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RI A COLLATEl vv B' PR] i(\\ Z(t8W THE RISING VILLAGE. 41 |lo(in< BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, A OOLLATEBAL DESCENDANT OF THS AUTHOR OF THE " DESERTED VlLIJiOE." WITH A PREFACE, BY THE BISHOP OF NOVA SCOTIA. LONDON : PRINTED FOR JOHN SHARPE, DUKE STREET, PICCADILLY ; BY C. AND C. WHITTINOHAM, CHISWICK. MOCCCXXV. f ' The Ai an officei quartere his fathe departm Mr.G talent v/i met the PREFACE. The Author of the following little Poem is an officer of His Majesty's Commissariat^ now- quartered at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, where his father formerly held a situation in the same department. Mr. Goldsmith's opinion of this effort of his talent was very modest, and it would not have met the public eye, if it had not fallen under A 2 If lii iMi VI PREFACE. the observation of several friends, who thought it deserving of notice and encouragement. They supposed that a poem upon such a sub- ject, from the pen of a person bearing the names of the celebrated Author of the De- serted Village, and allied to him by bloody would hardly fail to excite some interest; more especially as it may be considered as taking up the history of the innocent sufferers who were driven from Auhurny and tracing their humble progress beyond the Western main, from their first settlemeat in a rude forest, to a state of comparative comfort and enjoyment. 1 PREPACB. VII Thoaetmimda aocordingly.recoDiniended the puUioatioa of. the Rising Village, and the au- thor consented to. commit it entirely to their discr^ion. They are not without hope that it will be received with all reasonable indulgence, as the first effort of a deserving young man, who has always recommended himself by his character and conduct. Nor have they a doubt that such reception of his first attempt will encourage him to new exertion. For he has an aged and widowed mother, now residing at Plymouth, whose comfort it is his chief de> light to promote ; and if his talent and his pen can be made instrumental to such a purpose, they will engage his very earnest endeavours. 'li ! I Vlll PREFACE. I have pleasure in acknowledging myself to be one of those friends, who take an inte- rest in the success of this little poem, and in the welfare of a person so meritorious and deserving as the Author of it. JOHN NOVA SCOTIA. Piccadilly, June 30, 1826. TO HENRY GOLDSMITH, ESQ. ANNAPOLIS ROYAL. i I 1 ! MY DEAR HENRY, Allow me to address this Poem to your notice, that in so doing I may gratify the feelings of affection which a fond brother entertains for you. The celebrated Author of the Deserted Vil la^ has pathetically displayed the anguish of his Countrymen, on being forced, from various causes, to quit their native plains, endeared to X DEDICATION. them by so many delightful recollections; and to seek a refuge in regions at that time unknown, or but little heard of. It would, perhaps, have been a subject of astonishment to him, could he have known that some of his relations were to be among the number, and that a grandson of his brother Henry, to whom he dedicated his Traveller, would first draw his breath at no great distance from the spot where " Wild Oswego spreads her swamps aroand. And Niagara stans with thooderiog soand." In the Rising Village I have humbly endea- voured to describe the sufferings which the early settlers experienced, the difficulties which they surmounted, the rise and progress of a young country, and the prospects which promise hap- piness to its future possessors. You, my dear brother, were born in this portion of the globe, and no person can form a better opinion how far 'i\\ jarly they hap- Idear lobe, far DEDICATION. XI I have succeeded in the attempt which I have made, or judge more correctly of the truth of the descriptions. The remarks which I have made on the schools are, however, more strictly applicable to a former period, than to the present one. Twenty years ago, with the exception of the College at Wind- sor, there was only one school in which the Classics were taught, and that one in the capital of this Province. Now the number is greatly increased, and the means of acquiring a liberal education have been rendered as easy as in any other country. Indeed, this happy Colony has been extremely fortunate in the appointment of those able men, who have been selected, by His Majesty, to pre- side over it. They have shown, at all times, a