IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) V /. V {/ !i^\% >. .V^^ <> %^ (meaning "CON- TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to right and top to bottom, as many frames as required. The following diagrams illustrate the method: L'exemplaire film* fut reproduit grice k la gAnArositA da: Douglas Library Queen's University Les images suivantes ont At* reproduites avec le plus grand soin. compte tenu de la condition et de la nettet* de l'exemplaire film*, et en conformity avec les conditions du contrat de filmage. Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en papier est ImprimAe sont filmAs en commenpant par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'iiiustration. soit par le second plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires originaux sont filmAs en commen^ant par la premiere page qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'iiiustration et en terminant par la dernidre page qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des tiymboles suivants apparaitra sur la dernlAre image de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symbole — ► signifie "A SUIVRE ", le symbole V signifie "FIN ". Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent 6tre fiimAs A des taux de reduction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre reproduit en un seui cliche, il est film« A partir de Tangle supArieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images nAcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants iliustrent le mAthode. rrata o )elure. J 32X 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 •0 cmivefiexoa Tl METBICAL WAIFS FROM THE THOUSAND ISLANDS. By D. WYLIE. 2, BROCKVII.LE: PRINTBO AT THB "RECORDER" OFFICE. « MDCCCLXIX. ti ^^'P^^¥ir5-'YV7>/f \ «KJ» W i i, III m. PREFATORY. The Author being repeatedly solicited to collect his Poems and issue them in Book Form, has at last consented. On examination, a number of pieces were found missing ; others have been omitted intentionally. Many of the Poems were written twenty years ago, and all of them have been printed in various news- papers of the Dominion. This explanation is deemed necessary. The volume, however, is intended more for Private Friends than Public Sale. Brockville, May, 1869. 96240 yff^j^ ^ '" i^iy I" m'vm'^ffmr^Fifmmimimft LIST OF CONTENTS i ••^)'/!Aii PA9I. The Farewell - -1 If^ Forett Land 2 Ifbther 2 Mother— Farewell ...... 4 SjM^ Kindlj fo a Ohild 6 Ode on the Pi^ees 7 Gkd'8 Gifts to Man - 9 ^nter ........ n John Frost 12 Tie Shove ....... \3 ADirge 14 To the Eden — A Fragment - - - • • 15 The Paukie Laird .16 The Last Leaf on The Tree 17 Onrling Song 18 Liaes On A Dying B07 - • . • . - 18 The Past—Hope - - - - • - 19 Verses on a Willow ...... 20 The Autumn Wind . . - - ^ .. 21 The Fallen Leaf . • . <• - ••.21 At Hame I'd Lilce to Dee - .... 22 Old England We'll Defend . . . . .23 The Deceived 24 Fair Ann ........25 Sigh Not . - . . . . . . 25 The Busy Season ---•... 26 St. Andrew's Day 2*f '< Another of The Same" 28 A Social Song - .- . . . • 29 The Drunken Mother 29 The Daughter's Appeal ..... 30 0, Why Am I Sae Sad ? 31 Feel For The Poor - - 32 Hymn For Missions - - .... 33 Come To Sabbath School 34 Mnyons* and Oddfellows' Pillars - - - - 34 VI. A Welcome .... 't?* To A. W. . . . . .'.'.• II The Answer ^ The True Friend " - ' - 39 The "Transcript "Libel Fund . - * . ' «g Hear Ye The Rod ' . 41 Men of Oanada --.,, A Canadian's Greeting to Boston . . - ' . 42 Darkest Hour Precedes the Day - - . . ^ The Drunkard's Building - . . . " . 44 Youths* Dreams . - . ". ' " ,« Volunteer Marching Song - - - - 4a The Last Of Its Race - . . •"-".' 4J Oanada and New Brunswick - . . . . 