在夜晚的梦中，我听到野鸭的叫声，在湖面上奔跑;在梦中，我看见老修道院的围墙，渥太华的河水在那里汹涌而过。但在太阳把东方的天空染成金色之前，赫拉克勒唤醒了我。波!真正的骑士，拿着棍棒和枪，一如往昔。“起来!月亮高高挂在天空，太阳即将迎来新的一天，运动员们喜爱的南风正吹过圣路易斯湾。风在树林间呻吟，沿着有影子的海岸，在清风的吹拂下，远处传来了潜鸟狂野的叫声。就像钻石在潮水上闪烁，跳舞的月光颤动着，闪烁着，当我们在深海上迅速地滑行到我们遥远的麦加，佩罗岛。佩罗岛在遥远的南方，克莱尔角在我们身后的背风处，我们急切地用渴望的眼睛凝视，寻找致命的“失明”的最微弱的迹象。经过渥太华水流的地方——离圣劳伦斯金沙还有一里路——在长满野草的海湾里我们标出了埋伏的地点。 We enter it just as crimson flush Of morn illumines the hills with light, And patiently wait the first mad rush Of pinions soaring in airy flight. A rustle of wings from over there, Where all night long on watery bed The flocks have slept - and the morning air Rings with the messenger of lead. Many a pilgrim from far away Many a stranger from distant seas, Is dying to-day on St. Louis Bay, To requiem sung by the southern breeze. And thus till the sound of the vesper bell Comes stealing o'er Ottawa's dusky stream, And the ancient light-house we know so well Lights up the tide with its friendly gleam. Then up with the anchor and ply the oar, For homeward again our course must bear, Farewell to the 'blind' by Ile Perrot's shore, And welcome the harbor of old Pointe Claire!