warm interest in its prosperity, and have mani- ! If I Xll OBDICATIOM. fested the sincerest desire to promote its well^re and happiness. The name of Dalbousie and of Kempt must ever be associated with that of Nova Scotia, and claim the gratitude and affection of its inhabitants. I i'emain, my dear Henry, Your affectionate Brother, OLIVER GOtDSMITH. Halifax, Nova Scotia, March 31, 1824. TI irellare and of f Nova tion of THE RISING VILLAGE. [ITH. u li THE RISING VILLAGE. jThou dear companion of my early years, Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears, To whom IVe oft addressed the youthful strain," And sought no other praise than thine to gain ; Who oft hast bid me emulate the fame Of him who formed the glory of our name : Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripen'd age, With judgment scan the more aspiring page, Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay, By far too small thy fondness to repay? Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuse This bolder flight of my adventurous muse? 10 THB RISING VILLAOB. If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flow, For Auburn's village and its speechless woe ; If, while you weep, you think the " lowly train'' Their early joys can never more regain. Come, turn with me whete happier prospects rise. Beneath the sternness of our Western skies. And thou, dear spirit ! whose harmonious lay Didst lovely Auburn's piercing woes display, Do thou to thy fond relative impart Some portion of thy sweet poetic art ; Like thine, oh ! let my verse as gently flow, While truth and viitue in my numbers glow : And guide my pen witli thy bewitchittg hand, To paint the Rising Village of the land. How chaste and splendid are the scenes that lie Beneath the circle of Britannia's sky ! What charming prospects there arrest the view, How bright, how varied, and how boundless too ! Cities and plains extending fhr and wide. The merchant's glory, and the farmer's pride. Majestic palaces in pomp display The wealth and splendour of the regal sway; B, THB RISING VILLAGE. It While the low hamlet and the shepherd's cot, In peace and freedom, mark the peasant's lot. There nature's vernal bloom adorns the field, And Autumn's fruits their rich luxuriance yield. There men, in bustling crowds, with men combine, That arts may flourish, and fair science shine ; And thence, to distant climes their labours send, As o'er the world their widening views extend. Compar'd with scenes like these, how dark and drear Did once our desert woods and wilds appear ; Where wandering savages, and beasts of prey, Display'd, by turns, the fury of their sway. 1 lie What noble cour^;e must their hearts have fired, How great the ardour which their souls inspired^ Who leaving far behind, their native plain. Have sought a home beyond the Western main ; And brav'd the perils of the stormy seas, In search of wealth, of freedom, and of ease ! Oh ! none can tell but they who sadly share The bosom's anguish, and its wild despair. What dire distress awaits the hardy band. That ventures first to till the desert land. b2 18 THB RISING VILLAOB. How great the pean, the danger, and the toil. Which mark the first rude cultore of the soil. When, looking round, the lonely settler sees His home amid a wilderness of trees : How sinks his heart in those deep solitudes, Where not a voice upon his ear intrudes ; Where solemn silence all the waste pervades, Heightening the horror of its gloomy shades ; Save where the sturdy woodman's strokes resound, That strew the fallen forest on the ground. See ! from their heights the lofty pines descend, And crackling, down their ponderous lengths extend. Soon, from their boughs, the curUng flames arise. Mount into air, and redden all the dues; And, where the forest late its foliage spread, The golden com triumphant waves its head ('). How blessM, did nature's ruggedness appear The only source of trouble or of fear ; How happy, did no hardship meet his view, No other care his anxious steps pursue ; But, while his labour gains a short repose, And hope presents a solace for his woes, THE RISING VILf/AOE. W and, (tend, se, New ilia arise, new fears his p«ace annoy, And other dangers all his hopes destroy. Behold 1 the savage tribes, in wildest strain, Approach with death and terror in their train ; No longer silence o'er the forest reigns. No longer stillness now her poVr retains ; But hideous yells announce the murd'rous band, Whose bloody