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Toronto THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY Limited PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN H)e&fcatfon, To history's vastest Brotherhood,— Which seas that girdle earth but bind : To every man of British blood :— To all of the Imperial mind ; Or who, of any noble race, have by the Empire stood. What matter races I vain the pride Who first this brotherhood began ; Than Pict or Gael we grow more wide, Our final brotherhood is Man : Unto all union we will hold, so Man yet onward stride. And you, great kinsmen scarcely lost, Alliance with you still increase :— With you the kindliest, first, and most Union for justice, trade, and peace I States are the robes that suit the climes : v/e move, one spirit host. This March night, gleams the elm-lined street With pools beneath a rising moon ; In the West's brow bright Venus sweet Holds Nature in a lovelorn swoon ; Go, songs, glint m hat these lands shall be in wcmdroua. Day complete. ■^ CONTENTS. -♦♦■ ENTRY OF THE MINSTRELS. "TAe Masque qf Minstrels" . Arthur J. Lockhart. INTRODUCTION PAGE XV xvU I. -THE IMPERIAL SPIRIT. Hastings ** Merlin, and Other Poems*' John Reade. Canada to England Anonymous. Empire First ....... John Talon-Lesperance— "LACLfeDK" The Canadians ON THE Nile . . ** Poems" William Wye Smith. 3 e 8 9 II.— THE NEW NATIONALITY. Dominion Day •• FiDELIS." Canada .... " in Divers Tmes- Charles G. D. Roberts. 13 16 "^t, viii CONTENTS, PAG K The Confused Dawn "Thoughts, Moods, and Tdcah" 18 William Douw Lighthall. From '"85" .19 Barry Stratton. Canada not Last . •• Thoughts, Moods, and Ideal j " 19 William Douw Lighthall. Collect FOR Dominion Day . '* In Divers Tones" 21 Charles G. D. Roberts. IIL-TIIE INDIAN. A Blood-red Ring hung round the Moon . John E. Logan—" Barry Dane." The Departing of Clote Scarp '*In Divers Tones" Charles G. D. Roberts. From "Tecumseii"— Act I., Scene 2 Charles Maib. The Arctic Indian's Faith . . *' Poems" Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee. The Caughnawaga Beadwork-Seller . William Douw Lighthall. From "Wahonomin" . . . ** Poems" Frederick George Scott. Caughnawaga Song .... Tr. John Waniente Jocks. 25 26 28 SO SI 32 34 IV.— THE VOYAGEUR AND HABITANT. The Old RiSgime . . ** Song of Welcome" 39 Mrs. J. F. W. Harrison— **Seranus." Malbrouck ..... Old Chanson 42 Tr. William M'Lennan. "*»» PAGE ccih" 18 « 19 lals " 19 mea " 21 25 26 28 SO SI 32 34 me " 39 ^on 42 i CONTENTS, A La Clairii; Fontaine ix PA6R . Old Chanson 44 Tr. William Douw Liohthall. EN ROULANT MA BOULK . . , Qia CUuSOn Tr. William M'Lennan. Entre Paris et Saint-Denis . . old Chanson Tr. William M'Lennan. Marianson OldChav^on Tr. William M'Lennan. The Re-settlement op Acadia . Arthur AVentworth Eaton. At the Cedars • • • Duncan Campbell Scott. Rose Latulippe . a French Canadian Legend Mrs. J. F. W. Harrison— "Seranus." Adieu to France . . . "DeRoberval" John Hunter-Duvar. V. -SETTLEMENT LIFE. SONG OP the Axe . . «« old Spookses' Pass " Isabella Valancey Crawford. Fire in the Woods; or, The Old Settler's Storx Alexander M'Lachlan. Burnt Lands Charles G. D. Roberts. From " Malcolm's Katie " •« Old Spookses' Pass " Isabella Valancey Crawford. The Second Concession op Deer . "Poems" William Wye Smith. A Canadian Folk-Sonq " Snowjlakes and Sunbeams " William Wilfred Campbell. "The Injun". . Incident of Minnesota Afassacre John E. Logan-" Barry Dane." 40 48 50 64 68 61 70 75 76 81 81 87 89 90 1 X CONTENTS, VI.-SPORTS AND FREE LIFE. PAGE The Wraith of the Red Swan .... 99 Bliss Carman. Birch AND Paddle . . .'' In Divers Tones" 106 Charles G. D. Roberts. The Nor'-West Courier ..... 108 John E. Looan— "Barry Dane." The Hall OP Shadows . '* Poems and Songi" 110 Alexander M'Lachlan. Canadian Hunter's Sono ..... 114 Mrs. Susanna (Strickland) Moodie. The Fisherman's Light . A Song of the Backwoods 115 Mrs. Susanna (Strickland) Moodie. The Kingfisher ...... 116 Charles Lee Barnes. The Canoe . . . " Old Spooksea' Pass" 117 Isabella Valancey Crawford. Canoe Song . . . *' Old Spookses' Pass" 120 Isabella Valancey Crawford. The Walker of the Snow .... 121 Charles Dawson Shanly. The Rapid .... (St. Lawrence) 124 Charles Sangster. The Winter Spirit . . {Origin of the Ice Palace) 125 Helen Fairbairn. Snowshoeing Song ...... 127 Arthur Weir. Skating. ....... 129 John Lowry Stuart. The Winter Carnival ..... 131 John Reade. The Spirit of the Carnival .... 134 ♦•Fleurange." 4 PAGE 99 Tones " 106 • • 1 108 Songs, " 110 • • lU [E. ck woods 115 E. " t 116 'Pass" IIT ' Pass" 120 • 121 vrence) 124 Palace) 125 • 127 • 129 « 181 • 134 t I I CONTENTS, VII.-THE SPIRIT OF CANADIAN HISTORY. Jacques Cartier .... **Poem8" Hon. Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee. THE Captured Flao . . ... rieurs de Lys " Arthur Wfir. How Canada was Saved . • • • • OEOKOE Murray. Madeleine De VERCHiiREs . John Reade. The Battle op La Prairie . . .i Ballad William Douw Lighthall. The Battle op Grand Pre .... M. J. Katzmann Lawson. Spina Christi . . . ... Canadian Idyll, " William Kirby. The Loyalists. Sarah Anne Curzon. Brock Charles Sangster. Tecumseh's Death . . . . ** Tecumseh" Major Richardson. A Ballad for Brave Women Charles Mair. The Veteran . • • • • « J. A. Fraser. In Hospital Annie Rothwell. In Memoriam . . . .*' The Soul'8 Quest" Frederick George Scott. VIIL -PLACES. The Tantramar Revisited . *'in Divers Tones" Anonymous. PAGE 143 146 149 155 161 163 167 181 183 184 185 190 191 196 201 "% Xll CONTENTS, I , PAGE Low Tide on Grand prk ..... 204 Bliss Carman. The Indian Kimes op Acadia . . . .207 Attributed to De Mille. On Leavinq the Coast op Nova Scotia **roeine" 208 George Frederick Cameron. The Fairies in Prince Edward Island . . 2G» John Hunter-Duvar. The Vale of the Gaspkreau , . . . 211 Arthur John Lockhart. The Isle of Demons . . "Marguerite" 212 George Martin. Saguenay . ..... 218 J. D. Edgar. Quebec . . . "St. Latorence and Saguenay" 219 Charles Sangster. Montreal . 220 William M'Lennan. The St. Lawrence ...... 221 K. L. Jones. Night in the Thousand Isles . " St. Latvrence and Saguenay" ....... 222 Charles Sangster. Ottawa ........ 224 Duncan Campbell Scott. At the Ferry ...... 221 E. Pauline Johnson. Niagara ....... 226 William Kirby. The Heart of the Lakes ..... 228 William Wilfred Campbell. Manitou .... "Lake Lyrics" 239 William Wilfred Campbei,l, PAGE 204 207 208 209 211 212 218 219 220 221 222 224 22i 226 228 239 The Last Bison A Prairie Year CONTENTS, Charles Mair. Xlll PACK 231 •' Eo$ : A Prairie Dream " 237 Nicholas Flood Davis. I The Legend OF Thunder . . *' Western Life" 239 IJ. R. A. POCOCK. Heat The Fir Woods Clouds . Frogs . Twilight IX.-SEASONS. '* In the Millet*' Archibald Lampman. Charles O. D, Roberts. '* In the Millet" Archibald Lampman. Charles G. D. Roberts. "Jephthah's Daughter" Charles Heavysege, A Canadian Bummer Evening . . "poems" Mrs. Leprohon. Evening on the Marshes Barry Straton. Midsummer Night . . . *' in the Millet" ARCHinALD Lampman. October .... ** Poems and Sonjs" Alexander M'Lachlan. First Snow John Talon-Lesperance—" Laclede." Indian Summer W!ll)a.m WiLfuED Campbell. 261 258 2G3 254 255 256 866 2C7 263 2G0 ?6l I I r '^ 1 !!! XIV CONTENTS. I! I iii PAGE An Indian Summer Carol ..... 262 •• Fl DELIS." A Mid-Winter Night's Dream . ** Snowjlakea and Sunbeams "...... 264 William Wilfred Campbell. Winter Night . . **Jephthah'8 Daughter" 266 Charles IIeavysege. Icicle Drops .... From " Canada'* 265 Arthur John Lockhart. The Silver Frost ...... 266 Barry Straton. The Jewelled Trees. ..... 268 George Martin. In Lyric Season . . . . . . 270 Bliss Carman. The Frogs . . " In the MiUet " 271 Archibald Lampman. The Canadian Song-Sparrow . . . .273 J. D. Ed«ar. In June. ....... 274 K. W. Thomson. PAGE 262 264 ighter " 265 >nada " 265 • 266 • 268 • 270 miet" 271 • 278 • 874 ENTRY OF THE MINSTRELS. -♦♦^ From "THE MASQUE OF MINSTRELS." Arthur J. Lockhart. Then came a company of wandering minstrels, without singing robes and garlands, up to the gate of the castle, which was opened readily enough to receive them. They wera now only in the court-yard ; but they went on— their harps in their hands— strengthened by the countenances of one another, and unabashed by the mighty band who had gone in before them. They were late in coming, and the choir of singers was already full; but of this they thought no ill, and when questioned of their act they answered with a proud humility. They were near the door of the high hall, and in answer to their summons it was thrown open, so that a herald stood before them. HERALD. And who be ye ? MfiTliVhiaiJlMT" i! II! f! ; I I xvi ENTRY OF THE MINSTRELS, FIRST MINSTREL. We be also of the Minstrelsy; we be Apprentices of the Muses; Secretaries of Love; Slaves of Beauty; Apostles of Desire ; Disciples of Truth ; Children of Nature ; Followers of Aspiration ; Servants of Song. We be uncrowned kings and queens in the realms of Music, coming to claim and win our sceptres. Crowns have been won and worn by others. Admit us. HERALD. Nay; ye claim too largely. Whose sons be ye, and whose daughters ? SECOND MINSTREL. We be sons and daughters of fathers who were never cowards, and of mothers who were never ashamed ; who loved valour and virtue even as their children love music. lid! LS. )rentices of )f Beauty; :hildren of 5 of Song. B realms of s. Crowns IS. INTRODUCTION. -»*^ be ye, and were never med ; who love music. The poets whose songs fill this book are voices cheerful with the consciousness of young might, public wealth, and heroism. Through them, taken all together, you may catch something of great Niagara falling, of brown rivers rushing with foam, of the crack of the rifle in the haunts of the moose and caribou, the lament of vanishing races singing their death-song as they are swept on to the cataract of oblivion, the rural sounds of Arcadias just rescued from surrounding wildernesses by the axe, shrill war-whoops of Iroquois battle, proud traditions of contests with the French and the Americans, stern and sorrowful cries of valour rising to curb rebellion. The tone of them is courage ;—{ot to hunt, to fight, to hew out a farm, one must be a man ! Through their new hopes, doubts, exultations, questionings, the virility of fighting races is the undertone. Canadians are, for the most part, the descendants of armies, officers and men, and every generation of them has stood up to battle. The delight of a Clear Atmosphere runs through it too, and the rejoicings of the Winter Carnival ; with the glint of that heavenly Palace of illumined pearl, which is the February pilgrimage of North America. lllifi XVI 11 INTRODUCTION. i i 1 1 ! 1 1 1 1 Canada, Eldest Daughter of the Empire, is the Empire's completest type! She is the full-grown of the family, — the one first come of age and gone out into life as a nation ; and she has in her young hands the solution of all those questions which must so interest every true Briton, proud and careful of the acquisitions of British discovery and conquest. She is Imperial in herself, we sons of her think, as the number, the extent, and the lavish natural wealth of her Provinces, each not less than some empire of Europe, rises in our minds; as we picture her coasts and gulfs and kingdoms and islands, on the Atlantic on one side, and the Pacific on the other ; her four-thousand-mile panorama of noble rivers, wild forests, 2)cean-like prairies; her towering snow-capped Rockies waking to the tints of sunrise in the West ; in the East her hoary Laurentians, oldest of hills. She has by far the richest extent of fisheries, forests, wheat lands, and fur regions in the world; some of the greatest public works ; some of the loftiest mountain-ranges, the vastest rivers, the healthiest and most beautifully varied seasons. She has the best ten-elevenths of Niagara Falls, and the best half of the Inland Seas. She stands fifth among the nations in the tonnage of her commercial marine. Her population is about five million souls. Her Valley of the Saskatchewan alone, it has been scientifically computed, will support eight hundred millions. In losing the United States, Britain lost the smaller half of her American possessions: — the Colony of the Maple Leaf ia about as large as Europe. But what would material resources be without a corresponding greatness in man ? Canada is also Imperial in her traditions. Her French race are still conscious that they are the remnants of a power which once ruled North America from Hudson's Bay to the Gulf of Mexico. Existing English Canada is the result of simply the ■ X INTRODUCTION, XIX the Empire's he family, — ito life as a : solution of ; every true IS of British 1 herself, we ;nt, and the not less than as we picture ands, on the e other; her wild forests, iped Rockies in the East le has by far at lands, and gatest public s, the vastest tried seasons. alls, and the th among the larine. Her Valley of the J computed, losing the half of her [aple Leaf is without a also Imperial ill conscious once ruled If of Mexico. simply the noblest epic migration the world has ever seen : — more loftily epic than the retirement of Pius -^neas from Ilion, — the withdrawal, namely, out of the rebel Colonies, of the thirty-five thousand United Empire Loyalists after the War of the Revolution. '* Why did you come here ? " was asked of one of the first settlers of St. John, New Brunswick, a man whose life was without a stain; — *' Why did you come here, when you and your associates were almost certain to endure the sufferings and absolute want of shelter and food which you have narrated?" *^Why did we come here?" replied he, with emotion which brought tears : — ** For our loyaliy." Canada has, of historic right, a voice also in the Empire of to-day, and busies herself not a little in study- ing its problems. For example, the question whether that Empire will last is being asked. Her history has a reply to that : — It will, if it sets clearly before IT A definite Ideal that men will suffer and die FOR ; and such an Ideal — worthy of long and patient endeavour — may be found in broad-minded advance towards the voluntary Federation of Mankind. She has a special history, too, which even under the overshadow- ing greatness of that of the Empire— in which she also owns her part — is one of interest. First explored in 1535, by Jacques-Cartier, of St. Malo, by command of Francis I., and its settlement established in 1608 through the foundation of Quebec by the devoted and energetic Maker of French Canada, Samuel de Champlain, its story down to the Conquest in 1759-63 is full of romance, — Jesuit missionaries, explorers, chevaliers, painted Indian war-parties, the rich fur trade, and finally the great struggle under Montcalm, closing with his expiry and Wolfe's at the hour of the fall of Quebec, passing like a panorama. Then came the entry of the Loyalists, and from that to the present there has been a steady '^ XX INTRODUCTION, m unfolding to power and culture, broken only by the brave war of 1812, and a French, and two half-breed, rebellions. She is, to-day, next to the United States, the strongest factor in American affairs. The Literature of this daughter-nation in the West, as distilled by its poets, ought to be interesting to English- men. That other Colonial poetic literature presented in the Australian volume, has shown that there can be a signal attractiveness in such a picture of a fresh world. On the part of Canada the semi-tropical Australian surroundings are matched in beauty by a Northern atmosphere of objects which make vivid contrasts with them ; her native races were the noblest of savage tribes ; while the Imperial and National feelings, de- veloping in two such different hemispheres, are in- structive in their divergences and similarities. The romantic life of each Colony also has a special flavour, — Australian rhyme is a poetry of the horse; Canadian, of the canoe. Now, who are those who are drinking these inspira- tions and breathing them into song? In communing with them, we shall try to transport you to the Canadian clime itself. You shall come out with us as a guest of its skies and air, paddling over bright lakes and down savage rivers; singing French chansons to the swing of our paddles, till we come into the settlements ; and shall be swept along on great rafts of timber by the majestic St. Lawrence, to moor at historic cities whose streets and harbours are thronged with the commerce of all Europe and the world. You shall hear there the chants of a new nationality, weaving in with songs of the Empire, of its heroes, of its Queen. A word first about the personnel of our conductors. The foremost name in Canadian song at the present day is that of Charles George Douglas Roberts, poet, canoeist, IS" INTRODUCTION, XXI only by the half-breed, nited States, the West, as g to English- 1 presented in ere can be a I fresh world, al Australian ' a Northern contrasts with 2st of savage feelings, de- leres, are in- larities. The pecial flavour, $e; Canadian, 1 these inspira- communing the Canadian a guest of its down savage swing of our and shall be majestic St. streets and of all Europe lants of a new Impire, of its : conductors. »e present day 3oet, canoeist, and Professor of Literature, who has struck the supreme note of Canadian nationality in his *' Canada " and '* Ode for the Canadian Confederacy." His claim to supremacy lies, for the rest, chiefly in the quality of the two volumes, ** Orion and other Poems," which he published in 1880 at thea£;i of twenty-one, and '* In Divers Tones," which appeared in 1887. The style and taste of Roberts at its best are characterised by two different elements — a striking predilection for the pictorial ideals and nature- poetry of classical Greece ; and a noble passion, whose fire and music resemble and approach Tennyson's. ** Orion," "Actoeon," "Off Pelorus," and "The Pipes of Pan" are purely Greek, drawn direct from '* ancient founts of inspiration." On the other hand, his ** O Child of Nations, giant-limbed ! " which stirs every true Canadian like a trumpet, is, though of different subject and metre, of the stamp and calibre of " Locksley Hall." Roberts loves his country fervently, as is apparent in all his Canadian themes. His heart dwells with fondness on the scenes of his Maritime Provinces, *' the long dikes of Tantramar," and the ebb-tide sighing out, "reluctant for the reed-beds ; " and he was one of the first to sing Confederation. His sympathy is also Britain's — *' Let a great wrong cry to heaven, Let a giant necessity come ; And now as of old she can strike, She will strike, and strike home 1 " In point of time, however, the first important national poet was not Roberts, but nature-loving Charles