5^ The Press Association - . . - " - " fti The Dear Ones At Home - . . , ' .. The Boat Minstrel ' ' H The Parting - - . , . - - - 67 Press Poem - - . . ' ' ' «« My Hearth And Home ... • - 81 PAOI. 36 - 36 37 • 39 39 41 41 42 48 44 46 4a 4» 60 61 66 66 67 68 61 ttftt$|| I MM^wl^^f/iAiS^ ^Ir^SI^S FROM THE WUmmiH Mtimh, ^N, ^-N/X/^. ./'^ /'>-. THE FARE WE1.L. 09 tr. \T1NQ MY MATPm IiAIID. There W"^ silence at partiogi and woin tha hearl, For feelings, warm feelings, o'erflowtdt: As kindred and ooontry receded from yiew — I he last look was the keenest bestbwed. Then blame not the tear, though it starts to the eye, For the stream whence it issues is pure ; It is shed in remembrance of dear fatherland^ .That land of the mountain and moor. The tight barque we blamo not, as quickly she flies From the shores of our late happy home. And from friendship begun in youth's happiest days j Ah ! no ; 'tis our fate that we roam Ahl Scotland, my country, wherever I be, My heaci with loud wishes will barn : In weal or in wo, Scotland's welfare is mtu^^ And I'll sigh ft>r my early return^ Farewell, then, awhiki cease food ^rt to beat : Thy dear imag^ Til o^^ recalL ; But this truth can never be absent fh>m w»'^ Tho last look was the keenest of alU ■BH IM- MY FOREST LAND. tell me not of Bunny lands Whert) snow is never seen t Of spicy gales and fragrant trees, With branches ever green ; Such scenes may please the languishing, But bold hearts spurn their spells — Give me the ^land where winter reigns In snow roads and sleigh bells. Some sing of lands where purling brooks A re all the streams they boast, Where craggy mountains clothed in mist Protect their sterile coast ; — Give me the land where inland seas And f iant rivers sweep, And where from Niagara's falls A deluge meets the deep. Give me the land where forests rise With towering heads and high ; Where leaves in Autumn's mellow .^un, Reflect the tinted sky. Our own dear land, our Canada, A land of freedom strong 1 Then join with me this song to raise, And sound it loud, and long. MOTHER. Dear mother, oft when night has spread Her mantle o'er the earth, My musing mind reverts with joy To our once happy hearth ; And e'er life's sad realities My happy dream has broke, T see thee toil, as was thy wont, For thy small orphan flock. MOTHER. And I can still remember well The heartfelt, holy strain, That from onr fireside altar went With no earth-grovelling stain ; Bat pure as incense ever rose From man to Qod above, That he would teach thy little onos The lesson of His love Thine were no measured words of lore, Clothed in scholastic fire, No hidden thoughts were unexpressed, Of hatred or of ire ; But rather blessings sought fur those Who wronged the fatherless — So simple, yet so full of love, And godly righteousness. And as thy children round ihee flocked. And tears flowed from thine e^ es, Our sympathy to see thee thus Broke forth in feeble cries — *TwaB then thy fervent heart burst forth, In holy wrestlings there, That God would guard thy orphan ones In answer to thy prayer. 9 Thy little ones are scattered now— They've sought them other lands, And one sleeps 'neath the burning soil Where Bumiah's temple stands ; And age-flakes whiten f.ow thy brow — Time-furrowed is thy cheek — Yet well I know thy heirt is pure, Thy spirit still as meek. And nobly hast thou borne thy load Through^ many darksome years, But lovelier still thou seem'at to me, As life's last day appears. /:' , I I ■ t MOTHER— FAREWELL. Oh I may thy children learn of thee » To walk in holy love, The pathway of Ood's painted oneSj . To Zion'g home \boTe. Now conscience-rangs vibrate my hfi;|irty When I think on the past, That stubborn act or sinful word, Deep sorrow o'er thee cast. Oh ! little knew I of the cares And struggles of thy lot, When death wed thee to widowhood, In our lone humble cot. Now in my vision's fancy, oft I press thee for thy kiss, Then lay my head upon thy lap. That thou thy boy may'st bless ; And then my arms around thy neck. With eager haste I place, And trace love in each lineament Of thy hope-speaking face. MOTHER-FAREWELL. The Author's mother having vinted Canada^ the following verses were written on her leaving for her home in Scotland, Mother — ^farewell I how sad the thoughts Which spring up in the mind ; A thousand words would quicker flow. Than those two utterance find ; And if I ne'er in this lone world Look on thy face again, The image of thy humble form Fond memory will retain. And days and years may come and go,. And human hopes mf^ pall. But ftook the tablet of my heast Thy features ne'er shall ii^l *• s rt, SP?IAK KINDLY -TO A CHILI>,> So long «8 liferblood warms mj Tein^,^ Be 1 on land or sea, Mother I I never can forget To love and think of thee. Mother— Farewell 1 mj beating heart) Racked aa it is with pain, Clings to one hope — one onlj hope That we may meet again— When, from all nations, round God's Throne Voices are raised in prajer ; That hope-i-that onlj hope is this. To meet thee. Mother, there 1 Then, fare-thee-well, thy waving hand Throws memory back to youth. When led by thee, thou taught me how To love and speak the truth ; And deep mstilled into my heart, * Honor to God and thee— That hand now waves a last adieu !