footsteps desolate the land ; He hears them oft in sternest mood maintain Their right to rule the mountain and the plain : He hears them doom the white num*i instant death, Shrinks from the sentence, while he gasps for breath ; Then, rousing with one effort aU his might. Darts from his hut, and saves himself by flight. Yet, what a refuge ! Here a host of foes. On ev'ry side, his trembling steps oppose. Here savage beasts terrific round him howl, As through the gloomy wood they nightly prowl. Now morning comes, and all th' appalling roar Of barb'rous man and beast is heard no more ; The wand'ring Indian turns another way, And brutes avoid the first approach of day. -' • ■^.;J;^^ 20 THE RISING VILLAGE. Yet, though these threatening dangers round him roll, Perplex his thoughts, and agitate his soul, By patient firmness and industrious toil, * He still retains possession of the soil ; Around his dwelling scatter'd huts extend. Whilst ev'ry hut affords another friend. And now, hehold ! his bold aggressors fly, To seek their prey beneath some other sky ; Resign the haunts they can maintain no more, And safety in far distant wilds explore. His perils vanquishM, and his fears o'ercome. Sweet hope portrays a happy peaceful home. On ev'ry side fair prospects charm his eyes, And future joys in ev'ry thought arise. His humble cot, built from the neighboring trees, Affords protection from each chilling breeze ; His rising crops, with rich luxuriance crown'd In waving softness shed their freshness round ; By nature nourisVd, by her bounty bless'd, He looks to Heaven, and lulls his cares to rest. The arts of culture now extend their sway. And many a charm of rural life display. '■*,v THE RISING VILLAGE. 21 m roll, Where once the pine uprear'd its lofty head, The settlers' humble cottages are spread; Where the broad firs once sheltered firom the storm. By slow degrees a neighbourhood they form ; And, as its bounds, each circling year, increase In social life, prosperity, and peace, New prospects rise, new ol^ects too appear. To add more comfort to its lowly sphere. Where some rude sign or post the spot betrays, The tavern first its useful front displays. Here, oft the weary trav^er at the close Of ev'ning, finds a snug and safe repose. The passing stranger here, a welcome guest, From all his toil esjoys a peaceful rest ; Unless the host, solicitous to please, With care officious mar his hope of ease. With flippant questions, to no end confined. Exhaust his patience, and perplex his mind. Yet, let us not condenm with thoughtless haste, The hardy settler of the dreary waste, Who, long within the wilderness immur'd, In silence and in solitude, endur'd 22 THE RISING VILLAGE. A banishment from all the busy throng, And all the pleasures which to life belong ; If, when the stranger comes within his reach, He long to learn whatever he can teach. To this, must be ascrib'd in great degree, That ceaseless, idle curiosity Which over all the Western world prevails, And ev'ry breast, or more or less, assails ; Till, by indulgence, so o'erpowering grown, It sighs to know all business but its own. ' Here, oft, when winter's dreary terrors reign, And cold, and snow, and storm, pervade the plain ; Around the birch-wood blaze the settlers draw, " To tell of all they felt, and all they saw." When, thus in peace, are met a happy few, Sweet are the social pleasures that ensue. What lively joy each honest bosom feels. As o'er the past events his memory steals. And to the lisf ners paints the dire distress. That mark'd his progress in the wilderness ; The danger, trouble, hardship, toil, and strife, Which chas'd each effort of his struggling life. THE RISING VILLAGE. 23 tn some lone spot of consecrated ground, Whose silence spreads a holy gloom around, The village church, in unadom'd array, Now lifts her turret to the op'ning day. How sweet to see the villagers repair In groups to pay their adoration there ; To view, in homespun dress, each sacred mom. The old and young her hallow'd seats adorn, While, grateful for each blessing God has giv'n, They waft, in pious strains, their thanks to Heav'n(*). in; Oh, heav'n-born faith ! sure solace of our woes. How lost is he who ne'er thy influence knows, How cold the heart thy charity ne'er fires, How dead the soul thy spirit ne'er inspires ! When troubles vex and agitate the mind (By gracious Heav'n for wisest ends design'd), When dangers threaten, or when fears invade, Man flies to