Sangster, a born son of the Muses, and who was long the people's favourite. Sangster is a kind of Wordsworth, with rather more fire, and of course a great deal less meta- physical and technical skill. He has the unevenness xxii INTRODUCTION. HI li and frequent flatness of Wordsworth, but is as close a personal friend of the mountains, lakes, and woods. " I have laid my cheek to Nature's, put ray puny hauds in hers." Glowingly he takes us, in ** St. Lawrence and the Saguenay," down the grandeurs of that unrivalled tour — the great River, its raoids, cities, mountains, and ** Isles of the Blest." Sangster's nervous system was broken down by the grind of newspaper toil and civil service tread-milling, and he has not written or published for twenty years ; yet, though poetry has till lately been given a particularly small share of attention in Canada, his "BrocV," his lines on Quebec, and many striking passages from his poems, are treasured in the popular memory. But *he most striking volume next to those of Roberts — indeed more boldly new than his — is that of the late brilliant Isabella Valancey Crawford. This wonderful girl, living in the *' Empire" Province of Ontario, early saw the possibilities of the new field around her, and had she lived longer might have made a really matchless name. It was only in 18S4 that her modest blue card- covered volume of two hundred and twenty-four pages came out. The sad story of unrecognised genius and death was re-enacted. "Old Spookses' Pass; Malcolm's Katie, and other Poems," as it was doubly entitled (the names at least were against it I), almost dropped from the press. Scarcely anybody noticed it in Canada. It made no stir, and in little more than two years the authoress died. She was a high-spirited, passionate girl, and there is very little doubt that the neglect her book received was the cause of her death. Afterwards, as usual, a good many people began to find they had over- looked work of merit. Miss Crawford's verse was, in fact, seen to be phenomenal. Setting aside her dialect pi! INTRODUCTION, XXIU is as close a woods. hands in hers." ice and the vailed tour — 1, and *' Isles iown by the tread-milling, wenty years ; a particularly *Brod%" his iges from his h >e of Roberts it of the late lis wonderful Ontario, early her, and had lly matchless est blue card- ty-four pages i genius and s; Malcolm's entitled (the iropped from Canada. It wo years the issionate girl, ect her book fterwards, as ley had over- ^erse was, in e her dialect poems, like "Old Spookses* Pass" (which, though the dialect is a trifle artificial, resulted in hitting oft" some good pictures of imaginary rustic characters), the style peculiarly her own has seldom been equalled for strength, colour, and originality — ♦' Low the sun beat on the land, Purple slope and olive wood ; With the wine-cup in his hand, Vast the Ilelot herdsman stood." • ••••• " Day was at her high unrest ; Fevered with the wine of light. Loosing all her golden vest, Reeled she towards the coming Night." Miss Crawford's poetry is packed with fine stuff. It is worth a share of attention from the whole Anglo-Saxon world. The splendour of Canadian colour, the wonderful blue skies of that clear climate, the Heaven's-forests of its autumn, the matchless American sunsets and sunrises, imbued her like Roberts. A poetess of such original nature could not but strike boldly into Canadian subjects. •'Malcolm's Katie; a Love Story," is an idyl of a true man who goes forth and cuts him a home with his axe, and of a maiden who remains true to him, until he returns for their union. Few finer bits were ever written by any one or anywhere than the passage which we give, from ** Shanties grew," down to its glorious climax in the song, " O Love will build his lily walls." It seems to us that this is the most effective known use of a lyric intro- duced into a long poem. Her works, including a good deal never yet published, were about to be brought before the English public in a new volume. A letter of hers concerning the unpublished material, stated that it con- tained some of her best work. The poets best known and most favourite next to Roberts and Sangster are — besides Isabella Crawford — (ffn™- ■UM XXIV INTRODUCTION, M'Lachlan, Kirby, and tender-hearted John Reade. Reade is one the charms of whose style are sweetness and culture. He is best known by his ** Merlin, and Other Poems" (1870), composed of short lyrics, led off by "The Prophecy of Merlin," which is a Tennysonian Idyll of the King, foreshadowing the greatness of the British Empire. His style turns everything it touches into grace, but it appeals to the inner circle rather than the folk, and seems to shrink away from touching organ- keys. For examples of this grace of his, I should like to quote his "The Inexpressible," or "Good Night," but cannot do so here. The claim of ^rst place is awarded by the feelings of no small numbei to Alexander M'Lachlan, the human- hearted, vigorous Scottish Radical, whose stanzas have such a singing rhythm and direct sympathy. They were a few years ago made a special feature of the great comic paper Grip^ the Punch of Canada, and his popularity is shown by the presentation by his admirers a short time since of a homestead farm, upon which he now lives. His " Idylls of the Dominion," from which the poems quoted in this book are princiually drawn, are so charac- teristic both of himself and of pioneerdom, that he is called "The Burns of Canada." William Kirby deserves a high position for his beautiful "Canadian Idylls" (based on history, while M'Lachlan's are upon life), from which "Spina Christi" is drawn. There are also some able descriptions in his long-known "U. E." (Loyalist) poem, from which is taken his passage on Niagara. Steeped in the romance of Canadian history, he wrote many years ago a magnificent novel founded upon the Quebec legend of the Chien d'Or, which has remained the most popular of Canadian stories. Kirby's strong point is his graphic descriptions. One name I have not yet pronounced, though every i' ''> INTRODUCTION. XXV jhn Reade. e sweetness Merlin, and Tics, led off rennysonian tness of the r it touches *rather than :hing organ- lould like to Night," but le feelings of , the human- stanzas have They were I great comic popularity is \ short time I now lives. the poems re so charac- that he is his beautiful M'Lachlan's " is drawn, long-known 3 taken his of Canadian ficent novel :hien d'Or, >f Canadian escriptions. lOUgh every Canadian no doubt has looked for it. A sombre shadow towers in the background of tl e group, — a man apart from the rest, — Charles Heavysegc, author of the drama "Saul." When ''Saul" came out in 1857, and a copy fell into the hands of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Heavysege became famous. He was pronounced the greatest dramatist since Shakespeare. The North British Keview for Augi '.t 1858 spoke of the book as follows: — ** Of • Saul, a Drama, in three parts,' published anony- mously at Montreal, we have before us perhaps the only copy which has crossed the Atlantic. At all events we have heard of no other, as it is probable we should have done, through some public or private notice, seeing that the work is indubitably one of the most remarkable English poems ever written out of Great Britain." The North British reviewer was later by no means alone in its praise, and it became the fashion among tourists to Montreal to buy a copy of ** Saul." Heavysege had a very strange and original cast of mind. The following brief poem may be read as being characteristic of him : — •' Open, my heurt, thy nulily valven ; It is thy master calls ; Let me po down, ami ciiiious trace Thy labyrinthine halls. Open, O heart, and let me view The secrets of thy den ; Myself untc myself now show With introspective ken. Expose thyself, thou coverei^ nest Of passions, and be seen ; Stir up thy brood, that in unrest Are ever piping keen. Ah! what a motley multitude. Magnanimous and mean l" He was originally a drama- composing carpenter, then a journalist in Montreal, and wore out his soul at the INTRODUCTION, I'i tli! iii! M drudgery of the latter occupation and in poverty. To get out the third edition of "Saul** he was forced to borrow the money, which he was never able to repay. In person he was a small, very reticent man, who walked along the streets altogether locked up in himself, so that a literary acquaintance of his says Heavysege's appear- ance always reminded him of *' The Yellow Dwarf," — •• He walked our streets, and no one knew That something of celestial hue Had passed along ; a toil-worn man Was seen, — no more ; the fire that ran Electric through his veins, and wrought Sublimity of soul and thought, And kindled into song, no eye Beheld." He died in 1869. A man apart he has remained. His work is in no sense distinctively Canadian. Cana- dians do not read him ; but they claim him as perhaps their greatest, most original writer, if they could weigh him aright and appreciate him. Sympathy with the prairie and the Indian has pro- duced the best verse of Charles Mair, who has drama- tised the story of the immortal British ally Tecumseh, and lately from his North-Wcst home gives us '* The Last Bison " ; and who has lived a life almost as Indian and North-West as his poems. "The Last Bison," he says, was suggested to him by what happened before his own eyes near the elbow of the North Saskat- chewan some eight years ago. " Not a buffalo," so far as he knows, * ' has been seen on that river since. There are some animals in private collections ; a small band perhaps exists in the fastnesses of Montana, and a few wood buffaloes still roam the Mackenzie River region ; but th: wild bison of the plains may now be looked upon as extinct." We may add, that it was lately reported by INTRODUCTION. XXVll overty. To IS forced to e to repay, who walked iself, so that ge's appear- )warf,"— ht s remained. ian. Cana> as perhaps could weigh an has pro- has drama- Tecumseh, s us (( The almost as The Last Lt happened )rth Saskat- falo," so far ice. There small band and a few irer region ; 3oked upon reported by an Indian that he had tracked a herd of seven in the northerly region of the Peace River. He shot four bulls and a calf out of the seven I The North-West has also given happy inspirations to "Barry Dane*' as a bird of passage. John Hunter-Duvar, the author of **De Roberval" and Squiic of " Hernewood," in Prince Edward Island, described in *' The Emigration of the Fairies," derives his verse largely from the life and legends of the sur- rounding regions, shaped by his good library. George Martin, of Montreal, has digged in the gold- mine of old French legend, with the result of '* Mar- guerite ; or. The Isle of Demons," a weird and sad story of De Roberval's desertion of his niece in one of the early expeditions. Arthur Wentworth Eaton and George Murray have explored the same mine with signal success — the latter, who is very well known as a litterateur^ producing the fine ballad, ** How Canada was Saved." The same story has been well put in Martin's " Heroes of Ville-Marie." Bliss Carman has earned special honour for the originality and finish of his lyrics. Arthur John Lock- hart, in his ** Masque of Minstrels," — particularly in *' Gaspereau," — sings as a bird of exile warbling towards home, for he lives just over the frontier. William Wilfred Campbell is the poet of the Great Lakes, which he has studied with a perfect love, resulting in those beautiful "Lake Lyrics" of his, which the reader will stop to admire, A bit of work of particular attractive- ness has been done by William M'Lennan in his well- known translations of the old French chansons, Archi- bald Lampman has written perfectly exquisite pre- Raphaelite descriptions with the finish and sparkle of jewellers' work. I should have liked to quote more fully than has been (fjil""* XXVUl INTRODUCTION. possible from the ** Lyrics on Freedom, Love, and Death " of the late George Frederick Cameron ; but his fire and g;enerosity of spirit belong rather to the world than to Canadian inspiration, and we are therefore con- fined here to a few lesser pieces of his. He died early, like so many other sons of genius. Among names of special grace or promise are to be added those of ** Laclede," John Talon-Lesp^rance, the well-known liiterateury and Fellow of the Royal Society of Canada ; Barry Straton, Duncan Campbell Scott, Frederick George Scott, John Henry Brown, Dr. yEneas M 'Donald Dawson, F.R.S.C. ; Arthur Weir (the author of " Fleurs de Lys"); Dr. Charles Edwin Jakeway; the late Honourables d'Arcy M'Gee and Joseph Howe; Ernest J. Chapman, E. W. Thomson, Carroll Ryan, William Wye Smith, Phillips Stewart, J. J. Proctor, J. A. Richey ; the aged but bright G. W. Wicksteed, Q.C. ; H. L. Spencer; Messrs. Shanly, Dunn, Halibur- ton, M*Donell, James M 'Carroll, J. H. Bowes, K. L. Jones, S. J. Watson, T. G. Marquis, M 'Alpine Taylor, the late Francis Rye, the late John Lowry Stuart, the late Charles Pelham Mulvaney, 11. R. A. Pocock (author of spirited North-West pieces), Alexander Rae Garvie, and M*Pherson, the early Nova Scotia singer, whose ** I Long for Spring, enchanting Spring," has a bell-like silveriness. Some of these I have been unable to get at. A bright and erratic name, which I am sorry I cannot represent, is that of the journalist, George T. Lanigan ("AUid"), — "the most brilliant journalist whoever lived," says Mr. George Murray. Lanigan wrote with equal felicity in French and English, and his humour was inexhaustible. I regret that space forbids me to add in the body of the book two good things by D. B. Kerr and Emily M*Manus. The latter's subject is the crescent province of the West ; — i Love, and on ; but his » the world irefore con- died early, e are to be Durance, the Dyal Society )bell Scott, Dr. JEne&s (the author 1 Jakeway ; eph Howe; rroll Ryan, J. Proctor, Wicksteed, in, Halibur- •wes, K. L. fine Taylor, Stuart, the ock (author xae Garvie, whose a bell-like le to get at. rry I cannot T. Lanigan t who ever wrote with his humour s me to add D. B. Kerr the crescent bger. INTRODUCTION, xxix •• MANITOBA. " Softly the shadows of prairie-land wheat Ripple and riot adown to her feet ; Murmurs all Nature with joyous acclaim, Fragrance of summer and shimmer of ttame : Heedless she hears while the centuries slip : — Chalice of poppy is laid on her lip. •• Hark I From the East comes a ravishing note,— Sweeter was never in nightingale's throat, — Silence of centuries thrills to the song, Singing their silence awaited so long ; Low, yet it swells to the heaven's blue dome, Child-lips have called the wild meadow-land ' Home 1'" One peculiar feature of this literature, indeed, is its strength in lady singers. The number who have pro- duced true poetry seems to indicate something special in the conditions of a new country. Verily one has not to read far in that noble, patriotic book, ** Laura Secord," to acknowledge that Mrs. Sarah Anne Curzon writes with the power and spirit of masculinity. The best war- songs of the late half-breed rebellion were written by Annie Rothwell, of Kingston. " Fidelis " (Agnes Maule Machar), who is frequently given the credit of being the first of our poetesses, shows some of the same spirit, but excels in a graceful subjectivity which unfortunately is unfitted for representative quotation here; a remark which appHes with still more hapless effect to the philosophic thought of Mary Morgan ("Gowan Lea ). Agnes Seymour Maclean, authoress of "The Coming of the Princess," is mistress of a style of singular richness ; and some of the brightest writing, both prose and verse, is done by *'Seranus," of Toronto (Mrs. S. Frances Harrison), who is work- ing good service to our literature in a number of ways. Her "Old Regime" and "Rose Latulippe'* iiiWi i M i: .!: :iii^ XXX INTRODUCTION, express what has been called her " half- French heart," and breathe the air of the fertile, scarcely-wrought field of French Canadian life. Then there are ** Fleurange," who wrote the best Carnival Poem, " The Italian Boy's Dream"; E. Pauline Johnson, daughter of Head-Chief Johnson, of the Mohawks of Brantford, who gives us poetry of a high stamp, and of great interest on account of her descent; "Esperance" (Alice Maud Ardagh) ; Mrs. Leprohon ; Mary Barry Smith ; Helen Fairhairn ; M. J. Katzmann Lawson ; the late Miss E. M. Nash ; Pamelia Vinirig Yule, *• Clare Everest"; Janet Car- nochan; Mrs. Edgar Jarvis, "Jeanie Gray"; Isabel Macpherson; Louisa Murray, a well-known authoress, who, besides much fine prose, has written "Merlin's Cave," one of the best of Canadian undistinctive poems; and Ethelwyn Wetherald, authoress of many exquisite sonnets. Even from the beginning — fifty years ago, for there was no native poetry to speak of before that — we had Susanna Moodie, one of the famous Strickland sisters, authoress of "Roughing it in the Buih," who gave us the best verses we had during many years, and some of the most patriotic. Many more writers than those above named, in all to a number which might be roughly placed at three hundred, have at various times produced really good verse. A curious Indian song, representing a small but unique song-literature which has sprung up among the tribe at Caughnawaga Reservation, near Montreal, since barbaric times, "from the sheer necessity of singing when together," was translated specially for me by Mr. John Waniente Jocks, the son of a Six-nation chief of that Reservation. A few general remarks are now in order. The present is by no means a perfect presentation of Canadian poetry from a purely literary point of view, on account of the INTRODUCTION. XXXI i^'rench heart," ^wrought field ** Fleurange," e Italian Boy's of Head-Chief who gives us est on account iaud Ardagh) ; len Fairbairn ; E. M. Nash ; ; Janet Car- jray " ; Isabel )wn authoress, ten "Merlin's inctive poems; nany exquisite r years ago, for efore that — we )us Strickland e Bujh," who any years, and ned, in all to a hree hundred, verse, lall but unique ig the tribe at since barbaric singing when I by Mr. John chief of that The present madian poetry iccount of the limitation of treatment ; for it is obvious that if only what illustrates the country and its life in a distinctive way be chosen, the subjective and unlocal literature must be necessarily passed over, entraining the omission of most of the poems whose merit lies in perfection of finish. It is therefore greatly to be desired that a purely literary anthology may soon be brought together by some one. Such a collection was made in 1867, in the Rev. Edward Hartley Dewart's " Selections." Two or three other partial collections have been made, the best being