«<- God guide thee o'er the sea. . & following in Scotland. SPEAK KINDLY TO A CHILD. Speak to children kindly, For painful is their sigh ; do not thoughtlessly e'er binng, The tear into their eye ; They have their yearnings, their dislikes, They have their hopes and fewrs ; never treat them harshly, To bring their youthful tears. Their iscJings pure and .tendes^ So ionoceut and soft-^ They tiduibr eacnett all you say t- Their eyes a on you oft. m 6 lii! SPEAK KINDLY TO A CHILD. And should jou use them kindly, Nor teach them anght of strife, 'Twill yield till ripest manhood, Sweet dreams of early life. Whatever tht-y now look upon, Is pure and good to them, Whether the lowliest flower on earth, Or heaven's clearfst gem. They take all things for what they seem - Would-be to them is truth ; The sheep-cloak of hypocrisy ireems verity to youth. That heart belongs not to the good, To show its pride and power. Would crush the spirit of a child, To rule it for an hour Or would, with inward thought of hate. Chide, whether right or wrong, And sinfully exert a power They dare not with the stroug. Remember they are filling up The vacancies we leave ; The lessons which we teach them now Around their hearts they weave. The habits we encase them in, May cover them in shame, Or wave around them gloriously, In honour and io fame. Chide gently when they 'go astray, Their tears will tell their grief; Remember those which harshness bring?, Give anger but relief The first will quell the stubborn heart, The secood feedeth fires, May leaven evil with their thoughts, Long after they are sires. ODE ON THE PRESS. I would not for the world s wealth, Deal harshly with a child, Or try to blight its budding mind, Though frolicksome and wild ; But kindly I would lead th«»m To the fount for sinful man, And meekly ask for them a place In God's redeeming plan. Then would blest shadows flit across Their pleasant path of life, Their yearnings would be heavenward, Amid the world's sirife. A peaceful heart — a placid brow. And thoughts serene aod mild — Aru trophies which I wish, when I •Speak kindly to a child. . ODE ON THE PRESS, Delivered on the Anniversary Festival of the Montreal Typographical Society, 1848. We meet as men of letters, though we work by i-ule and liite, As tyros of a noble art we bow at Coster^s shrine ; The father of all chapels— the proof sheet of our race. Foundation of the Printing Press, creator of the case. Let each man glory in his toil — I glory in my own. And here a hundred hearts respond, " you glory not alone." I know you feel as I do now — life would be barrenness, Did^we CanadiauH aot enjoy, a free unfettered Press. In ages past, inquiring men, no lettered page could tell How feeble nations rose to powtr— huw powerful nations fell ; Then was the poor man's night of mind— for teacher there was none, To trace the printed page, or tell what wonders had been done. For in those mind-mist centuries of pges long gone by. Id deep recess of cloistered cell, hid from the peasant's eye, The knowledge of a thousnnd years, in damp and dusty dress, Lay, known to few, till light burst forth all glorious from the Press. 8r ODE ON THE PRESS. ' . i!