thee for comfort and for aid ; The soul, impell'd by thy all-pow'rful laws, Seeks safety, only, in a Great First Cause ! If, then, amid the busy scene of life, Its joy and pleasure, oare, distrust, and strife ; 94 THE RISING VILLAGE. Man, to his God for help and suc6our %*, And on the Saviour's pow'r to sJEtve, rely^; If then each thought can force him to confess His errors, wants, and iitter helplessness; How strong must be those feelings which impart A sense of all his weakness to his heart, Where not a' ftiend in solitude is nigh, His home the wild, his canopy the sky ; And, far remov'd from ey'ry Human arm. His God alone can shelter him from harm. While now the Rising Village claims a name, Its limits still increase, and still its fkme. The wandering Pedlar, who undaunted trac'd His lonely fbotsteps o'er the silent waste ; Who travers'd once the cold and snow-dad plain, Reckless of danger, trouble, or of pain, To find a market for his little wares. The source of all his hopes, and all his cares, EstablisVd here, his settled home maintains, And soon a merchant's higher tilie gains. Around his store on spacious shelves arrayM, Behold his great and various stock in trade. THE RISING VILLAGE. 36 rt Here, nails and blankets, side by side, are seen. There, horses' collars, and a large tureen ; Buttons and tumblers, codhoolu, spoons and knives. Shawls for young damsels, flannels for old wives; Woolcards and stockings, hats for men and boys, Millnsaws and fenders, silks, and infants' toys ; All useful things, and join'd with many more. Compose the well assorted country store (^). »e, ain, The half-bred Doctor next here settles down, And hopes the village soon will prove a town. No rival here disputes his doubtful skill, I He cures, by chance, or ends each human ill ; By turns he physics, or his patient bleeds. Uncertain in what case each best succeeds. And if, from friends untimely snatch'd away. Some beauty fall a victim to decay ; If some fine youth, his parents' fond delight. Be early hurried to the shades of night, Death bears the blame, 'tis his envenom'd dart That strikes the suffering mortal to the heart. Beneath the shelter of a log-built shed The county school-house next erects its head {'*■). c 26 THE RISING VILLAGE. No " man severe," with learning's bright display, Here leads the opening blossoms into day : No master here, in ev'ry art refin'd, Through fields of science guides th' aspiring mind; But some poor wand'rer of the human race, Unequal to the task, supplies his place, Whose greatest source of knowledge or of skill Consists in reading or in writing ill ; Whose efforts can no higher merit claim. Than spreading Dilworth's great scholastic faipe. No modest youths surround his awful chair. His frowns to deprecate, or smiles to share. But all the terrors of his lawful sway The proud despise, the fearless disobey ; The rugged urchins spurn at all control. Which cramps the movements of the freebom soul. Till, in their own conceit so wise they've grown, They think their knowledge far exceeds his own. As thus the Village each successive year Presents new prospects, and extends its sphere, While all around its smiling charms expand, And rural beauties decorate the land. THE RISING VILLAGE. »7 The humble tenants, who were taught to know By years of suff'ring, all the weight of woe ; Who felt each hardship nature could endure, Such pains as time alone could ease or cure, Relieved from want, iu sportive pleasures find A balm to soften and relax the mind ; And now, forgetful of their former care, Enjoy each sport, and every pastime share. Beneath some spreading tree's expanded shade Here many a manly youUi and gentle maid, With festive dances or with sprightly song The summer's ev'ning hours in joy prolong. And as the young their simple sports renew. The aged witness, and approve them too. And when the Summer's bloomy charms are fled, When Autumn's fallen leaves around are spread. When Winter rules the sad inverted year. And ice and snow alternately appear. Sports not less welcome lightly they essay. To chase the long and tedious hours away. Here, ranged in joyous groups around the fire. Gambols and freaks each honest heart inspire : 9B THE RISING VILLAGE. And if some yent'rous youth obtain a kiss, The game's reward, and summit of its bliss, Applauding shouts the victor's prize proclaim, And ev'ry tongue augments his well eam'd fame; While all the modest fair one's blushes tell Success had