Seranus' " Canadian Birthday Book," which affords a miniature survey of the chief verse-writers, both French and English. The most remarkable point of difference between the selections of Dewart and the poetry which has followed, is the tone of exultation and confidence which the singers have assumed since Con- federation, for up to that epoch the verse was apologetic and depressed. Everything now points hopefully. Not only is the poetry more confident, but far better. A good deal ot the best verse in American magazines is written in Canada. The order of this collection is in sections, treating of the Imperial Spirit, the New Nationality, the Indian, the Voyagenr and Habitantt Settlement Life, Sports and Free Life, Historical Incidents, Places, and Seasons. They give merely, it should be under- stood, a sketch of the range of the subjects. Canadian history, for example, as any one acquainted with Parkman will know, perfectly teems with noble deeds and great events, of which only a small share have been sung, whereof there is only space here for a much smaller share. The North-West and British Columbia, that Pacific clime of charm — the gold-diggings Province, land of salmon rivers, and of the Douglas firs which hide daylight at noonday — have been scarcely sung at iiii'^'l' ■iih !iii: XXXll INTRODUCTION, all, owing to their newness. The poetry of the Winter Carnival, splendid scenic spectacle of gay Northern arts and delights, is only rudimentary also. Those who have been present at the thrilling spectacle of the nocturnal storming of the Ice Palace in Montreal, when the whole city, dressing itself in the picturesque snow-shoe costume and arraying its streets in lights and colours, rises as one man in a tumultuous enthusiasm, must feel that some- thing of a future lies before the poetry of these strange and wonderful elements. To omit a bow to the French would be ungracious. In the larger form of this work in the Windsor Series, we have devoted a special appendix to ipsis verbis specimens of Chauveau, Suite, Frechette, and Le May, leaders who have been very highly honoured in France. In concluding, I desire to express my sense of short- coming in the work, but believe it will be generally admitted that I have spared no necessary trouble. Both Editors regret to say that, through an accidental cause unnecessary to explain, more MSS. were sent to the publishers than the volume required. As no time could be lost, the General Editor had no recourse except to undertake the difficult task of cutting down the matter, which he did in accordance with his best judg- ment, but guided by the sole criterion of the symmetry of the work. Some good poetry originally included has not found a place, owing to the necessary reduction, and apology is tendered where unintentional injustice has resulted. And now, the canoes are packed, our voyagettrs are waiting for us, the paddles are ready, let us start ! W. D. U of the Winter r Northern arts hose who have ■ the nocturnal vhen the whole v-shoe costume rs, rises as one "eel that some- f these strange be ungracious. Vindsor Series, ;o t/>sts verbis and Le May, ed in France, sense of short- 11 be generally trouble. I an accidental ). were sent to l. As no time recourse except ting down the his best judg- ■ the symmetry ly included has reduction, and 1 injustice has I.— The Imperial Spirit, r voyageurs are IS start I W. D. U T!^ ii Hi li^ ill I irhn si ! Hi Cana6fan poems anb lags* *■■ »♦■ L^THE IMPERIAL SPIRIT. HASTINGS. John Reade. L October's woods are bright and gay, a thousand colours vie To win the golden smiles the Sun sends gleaminc thro' the sky j * And tho* the flowers are dead and gone, one garden seems the earth, For, in God's world, as one charm dies, another starts to ' birth. II. iTo every season is its own peculiar beauty given, I In every age of mortal men we see the Hand of Heaven ; fff m I 4 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. And century to century utters a glorious speech, And peace to war, and war to peace, eternal lessons teach. III. O grand old woods, your forest -sires were thus as bright and gay, Before the axe's murderous voice had spoiled their sylvan play; When other axes smote our sires, and laid them stiff and low. On Hastings' unforgotten field, ei'gAf hundred years ago, IV. Eight hundred years ago, long years, before Jacques Cartier clomb The Royal Height, where now no more the red men fearless roam ! Eight hundred years ago, long years, before Columbus came From stately Spain to find the world that ought to bear his name ! V. The Sussex woods were bright and red on that October morn ; And Sussex soil was red with blood before the next was born ; But from that red united clay another race did start On the great stage of destiny to act a noble part. VI. So God doth mould, as pleaseth Him, the nations of His choice ; Now, in the battle-cry is heard His purifying voice '.AYS. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 5 ech, ternal lessons thus as bright id their sylvan them stiff and ^ed years ago. )efore Jacques the red men ore Columbus ought to bear that October J the next was did start part. And now, with Orphic strains of peace he draws to nationhood The scattered tribes that dwell apart by mountain, sea, and wood. VII. lie took the lonely poet Celt, and taught him Roman lore ; Then from the wealds of Saxony lie brought the sons of Thor; Next from his cra'^^y home the Dane came riding o'er the sea; And last, came William with his bands of Norman chivalry. VIII. And now, as our young nationhood is struggling into birth, God grant its infant pulse may beat with our forefathers' worth ! And, as we gather inti) one, let us recall with pride That we are of the blood of those who fought when Harold died. nations of His ing voice ^( )ii »" m ;i CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. CANADA TO ENGLAND.^ Anonymous. Mother of many prosperous lands, Thy children in this far-off West, — Seeing that vague and undefined A cloud comes up to mar our rest ; Fearing that busy tongues, whose speech Is mischief, may have caused a breach, And frayed the delicate links which bind Our people each to each, — With loving hearts and outstretched hands Send greeting leal and kind. Heed not the teachings of a school Of shallow sophists who would part The outlying members of thy rule ; Who fain would lop, with felon stroke, The branches of t;ur English oak, And, wronging the great English heart, Would deertk bjr honour cheaply sold For higher prices on the mart, And increased hoard of gold. What though a many thousand miles Of boisterous waters ebb and flow Between us and the favoured Isles, — The " inviolate Isles " which boast thy sway ! 1 Appeared in New Dominion Monthly, 1S69, with a Htate- ment that it had had a wide circulation "some years ago." Internal evidence shows it to have been written about 1861. ii(;!i CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS, No time nor distance can divide What gentlest bonds have firmest tied ; And this we fain would have thee know, The which let none p;ainsay. Nay rather, let the wide world hear That we so far are yet so near, That, come what may, in weal or woe, Our hearts are one this day. Thus late, when death's cold wings were spread, And when the nation's eyes were dim. We also bowed the stricken head, We too the eloquent teardrops shed In heartfelt grief for him, • ••••• When recent danger threatened near, We nerved our hearts to play our part; Not making boast, nor feeling fear; But as the news of insult spread Were none to dally or to lag ; For all the grand old Island spirit Which Britain's chivalrous sons inherit Was roused, and as one heart, one head, We rallied round our flag. And now as then unchanged, the same Though filling each our separate spheres; Thy joys, thy griefs, and thy good name Are ours, and or in good or ill ; Our pride of race we have not lost, And aye it is our loftiest boast That we are Britons still ! And in the gradual lapse of years Ipl!, 8 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. We look, that 'neatli these distant skies Another England shall arise, — A noble scion of the old, — Still to herself and lineage true. And prizing honour more than gold. This is our hope, and as for you, Be just as you are generous, mother. And let not those who rashly speak Things that they know not, render weak The ties that bind us to each other. EMPIRE FIRST. POPULAR SONG. John Talon-Lesperance— " LACLfeoE." Shall we break the plight of youth, And pledge us to an alien love ? No ! We hold our faith and truth, Trusting to the God above. Stand, Canadians, firmly stand, Round the flag of Fatherland. Britain bore us in our flank, Britain nursed us at our birth, Britain reared us to our rank 'Mid the nations of the earth. Stand, Canadians, etc. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, In the hour of pain and dread, In the gathering of the storm, Britain raised above our head Her broad shield and sheltering arm. Stand, Canadians, etc. O triune kingdom of the brave, O sea-girt Island of the free, O empire of the land and wave, Our hearts, our hands, are all for thee. Stand, Canadians, etc. THE CANADIANS ON THE NILE. William Wye Smith. 0, THE East is but the West, with the sun a little hotter; And the pine becomes :; palm, by the dark Egyptian water : And the Nile's like miny a stream we know, that fills its brimming cup, — We'll think it is the O'tawa, as we track the batteaux up ! Pull, pull, pull ! as we track the batteaux up 1 It's easy shooting homeward, when we're l., the topi 0, the cedar and the spruce line each dark Canadian river ; But the thirsty date is here, where the :ultry sunbeams quiver ; PPS ■a 10 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, And the mocking mirage spreads its view, afar on either hand; But strong we bend the sturdy oar, towards the Southern land! Pull, pull, pull ! as we track the batteaux up ! It's easy shooting homeward, when we're at the top! O, we've tracked the Rapids up, and o'er many a portage crossing; And it's often such weVe seen, though so loud the waves are tossing ! Then, it's homeward when the run is o'er ! e'er stream, and ocean deep— To bring the memory of the Nile, where the maple shadows sleep ! Pull, pull, pull ! as we track the batteaux up ! It's easy shooting homeward, when we're at the top! ! .:i And it yet may come to pass, that the hearts and hands so ready May be sought again to help, when some poise is off the steady ! And the Maple and the Pine be matched, with British Oak the while, As once beneath Egyptian suns, the Canadians on the Nile! Pull, pull, pull ! as we track the batteaux up ! It's easy shooting homeward, when we're at the top! I lYS, ar on either le Southern teaux up ! we're at the 1■■'^ ny a portagt. | id the waves e'er stream, ^ i the maple Ltteaux up ! we're at the II.— The New Nationality. Is and hands jise is off the , with British idians on the atteaux up ! 1 we're at the II.— THE NEW NATIONALITY, DOMINION DAY. *'FiDELrs." 'NiTH feu-dg-joie and merry bells, and cannon's thunder- ing peal, And pennons fluttering on the breeze, and serried rows of steel, We greet, again, the birthday morn of our youne mant's land, '^ ** From the Atlantic stretching wide to far Pacific strand : With flashing rivers, ocean lakes, and prairies wide and free. And waterfalls, and forests dim, and mountains bv the sea ; ^ A country on whose birth-hour smiled the genius of romance. Above whose cradle brave hands waved the lily-cross of France ; Whose infancy was grimly nursed in peril, pain, and woe; Whose gallant hearts found early graves beneath Canadian snow; 1^1 ■i ( j 14 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, When savage raid and ambuscade and famine's sore distress, Combined their strength, in vain, to crush the dauntless French noblesse ; When her dim, trackless forest lured, again and yet again, From silken courts of sunny France, her flower, the brave Champlain. And now, her proud traditions boast four blazoned rolls of fime, — Crecy's and Flodden's deadly foes our ancestors we claim ; Past feud and battle buried far behind the peaceful years, While Gaul and Celt and Briton turn to pruning-hooks their spears ; Four nations welded into one, — with long historic past, Have found, in these our western wilds, one common life, at last ; Through the young giant's mighty limbs, that stretch from sea to sea. There runs a throb of conscious life — of waking energy. From Nova Scotia's misty coast to far Columbia's shore. She wakes, — a band of scattered homes and colonies no more. But a young nation, with her life full beating in her breast, A noble future in her eyes — the Britain of the West. Hers be the noble task to fill the yet untrodden plains With fruitful, many-sided life that courses through her veins ; The English honour, nerve, and pluck, — the Scotsman's love of right, — The grace and courtesy of France, — the Irish fancy bright,— M: AYS. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 15 amine's sore :he dauntless rain and yet r flower, the )lazoned rolls ancestors we (caceful years, Druning-hooks listoric past, one common , that stretch king energy. ^ ir Columbia's d colonies no )eating in her J he West, dden plains s through her he Scotsman's e Irish fancy The Saxon*s faithful love of home, and home's affections blest ; And, chief of all, our holy faith,~of all our treasures best. A people poor in pomp and state, but rich in noble deeds, Holding that righteousness exalts the people that it leads ; As yet the waxen mould is soft, the opening page is fair ; It rests with those who rule us now, to leave their impress there, — The stamp of true nobility, high honour, stainless truth ; The earnest quest of noble ends ; the generous heart of youth ; The love of country, soaring far above dull party strife ; The love of learning, art, and song — the crowning grace of life ; The love of science, soaring far through Nature's hidden ways; The love and fear of Nature's God — a nation's highest praise. So, in the long hereafter, this Canada shall be The worthy heir of British power and British liberty ; Spreading the blessings of her sway to her remotest bounds. While, with the fame of her fair name, a continent resounds. True to her high traditions, to Britain's ancient glory Of patient saint and martyr, alive in deathless story ; Strong, in their liberty and truth, to shed from shore to shore A light among the nations, till nations are no more. (;^l III'"!" .1'' 1:1 i6 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, CANADA. Charles G. D. Roberts. ;l i 'iii Child of Nations, giant-limbed, Who stand'st among the nations now Unheeded, unadorned, unhymned, With unanointed brow, — How long the ignoble sloth, how long The trust in greatness not thine own ? Surely the lion's brood is strong To front the world alone I How long the indolence, ere thou dare Achieve thy destiny, seize thy fame, — Ere our proud eyes behold thee bear A nation's franchise, nation's name ? The Saxon force, the Celtic fire, These are thy manhood's heritage ! Why rest with babes and slaves ? Seek higher The place of race and age. 1 see to every wind unfurled The flag that bears the Maple- Wreath ; Thy swift keels furrow round the world Its blood-red folds beneath ; Thy swift keels cleave the furthest seas ; Thy white sails swell with alien gales ; To stream on each remotest breeze The black smoke of thy pipes exhales. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 17 O Falterer, let thy past convince Thy future, — all the growth, the gain, The fame since Cartier knew thee, sin'^e Thy shores beheld Champlain. Montcalm and Wolfe ! Wolfe and Montcalm ! Quebec, thy storied citadel Attest in burning song and psalm How here thy heroes fell ! O Thou that bor'st the battle's brunt At Queenston, and at Lundy's Lane, — On whose scant ranks but iron front The battle broke in vain I — Whose was the danger, whose the day, From whose triumphant throats the cheers, At Chrysler's Farm, at Chateauguay, Storming like clarion-bursts our ears ? On soft Pacific slopes, — beside Strange floods that northward rave and fall, Where chafes Acadia's chainless tide — Thy sons await thy call. They await ; but some in exile, some With strangers housed, in stranger lands ; — And some Canadian lips are dumb Beneath Egyptian sands. O mystic Nile ! Thy secret yields Before us ; thy most ancient dreams Are mixed with far Canadian fields And murmur of Canadian streams. m 18 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. But thou, my Country, dream not thou ! Wake, and behold kow night is done, — How on thy breast, and o'er thy brow. Bursts the uprising sun 1 THE CONFUSED DAWN. W. D. LiGHTHALL. i :i;,l :!il| :'!' 1:1 YOUNG MAN. What are the Vision and the Cry That haunt the new Canadian soul ? Dim grandeur spreads we know not why O'er mountain, forest, tree, and knoll. And murmurs indistinctly fly. — Some magic moment sure is nigh. O Seer, the curtain roll I SEER* The Vision, mortal, it is this — Dead mountain, forest, knoll, and tree Awaken all endued with bliss, A native land — O think 1 — to be — Thy native land — and ne'er amlt s, Its smile shall like a lover's kiss From henceforth seem to thee. The Cry thou couldst not understand. Which runs through that new realm of light, :: fi! f CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 19 From Breton's to Vancouver's strand O'er many a lovely landscape bright, It is their waking utterance grand, The great refrain, ** A Native Land ! " Thine be the ear, the sight. FROM "'85." Barry Straton. Shall we not all be one race, shaping and welding the nation ? Is not our country too broad for the schisms which shake petty lands ? Yea, we shall join in our might, and keep sacred our firm Federation, Shoulder to shoulder arrayed, hearts open to hearts, hands to hands ! CANADA NOT LAST. W. D. LiGHTHALL. AT VENICE. Lo I Venice, gay with colour, lights, and song. Calls from St. Mark's with ancient voice and strange I am the Witch of Cities 1 glide along My silver streets that never wear by change /Jl ^VkM 20 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA 1 Of years ; forget the years, and pain, and wrong, And every sorrow reigning men among ; Know I can soothe thee, please and marry thee To my illusions. Old, and siren-strong, I smile immortal, while the mortals flee Who whiten on to death in wooing me 1 AT FLORENCE. Say, what more fair, by Arno's bridged gleam,^ Than Florence, viewed from San Miniato's slme At eventide, when west along the stream The last of day reflects a silver hope ! — Lo ! all else softened in the twilight beam : — The city's mass blent in one hazy cream ; The brown Dome 'midst it, and the Lily Tower, And stern Old Tower more near, and hills that seem Afar, like clouds to fade, and hills of power On this side, greenly dark with cypress, vine, bower 1 and AT ROME. End of desire to stray 1 feel would come, Though Italy were all fair skies to me. Though France's fields went mad with flowery foam. And Blanc put on a special majesty. Not all could match the growing thought of home, Nor tempt to exile. Look I not on Rome, — This ancient, modern, mediaeval queen, — Yet still sigh westward over hill and dome. Imperial ruin, and villa's princely scene. Lovely with pictured saints and marble gods serene I 1 " Sovra'I bel flume d'Arno la gran villa."