( Though pen-illumin'd pag«8 oft brought forth responding praise, They only shadowed out our art— were but precursor rays Of brighter beams of wid»rspread light, to quicken darkened man, When Faust and 0ost«r*8 far seen minds had perfected a plan. When from the face of mystic lore the thick veil could be cast. And tyrant lords and unjust laws be numbered with the past, ThUt like the hoar-mist on the hUl, the warm sun maketh less. The chains which shackled liberty, be molten by the Press. Upborne by might from heaven, from a feeble twinkling ray, The art which makes men wise and great, has sprung forth into day ; The engine which defends the right-M>ppo8e its power who can — Throws world-illuminators round in scienoe-eultnred man. Oh, think we of the giant minds, upheaving in their strength. Whom nation after nation crushed, the world's breadth and length ; And of the ignorance dispelled— the mental mistiness. When printing rent the rock of thought, as rose the mighty Press. How could our great discoverers, who roamed from sea to sea, Proclaim what nation's sons were slaves, what nation's sons were free, Or publish to the land-locked sage the wonders of the deep, Had not the Printing Press been roused from its primeval sleep. What but for it, the writer's power? the orator, what he ? The patriot, bard, philosopher— pressless — fameless would be. What fields of truth are opened up, which all before seemed guess, What intellectual fragrance flows in broadsides from the Press. A literary garden, the world has now become, But tend the flower-beds as we L.»y, rank wee^s there will be some ; But as the issuing leaves burst forth, and m we scan C4ch page L^t's gather but the fairest flowers to beautify the age» >nding praise, rsor ra^B ken darkened 'ected a plan. ;ould be cast, with the past, maketh less, the Press. inkling raj, iprung forth IB power who ired man. heir strength, breadth and iness, e the mighty m sea to sea, lation's sons the deep, ts primeval rhat he ? is would be. bre seemed n the Press. lere will be e4chpage kg«. O0D*a GIFTS TO MAN. 9 This pruning means not that our art was raised to sbacklf* miod, But that the grosser particles give place to more refined : That superstition, crime and vice-^a nation *8 rottenness — Should jield to truth's resplendent stream, clear gushing from the Press. It gives us hearts, and heads, and pens, to scorn the tyrant lord; It gives us victories nobler far than e'er was won by sword ; It yet will bind around the earth a peace-uniting belt. And hurl |the idols from their thrones, to which war-spirts knelt. It gives us cause to magnify the blessings to us given ; It warns us from the scorner's path, and leads us toward heaven , It scatters seed, and gathers fruit, of peace and righteousness-^ Ob, thank we God for boon so greiii-^sin-lt: veiling) virtuous Press. Oh, guard we well, this priceless gem, the Freedom of the Press, While higher in our scale we rise, and aim at happiness ; Pass we the heir-loom to our seed—rich in its power for good, 'Twill show to ages yet to come, where freedom's bulwark stood. And mourn we when designing men abroa^i their poison throw, To stop a nation's onward course from darkness and from wo ; Who wield the power they thus possess, for sin or selfishness, And make a nation bow before a base and servile Press. GOD'S GIFTS TO MAN. When God, amid the chaos deep which reigned. Said — ^Let the light chase darkness from the earth ; And when the morning stars, with joy unfeigned. Sung forth their praises at the dazzling birth- Then, when our globe of beauty was upreared. Man, in the image of his God, appeared. fel 10 god's aiFTS TO MAN. *ii lll Breathed with his vital power, Qod gare man thoaght To scan the wondrous works which He had done ; And man, amid the various wonders, sought To utter praises to the Glorious One. Thus, speech at once flowed from his lisping tongue, In strains of an adoring, jojous song. God said^and thus from heaven's hierarchy Game language from its Maker down to man ; God said — and man took up in ecstacj The stars of morning's song— creation's plan. So our Creator in the world's youth, Gave tongue to man that he might speak the truth. Next, in the course of God's great gifts, was given— What theretofore was hid from Israel's ken — Writ wi h God's finger in his throne in Heaven, The power that man might thenceforth use a pen. 