crown'd his fondest hopes too well. Dear humble sports, Oh! long may you impart A guileless pleasure to the youthful heart ; StiU may thy joys from year to year increase, And fill each breast with happiness and peace. ' Yet, though these simple pleasures crown the year. Relieve its cares, and ev'ry bosom cheer, • As life's gay scenes in quick, succession rise. To lure the heart, or captivate the eyes ; Soon vice steals on, in thoughtless pleasure's train. And spreads her miseries o'er the village plain. Her baneful arts some happy home invade. Some bashful lover, or some tender maid ; Until, at length, repress'd by no control. They sink, debase, and overwhelm the soul. How many aching breasts now live to know The shame, the anguish, misery, and woe. THE RISING VILLAGE. \- ear. That heedless passions, by no laws confined, Entail for erer on the human mind. O Virtue ! that thy powerful charms could bind Each rising impulse of the erring mind, That every heart might own thy sov'reign sway, And ev'ry bosom fear to disobey ; No father's heart would then in anguish trace The sad remembrance of a son's disgrace : No mother's tears for some dear child undone Would then in streams of poignant sorrow run, Nor could my verse the hapless story tell Of one poor maid who lov'd — and lov'd too well. Of all the youths that graced their native plain, Albert was foremost of the village train ; The hand of nature had profusely shed Her choicest blessings on his youthful head; His heart seem*d generous, noble, kind, and free, Just bursting into manhood's energy. Flora was fair, and blooming as that flow'r Which spreads its blossoms to the April show'r('); Her gentle manners and unstudied grace Still added lustre to her beaming face ; c2 jW THE RISING VILLAOB. While every look, by purity refin'd, Display'd the lovelier beauties of her mind. Sweet was the hour, and peaceful yifOB the scene When Albert first met Flora on the green ; Her modest looks, in youthful bloom display^, Then toucVd his heart, and there a conquest made. Nor long he sigh'd, by love and rapture fired, He soon declar'd the passion she inspired.. In silence, blushing sweetly, Flora heard His vows of love and constancy preferred; And, as his soft and tender suit he pressed, The maid, at length, a mutual flame confessM. Love now had shed, with visions light as air. His golden prospects on this happy pair : Those moments now roU'd rapidly away, Those hours of joy and bliss that gently play Round youthful hearts ere yet they've leam'd to know Life's care and trouble, or have felt its woe. The ring was bought, the bridal dress was made, The day was fixM, and time alone delayed • i 1 THE RI8IN0 VILLAOfe. 81 e. low The anxious moment that (in joy begun) Would join their fond and faithful hearts in one. 'Twas now at eveningp's hour ; about the time When in Acadia's cold and northern clime The setting sun, with pale and cheerless glow, Extends his beams o'er trackless fields of snow, That Flora felt her throbbing heart oppressed By thoughts, till then, a stranger to her breast. Albert had promised that his bosom's pride That very morning should become his bride : But mom had come, and passed ; and not one tow Of his had e'er been broken until now. Yet, hark ! a hurried step advances near, 'Tis Albert's breaks upon her list'ning ear; Albert's, ah, no! a step so harsh and drear Ne'er bounded Albert to his Flora dear. It was the postman's rude approach that bore. With eager haste, a letter to the door ; Flora received it, and could scarce conceal Her rapture, when she kiss'd her lover's seal. Yet, anxious tears were gather'd in her eye, As on the note it rested wistfully ; 32 THE RISING VILLAGE. Her trembling handa unclos'd the folded page, That soon she hoped would ev'ry fear assuage, And while intently o'er the lines she ran, In broken half breathed tones she thus began : ** Dear Flora, I have lefl my native plain, And fate forbids that we shall meet again : 'Twere vain to tell, nor can I now impart The sudden motive to this change of heart. The ravn so oft repeated to thine ear As tales of cruel falsehood must appear. Forgive the hand that deals this treacherous blow, Forget the heart that can inflict this woe : Farewell for ever! think not of Albert's name. His weakness pity, now involv'd in shame." Ah ! who can paint her features as, amazed. In breathless agony, she stood and gaz'd ? Oh, Albert, cruel Albert ! she exclaim'd, Albert was all her