— Dante. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 21 RRFLECTION. Rome, Florence, Venice, — noble, fair, and quaint, They reign in robes of magic round me here ; But fading blotted, dim, a picture faint. With spell more silent, only pleads a tear. Plead not ! Thou hast my heart, O picture dim ! I see the fields, I see the autumn hand Oi God upon the maples I Answer Him With weird, translucent glories, ye that stand Like spirits in scarlet and in amethyst ! I see the sun break over you ; the mist On hills that lift from iron bases grand Their heads superb ! — the dream, it is my native land ! COLLECT FOR DOMINION DAY. Charles G. D. Roberts. Father of Nations 1 Help of the feeble hand, Strength of the strong ! to whom the nations kneel ! Stay and destroyer, at whose just command Earth's kingdoms ttemble and her empirei reel ! Who dost the low uplift, the small make great. And dost abase the ignorantly proud ; Of our scant people mould a mighty state. To the strong stern, to Thee in meekness bowed ! Father of unity, make this people one I Weld, interfuse them in the patriot's flame, — Whose forging on Thine anvil was begun In blood late shed to purge the common shame; That so our hearts, the fever of faction done, Banish old feud in our young nation's name. 9 IIL— The Indian. i. i ■: ii II ill IIL—THE INDIAN. A BLOOD-RED RING HUNG ROUND THE MOON. "Barry Dane"— John E. Logan. A BLOOD-RED ring hung round the moon. Hung round the moon. Ah me ! Ah me I I heard tlie piping of the Loon, A wounded Loon. Ah me ! And yet the eagle feathers rare, I, trembling, wove in my brave's hair. He left me in the early morn, The early morn. Ah me 1 Ah me ! The feathers swayed like stately corn,* So like the corn. Ah me I A fierce wind swept across the plain, The stately corn was snapt in twain. » •* Indian com " is maize. ' I" 26 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, They crushed in blood the hated race, The hated race. Ah me ! Ah me ! I only clasped a cold, blind face, His cold, dead face. Ah me ! A blood-red ring hangs in my sight, I hear the Loon cry every night. ill THE DEPARTING OF CLOTE SCARP. Charles G. D. Roberts. It is so long ago ; and men well-nigh Forget what gladness was, and how the earth Gave corn in plenty, and the rivers fish, And the woods meat, before he went away. His going was on this wise. All the works And words and ways of men and beasts became Evil, and all their thoughts continually Were but of evil. Then he made a feast. Upon the shore that is beside the sea That takes the setting sun, he ordered it, And called the beasts thereto. Only the men He called not, seeing them evil utterly. He fed the panther's crafty brood, and filled The lean wolf's hunger; from the hollow tree His honey stayed the bear's terrific jaws; And the brown rabbit couched at peace, within The circling shadow of the eagle's wings. u 4YS, :e, :! ^ CARP. I earth vay. orks > became St. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 27 And when the feast was done, he told them all That now, because their ways were evil grown, On that same day he must depart from them, And they should look upon his face no more. Tlien all the beasts were very sorrowful. It was near sunset, and the wind was still, And down the yellow shore a thin wave washed Slowly ; and Clote Scarp launched his birch canoe, And spread his yellow sail, and moved from shore, Thoujrh no wind followed, streaming in the sail. Or roUi;hening the clear waters after him. And all the beasts stood by the shore, and watched. Then to the west appeared a long red trail Over the wave ; and Clote Scarp sailed and sang Till the canoe grew little like a bird, And black, and vanished in the shining trail. And when the beasts could see his form no more, They still could hear hiv..i, singing as he sailed. And still they listened, hanging down their heads In long row, where the thin wave washed and fled. But when the sound of singing died, and when They lifted up their voices in their grief, Lo ! on the mouth of every beast a strange New tongue ! Then rose they all and fled apart. Nor met again in council from that day. it, le men filled )w tree 2, within IS. iWI^ m\ m 28 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. From "TECUMSEII."— Act I., Scene 2. Charles Mair. LEFROY. This region is as lavish of its flowers As Heaven of its primrose blooms by night. This is the Arum, which within its root Folds life and death ; and this the Prince's Pine, Fadeless as love and truth — the fairest form That ever sun-shower washed with sudden rain. This golden cradle is the Moccasin Flower, Wherein the Indian hunter sees his hound ; And this dark chalice is the Pitcher-Plant, Stored with the water of forgetfulness. Whoever drinks of it, whose heart is pure, Will sleep for aye 'ueath foodful asphodel, And dream of endless love. There was a time on this fair continent When all things throve in spacious peacefulness. The prosperous forests unmolested stood. For where the stalwart oak grew there it lived Long ages, and then died among its kind. The hoary pines — those ancients of the earth — Brimful of legends of the early world. Stood thick on their own mountains unsubdued. And all things else illumined by the sun, Inland or by the lifted wave, had rest. The passionate or calm pageants of the skies No artist drew ; but in the auburn west A vs. CENE 2. /ers i by night. 3t nce's Pine, t form (Iden rain, lower, ound; 'lant, >• [pure, odel, atinent eacefulness. ood, re it lived kind. he earth — I, unsubdued. sun, St. the skies vest CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 29 Innumerable faces of fair cloud Vanished in silent darkness with the day. The prairie realm — vast ocean's paraphrase — Rich in wild grasses numberless, and flowers Unnamed save in mute Nature's inventory, No civilised barbarian trenched for gain. And all that flowed was sweet and uncorrupt. The rivers and their tributary streams, Undammed, wound on for ever, and gave up Their lonely torrents to weird gulfs of sea, And ocean wastes unshadowed by a sail. And all the wild life of this western world Knew not the fear of man ; yet in those woods, And by those plenteous streams and mighty lakes, And on stupendous steppes of peerless plain, And in the rocky gloom of canyons deep, Screened by the stony ribs of mountains hoar Which steeped their snowy peaks in purging cloud, And down the continent where tropic suns Warmed to her very heart the mother earth, And in the congeal'd north where silence self Ached with intensity of stubborn frost, There lived a soul more wild than barbarous ; A tameless soul — the sunburnt savage free — Free and untainted by the greed of gain, Great Nature's man, content with Nature's food. ii< 30 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS, THE ARCTIC INDIAN'S FAITH. Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee, We worship the Spirit that walks unseen Through our land of ice and snow ; We know not His face, we know not His place, But His presence and power we know. i^i Does the Buffalo need the Pale-face word To find his pathway far ? What guide has he to the hidden ford, Or where the green pastures are ? Who teacheth the Moose that the hunter's gun Is peering out of the shade ? Who teacheth the doe and the fawn to run In the track the Moose has made ? Him do we follow. Him do we fear. The Spirit of earth and sky ; Who hears with the WapiiVs eager ear His poor red children's cry ; Whose whisper we note in every breeze That stirs the birch canoe ; Who hangs the reindeer-moss on the trees For the food of the Caribou. The Spirit we worship, who walks unseen Through our land of ice and snow ; We know not His face, we know not His place^ But His presence and power we know. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 31 THE CAUGHNAWAGA BEADWORK-SELLER. W. D. LiGHTHALL. Kanawaki,— '* By the Rapid,"— Low the sunset 'midst thee lies ; And from the wild Reservation Evening's breeze begins to rise. Faint the Konoronkwa chorus Drifts across the currents strong ; Spirit-like the parish steeple Stands thine ancient walls among. Kanawaki, — '* By the Rapid," — How the sun amidst thee burns ! Village of the Praying Nation, Thy dark child to thee returns. All day through the pale-faced city, Silent, selling beaded wares, I have wandered with my basket. Lone, excepting for their stares. They are white men ; we are Indians ; What a gulf their stares proclaim I They are mounting ; we are dying: All our heritage they claim. We are dying, dwindling, dying ! Strait and smaller grows our bound t They are mounting up to heaven, And are pressing all around. Tho7i art ours, — little remnant, Ours from countless thousand years, — Part of the old Indian world : Thy breath from far the Indian cheers. 32 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, V' i I ■I ii,m 11 ii j.fi '1. ,!( Back to thee, O Kanawaki ! Let the rapids dash between Indian homes and white men's manners, — Kanawaki and Lachine ! O, my dear I O Knife-and-Arrows ! Thou art bronzed, thy limbs are lithe ; How I lau^h when through the crosse-game Slipst thou like red elder-withe ! Thou art none of these pale-faces 1 When with thee I'll happy feel ; For thou art the Indian warrior From thy head unto thy heel ! Sweet the Konoronkwa chorus Floats across the currents strong ; Clear behold the parish steeple Rise the ancient walls among ! Skim us deftly, noiseless paddle : In my shawl my bosom burns ! Kanawaki,—" By the Rapid,"— Thy own child to thee returns. WAHONOMIN.i (Indian Hymn to the Queen.) Frederick George Scott. Ill ill |i|!!i.i:. Great mother I we have wondered that thy sons. Thy pale sons, should have left thy side and come To these wild plains, and sought the haunts of bears And red men. Why their battle with the woods ? 1 " Wahonomin" is an Indian cry of lamentation. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 33 Whither go they upon the gods of iron, Out of the golden sunrise to the mists Of purple evening in the setting west ? Their lives have scarce as many moons as ours, Nor happier are. We know not what they seek ; For death's cold finger chills their fevered life, As in the wilds he stills the meanest worm. And death flies with them over all their paths, And waits them in the heart of wildest waste ; They cannot break his power. Forgive these thoughts If, as they rise like mists, they dim the gold That zones thy brow. They came to us at night, As we have sat in council round the fire ; They seemed the echo of the sighing pines Far in our soul. One evening rose a chief. White-headed, bowed with years, one hand on staff. One on death's arm, preparing for the way. " My sons," he said, ** these people are not wise. We bide our time, and they will pass away ; Then shall the red man come like a bird in spring, And build the broken camp, and hunt and fish In his old woods. The§e»people pass away; For I have thought through many nights and days, And wondered what they seek ; and now I know, And knowing, say these people are not wise. They found these plains beneath the burning west, And westward, ever westward, still they press. Seeking the shining meadows of the land Where the sun sleeps, and, folded *neath his wings, The happy spirits breathe eternal day. But I have lived thro' fivescore changing years, And I have talked with wintry-headed chiefs, And I have heard that kingdom is not reached Thro' woods and plains, but by the bridge of death. This people is not wise ; we bide our time." mi 34 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. CAUGIINAWAGA SONG. {Rinon2veSf rinonwes^ Rakeni,) Tr, John Waniente Jocks. Chorus. I LOVE him, I love him, father, — That young man ! Maiden. Well, father, what is thy word ? My spirit is now to marr>. Father. Ashamed be thou, my child, — Thou whom I hold my iictle one, — Thou are yet too young ; Thou can'st not get thee thy foci '^i- iilliii lliil^iil ■' ! ,M : I'll Maiden {in the words of the ^' m. /. I love him, I love him, father, That young man. Father. Hard drinks he, he thou Invest ; Great tears this would later make thee shed* K5. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 35 Chorus {passionately), I love him, I love him, father, — That young man. Father. Thou askest for food; he will show thee a bottle. Chorus {softly). Yet I love him, I love him, father,^ That young man« fc>» lee shed» m '^""^w m IV.— The Voyageur and Habitant. IV,--- THE VOYAGE UR AND HABITANT. THE OLD RfclME. (From ''Song of Welcomed) "Seranus." Yet survives a strain, One of saddest singing, Chant of Habitant, On the river ringing ; Born in olden France, All of dame and dance, Brought with golden lily. From the distant pines, From the northern waters, From hardy sons and toiling daughters, SalutatioD ; Salutation ! Timm T 40 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. Regit. Strange visions of a land beyond the sea, The quaint old towns and farms of Normandy,— The land he never saw and ne'er will see ! Strange visions of a life as bright and gay As his own now is quiet, dull and gray, — The many-coloured life of Yesterday ! Strange visions of a past still dimly dear, 8ince he, the toiler, cannot but revere The past he may not see, nor feel, nor hear ! And strange for us the other sudden thought, How without dreams that float across the foam Of gray Atlantic, float, and float, and flash At length on shores of Gallic name and fame Into the actual glitter of old time — We hold among our best possessions still, E'en here in new and northern land— a past, We have not many ruins, it is true ; And those we have, pray daily, but in vain, For friendly green that grows not gratis here. Not more than scraps of history, they have said ! They are enough to interest, kindle too, If wisely we have learned to love our land. But not enough to bore — no pedants here. Here — lower and trophy, mound and monument, The cairn and cuneiform of an Old World Give place to Nature in her purity. But what we have, we cling to. Wc would keep All dear tradition ; be it picturesque In the old voya^eur with gay festoons CANADIAN POEMS AND LA Y3, 41 Of floating ribbons, happy, noisy, free ; Or polished, in the careful cavalier, Fresii-furbelowed from out his sunny France, — Heroic, in the story of Vcrcheres ; Or dark, in that of dismal Beaumanoir. Through the long years we see as in a dream, — Aad will not part with it — the Old Regime. Powdered tresses and rich brocade, blately matron and charming maid; Flashing steel and stubborn rust, Liood for blood and thrust for thrust ; Hand on heart in the good old style, Courtly lips on lips without guile ; The young sweet land of La Nouvelle Franct, Knew it all by a stiange sweet chance ; All the charm of the dainty dressing, All the force of a gay professing. Chorus. — And still we seem As in a dream. To watch the Old Regime, The Old Regime ! Crowned Quebec on her Citadel Fierce wild tales of her youth can tell; Talcs of ghosts that still pursue Scenes oi riot and bloodshed too ; 42 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, Tales of dark stains on the flooring, Tales of woman's wild imploring ; The younj; sweet land of La Nouvelle France^ Had its share of Old World romance ; But sobered by Time are sword and gown, And quiet reigns in the grey old town. Chorus. — Yet still we seem As in a dream, To watch the Old Regime, The Old Regime ! MALBROUCK. {OU Chanson.) Tr, William M'Lennan. Malbrouck has gone a-fighting, Mironton^ mironton, fnhontaine^ Malbrouck has gone a-lighting But when will he return ? Perchance he'll come at Easter Or else at Trinity Term. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 43 But Trinity Term is over And Malbrouck comes not yet. My Lady climbs htr watch tower As high as she can get. She sees her page approaching All clad in sable hue : ** Ah page, brave page, what tidings From my true lord bring you ? " " The news I bring, fair Lady, Will make your tears run down ; " Put off your rose-red dress so fine And doff your satin gown ; "Monsieur Malbrouck is dead, alas ! And buried too, for aye ; ** I saw four officers who bore His mighty corse away. *' One bore his cuirass, and his friend His shield of iron wrought ; " The third his mighty sabre bore, And the fourth — he carried nought. * ' And at the corners of his tomb they planted rosc-maric ; 44 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, ■I' ^llil t''^ "And from their tops the nightingale Rings out her carol free. **We saw, above the laurels, His soul fly forth amain; ** And each one fell upon his face And then rose up again. ** And so we sang the glories P^or which great Malbrouck bled ; *'And when the whole was ended Each one went off to bed, ** I say no more my Lady, Mironton^ mir onion, mirontainc^ I say no more, my Lady, As nought more can be said." A LA CLAIRE FONTAINE. {Old Chanson.) Tr, W. D. LlGIITHALL. I. Unto the crystal fountain For pleasure did I stray ; So fair I found the waters My limbs in them I lay* CANADIAN POEMS AND LA K9. 