'Tvvas un iSinai b Mount, in mighty awe, God ga e the written tablets of His Law. At length, a light more glorious, burst the mist That hung in thickness o'er the sons of men ; Men— slaves in mind do more — the rod they kissed Was broke t id scattered from the moment when The Art of Printin({ rose to bless the land— Another gifi from the Almighty hand. Now, a new era o'er the world was spread, And knowledge issued from its pent-up stream ; Long shackled nations from an age of dread. Awoke in wonder fiom their bondage-dream— > And the sirangci lettered page to them became The bulwark of their nation and their name. And from the moment of its mystic birth. The million minds a recognition had ; The march of freedom travelled round the earth, To guard fair liberty— inspire the sad. E'en then the Printing Art, with scatter'd leaves, Sowed seed which yielded ripened, yellow sheaves. lan thought lad done ; It ; tongue, 7 nan; 3lan. e truth. I givea<» m — iven, e a pen. list ten; kissed when heam ; im— reS| ivea. WINTEB. 11 Yes, Heaven-born Printing I man owes much to thee, For thou to him art guardian, teacher, frieod ; Without thee he may live; but is he free. Or can he knowledge to his race extend ? Ah, no I without thee he is poor and lone, For thou art wisdom's great memorial stone. And now, wide streams of knowledge yearly flow. To lighten minds which otherwise were dark ; And bring from hearts, in roughest frames, a glow That yet may light an intellectual spark — That long may dazzle 'mid the field of fame. And leave the man an honoured, endless name. Well may we pray, this mirion-brancbm winter Is peep forth, the north ; rs are not ot mother earth. ^re to tell ell ; erland, hty hand. len grain, harbor pain ; ot of green, lod is seen. THE SHOVE. 18 We can gcaroe brag o' boots, noo, John Frost, John Frost, Onr stockings are clouts, noo, John Frost, John Frost, Our bairns canna rin, For their bachels o' shin Winna keep their taes ia, John Frost, John Frost. Oae* wa' to the Iforth, noo, John Frost, John Frost, On your journey set forth, noo, John Frost, John Frost, Or the spring's glowrin sun '111 seek nae better fun Than to mak' your bluid run, Sae be aflf, John Frost THE SHOVE. From whence the mighty power? — who wields the lerer That forces onward to the boundless main The winter garments of our lakes and streams ? See where yon giant heap endeayors vainly To strive 'ga'nst the unseen propelling power, While down its sides small glittering icebergs fall- As if the ocean with large surfeiting Disgorged the million treasures of her womb. Say. are the spirits of the red men's chiefs Gome from their happy hunting ground, their heav'n, Striving with up-pent fury of long ages To drive the pale oppressors from their shores ; While from their bows the burning sunbeams dart With whirlwind force upon the crested waters, Telling with might upon the frozen mass? See, see, in whitened pyramids it sweeps O'er rapids and quick streams, as rocking fierce It floats on to the boom of the deep, 14 A DIRGE. There, d.«p by drop, ««ltwly to render back To its wide mother sea, all its c ear ptrticles ; Just as the dying Christian yields Wis soul In soft sweet breathings, to his Maker— Qod. A DIRIGE For the late J. E. Mills, Esq.. Mayor of Montreal, who died of fere contracted in attending to the comfort of pour sufifering emigrantsr In sackcloth clothe the city, For her citizens are sad ; Let Hochelaga's council-hall In mourninjr weeds be clad ;<— For the chii-t' of all her people, Slicps now the sleep of death- Man's last dread foe has ch lied us With his blighting, with'riog brjath. He died not on the battle field, 'Mid drum and trumpet's din ; Crowned with the laurels of the fight War-heroes love to win ; The field on which he fell was love — Love to his Ood and men— The purest, nobbst, highes. field Within our mortal ken. The TV. ghty of the Colony Are falling one by one ; Still true hearts ribe as willing yet To do what they have done ;— Looking defiance in the face Of famine fever's blast, So that they soothe the lonely oues Who on our shores are cast. Mourn, Hochelaga, for thy Chief— The sacrifice is great ; — Yet cheerfully he yielded to The issue of his fate I-- fc TO THK EDEN. 16 Submiitiye to God't wi!! he bowed| And humbly kiised the r.Ki ; For his heart was in his duty, And his trust was in his God. irho died of feve sring emigrantarJ ath. ^t TO THE EDEN. -A FRAGMENT. The Eden is a Bmnll stream which takes its rise in Fifeshire, and, after wendini; its way through Cupar, the county town, continues its course amidst many picturesque and beautiful spots, till it falls into