falt'ring accents nam'd. A deadly feeling seized upon her frame, Her pulse throbb'd quick, her colour went and came ; THE RISING VILLAGE. aa A darting pain 'hot through her frenzied head, And from that tifital hour her reason fled I , me; The sun had set ; his lingering beams of light From western hiUs had vanish'd into night. The northern blast along the valley roll'd, Keen was that blast, and piercing was the cold. When, urged by frenzy, and by love inspir'd, (For what but madness could her breast have fir'd?) Flora, with one slight mantle round her wav'd. Forsook her home, and all the tempest brav'd. Her lover's falsehood wrung her gentle breast. His broken vows her tortur'd mind possessed ; Heedless of danger or the drift that lay Along the snowy road, she bent her way Towards Albert's home ; with desperate zeal pursu'd Her steps through night's thick darkness unsubdu'd, Until, at length, her fair and fragile form Yielded beneath the fury of the storm ; Exhausted nature could no further go, And, senseless, down she sank amid the snow. Just as the mom had streakM the eastern sky With dawning light, a passing stranger's eye, 34 THE RISING VILLAGE. By chance directed, glanc'd upon the spot Where lay the lovely suflf'rer : To his cot The peasant hore her, and with anxious care Tried ev'ry art, till hope became despair. With kind solicitude his tender wife Long vainly strove to call her back to life ; At length her gentle bosom throbs again, Her torpid limbs their wonted pow'r obtain ; The loitering current now begins to flow, And hapless Flora wakes once more to woe. But nil their friendly efforts could not find A balm to heal the anguish of her mind. Come hither, wretch, and see what thou hast done, Behold the heart thou hast so falsely won ; Behold it, wounded, broken, crushed, and riv'n. By thy unmanly arts to ruin driv'n ; Hear Flora calling on thy much lovM name. Which, e'en in madness, she forbears to blame. Not all thy sighs and tears can now restore One hour of pleasure that she knew before ; Not all thy prayers can now remove the pain That floats and revels o'er her madden'd braint THE RISING VILLAGE. 36 Oh, shame of manhood! that could thus betray A maiden's hopes, and lead her heart away ; Oh, shame of manhood! that could blast her joy, And one so fair, so lovely, could destroy. Yet, think not oft such tales of real woe Degrade the land, and round the village flow. Here virtue's charms appear in bright array, And all their pleasing influence display ; Here modest youths, impressed in beauty's train, Or captive led by love's endearing chain, And fairest girls, whom vows have ne'er betray'd (Vows that are broken oft as soon as made), Unite their hopes, and join their lives in one, In bliss pursue them, as at first begun. Then, as life's current onward gently flows, With scarce one fault to ruffle' its repose. With minds prepar'd, they sink in peace to rest, To meet ou high the spirits of the bless'd. While time thus rolls his rapid years away. The Village rises gently into day. 36 THB RISING VILLAGE. I 4 How sweet it is, at first approach of mom, Before the silvery dew has left the lawn, When warring winds are sleeping yet on high, ^ Or breathe as softly as the bosom's sigh. To gain some easy hill's ascending height. Where all the landscape brightens with delight, And boundless prospects stretch'd on every side, Proclaim the country's industry and pride. Here the broad marsh extends its open plain. Until its limits touch the distant main ; There verdant meads along the uplands spring; And to the breeze their grateful odours fling ; Here crops of com in rich luxuriance rise, And wave their golden riches to the skies ; There smiling orchards interrupt the scene, Or gardens bounded by some fence of green ; The farmer's cot, deep bosom'd 'mong the trees. Whose spreading branches shelter from the breeze ; The saw-mill rude, whose clacking all day long The wilds reecho, and the hills prolong ; The neat white church, beside whose walls are spread The grass-clod hUlocks of the sacred dead. I I THE RISING VILLAGE. «T Where rude cut stones or painted tablets tell. In labour'd verse, how youth and befuity fell ; How worth and hope were hurried to the grave. And torn from those who had no power to save. •7 e, }ze; pread Or, when the Summer's dry and sultry sun Adown the West his fiery course has jrun ; When o'er the vale his parting rays of light Just linger, ere tiiey vanish into night, 'Tis sweet