45 Long is it I have loved thee, Thee shall I love alway, My dearest ; Long is it I have loved thee, Thee shall I love alway, II. So fair I found the waters, My limbs in them I lay ; Beneath an oak tree resting, I heard a roundelay. Long is it, etc. III. Beneath an oak tree resting, I heard a roundelay, The nightingale was singing On the oak tree's topmost spray. Long is it, etc. IV. The nightingale was singing On the oak tree's topmost spray : — Sing, nightingale, keep singing, Thou who hast heart so gay ! Long is it, etc. V. Sing, nightingale, keep singing, Thou hast a heart so gay, Thou hast a heart so merry, While mine is sorrow's prey. Long is it, etc. 46 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. VI. For I have lost my mistress, Whom I did true obey, All for a bunch of roses, Whereof I said her nay. Loncj is it, etr. vir. I would those luckless roses Were on their bush to-day. And that itself the rosebush Were plunged in ocean's spray. Long is it I have loved thee, Thee shall I love alway. My dearest ; Long is it I have loved thee, Thee shall I love alway. EN ROULANT MA BOULE {Old Chanson.) Tr, William M*Lennan. Behind the Manor lies the mere, En roulant ma bouIJ ; Three ducks bathe in its waters clear, En roulant ma bottU, CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 47 Rouli^ roulanty ma honU roulanty En roulant ma houle, roulanty En roulant ma bottle. Three fairy ducks swim without fenr : The Prince goes hunting far and near. The Prince at last draws near the lake ; He bears his gun of magic make. With magic gun of silver bright, He sights the Black but kills the White. He sights the Black but kills the White : Ah I cruel Prince, my heart you smite. Ah ! cruel Prince, my heart you break. In killing thus my snow-white Drake. My snow-white Drake, my Love, my King • The crimson life-blood stains his wing. His life-blood falls in rubies bright, His diamond eyes have lost their light. The cruel ball has found its quest. His golden bill sinks on his breast. His golden bill sinks on his breast. His plumes go floating East and West, liv: 4S CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. Far, far they're borne to distant Ir •id*', Till gathered by fair maidens* hands ; Till {gathered by fair maidens' hands ; And form at last a soldier's bed. And form at last a soldier's bed, En roulant ma bottle ; Sweet refuge for the wanderer's head, En roulant ma hotilL Rouli^ roulant ^ fna houU rotilaut^ En roulant ma bottle rottlanf.^ En roulant ma bottle. ENTRE PARIS ET SAINT-DENIS. {Old Chanson.) Tr, William M'Lennan. TwiXT Paris fair and St. Denis The dance was up one day, And all the ladies of the town Looked on in brave array. Sur lafeuille ron, . . . don don don^ Sur la joli\ joW fettille ronde. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 49 And all the ladies of the town Looked on in brave array, All save the Princess fair, who glanced Ad own the dusty way. The Princess fair cast wistful looks Adown the dusty way, And soon she saw her messenger Ride from where Nantes lay. She saw her faithful messenger His way from Nantes winp; ; "Now, messenger, from Nantes town What tidings do you bring ? " '* Now, Messenger, bold Messenger, What news from Nantes fair ? " " The only news I bring, fair Dame, Your lover bade me bear. * ' The only news I bring is this : Your lover bade me say. That he has found a sweetheart new. Choose you a gallant gay. don don don, ronde. " Choose you another gallant gay. For I've a sweetheart rare,** ** Now is she wiser far than I, Or is her face more fair? '* 50 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. "Now is she wiser far than I, Or is her face more fair ? " *' Although not near so fair as you, Her wisdom's past compare. *' Her beauty is not like to yours, But secret lore she knows ; She makes the snow, she makes the hail. She makes the wind that blows. ** She makes the wind that blows so free, She makes the snow so fine ; At midnight hour, within her bower, She makes the sun to shine. ** She makes the sun to shine again At midnight in her bower ; And on the borders of the sea Makes rosemary to flower." Sur lafeuille rouf , . . don don don^ Sur la joW i jol^ feuille rondc. I ■" |i:,i!fj|ji|iii|i! MARIANSON. {Old Chanson.) Tr. William M'Lennan. " Ah I Marianson, my beauteous dame, WJi^re is your lord and master gone?" CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 51 ** My lord rides to the battle-plain, I know not if he'll come again. " **Ah! Marianson, my lady fai'. Lcnd me your rings of gold so rare." ** In the iron chest beside my bed, You'll find the rings," she sweetly said, "Now, Goldsmith, fashion me wllh care Three golden rings of metal rare. Three golden rings of fashion rare, Like those that Marianson doth wear." t« ' When he receives his golden rings Upon his steed h** lightly springs. The firs, he meets upon the road Is Marianson's haughty lord. " Fair greeting now, bold cavalier. What tidings do you bring me here ? " '* Of tidings new I bring you none, Save of the Lady Marianson." ** Ah ! Marianson, my lady fair ! She's faithful aye, I'll boldly swear. ti 52 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. ** I say not * yes,' — I say not 'no,' But see — the rings from her hands of snow.*' "You lie ! you lie I bold cavalier; My wife is faithful, far or near.** His wife stood on the ramparts high ; She saw her lord ride wildly by. Her heart stood still with a sudden fear When she marked his face as he drew anear. ** Now, mother, show our new-born child, Its grace will calm his anger wild." ** My son, behold your son and heir ; What name wilt thou give the babe to bear ? '* He cried, " I'll give the child a name That will fill its mother's life with shame." He has seized the infant in its mirth, And thrice has dashed it to the earth. And Marianson, that lady fair, He has tied to his horse by her golden hair. Three days, three nights, he rode like wind, And never cast a look behind. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 53 Till, at close of the third long night, He turned and looked on that awful sight. ** Ah ! Marianson, my lady fair. Where are your golden rings so rare ? " '* In the iron chest, beside my bed, You'll find the rings," she sadly said. He has ta'en the keys with an evil grace, And has found the rings in their hiding-place. •' Ah ! Marianson, my lady fair, You shall have the best chirurgeon's care. " " The best chirurgeon I would crave Is a fine white sheet for my quiet grave." "Ah ! Marianson, my beauteous dame, Will God e'er pardon all my shame ? " •* My death is pardoned now," she smiled, ** But never that of our helpless child," 54 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. THE RE-SETTLEMENT OF ACADIA. Arthur Wentworth Eaton. The rocky slopes for emerald had changed their garb of gray, When the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the bay, There were flashing lights on every wave that drew the strangers on. And wreaths of wild aibutus round the brows of Blomidon. Five years in desolation the Acadian land had lain, Five golden harvest moons had wooed the fallow fields in vain ; Five times the winter snows caressed, and summer sun- sets smiled, On lonely clumps of willows, and fruit trees growing wild, There was silence in the forest, and along the Uniac shore, And not a habitation from Canard to Beausejour, But many a ruined cellar and many a broken wall Told the story of Acadia's prosperity, and fall I And even in the sunshine of that peaceful day in June, When Nature swept her harp, and found the strings i: perfect tune, The land seemed calling wildly for its owners, far away, The exiles scattered on the coast from Maine : Charleston Bay. ,^K Ti '■M J \\ m ■ .'^^* ^T '% \m '■m 1 rh CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 55 Where, with many bitter longings for their fair homes and their dead, They bowed their heads in anguish, and would not be comforted ; And like the Jewish exiles, long ago, beyond the sea, They could not sing the songs of home in their captivity ! But the simple Norman peasant-folk shall till the land no more, p'or the vessels from Connecticut have anchored by the shore. And many a sturdy Puritan, his mind with Scripture stored. Rejoices he has found at last his "garden of the Lord." There are families from Jolland, from Killingworth and Lyme ; I Gentle mothers, tender maidens, and strong men in their prime ; [There are lovers who have plighted their vows in Coventry, [And merry children, dancing o'er the vessels' decks in glee. ["hey come as came the Hebrews into their promised land, lot as to wild New England's shores came first the rilgrim band, 'he Minas fields were fruitful, and the Gaspereau had borne "0 seaward many a vessel with its freight of yellow corn. 56 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. They come with hearts as true as their manners blunt and cold, To found a race of noble men of stern New England mould, A race of earnest people, whom the coming years shall teach The broader ways of knowledge and the gentler forms of speech. They come as Puritans, but who shall say their hearts are blind To the subtle charms of Nature and the love of human- kind I The Blue Laws of Connecticut have shaped their thought, 'tis true, But human laws can never wholly Heaven's work undo. And tears fall fast from many an eye long time unused to | weep, For o'er the fields lay whitening the bones of cows and sheep — The faithful cows that used to feed upon the broad Grand Pr^, And with their tinkling bells come slowly home at close of day. And where the Acadian village stood, its roofs o'ergrowr with moss, ,,_ And the simple wooden chapel with its altar and its cross, ^B^^ And where the furge of Basil sent its sparks towards the^^-"^ sky. The lonely thistle blossomed and the fire-weed grew high. ! 1 i j CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 57 The broken dykes have been /ebuilt a century and more, The cornfields stretch their furrows from Canard to Beau- sejour, Five generations have been reared beside the fair Grand Pr^ Since the vessels from Connecticut came sailing up the Bay. And now across the meadows, while the farmers reap and sow, The engine shrieks its discords to the hills of Gaspereau ; And ever onward to the sea, the restless Fundy tide Bears playful pleasure-yachts and busy trade ships side by side. And the Puritan has yielded to the softening touch of time, Like him who still content remained in Killingworth and Lyme ; And graceful homes of prosperous men make all the land- scape fair, And mellow creeds and ways of lift, are rooted every- where. And churches nestle lovingly on many a glad hillside, JAnd holy bells ring out their music in the eventide ; [But here and there, on untilled ground, apart from gleoc or town, )ome lone surviving apple tree stands leafltss, bare and brown. ;Hi 11 58 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. And many a traveller has found, as thoughtlessly he strayed, Some long-forgotten cellar in the deepest thicket's shade, And clumps of willows by the dyke.i, sweet-scented, fair and green, That seemed to tell again the story of Evangeline. AT THE CEDARS. Duncan Campbell Scott. You had two girls, Baptiste, One is Virginie Hold hard, Baptiste, Listen to me. The whole drive was jammed. In that bend at the Cedars ; The rapids were dammed. With the logs tight rammed .\nd crammed ; you might know The devil had clinched them below. We worked three days — not a budge ! '* She's as tight as a wedge. On the ledge." Says our foreman, ** Mon Dieu ! boys, look here. We must get this thing clear." He cursed at the men. And we went for it then. CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 59 With our cant-dogs arow ; We just gave ** he yo ho," When she gave a big shove From above. The gang yelled, and tore For the shore ; The logs gave a grind, Like a wolf's jaws behind, And as quick as a flash, With a shove and a crash, They were down in a mash. But I, and ten more, All, but Isa^c Dufour, Were ashore^ He leaped on a log in front of the rush, And shot out from the bind, While the jam roared behind ; As he floated along. He balanced his pole, And tossed us a song. But, just as we cheered, Up darted a log from the bottom, Leaped thirty feet, fair and square, And came down on his own. He went up like a block, With the shock ; And when he was there, In the air, 6o CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. Kissed his hand To the land. When he dropped. My heart stopped, For the first logs had caught him, And crushed him ; When he rose in his place There was blood on his face. There were some girls, Baptiste, Picking berries on the hillside, Where the river curls, Baptistc, You know, — on the still side ; One was down by the water, She saw Isadc Fall back. She didn't scream, Baptiste ; She launched hck zanoe, — It did seem, Baptiste, That she wanted to die too. For before you could think, The Wrch cracked like a shell In that rush of hell, And I saw them both sink— « Baptiste ! ! He had two girls. One is Virginie ; What God calls the other. Is not known to me. iiiiiiiiii iilliiii:! CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 6i ROSE LATULIPPE. {A French- Canadian Legend.) "Seranus." The story or ballad of Ma'amselle Rose, Surnamed Latulippc, as the story goes. Seventeen hundred and forty, I'm told, The winter was long and dark and cold. The frosts were hard, and the snows were deep, Lake and river were wrapped in sleep. The days so short, and the food so dear^ At Christmas-time irade sorry cheer. The drifts piled high, and the roads left bare, Made New Year's Day a slow affair. Yet Noel and New Year's as Paradise were To Lent with its vision of fasiing and prayer. And lively girls like Ma'amselle Rose, In her dark-blue skirt and her scarlet hose, All over the country felt the same, With their restless feet and their eyes of flame, IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I f^llllM IIIII2.5 IM 111112.2 a. " IIM 12.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" — ► V] <^ /} /. .^5^ c- *»• C? / /!S^ Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503
urn.
jr Rose,
In glows •.
The stranger has thrown her a wicked glance
That might have sent her into a trance,
Had she not quickly crossed herself.
And gone on washing and drying the delf ;
Mil
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it
es CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS.
For now. the feaf Va^ofras' fun.'"''
Is the very height of Marmot
Soon U will be *e n^dnight hour ^ ^^ ^^^ ^^^^^
Whpn to dance or play wui
That
She slips on
Into the dim and "«'°-X«s up the wall.
Where creep the long sua
:S
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 69
On a big pork pat^, very well knows :
Alas for poor little Ma'amselle Rose !
For presently, louder than Rose quite likes,
The tall old clock on the staircase strikes.
•' Mon Dieu I " she cries, "you must let me go ;
'Tis twelve and after ! " " Nay, nay, not so I
I have you, and hold you, and fold you tight,
You are mine," says the stranger, " from to-night.
Dance, dance, little Rose, a word in your ear,
You are dancing with Lucifer, what dost thou fear? "
The Cure ! the Cure ! He takes it all in.
From Rose, in her peril of horrible sin,
To Mother Marmette and the aged Seigneur,
The whispering girls and the dazed voyageur.
And breathing a hurried and silent prayer,
And making the sign of the cross in the air.
nd
%
And saying aloud, '* The Church hath power
To save her children in such an hour,"
Tie taketh the maiden by both her hands,
Whilst Lucifer dark and discomfited stands ;
70 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
Snorting and stamping in fiendish ire,
He gains his steed with the eyes of fire,
Who gives one loud and terrible neigh,
And then in the darkness thunders away.
!i
li !
M
ill
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!
ADIEU TO FRANCE.
{From "De RobervaL'')
John IIunter-Duvar.
Adieu to France ! my latest glance
Falls on thy port and bay, Rochelle ;
The sunrays on the surf-curls dance,
And springtime, like a pleasing spell,
Harmonious holds the land and sea.
How long, alas, I cannot tell,
Ere this scene will come back to me !
The hours fleet fast, and on the mast
Soon shall I hoist the parting sail ;
Soon will the outer bay be passed,
And on the skyline eyes will fail
To see a streak that means the land.
On, then I before the tides and gale,
Hope at the helm, and in God's hand.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 71
What doom I meet, my heart will beat
For France, the d^bonnaire and gay ;
She ever will in memory's seat
Be present to my mind alway.
Hope whispers my return to you,
Dear land, but should Fate say me nay,
And this should be my latest view.
Fair France, loved France, my France, adieu !
Salul a la France^ saluil
v.— Settlement Life
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V,— SETTLEMENT LIFE.
SONG OF THE AXE.
Isabella Valancey Crawford,
High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the wilderness ;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
" Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree,
What doth thy bold voice promise me ? "
** I promise thee all joyous things.
That furnish forth the lives of kings !
*' For ev'ry silver ringing blow,
Cities and palaces shall grow ! "
** Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree,
Tell wider prophecies to me."
iiii
76 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA KS.
" When rust hath gnaw'd me deep and red,
A nation strong shall lift his head !
** His crown the very Heav'ns shall smite,
>Eons shall build him in his might ! "
1
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** Bite deep and wide, O Axe, the tree ;
Bright Seer, help on thy prophecy ! "
Max smote the snow-weigh'd tree, and lightly laugh'd.
'* See, friend," he cried to one that look'd and smil'd,
** My axe and I — we do immortal tasks —
We build up nations — this my axe and I ! "
FIRE IN THE WOODS ; OR, THE OLD
SETTLER'S STORY.
Alexander M'Lachlan.
When first I settled in the woods.
There were no neighbours nigh.
And scarce a living thing, save wolves
And Molly dear, and I.
We had our troubles, ne'er a doubt,
In those wild woods alone ;
Hilt then, sir, I was bound to have
A homestead of my own.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 77
This was my field of battle, and
The forest was my foe,
And here I fought with ne'er a thought,
Save "lay the giants low."
I toiled in hope — got in a crop,
And Molly watched the cattle ;
To keep those '* breachy " steers away,
She had a weary battle.
The devil's dears were those two steers, —
Ah, they were born fence-breakers !
And sneaked all day, and watched their prey,
Like any salt-sea wreckers.
And gradually, as day by day,
My crop grew golden yellow.
My heart and hope grew with that crop, —
I was a happy fellow.
That crop would set me on my feet.
And I'd have done with care ;
I built away, the live-long day.
Such *' castles in the air ! "
I'd beaten poverty at last,
And, like a little boy
When he has got his first new coat,
I fairly leapt for joy.
I Mush to think upon it yet
That I was such a fool ;
l^nt young folks must learn wisdom, sir,
In old Misfortune's school.
78 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS,
One fatal night, I thought the wind
Gave some unwonted sighs,
Down through the swamp I heard a tramp
Which took me by surprise.
|l:V
m
Is this an earthquake drawing near ?
The forest moans and shivers ;
And then I thought that I could hear
The rushing of great rivers ;
And while I looked and listened there,
A herd of deer swept by.
As from a close pursuing foe
They madly seem'd to fly.
But still those sounds, in long deep bounds,
Like warning heralds came,
And then I saw, with fear and awe.