the sea, near the ancient city of Ht. Andrews. Are theie no blest spots in the East,* Nought for an intellectual feast? Can Blebo Crng or Dura Den f Show no theme worthy of the pen ? Osn Kden's banks no youth inspire, To tune the reed or touch the lyre ; And tell in strain of po'sy fair— 'Tis Para ise, if Edens there? Ther 'i bank, nnd Jrnp, and hill, ■•nrl drlT, Where high the poet's heart might swell ; To deck each spot, or field, or tree, W ith wreaths of laure.i U po . By ; Or sacred bowers, to true love known. By bending bush, or mossy stone. Where love for love, or heart for heart, Have balm d the wound by cupid's dart ; Where doating lovers downcast tell The maids they love, they love, how well I And where, like echo to a i.ame, The maid should aj e repeat the same. This should be so when virtue sways All the swain's actions — all he says ; * " East Neuk of Fife " is a proverbial term in Scotland. t Two romantic spots, where many of the Covenanters sought re- ft:ge during the porpecution. J6 THE PAUKIE LAIRD. But where there's guile or fraud e'er seen, Shun it, how fair soe'er its mien. let me ever wander near, When wo or joy calls forth a tear ; And keep by Eden's streamlet gem, From Cupar down to Dura Den : — Where still are reen the rugged caves To which our fathers fled, like slaves, When tyranny, with iron rod. Sought to estrange them from tleir Qod. THE PAUKIE LAIRD. Do you see whare yon proud stately ha' lifts its heid An' the flower-specked lawn yields a crop for the steed. An' forest and mountain seem meeting in strife ? The laird was a wee ragged laddie in Fife. The laddie ran a£Pfrae his brose and his hame ; Bare were his wee feet, an' toom his wee wame ; A frier. 'less wee wan'l'rer — his wants they were rife, The ragged wee laddie's that ran afi' frae Fife. The laddie was paukie, the laddie was sly ; When quCvHtions were speer'd, the wee laddie look'd shy ; His wee tongue could fleech or could cut like a knife, Gould the ragged wee laddie's that ran aff frae Fife. He gat him a ship, an* he hied ower the sea, Whare the water, an' win', an' the sky whiles agree— Or can jar an' fa* oot, 1 ike the creatures o' life ; At least thocht the wee ragged laddie frae Fife. The laddie w..3 eident, an' soon gat him on ; An' often he thought on the moss and the stone That rowin' gat nane : — so he settled ^um doun In a canoy wee way, in a queer foreign toun. een. THE LAST LEAF ON THE TREE. In deal in', he hit on a sturdj- wee plan, 'Twas keep what ye get, an' catch what ye can : His climax was gaineu, for he got a rich wife, Did the wee ragged la4die that ran a£f frae Fife. Now 8 how he lolls in his saft seated coach, Wi' his sUler gilt cane and his gold mounted brooch. Each youngster wha wishes to get on in life, Ju9t think on the wee ^gged laddie fri^e Fife. IT ). 9 held the steed, ? rife, 'dshj ;nife, life. lee— THE LAST LEAF ON THE TilEE. Deserted and withered. No dear one beside thee ; Thou'rt ripe to be gathered, Ah 1 who then could chide thee. Forsaken forever. Thy mates return never. The northern king round thee His meshes is twining j And soon hf '11 surround thee With icicles shinhig. Though gem-like — thou'lt shiver— Thy bloom returns never. E'en so with man is it ; Old age round bin» gathers; He, silver-crowned, drops In the grave of Iiis fathers— The tomb is the token His sleep is unbroken. Dark future before him, Man totters and stumbles ; The proudest now going Deat|i conquers and humbles : Then dearest ties sever, For youth returns never. 18 ,i I A CURLING SONG. Our Northern King's gone forth, With his vassals in his train, See where, with silver flowers. He has strewed each hill and plain ; Then call the curlers forth. Our liege lord, old John Frost, Kept his vigil while we slept. And over loch and stream His minions they have crept. Then call the curlers forth. On Tarvit's glassy pond, With its winter mantle while, A trusty band have met. With ahxious hearts and light, A bonspiel to enjoy. Now clear the rink for play, The keen, keen curlers cry,— • The best shot now has gone. Good, within the ring she'll li<). The play has lOW begun. Guard there, now draw her off. Sweep her up, and ease her rur * Easy, easy — that's the tee f Hurrah, the game is won. Now for the beef and greens. LINES ON SXBINO ▲ DYING BOT COMPARE THK PIOTUBB OV A SOLBTON WITH HIS WASTED PRAMB.. The flaunting tulip and its hues of purple and of gold, That it when heaven's sun is high doth gaudily unfold ; Grown in the cultured garden, or at the mountiin foot. Spring from disease engendered deep within the parent root. Sol A Thl Ai A A Th(l Ifi) Yes THE PAST.