to wander round the woodbound lake, Whose glassy stillness scaroe the zephyrs wake ; 'Tis sweet to hear the murm'ring of the rill. As down it gurgles from the distant hill ; The note of Whip-poor- Will 'tis sweet to hear(^), When sad and slow it breaks upon the ear, And tells each night, to all the silent vale. The hop^ess sorrows of its moumfial tale. Dear lovely spot ! Oh may such charms as these, Sweet tranquil charms, that cannot £ul to please. For ever reign around thee, and impart Joy, peace, and comfort to each native heart. D 38 THE RISING VILLAGE. Happy Acadia 1 though around thy shore Is heard the stormy wind's terrific roar ; Though round thee Winter binds his icy chains, And his rude tempests sweep along thy plains, Still Summer comes with her luxuriant band Of fruits and flowers, to decorate thy land ; Still Autumn, smiling o'er thy fertile soil, With richest gifts repays the lab'rer's toil ; With bounteous hand his varied wants supplies. And scarce the fruit of other suns denies. How pleasing, and how glowing with delight. Are now thy budding hopes ! How sweetly bright They rise to view ! How full of joy appear The expectations of each future year ! Not fifty Summers yet have bless'd thy clime (How short a period in the page of tiiDDie !) Since savage tribes, with terror in their train, Rush'd o'er thy fields, and ravag'd all thy plain. But some few years have roll'd in haste away Since, through thy vales, the fearless beast of prey. With dismal yell and loud appalling cry, Proclaim'd their midnight reign of horror nigh. \ THK RISING VILLAGE. And now how chang'd the scene! The first, afar, Have fled to wilds beneath the northern star ; The last have learned to shnn the dreaded eye Of lordly man, and in their turn to fly. While the poor peasant, whose laborious care Scarce from the soil could wring his scanty fare ; Now in the peaceful arts of culture skillM, Sees his wide bams with ample treasures fill'd ; Now finds his dwelling, as the year goes round. Beyond his hopes, with joy and plenty crownM. ae ht >y» # And shall not, then, the humble muse display Though small the tribute, and though poor the lay, A C01 intry's thanks, and strive to bear the fame To after ages, of Dalhousie's name. He who with heroes oft, through fields of gore. The standard of his country proudly bore ; Until on Gallia's plain the day was won. And hosts proclaimed his task was nobly done. He who ** not less to peaceful arts inclined,'* Crossed the deep main to bless the laboring hind : The hardy sons of Scotia's clime to teach (J) What bounteous Heaven had plac'd within their reach. •.•«,#,» ,*»i^... ^<». 40 THE RISING VILLAGE. He saw the honest tmingtructed swain Exhaust his strength, and tiU his lands in vain ; He call'd fair science to the rustic's aid {*), ' And to his view her gentle path displayed. His fruitful field with Britain's soil now vies. And, as to Heaven his grateful thanks arise. Thy name, Dalhousie, mixes with his prayers^ And the best wishes of the suppliant shares. Nor culture's arts, a nation's noblest fiiend. Alone o'er Scotia's field their po-ver extend ; From all het shores, with erery goitle gale. Bright commerce wide expands her swellii^ sail: And all the land, luxuriant, rich, and gay, Exulting owns the splendour of their sway. These are thy blessings, Scotia, and for these, For wealth, for freedom, happiness, and ease. Thy grateful thanks to Britain's care are due ; Her pow'r protects, her smiles past hopes renew ; Her valour guards thee, and her councils guide ; Then, may thy parent ever be thy pride ! Oh, England ! although doubt around thee play'd, And all thy childhood's years in error stray'd ; 1^ Tiils tttsiK6 ViLLAGfi. 41 Matured and utrong, thou shin'st, in manhood's prime, The first and brightest star of Europe's dime. The nurse of science, and the seat of arts, The home of fairest forms and gentlest hearts ; The land of heroes, generous, free, and brave, The noblest conquerors of the field and wave; Thy fis^, on ev'ry sea and shore unfurl'd. Has spread thy glory, and thy thunder hurl'd. When, o'er the earth, a tyrant would have thrown His iron chain, and oall'd the world his own, Thine arm preserv'd it, in its darkest hour, Destroyed his hopes, and crush'd his dreaded pow'r : To sinking nations life and freedom gave, 'Twas thine to conquer, as 'twas thine to save. Then, blest Acadia ! ever may thy name. Like hers, be graven on the rolls of fame ; May all thy sons, like hers, be brave and free, Possessors of her laws and liberty ; Heirs of her splendour, science, pow'r, and skill, And through succeeding years her children still. Then as the sun, with gentle dawning ray, From night's dull bosom wakes, and leads the day, d2 .v-i;. 