The heavens were all aflame.
I knew the woods must be on Are,
I trembled for my crop ;
As I stood there, in mute despair,
It seem'd the death of hope.
On, on it came, a sea of flame,
In long deep rolls of thunder.
And drawing near, it seem'd to tear
The heavens and earth asunder !
How those waves snored, and raged, and roared,
And reared in wild commotion !
On, on they came, like steeds of flame
Upon a burning ocean.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 79
How they did snort, in fiendish sport,
As at the great elms dashing ;
And how they tore 'mong hemlocks hoar,
And through the pines went crashing ;
While serpents wound the trunks around,
Their eyes like demons gleaming.
And wrapped like thongs around the prongs,
And to the crests went screaming !
Ah ! how they swept, and madly leapt,
From shrinking spire to spire,
'Mid hissing hail, and in their trail
A waving lake of fire !
Anon some whirlwind, all aflame.
Growled in the ocean under ;
Then up would reel a fiery wheel
And belch forth smoke and thunder 1
And it was all that we could do
To save ourselves by flight.
As from its track we madly flew, —
Oh ! 'twas an awful night !
When all was past, I stood aghast.
My crop and shanty gone,
And blackened trunks 'mid smouldering chunks
Like spectres looking on !
A host of skeletons they seemed.
Amid the twilight dim.
All standing there in their despair.
With faces gaunt and grim ;
( I
80 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
And I stood like a spectre too,
A ruined man was I,
And nothing left, — what could I do
But sit me down and cry?
A heavy heart indeed was mine.
For I was ruined wholly,
And I gave way that awful day
To moping melancholy ;
I lost my all, in field and stall.
And nevermore would thrive.
All save those steers, — the devil's dears
Had saved themselves alive.
Nor would I have a farm to-day.
Had it not been for Molly,
She cheered me up, and charmed away
My moping melancholy ;
She schemed and planned to keep the land.
And cultivate it too.
And how I moiled, and strained, and toiled.
And fought the battle through.
Yes, Molly played her part full well ;
She's plucky, every inch, sir I
It seemed to me the ** deil himsel'"
Could not make Molly flinch, sir ;
We wrought and fought, until our star
Got into the ascendant ;
At troubles past we smile at last,
And now we're independent I
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and,
toiled,
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 8i
BURNT LANDS.
Charles G. D. Roberts.
On other fields and other scenes the morn
Laughs from her blue, — but not such scenes are these,
Where comes no summer cheer of leaves and bees,
And no shade mitigates the day's white scorn.
These serious acres vast no groves adorn ;
But giant trunks, bleak shapes that once vjrere trees,
Tower naked, unassuaged of rain or breeze,
Their stern grey isolation grimly borne.
The months roll over them, and mark no change ;
But when spring stirs, or autumn stills, the years,
Surely some phantom leafage rustles faint
Thro' their parched dreams, — some old-time notes ring
strange.
When in his slender treble, far and clear,
Reiterates the rain-bird his complaint.
From "MALCOLM'S KATIE."
Isabella Valancey Crawford.
The South Wind laid his moccasins aside,
Broke his gay calumet of flow'rs, and cast
His useless wampun, beaded with cool dews,
Far from him, northward ; his long ruddy spear
6
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82 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
I
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Flung sunward, whence it came ; and his soft locks
Of warm fine haze grew silver as the birch.
His wigwam of green leaves began to shake ;
The crackling rice-beds scolded harsh like squaws ;
The small ponds pouted up their silver lips ;
The great lakes ey'd the mountains, — whisper'd " Ugli
Are ye so tall, O chiefs ? " ** Not taller than
Our plumes can reach," — and rose a little way,
As panthers stretch to try their velvet limbs.
And then retreat to purr and bide their time.
At mora the sharn breath of the night arose
From the wide prairies, in deep-struggling seas,
In rolling breakers, bursting to the sky ;
In tumbling surfs, all yellow'd faintly thro*
With the low sun ; in mad, conflicting crests,
Voic'd with low thunder from the hairy throats
Of the mist-buried herds ; and for a man
To stand amid the cloudy roll and moil.
The phantom waters breaking overhead.
Shades of vex'd billows bursting on his breast,
Torn caves of mist wall'd with a sudden gold,
Reseal'd as swift as seen, — broad, shaggy fronts,
Fire-ey'd and tossing on impatient horns
The wave impalpable, — was but to think
A dream of phantoms held him as he stood !
The late, last thunders of the summer crash*d
Where shriek'd great eagles, lords of naked cliffs ;
The pulseless Forest, lock'd and interlocked
So closely, bough with bough, and leaf with leaf.
So serfd by its own wealth, that while from high
The moons of summer kiss'd its green-gloss'd locks,
And round its knees the merry West Wind danc'd,
And round its ring-compacted emerald.
The South Wind crept on moccasins of flame,
And the red fingers of th* impatient Sun
lUi
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 83
riuck'd at its outmost fringes,— its dim veins
Beat with no life ; its deep and dusky heart,
In a deep trance of shadow, felt no throb
To such soft wooing answer ! Thro' its dream
Brown rivers of deep waters sunless stole ;
Small creeks sprang from its mosses, and amaz'd.
Like children in a wigwam curtain'd close
Above the great dead heart of some red chief,
Slipp'd on soft feet, swift stealing through the gloom,
Eager for light and for the frolic winds.
In this shrill Moon the scouts of winter ran
From the ice-belted north, and whistling shafts
Struck maple and struck sumach, and a blaze
Ran swift from leaf to leaf, from bough to bough ;
Till round the forest flash'd a belt of flame,
And inward lick'd its tongues of red and gold
To the deep tranced inmost heart of all.
Rous'd the still heart, — but all too late, too late I
Too late the branches, welded fast with leaves,
Toss'd, loosen'd to the winds ; too late the Sua
Pour'd his last vigour to the deep dark cells
Of the dim wood ! The keen two-bladed Moon
Of Falling Leaves roll'd up on crested mists ;
And where the lush rank boughs had foiled the Sun
In his red prime, her pale sharp fingers crept
After the wind, and felt about the moss,
And seem'd to pluck from shrinking twig and stem
The burning leaves, — while groaned the shudd'ring
wood !
'hP
The mighty morn strode laughing up the land,
And Max, the labourer and the lover, stood
Within the forest's edge, beside a tree, —
The mossy king of all the woody tribes, —
84 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
Whose clatt'ring branches rattl'd, shuddering,
As the bright axe cleav'd moon-like thro' the air,
Waking strange thunders, rousing echoes link'd
From the full lion-throated roar to sighs
Stealing on dove-wings thro' the distant aisles.
Swift fell the axe, swift follow'd roar on roar,
Till the bare woodland bellow'd in its rage
As the first-slain slow toppl'd to his fall.
'* O King of Desolation, art thou dead? "
Thought Max, and laughing, heart and lips, leap'd on
The vast prone trunk. ** And have I slain a King?
Above his ashes will I build my house ; —
No slave beneath its pillars, but — a King ! "
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It was not all his own, the axe-stirr'd waste.
In these new days men spread about the earth.
With wings at heel, — and now the settler hears.
While J tit his axe rings on the primal woods,
The shrieks of engines rushing o'er the wastes,
Nor parts his kind to hew his fortunes out.
And as one drop glides down the unknown rock,
And the bright-threaded stream leaps after it
With welded billions, so the settler finds
His solitary footsteps beaten out
With the quick rush of panting human waves,
Upheav'd by throbs of angry poverty,
And driven by keen blasts of hunger, from
Their native strands, — so stern, so dark, so drear ,
O, then, to see the troubl'd, groaning waves,
Throb down to peace in kindly valley beds,
Their turbid bosoms clearing in the calm
Of sun-ey'd Plenty, — till the stars and moon,
The blessed sun himself, has leave to shine
And laugh in their dark hearts I So shanties grew
s.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 85
d
leap'd on
I King?
ttth,
lears,
Is,
tes,
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50 drear ,
res,
Is,
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le
Inties grew
Other than his amid the blacken'd stumps ;
And children ran with little twigs and leaves,
And flung them, shouting, on the forest pyres,
Where burn'd the forest kings, — and in the glow
Paus'd men and women when the day was done.
There the lean weaver ground anew his axe,
Nor backward look'd upon the vanish'd loom,
But forward, to the ploughing of his fields,
And to the rose of Plenty in the cheeks
Of wife and children, nor heeded much the pangs
Of the rous'd muscles tuning to new work ;
The pallid clerk look'd on his blister'd palms.
And sigh'd and smil'd, but girded up his loins,
And found new vigour as he felt new hope ;
The lab'rer, with train'd muscles, grim and grave,
Look'd at the ground, and wonder'd in his soul
What joyous anguish stirr'd his darken'd heart
At the mere look of the familiar soil.
And found his answer in the words — **A/i»e own /"
Then came smooth-coated men, with eager eyes,
And talk'd of steamers on the cliff-bound lakes,
And iron tracks across the prairie lands,
And mills to crush the quartz of wealthy hills,
And mills to saw the great wide-armed trees,
And mills to grind the singing stream of grain ;
And with such busy clamour mingled still
The throbbing music of the bold, bright Axe, —
The steel tongue of the Present, and the wail
Of falling forest, — voices of the Past.
Max, social-soul'd, and with his practised thews,
Was happy, boy-like, thinking much of Kate,
And speaking of her to the women-folk ;
Who, mostly, happy in new honeymoons
Of hope themselves, were ready still to hear
The thrice-told tale of Katie's sunny eyes,
k A%;.'i!|
86 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS,
And Kaiie's yellow hair, and household ways ;
And heard so olten, *' There shall stand our home,
On yonder slope, wilh vines about the door ! "
That the good wives were almost made to see
The snowy walls, deep porches, and the gleam
Of Katie's garments flitting through the rooms. —
And the black slope, all bristling with burn'd stumps,
Was known amongst them all as ** Max's House."
1 1 III 1
O Love builds on the azure sea.
And Love builds on the golden sand ;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land.
Or if Love builds on sparkling sea,
And if Love builds on golden strand,
And if Love builds on rosy cloud, —
To Love, these are the solid land.
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O Love will build his lily walls,
And Love his pearly ruof will rear,
On cloud or land, or mist or sea, —
Love's solid land is everywhere I
Hid.
i.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 87
THE SECOND CONCESSION OF DEER.
William Wyb Smith.
John Tompkins lived in a house of logs,
On the second concession of Deer ;
The front was logs, all straight and sound —
The gable was logs, all tight and round —
The roof was logs, so firmly bound —
And the Hoor was logs, all down to the ground—
The warmest house in Deer.
And John, to my mind, was a log himself,
On the second concession of Deer ; —
None of your birch, with bark of buff —
Nor basswood, weak and watery stuff —
But he was hickory, true and tough,
And only 'lis outside bark was rough ; —
The grandest old man in Deer !
'^i^
But John had lived too long, it seemed.
On the second concession of Deer !
For his daughters up the governing rein.
With a fine brick house on the old domain,
All papered, and painted with satinwood staiii,
Carpeted stairs, and best ingrain —
The finest house in Deer !
Poor John, it was sad to see him nov;,
On the second concession of Deer !
When he came in from his weary work,
"
1
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88 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
To strip off his shoes like a heathen Turk, —
Or out of the company s wsLy to lurk,
And ply in the shanty his knife and fork —
The times were turned in Deer !
But John was hickory to the last,
On the second concession of Deer I
And out on the river-end of his lot,
He laid up the logs in a cosy spot,
And self and wife took up with a cot,
And the great brick house might swim or not —
He was done with the pride of Deer I
But the great house could not go at all,
On the second concession of Deer ;
'Twas mother no more, to wash or bake,
^or father the gallants' steeds to take —
From the kitchen no more came pie nor cake —
And even their butter they'd first to make ! —
There were lessons to learn in Deer !
And the lesson they learned a year or more.
On the second concession of Deer !
Then the girls got back the brave old pair —
And gave the mother her easy-chair —
She told them how, and they did their share —
And John the honours once more did wear
Of his own domain in Deer 1
Hiiiimh
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 89
A CANADIAN FOLK-SONG.
William Wilfred Campbell.
The doors are shut, the windows fast,
Outside the gust is driving past,
Outside the shivering ivy clings,
While on the hob the kettle sings, —
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.
The streams are hushed up where they flowed,
The ponds are frozen along the road,
The cattle are housed in shed and byre.
While singeth the kettle on the fire ;
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.
The f-sherman on the bay in his boat
Shivers and buttons up his coat ;
The traveller stops at the tavern door,
And the kettle answers the chimney's roar, —
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kettle merrily.
The firelight dances upon the wall.
Footsteps are heard in the outer hall,
And a kiss and a welcome that fill the room,
And the kettle sings in the glimmer and gloom,-
Margery, Margery, make the tea,
Singeth the kcltle merrily.
fr
90 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
•*THE INJUN."
{An Incident in the Minnesota Massacre of 1862.)
John E. Logan—** Barry Dane."
Ye say the Injuns all alike,
A bad an* sneakin' lot ;
An' a'int no use for nuthin*,
So the cusses should be shot ?
i V
i;l Hi'"'"
^ I
11 ,C
iiii
Well, p'raps they is, an' p'raps they a'int,
A lazy, wuthless crowd ;
Yet durn my skin ef I kin see
Why white men chin so loud.
Ef some o' them poor devils kicks
'Cause things a'int run quite squar'.
An' jumps an Indian agent's ranch,
An' yanks his bloomin' har,
Thar' a'int no thought uv causes.
An' no one cares a cuss,
It's jes' call out the Blue Coats
An' give 'em somethin' wuss.
Thar's good an* bad in Injun,
An' thar's good an' bad in White ;
But, somehow, they is alius wrong,
An' we is alius right.
i'iiii
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 91
But I'm an old, old timer,
I've jes' bin here so long,
That I kin mostly alius tell
The ones that's right an' wrong.
An' ye can bet yer sainted life,
When things get steamin' hot,
That some white fool or knave has lit
The fire that biles the pot.
a'int,
Ye think the Injun isn't squar' ?
That's jes' whar* ye mistake ;
Fer bein' true to them that's true
The Injun scoops the cake.
Fer I kin tell ye what occurr'd
Way back in 'sixty-two,
When things in Minnesota State
Wuz lookin' kinder blue.
The Sioux wuz up an' on the ?hoot,
A-slingin' round their lead,
An* scalpin' every mother's son
That wuzn't bald or dead.
Thar' warn't a livin* Yankee —
An' lots wuz brave an' bold —
That would have crossed them plains alone
For a waggon load uv gold.
^M
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Hi!
II
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i ll
M^
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92 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
'Cause why? We know'd the Guv'ment
Wuzn't treatin* Injuns fair ;
That's why they riz an' painted things,
An' raised the settlers' hair.
That summer a fur-trader
Come up from Montreal,
An* on his way to Garry
He landed at Saint Paul.
An* all the guides an' hunters said
He couldn't cross the plains,
Fer them thar' painted devils
Wuz layin' low fer trains.
He only laffed, and said, he know'd
The Injuns all his life.
An' he wuz goin' to mosey through
An' take along his wife.
An' she, you bet, wuz plucky,
An' said she'd go along,
Fer Injuns only went fer them
As alius done 'em wrong.
Now I should smile, *twuz riskey —
An' all the fellers sed
The chances of their gettin' through,
Warn't wuth an ounce uv lead.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 93
But sure's yer born they started,
Right out the northern trail,
Aboard a praree schooner,
With a Texan steer fer sail.
An* right a-top that creekin' cart,
Upon the highest rack,
That trader nailed a bloomin' raj
An English Union Jack.
So thar* he'd gone an* done it,
Es stubborn as a mule ;
An' knowin' fellers said we*d seen
The last of that damn fool.
They wuzn't long upon the trail,
Before a band of Reds
Got on their tracks, an' foUer'd up,
A-goin' to shave their heads.
But when they seen that little flag
A-stickin' on that cart,
They jes' said, " Hudson Bay. Go on.
Good trader with good heart ! "
An' when they struck the river,
An' took to their canoe,
*Twuz that thar' bit uv culler
That seen *em safely through.
■B
94 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS,
Fer thar' that cussed little rag
Went floatin* through the State —
A-flappin' in the face uv death,
An' smiiin* right at fate.
That wuz the way them 'tarnal fools
Crossed them thar' blazin' plains,
An* floated down the windin' Red
Through waves with bloody stains.
What give that flag its virtoo ?
What's thar' in red an' blue,
To make a man an* woman dar*
What others deasn't do ?
Jes* this — an* Injuns know'd it —
That whar' them cullers flew,
The men that lived beneath them
Wuz mostly straight an* true.
That when they made a bargain,
'Twuz jes* as strong an* tight
As if *t were drawn on sheep-skin
An* signed in black an' white.
That's how them Hudson traders done
Fer mor'n two hundred year ;
That's why that trader feller crossed
Them plains without a fear.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 95
An' jes' so long es white men
Don't try some little game,
To euchre out the red man,
So long he'll act the same.
But when the men beneath that i^i^gy
Tries any monkey ways,
Then, good-bye, old time friendship.
For the Injuns goin' ter raise.
Tlut jes' believe me, onst for all.
To them that treats him fair,
Tlie Injun mostly alius wuz.