— HOPE. 19 So like *x> thee, thoa infant boy, tho' sicVly pale thou art, A gem is in thy yoothful frame, of man the better part ; Thy mind's fru't, too, is ripened by the trouble of thy frame, And with the aged and the young thy wisdom is the same. A word thou hast for every one of comfort or adrice, A very friend to virtue, but a greater foe to vice. Thou look'st hard at that picture of a skeleton to see If in thy little fieshless limbs it aught resembles thee 1 Yes, infant boy, thy portrait's there, though mind and matter's gone. Thy trame fades fast, and ah ! too soon, thy mind will live alone : A father's love bangs o'er thee new, a mother's care is near, Yet all their prayers, and all their tears, were vain to keep thee here. How fondly do I turn to thee, in memory's sweetest page, A very man in thought and word — in everything save age. Thy mind has fled — thy matter gone ; thy place is vacant now ; But still I pray, as oft I've done, for blessings on thy brow. :reens. t root. THE PAST.- -HOPE. Where now is forty »eight ? Gone down the stream, Like all the hopes I strung in boyhood's dream. Oft in that sunny time I've laid me down, And saw, in fancy, guardian angels crown The lofty projects of my soaring mind. While all of evil was left far behind — Dream'd, ere I reached to three times ten, I should be envied and admired of men I Bubbles like these, I in my boyhood nurs'd ; Now I am three times ten— my bubble's burst ; Still, 'noid the bitter of my bitter cup, Hope, from the bottom, smilingly looks up. Hope's like a tree, upon whose branches green. Bud after bud— 4ay after day— is seen ; \ 20 VEBSftS. T^e flower of yesterday, to-day it dies, Yet still the morrow bids new bads arise :— tSo 'tis with hope — ^leam after gleam may fade, But others rise and quick dispel the shade. The ho^irdiog miser, o'er his golden store, Hopes to his much-already to add more ; The merchant, too. for something must contend- Hope is his anchor — his most constant friend. Hope walks attendant on mankind below, Whate'er his calling — or where'er he go : The poor man only, let it be confess'd, Hopes in his God— in heav'n is all his rest, And such is mr.n, that in the world alone, Se'll hope while living, and die hoping on. m VERSES WRITTSN ON BBEING A WILLOW NEAR THE ORATE Of A DEPARTED FRIEND. Yes ! weeping willow, bang thy head ; Mourn for the friend and father dead ; — Should earth rejoice, still weep thou on, And, whispering, sigh — 'tis worth that's gone. And as the eyening zephyrs seek To kiss the tear drop from thy cheek, Tell them to bear where'er they go Trua friendship's loss— the widow's woe. Time was — ^but ah 1 that time has fled—- When our young hearts in friendship wed, And all the earth to us setm'd gay, — For bask'd we in hope's flatt'ring ray. Peace to thy ashes 1 sleep thou on ; Earth's life has ebb'd^thy spirit gone To fairer fields than e'er we trod ; Body to dust— >the soul to God. 21 THE AUTUMN WIND. GLill autuiDA wind, has't no remorse or pity For the tall tenants of the forest wide ? Say, does thy ruling spirits deem it pretty To lay their leaves and branches side by side ? There, in that nook, upon the mountain's breast, Wilh leafy canopy above my head, Pve mused on God's great work— then gone in quest Of thoughts among the living and the dead. Before me in her curling, sparkling smiles, The ever-moving river flowed along. While on her shining bosom, with her wiles, - The tiny barks were borne, 'mid purling song. And there were tall masts that spoke to the eye Of far-off lands, and lost homo of my youth. That from my quiv'ring heart would bring a sigh, When I remembered pledges formed in truth. Oh, cease, then, autumn wind, nor tyrant play ; Nor rob the heart-sick of their forest friends ; If thou art strong, have mercy in thy day, For so God's dealing with the