit To Mount Royal.

He stood on the wood-crowned summit         Of our mountain's regal height,     And gazed on the scene before him,         By October's golden light,     And his dark eyes, earnest, thoughtful,         Lit up with a softer ray     As they dwelt on the scene of beauty         That, outspread, before him lay.     Like a sea of liquid silver,         St. Lawrence, 'neath the sun,     Reflected the forest foliage         And the Indian wigwams dun,     Embracing the fairy islands         That its swift tide loving laves,     Reposing in tranquil beauty         Amid its sapphire waves.     To the eastward, frowning mountains         Rose in solemn grandeur still,     The glittering sunlight glinting         On steep and rugged hill;     Whilst in the far horizon,         Past leafy dell and haunt,     Like a line of misty purple,         Rose the dim hills of Vermont.     Then Cartier's rapt gaze wandered         Where, starred with wild flowers sweet,     In its gorgeous autumn beauty,         Lay the forest at his feet.     With red and golden glory         All the foliage seemed ablaze     Yet with brightness strangely softened         By October's amber haze.     Around him stretched the mountain         Ever lovely - ever young -     Graceful, softly undulating,         By tall forest trees o'erhung;     'Twas then his thought found utterance,         The words "Mont Royal" came,     And thus our Royal Mountain         Received its fitting name.