And is, and will be, square.
Hi
^,!,::r,iii!i,
VI.— Sports and Free Life.
w
VL—SPORTS AND FREE LIFE,
THE WRAITH OF THE RED SWAN.
Bliss Carman.
Why tarries the flash of his blade ?
At morning he sailed from me ;
From the depth of our high beech glade,
To the surge and the sea
I followed the gleam of his blade.
The cherries were flowering white,
And the Nashwaak Islands flooded,
When the long Red Swan took flight ;
On a wind she scudded
With her gunwale buried from sight,
Till her sail drew down out of sight.
• "The Red Swan" is the author's favourite birch bark
inoe, so named by him from the phenomenal rosiness of ita
irk material.
in
loo CANADIAN POEAfS AND LA YS,
He shouted, *'A northward trnck,
Before the swallows have Hown ! "
And now the cherries are black,
And the clover is brown,
And the Red Swan comes not back.
The stream-bends, hidden and shy,
With their harvest of lilies are strewn
The gravel bars are all dry,
And warm in the noon,
Where the rapids go swirling by, —
Go singing and rippling by.
Through many an evening gone,
Where the roses drank the breeze.
When the pale slow moon outshone
Through the slanting trees,
I dreamed of the long Red Swan.
How I should know that one
Great stroke, and the time of the sv/ing
Urging her on ci.nd on.
Spring alter spring,
Lifting the Icn'j, Red Swan,
Lifting the long Red Swan !
How I should drink the foam —
The far white lines from her swift
Keen bow, when, hurrying to come,
With lift upon lift
The long Red Swan came home 1
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. loi
Here would I crouch down low,
And watch the Red Swan from far,
A j^peck in the evening, grow
To a flaming star
In the dusk as of ages ago,
In the dusk of ages ago.
I would lean, and with lips apart,
See the streak of the Red Swan's fire
Glow dim at the twilight's heart, —
Feel the core of desire
From the slumber of years upstart.
IIow soon should the day grow wan,
And a wind from the south unfold.
Like the low beginning of dawn, —
Grow steady and hold
In the race of the long Red Swan,
hi the race of the long Red Swan !
How glad of their river once more
Would the crimson wings unfurl,
And the long Red Swan, on the roar
Of a whitecap swirl.
Steer in to the arms of her shore !
But the wind is the voice of a dirge !
What wonder allures him, what care,
So far on the world's bleak verge ?
Why lingers he there,
By the sea and the desolate surge.
In the sound of the moan of the surge ?
»^4
i^m^SBSSB^
1 02 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS.
Last midnight the thunder rode
With the lightning astride of the storm
Low down in the east, where glowed
The fright of his form
On the ocean-wild rack he bestrode.
The hills were his ocean wan,
And the white treo tops foamed high,
Lashed out of the night, whereon
In a gust fled by
A wraith of the long Red Swan,
A wraith of the long Red Swan.
Her crimson bellying sail
Was fleckered with brine and spume
Its taut wet clew, through the veil
Of the driving fume,
Was sheeted home on the gale.
The shoal of the fury of night
Was a bank in the fog, wherethrough
Hissed the Red Swan in her flight ;
She shrilled as she flew,
A shriek from the seething white,
In the face of the world grown white.
She laboured not in the sea.
Careened but a handbreadth over,
And, the gleam of her side laid free
For the drift to cover.
Sped on to the dark in her lee.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 103
Through crests of the hoarse tide swing,
Clove sheer the sweep of her bow ;
There was loosed the ice-roaring ol Spring
From the jaws of her prow, —
or ihe long Red Swan full wing,
The long Red Swan full wing.
Where the rake of her gunwale dipped
As the spent black waves ran aft,
III a hand for helm there was gripped
The sheen of a haft,
Which sang in the furrows it ripped.
Then I knew and was glad, for what foam
Could the rush of her speed o'erwhelm
If Louis and his Whitehaulm
Were steersman and helm,
When the long Red Swan drave home,
V/hen the long Red Swan drave home ?
Vet ever the sweeping mist
Was a veil to his face from me,
Though yearning I well half wist
What \\\T, look might be
From the carven bend of his wrist.
''"i; I
Then a break, and the cloud was gone,
And there was his set keen face
Afire with smouldering dawn
In the joy of her race,
In the flight of the long Red Swan,
In the flight of the long Red Swan i
' "I
104 CANADIAN POEM"^ AND LAYS,
Though drenched in the spray-drift hoar,
As of old it was ruddy and warm
Through the black hair, grizzled and frore,
Whipped out on the storm ;
Then ** Louis ! " I launched on the roar.
O'er night and the brawl of the stream
The hail of my cry flew on ;
He turned, with a smile supreme,
And the long Red Swan
Crow dim as the wraith of a dream,
As the blown white wraith of a ditam
Look ! Burnished and blue, what a sweep
Of river outwinds in the sun ;
What miles of shimmering deep,
Where the hills grow one
With their shadow of summer and sleep 1
I gaze from the cedar shade
Day long, high over the beach,
And never a ripple is laid
To the long blue reach,
Where faded the gleam of that blade,
The far gold flash of his blade.
I follow and dream and recall,
Forget and remember and dream ;
When the interval grass waves tall,
T move in the gleam
Where his blade-beats glitter and fall.
;:>4
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS, 105
Yet never my dream gets clear
Of the whispering bodeful spell
The aspen shudders to hear,
Yet hurries to tell, —
How the long Red Swan draws near.
How the long Red Swan draws near.
BIRCH AND PADDLE.
To Bliss Curman»
Charles G. D. Roberts,
Friend, those delights of ours
Under the sun and showers, —
Athrough the noonday blue
Sliding our light canoe,
Or floating, hushed, at eve,
When the dim pine-tops grieve \
What tonic days were they
Where shy streams dart and play.
U.
Where rivers brown and strong
As caribou bound along,
^'3^!
io6 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS,
i M'
Break into angry parle
Where wildcat rapids snarl,
Subside, and like a snake
Wind to the quiet lake !
\V paddled furtively,
Wf', ; giant boughs hide the sky,-
Have stolen, and held our breath.
Thro' coverts still as death, —
Have left, with wing unstirred,
The brooding phoebe-bird,
And hardly caused a care
In the water-spider's lair.
For love of his clear pipe
We've flushed the zigzag snipe, —
Have chased in wilful mood
The wood-duck's flapping brood,—
Have spied the antlered moose
Cropping the young green spruce.
1
W;.
And watched him till betrayed
By the kingfisher's sharp tirade.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 107
Quitting the bodeful shades,
We've run thro' sunnier glades,
And dropping craft and heed
Have bid our paddles speed.
Where the mad rapids chafe
We've shouted, steering safe,—
With sinew tense, nerve keen,
Shot thro' the roar, and seen.
With spirit wild as theirs,
The white waves leap like hares.
And then, with souls grown clear
In that sweet atmosphere,
With influences serene,
Our blood and brain washed clean,
We've idled down the breast
Of broadening tides at rest,
And marked the winds, the birds,
The bees, the far-off herds,
Into a drowsy tune
Transmute the afternoon.
1 I
I V
io8 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAVS,
So, Friend, with ears and eyes,
Which shy divinities
Have opened with their kiss,
We need no balm but this, —
A little spare for dreams
On care-unsuIUed streams, -
'Mid task and toil, a space
To dream on Nature's face
THE NOR'-WEST COURIER.
** Barry Dane"— John E. Logan.
I.
Up, my doj^s, merrily,
The morn sun is shining,
Our path is uncertain,
And night's sombre curtain
May drop on us, verily,
Ere time for reclining ;
So, up, without whining,
You rascals, instr.nter,
Come into your places
There, stretch out your traces,
And oiT, at a canter.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 109
II.
Up, my dogs, cheerily,
The noon sun is glowing,
Fast and still faster,
Come, follow your master;
Or to-night we may wearily,
Tired and drearily,
Travel, not knowing
What moment disaster
May sweep in the storm- blast,
Anil over each form cast
A shroud in its blowing.
II
III.
On, my dogs, steadily,
Though keen winds are shifting
The snowilakes, and drifting
Them straight in our faces;
Come, answer me readily,
Not wildly nor headily.
Plunging and lifting
Your feet, keep your paces ;
Vox yet we shall weather
The blizzard together,
Though evil our case is.
IV.
Sleep, my dogs, cosily,
Coiled near the fire,
That higher and higher
Sheds its light rosily
Out o'er the snow and sky;
•a
■'1 1
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no CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
Sleep in the ruddy glow,
Letting Keewaydin blow
Fierce in his ire.
Sleep, my dogs, soundly;
For to-morrow we roundly
Must buffet the foe.
THE HALL OF SHADOWS.
Alexander M'Lachlan.
The sun is up, and through the woods
His golden rays are streaming ;
The dismal swamp, and swale so damp,
With faces bright are beaming.
And in the wind-fall, by the creek,
We hear the partridge drumming ;
And strange bright things, on airy wings.
Are all around us humming.
The merry schoolboys, in the woods
The chipmunk are pursuing ;
And as he starts, with happy hearts
They're after him hallooing.
The squirrel hears the urchins' cheer?, —
They never catch him lagging, —
And on the beech, beyond their reach,
Hear how the fellow's bragging !
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. in
The redbird pauses in his son^, —
The face of man aye fearing, —
And flashes, like a flame, along
The border of the clearing.
The humming-bird, above the flower.
Is like a halo bending ;
Or like the gleams we catch in dreams
Of heavenly things descending.
And hear the bugle of the bee
Among the tufted clover !
This day, like thee, I'll wander free,
My little wild-wood rover 1
Through groves of beech, and maple green,
And pines of lofty stature ;
Ey this lone creek, once more we'll seek
The ^)av ,*ge haunts of nature.
i I
■J-
!
?% -A
angs,
See there a noble troop of pines
Have made a sudden sally.
And all, in straight, unbroken lines,
Are rushing up the valley ;
And round about the lonely spring
They gather in a cluster,
Then off again, till on the plain,
The great battalions muster.
|rr,—
icb,
And there the little evergreens
Are clust'ring in the hollows.
And hazels green, with sumachs lean,
Among the weepinp willows;
]fmm
112 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
Or sit in pride the creek beside,
Or through the valley ramble ;
Or up the height, in wild delight,
Among the rocks they scramble.
i
And here a gorge, all reft and rent,
With rocks in wild confusion,
As they were by the wood-gods sent
To guard them from intrusion ;
And gulfs, all yawning wild and wide,
As if by earthquakes r.hattered ;
And rocks that stand, — a grizzly band I-
By time and tempest battered.
Some great pines, blasted in their pride.
Above the gorge are bending ;
And rock-elms, from the other side
Their mighty arms extending.
And midway down the dark descent
One fearful hemlock's clinging ;
llis headlong fall he would prevent,
And grapnels out he's flinging.
One ash has ventured to the brink,
And tremblingly looks over
That awful steep, where shadows sleep,
And mists at noonday hover.
But further in the woods we go.
Through birch and maple valleys,
And elms that stand, like patriarchs grand,
In long dark leafy alleys.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LAVS. 113
Icep,
ks grand,
Away, away ! from blue-eyed day,
The sunshine and the meadows ;
We find our way, at noon of day,
Within the Hall of Shadows.
How like a great cathedral vast !
With creeping vines roofed over.
While shadows dim, with faces grim,
Far in the distance hover.
Among the old cathedral aisles,
And Gothic arches bending,
And ever in the sacred pales
The twilight gloom descending.
And let me turn where'er I will,
A step is aye pursuing ;
And there's an eye upon me still
That's watching all I'm doing.
And in the centre there's a pool,
And by that pool is sitting
A shape of Fear, with shadows drear
For ever round her flitting.
Why is her face so full of woe ?
So hopeless and dejected ?
Sees she but there, in her despair,
Nought but herself reflected ?
Is it the gloom within my heart,
Or lingering superstition.
Which draws me here three times a year
To this weird apparition ?
I cannot tell what it may be I
I only know that seeing
That shape of Fear, draws me more near
The secret soul of being.
•■ K ■
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4
8
114 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS.
CANADIAN HUNTER'S SONG.
Susanna (Strickland) Moodie.
The Northern Lights are flashing
On the rapids' restless flow ;
But o'er the wild waves dashing
Swift darts the light canoe,
The merry hunters come, —
* * What cheer ? What cheer ? '»
" We've slain the deer ! "
** Hurrah ! you're welcome home ! "
The blithesome horn is sounding,
And the woodman's loud halloo;
And joyous steps are bounding
To meet the birch canoe.
** Hurrah I the hunters come I "
And the woods ring out
To their noisy shout,
As they drag the dun deer home !
The hearth is brightly burning,
The rustic boaid is spread ;
To greet their sire returning
The children leave their bed.
With laugh and shout they come,
That merry band,
To grasp his hand
And bid him welcome home !
CA NADTAN POEMS A ND LA YS. 1 1 5
11
ImCi
THE FISHERMAN'S LIGHT.
(.4 Song of the Bachwoods.)
Mrs. (Susanna Strickland) Moodie.
The air is still, — the night is dark, —
No ripple breaks the dusky tide ;
From isle to isle the fisher's bark,
Like fairy meteor, seems to glide, —
Now lost in shade, — now flashing bright ;
On sleeping wave and forest t ee,
We hail with joy the ruddy light,
Which far into the darksome night
Shines red and cheerily.
With spear high poised, and steady hand,
The centre of that fiery ray
Behold the skilful fisher stand.
Prepared to strike the finny prey ;
*' Now, now ! " the shaft has sped below, -
Transfixed the shining prize we see ;
On swiftly glides the birch canoe.
The woods send back the long halloo
In echoes loud and cheerily !
Around yon bluff; whose pine crest hides
The noisy rapids from our sight,
Another bark, another glides, —
Red spirits of the murky night, —
The bosom of the silent stream
With mimic stars is dotted free ;
The tall woods lighten in the beam.
Through darkness shining cheerily.
ii6 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
THE KINGFISHER.
Charles Lee Barnes.
* ."'■''(
lii^
When the summer's bright and tender sunbeams fill the
land with splendour,
In his robes of blue and purple, and his crown of
burnished green,
Lone the kingfisher sits dreaming, with his dark eyes
brightly gleaming,
While he peers for chub and minnows in the water's
limpid sheen.
And he haunts the river's edges, oozy fiats, and rustling
sedges.
Till he sees his prey beneath him in the waters clear and
cool;
Then he quickly dashes nearer, and he breaks the polished
mirror
That was floating on the surface of the creek or hidden
pool.
Where the nodding reeds are growing, and the yellow
lilies blowing.
In our little boat we slowly glide along the placid stream ;
And we know he's coming after, by the music of his
laughter.
And the flashing of his vesture in the sun's effulgent
beam.
:'0 ;. ii
CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS, 117
Well he knows the alder bushes, and the slender slimy
rushes,
And the swamp, and pond, and lakelet, and the ice-cold
crystal spring ;
And the brooklet oft he follows through the meadows
and the hollows,
Far within the shadowy woodland where the thrush and
robin sing.
Oh, he well can flutter proudly, and he well can laugh so
loudly,
For he lives within a castle where he never knows a
care I
And his realm is on the water, and his wife a monarch's
daughter ;
And his title undisputed is on earth, or sea, or air !
THE CANOE.
Isabella Valancey Crawford.
My masters twain made me a bed
Of pine-boughs resinous, and cedar ;
Of moss, a soft and gentle breeder
Of dreams of rest ; and me they spread
With furry skins, and, laughing, said,— -
** Now she shall lay her polish'd sides,
As queens do rest, or dainty brides,
Our sleodei lady of the tides ! "
Ii8 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
J 1
My masters twain their camp-soul lit,
Streamed incense from the hissing cones ;
Large crimson flashes grew and whirl'd,
Thin golden nerves of sly light curl'd,
Round the dun camp, and rose faint zones
Half-way about each grim bole knit,
Like a shy child that would bedeck
With its soft clasp a Brave's red neck ;
Yet sees the rough shield on his breast,
The awful plumes shake on his crest.
And fearful drops his timid face,
Nor dares complete the sweet embrace.
Into the hollow hearts of brakes
Yet warm from sides of does and stags,
Pass'd to the crisp dark river flags,
Sinuous, red as copper, snakes, —
Sharp-headed serpents, made of light,
Glided and hid themselves in night.
\i 1
■^
II I <
!
My masters twain the slaughter'd deer
Hung on forked boughs — with thongs of
leather.
Bound were his stiff slim feet together,—
His eyes like dead stars cold and drear ;
The wand'ring firelight drew near
And laid its wide palm, red and anxious,
On the sharp splendour of his branches;
On the white foam grown hard and sere
On flank and shoulder, —
Death, hard as breast of granite boulder, —
And under his lashes
Peer'd thro' his eyes at his life's grey ashes.
jft.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 119
My masters twain sang songs that wove
(As they burnish'd hunting blade and rifle)
A golden thread with a cobweb trifle, —
Loud of the chase, and low of love.
** O Love ! art thou a silver fish,
Shy of the line, and shy of gaffing ?
Which we do follow, fierce, yet laughing.
Casting at thee the light-wing'd wish ;
And at the last shall we bring thee up
From the crystal darkness under the cup
Oflilyfolden,
On broad leaves golden ?