48 THE RISING VILLAGE. His course nu^estio keeps, till in the height He glows one blaae of pure exhaustless light ; So may thy years inerease, thy glories rise, To be the wonder of the western skies ; And bliss and peace encircle all thy shore. Till sun, and moon, and stars shall be no more. \ NOTES. i-VWiftwsHWISpwfeit . aafttti; .^-ij;_',.*ii «»!»«*>MH«««i NOTES. ii Note 1, Page 18. ' The golden corn triumphant waves its head. The process of clearing land, though simple, is at- tended with a great deal of labour. The trees are all felled, so as to lie in the same direction ; and after the lire has passed over them in that state, whatever may be left is collected ipAj heaps, and reduced to ashes. The grain is then sown bet v.'een the stumps of the trees, which remain, until the lapse of time, from seven tn fifteen years, reduces them to decay. Note 2, Page 23. They waft, in pious strains, their thanks to Heav'n. I cannot avoid here stating how much the province of Nova Scotia is indebted to the Society for the Propaga- tion of the Gospel in Foreign Parts. Since the first set- NOTES. tlement of the country their funds have been liberally bestowed, to assist in the building of churcheSi and for the maintenance of Missionaries ; there being now not less than thirty in this Province. Note 8, Page 25. 4 Compose the well assorted country store. Every shop in America, whether in city or in village, in which the most trifling articles are sold, is dignified with the title of a store. Note 4, Page 25. The country school-house next erects its head. I must here again express the {Tratitude that is due to the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, whose funds are so nobly appropriated to the support of schools in this province. There are, at present, forty schoolmasters, who receive a small salary from the so- ciety ; twelve scholarships at King's College, and twelve exhibitions at the Collegiate School, in Windsor, to as- sist the education of persons destined for Holy Orders. Note S, Page 29. Which spreads its blossoms to the April show'r. The May-flower (Epigeea repens) is indigenous to the wilds of America, and is in bloom from the middle of I \\ y«!Stt.-jS£a5" -* — ~-- »-~i NOTES. 47 April to the end of May. Its leaves are white, faintly tlifed with red, and it possesses a delightful fragrance. ■ ' Note 6, Page 37. The note of Whip-poor-Will 'tis sweet to hear. The Whip-poor-Will (Caprimulgus vociferus) is a na- tire of America. On a summer's evening the wild and novniful cadence of its note is heard at a great dis- t«BM ; and the traveller lit tens with delight to the re- petted tale of its sorrows. Note 7, Page SO. The hardy sons of Scotia's clime to teach. The provinces of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick mom comprehend that part of British North America, wUeh was formerly denominated Acadia by the French, aad Nova Scotia by the English. I have here used the naae of Scotia, as more convenient and applicable to the subject. Note 8, Page 40. He call'd fair science to the rustic's aid. When the Earl of Dalhousie assumed the command of dbe province of Nova Scotia, its agriculture was in a deplorable state ; for though large tracts of land were f&: ] ^NNMIMaiMI V 4t INyKSa ' ( I ■ w under cvltivation, yet the mode of tillage ytu so vn- skilful, and an adherence to old cuttomt so obstinate, that the most fertile soil was often very unproductive. Through the influence, and under the patronage of his Lordship, Societies were established for the purpose of diffusing 'knowledge in agricultural pursuits, and of adopting an approved system of cultivation. These societies have been some time in operation, and the advantages which have been derived from them, and the information which they have afforded, are observable in the improved method of agriculture, now pursued throughout the country. n i THE END. C. and C. WhitUngliaiQ. CoUage H»uw, Cliuwick. ''•*^*i*t7.B*a*w^»* - •f tilla|»e was so mn- mitoms BO obstinate, »^ery unproductive, er the patronage of shed for the purpose iral pursuits, and of cultivation. These operation, and the from them, and the ed, are observable lure, now pursued X' Cfcuwick.