*' O Love ! art thou a silver deer?
Swift thy starr'd feet as wing of swallow,
While we with rushing arrows follow ;
And at the last shall we draw near.
And over thy velvet neck cast thongs,
Woven of roses, of stars, of songs, —
New chains all moulden
Of rare gems olden? "
They hung the slaughter'd fish like swords
On saplings slender, — like scimitars
Bright, and ruddied from new-dead wars,
Blaz'd in the light, — the scaly hordes.
They pil'd up boughs beneath the trees,
Of cedar-web and green fir tassel ;
Low did the pointed pine tops rustle,
The camp fire blush' d to the tender breeze.
120 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
The hounds laid dew-laps on the ground,
With needles of pine, sweet, soft, and rusty,-
Dream'd of the dead stag, stout and lusty ;
A bat by the red flames wove its round.
The darkness built its wigwam walls
Close round the camp, and at its curtain
Pressed shapes, thin woven and uncertain,
As white locks of tall waterfalls.
CANOE SONG.
Isabella Valancey Crawford.
O LIGHT canoe ! where dost thou glide ?
Below thee gleams no silver'd tide,
But concave heaven's chiefest pride.
Above thee burns eve's rosy bar ;
Below thee throbs her darling star ;
Deep 'neath thy keel her round worlds are i
Above, below, O sweet surprise !
To gladden happy lover's eyes ;
No earth, no wave, — all jewelled skies !
■livr
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 121
THE WALKER OF THE SNOW.
Charles Dawson Shanly.
Speed on, speed on, good Master !
The camp lies far away ;
We must cross the haunted valley
Before the close of day.
How the snow-blight came upon me
I will tell you as I go, —
The blight of the Shadow-hunter,
Who walks the midnight snow.
To the cold December heaven
Came the pale moon and the stars,
As the yellow sun was sinking
Behind the purple bars.
The snow was deeply drifted
Upon the ridges drear.
That lay for miles around me
And the camp for which we steer.
'Twas silent on the hillside.
And by the solemn wood
No sound of life or motion
To break the solitude,
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122 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS,
Save the wailing of the moose-bird
With a plaintive note and low,
And the skafeing of the red leaf
Upon the frozen snow.
And said 1, '* Though dark is falling,
And far the camp must be,
Yet rny heart it would be lightsome,
If I had but company."
And then I sang and shouted,
Keeping measure, as I sped,
To the harp-twang of the snow-shoe
As it sprang beneath my tread ;
Nor far into the valley
Had I dipped upon my way.
When a dusky figure joined me.
In a capuchon of grey,
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Bending upon the snow-shoes.
With a long and limber stride ;
And I hailed the dusky stranger.
As we travelled side by side.
But no token of communion
Gave he by word or look,
And the fear-chill fell upon me
At the crossing of the brook.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 223
For I saw by the sickly moonlight,
As I followed, bending low,
That the walking of the stranger
Left no footmarks on the snow.
Then tiie fear-chill gathered o'er me.
Like a shroud around me cast,
As I sank upon the snow-drift
Where the Shadow-hunter passed.
And the otter-trappers found me.
Before the break of day.
With my dark hair blanched and whitened
As the snow in which I lay.
But they spoke not as they raised me ;
For they knew that in the night
I had seen the Shadow-hunter,
And had withered in his blight.
Sancta Maria speed us !
The sun is falling low, —
Before us lies the valley
Of the Walker of the Snow !
124 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
THE RAPID,
Charles Sangste
iV.
All peacefully gliding,
The waters dividing,
The indolent batteau moved slowly along,
The rowers, light-hearted,
From sorrow long parted,
Beguiled the dull moments with laughter and song ;
" Hurrah for the Rapid ! that merrily, merrily
Gambols and leaps on its tortuous way ;
Soon we will enter it, cheerily, cheerily,
Pleased with its freshness, and wet with its spray."
More swiftly careering,
The wild Rapid nearing,
They dash down the stream like a terrified steed ;
The surges delight them,
No terrors affright them,
Their voices keep pace with their quickening speed :
" Hurrah for the Rapid I that merrily, merrily
Shivers its arrows against us in play ;
Now we have entered it cheerily, cheerily,
Our spirits as light as its feathery spray."
Fast downward they*re dashing.
Each fearless eye flashing,
Though danger awaits them on every side ;
Yon rock — see it frowning !
They strike — they are drowning !
CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS. 125
But downward they sped with the merciless tide :
No voice cheers the Rapid, that angrily, angrily
Shivers their bark in its maddening play ;
Gaily they entered it— heedlessly, recklessly,
Mingling their lives with its treacherous spray !
THE WINTER SPIRIT.
{The Origin of the Ice Palace \
Helen Fairbairn.
The winter night was full of wind and storm.
The Christian's festal season close at hand,
With frosty, glistening, snow-besprinkled form,
The Winter Spirit roamed throughout the land.
Beneath, his flying footsteps froze the ground ;
And with his garments' rustling fell the snow ;
His lightest touch made icicles abound ;
His breath, as when the keenest north winds blow.
He paused above the river, dull and gray,
Turbid and chafing with a restless pain,
And soon in icy quietness it lay.
Bound, bank to bank, within his Arctic chain.
He roamed along the leafless mountain side.
And wheresoe er he found a solemn spruce,
Or stately fir, or hemlock rich and wide,
He paused, and shook his gleaming garments loose.
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126 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS
And from their ample folds came softly down
A cloud of snowflakes like a starry mist,
That gave each evergreen a spotless crown,
For faithful keeping of its winter tryst.
Amid the storm-tossed pines his voice was heard,
A wild soft sighing in their depths profound.
Like notes of some strange ghostly wmter bird,
Whose white wings fluttered with a muffled sound.
To lighter, more fantastic work, anon
He turned, and, with a skill that art surpassed,
Drew strange designs and fairy forms upon
The casements closed against the winter blast.
At one he longer paused than all the rest,
And whispered in a frosty monotone,
'* This work shall be my rarest and my best,
Rarest and best is she for whom 'tis done."
He knew the girlish face with heavenly eyes,
The fair sweet face whose eyes, so deep and blue,
Would kindle to their depths with glad surprise.
At sight of what his frosty skill could do.
Without a sound the wintry work was done,
With wondrous haste the icy picture grew.
And when at last the crowning point was won.
From ragged clouds the mooa burst forth to view.
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CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 127
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With crystal towers and glittering battlement,
A pictured castle in the moonlight gleamed,
In silver set, a gem of Occident,
Like clustered starry jewels brightly beamed.
Now, when the Winter Spirit's fair design,
In beauty rare, complete before him lay,
'* Farewell,'* he sighed, " the frosty gem be thine !
While I in storm and darkness fly away."
Once more to darkling storm the night was given,
Once more the wild wind whistled through the
town,
Like myriad blessings sent to earth from Heaven,
The air was thick with snowflakes coming down.
SNOWSHOEING SONG.
Arthur Weir.
HiLLOO, hilioo, hilloo, hilloo ;
Gather, gather ye men in white ;
The winds blow keenly, the moon is bright,
The sparkling snow lies firm and white ;
Tie on the shoes, no time to lose,
We must be over the hill to-night.
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128 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS.
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo ;
Swiftly in single file we go,
The city is soon left far below,
Its countless lights like diamonds glow ;
And as we climb we hear the chime
Of church bells stealing o'er the snow.
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo ;
Like winding-sheet about the dead.
O'er hill and dale the snow is spread.
And silences our hurried tread ;
The pines bend low, and to and fro
The magpies toss their boughs o'erhead.
Hilloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo ;
We laugh to scorn the angry blast,
The mountain top is gained and paF'.
Descent begins, tis ever fast —
One short quick run, and toil is done,
We reach the welcome inn at last.
Shake off, shake off the clinging snow ;
Unloose the shoe, the sash untie,
Fling tuque and mittens lightly by.
The chimney fire is blazing high,
And, richly stored, the festive board
Awaits the merry company.
Remove the fragments of the feast !
The steaming coffee, waiter, bring.
Now tell the tale, the chorus sing,
And let the laughter loudly ring ;
Here's to our host, drink down the toast.
Then up ! for time is on the wing.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 129
Ililloo, hilloo, hilloo, hilloo;
The moon is sinking out of sight,
Across the sky dark clouds take flight,
And dimly looms the mountain height ;
Tie on the shoes, no time to lose,
We must be home again to-night.
SKATING.
John Lowry Stuart,
Comb to the moonlit lake,
Where rays of silver bright
Their slender arrows break
On the glassy pavement bright !
For hearts are gay, and joy is rife ;
And youth and beauty, love and life,
Are out on the ice to-night.
Not in the crowded hall,
Where earth-lit tapers gleam,
We'll hold our festival.
But out on the frozen stream ;
No dull faint air, or heated room,
Shall rob thy cheek of beauty's bloom,
Thine eye of its sparkling beam.
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Bright is (he fairy scene ;
The ringing steels resound ;
And gleams the glowing sheen
To feet of beauty bound ;
And health, with rosy pencil, seeks
To paint the blush on beauty's cheeks,
And the echoing laugh rings round.
Ne'er such a pavement spread
Glittered in marble halls ;
Ne'er gleamed such lamps o'erhead
To gladden their carnivals ;
The circling hills, whose tree-clad brows
Upbear the dome on cornice boughs,
Are our lofty palace walls.
Whence foaming waters roar
That winter could not bind
(Their brothers called on Huron's shore,
And they would not stay confined).
As free and gay, and wild as they.
We'll speed e'en to the mystic way
Of the isle with cedars lined.
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Earth and its cares forgot,
Our hearts we'll then reveal ;
And spurn each colder thought,
As the ice the flashing steel.
Who, 'neath the sway of Luna's ray,
Love's sweet commands could disobey,
Or its brighter beams conceal ?
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CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS, 131
THE WINTER CARNIVAL.
John Rkade.
I.
Wr fear thee not, O Winter !
Though stern lliy face and grim ;
Though vast thy strength to crush and rend
Our bodies, limb from limb.
On Scandinavian mountains.
On stormy northern seas,
Our fathers braved thy wrath of yore.
And heeded not thy sullen roar
Amid the bending trees.
II.
They loved thy gusty music,
And from full chests and throats
Rivalled, in happy recklessness,
The Storm-King's boisterous notes ;
They made thee now their playmate,
They made thee now their slave ;
Thy frost-built roads for them to ride,
With fair-haired lemans side by side,
Above the rushing wave.
III.
Over the snows they trod apace,
Adown the drifts they sped ;
They met thy fury face to face.
And all thy shapes of dread.
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132 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS,
And though thy wild sport sometimes left
Sights that were sad to see,
Health, beauty, courage, giant thews,
Well braced by salutary use,
Came of their fight with thee.
IV.
Such were the hardy Northmen,
By land and sea renowned ;
Such gifts they brought where'er their feet
New resting-places found.
Such gifts to France, to England,
To Scotia's shores, they brought ;
And many a thrice-encircled rath
Still shows on Erin's hills the path
By which they came and fought.
V.
Such gifts to this new Northland
All we of Northern blood.
Tempered by other gentler strains,
Brought with us o'er the flood
To this broad land, where Winter
Is Summer's best ally ;
And with his robe, so soft and white.
Her tender children shields from blight
Beneath the brumal sky.
VI.
Ages ago, in battle,
We fairly won the day ;
And, though we still may call him king,
He bears disputed sway.
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS. 133
We make his mighty forces
Obedient to our will ;
Beneath our hands his ice and snow
To wondrous shapes of beauty grow,
Triumphs of art and skill.
VII.
Out of his frozen torrents
We carve the glittering mass,
And raise a dome, whose fairy charms
Old Greece could not surpass.
Upon its fair proportions
Men gaze in silent awe,
As those who in a dream behold
The streets of pearl and gates of gold
Which John in Patmos saw.
VIII.
And who that loveth Nature
Feels not his heart aglow
In presence of our winter woods,
Tinselled with ice and snow !
'Twas just such woodland visions,
With moonlight glimmering down,
Gave pious hearts the rapt desire
To raise the grand cathedral spire
In many a feudal town.
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IX.
O Winter I if thy anger
Affrights the poor of heart,
Best humoured and most cheery
Of playfellows thou art.
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134 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA VS.
E'en Summer cannot rival
Thy many-sided glee ;
For young and old, for maid and boy,
Thou hast a store of healthy joy
To bind our hearts to thee.
Now, in thy festal season.
We celebrate thy praise ;
For our Canadian Carnival
Send us auspicious days.
All ills that flesh is heir to
Be banished from our train ;
And may the pleasures of the scene
Keep in each heart its memory green
Until we meet again !
THE SPIRIT OF THE CARNIVAL.
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*'Fleurange."
Onward ! the people shouted,
Let merriment be king !
Fling out your crimson banners.
Your fri^^rant roses fling, —
Fly faster, maddened horses.
Through din of trumpets loud ;
Crash down the dusty Corso,
Cheered by the frantic crowd !
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CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS, 135
Sweep onward, gaudy pageant,
In wild uproarious glee ;
Dark goblins, elves fantastic,
Strange shapes from land and sea ;
Wave high the flaming torches !
Clang loud the brazen bells !
The great enchanter, Carnival,
Hath Rome within his spells.
Weary of heat and clamour
A young Italian lay
Beneath the ilex shadow.
When closed the burning day;
Faint as his faded garlands
His drowsy eyelids seem, —
The Spirit of the Carnival,
Comes to him in his dream :
** Awake, oh youth, arouse thee,
And follow where I lead ;
I know thy ardent nature,
Thy soul is strong indeed ;
It loathes the gilded folly,
The childish pranks and play.
The weak excited populace
Wild with a holiday.
*• And here, indeed, /linger
To laugh and jest awhile ;
But as a king may pause tc greet
A wilful beauty's smile.
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136 CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS,
Yet guardelh ever in his heart
An image pure and fair,
AnM hastening homeward to his queen
Finds life and love are there, —
'*So follow, follow where I lead,
Across the western sea,
Where thou shalt learn thy manhood might,
From farce and folly free."
The youth sighed in his sleep — his soul
Obeyed the strange command, —
The great enchanter, Carnival,
Still led him by the hand.
And soon the groves of olives
Are fading from his sight,
The dim blue shores of Italy
Melt into deeper night ;
Fresh draughts of light inhaling.
Where northern breezes blow.
Vast rej^ions lie before him
All white with frost and snow.
** Behold I" th' enchanter whispered,
*' Gaze on, and thou shalt see
W^hy Canada, my kingdom,
My chosen home should be ;
Here all my sports and merriment,
To noble ends allied,
Teach manly strength and fortitude,
A nation's truest pride.
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CANADIAN POEMS AND LAVS, 137
See ! like a jewel burning
Upon a silver band,
Fair Montreal is shining
Upon the snowy land ;
Its stately mansions glowing
With hospitable cheer,
The merry sleigh-bells ringing
Re-echo far and near.'*
The city keeps high festival,
The icy air, like wine,
Quickens each pace to bounding glee,
Bright eyes with gladness shine.
With merry laughter following fast
From countless summits high —
Like flashing arrows from a bow,
The swift toboggans fly !
Then, as the youth gazed on, he sees
A fairy palace rise,
Seeming of mf.st and moonbeams born,
Or poet's fantasies ;
Within it throbs a soul of fire,
That glows through every part.
Softly as shines the light of love
Within a maiden's heart.
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A moment, and the magic scene
Grows strangely bright as day.
For, see 1 an army storms the fort,
Oh, guard it while ye may !
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138 CANADIAN POEMS AND LAYS.
Hurrah ! the rockets leap aloft.
The waving torches flare —
A rainbow shower of golden stars
Breaks into glory there !
And far on yonder mountain side
A chain of living light !
Each link a stalwart snow-shoer
With torch that blazes bright, —
A jewelled order proudly flung
On old Mount Royal's breast,
A starry circlet from the skies
Dropt on his snowy crest.
Then lights and city faded.
And the dreamer woke at last,
O'er him hung the old-world languor,
Faint with mem'ries of the past ;
But his spirit glowed within him,
And he left the careless throng,
Lived and wrought in earnest fashion,
Toil or pastime, brave and strong.
So may faint hearts ever gather
From Canadian sports and play
Something of the force that, working,
Hewed the forests, cleared the way :
For the tree shows fairer blossom
Where the roots are wide and deep,
And the pleasure turns to glory
When the victors revel keep ;
' •m m 'H
CANADIAN POEMS AND LA YS. 139
And the Carnival no longer wears
The bells as Fancy's Fool,—
He is a King, whose subjects free.
Arc loyal to his rule ;
Each merry heart beats true and fast,
And knows, amid his play,
To-morrow he can meet the foe
Who tries his strength to-day.
Then guard it well, fair Canada,
Thy festival of snow,
Proving old winter, stern and grim,
Thy friend and not thy foe ;
And may thy sons build steadfastly
A nation great and free.
Whose vast foundations stretch abroad
From mighty sea to sea.
Long may Canadians bear thy name
In unity and pride, —
Their progress, like thy rushing streams,
Roll a resistless tide ;
Their hearts be tender as the flowers
That o'er thy valleys grow,
Their courage rugged as thy frost
When winds of winter blow ;
Their honour brilliant as thy skies,
And stainless as thy snow !
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