world tends. THE FALLEN LEAF. Whither now, thou tiny leaf. Wherefore in such haste ? Oh, I see ; the cruel wind Resting place wont let thee find, But makes the sorrow taste. High a little while ago, Wedded to that bough : Now an outcast, toss'd about, Airy spirits laugh and shout To see thee treated so. 22 AT HAME I*D LIKE TO DEE. Forced along against tbj will From thy mountain liume ; Hard's thy fate — no rest to know ; Onward, onward still r i go, And with the wind must roam. There, at last, your journey's o'er. In foul ditch you lie ; And your " sear and yellow " face Hints to mortals of a place All reach— for all die. 0] AT HAME I'D LIKE TO DEE. The winter's gane, and soon, Jean, We'll saunter through the fields, An' pu' the springing buds, Jean, The willing warm earth yields. The winter may be gane, Willie, And summer back again. But oh I the fields in Oaoada . Are no like them at hame. We dinna hear the maris. That whistled in the spring, Nor yet the lilting lav'rock That gart the muirlands ring. An' weel ye ken the bonnie glens That lay around our cot. Were decked wi' mountain daisies. But here we hae them not. Nae doot, the same wise Providence Surrounds us every where. But here there's muckle wickedness \\ e'U look in vain for there. OLD ENGLAND WK LL DEFEND. I canna wander forth, Willie, Though fair the fields may be, I'd rather turn mj thochts on hame, An' wander 'cross the sea. For there, ye ken, there's kindly hearts Wha think on you an me, An' should God will it as I wish, At hame I'd like to dee. 23 OLD ENGLAND WE'LL DEFEND. The Yoice of war comes on the wind, We hear its whisper nigh. And should our country ask our aid. Shall we refuse and fly ? Will Britons bow to any foe When such a foe is wrong ? Oh, no ! vMk dastard cowardice To BmtUba't belong. Old EngHmfhas a mother been. And fostered us with care : In all our troubles— all our griefs-— Khe's nobly born her share. As children, then, our duty is. In answer to her cry, To join the shout, " for England yet " We'll conquer or we'll die." The deeds of Scotia's sons have aye Been sounded forth by fame; And Erin's trusty warriors Have gained a martial name ; And Gaul's desct^ndants round us In apathy won't lie, But nobly join and swell the shout, « We 11 for old England die I" 24 THB DECBIVED. United thus, we m»,j defy The haughty boast of those Whom ardently we wish as friends, And fear not as our foes : For the spirit of our fathers To tyranny won't bend i So, should war come, our watchword is- " Old England we'll defend 1" THE DECEIVED. Oh, whisht ye, then my lovely bairn, I'll hap ye frae the blast That's driving' in your mother's face Frae oot the cauldrife wast. Oh, whisht ye, bonnie, bonnie \eaah, Your mother's heart is sair To think that she should e'er hae faun Into the traitor's snare. Oh, dinna cry, for ilka s Says, Mother, ye're to bl Oh, dinna cry, for ilka wail Tells o' your mother's shame Oh, was't for this your father ask'd That I should leave my hame. To rob me o' my peace o' mind. And blight a maiden's fame. Oh, did my puir auld father ken, Or could my brother see. They'd mak your father sadly rue What he has done to me. Oh, whisht ye, then, my bonnie bairn, The drift comes frae the wast't ru perish, but I'll screen ye From ltd cauld bitter blast. 25 FAIR ANN. What bat fair Ann's eyei Keeps me always sighing 7 What but I'm in love Keeps me always dying ? Fair Ann^s eyes are dark, Fair Ann's lips are rosie, Teeth like pretty gems Braided wi' a posie. Fair Ann looks sae kind, Nane there's half sae charming, Love shoots firae her e'en, Oh, waes me, take warning. On me would she smile, Open path to heav'n, A' the ills o' life To ithers wonld be driv'n. Gould my heart but tell A' the pangs that smart it, Kindly blinks frae Ann Frae care aye would part it. Her I darena blame, She ne'er had a fautie, Were I free to choose Ann would be my dautie. SIGH' NOT. Sigh not thy youth away, lore, All pleasure hath not flowti : Ere summer comes agun, love, I will call thee my own. The flower which rude winds blast, love, May fall from off the stem. Yet warmth and sunny showers, lo'-e. Supply another gem : IP I ■lii 26 1-^^ THE BUSY SEASON. And thou art dear to me, lo?e, I'm happiest when thou'rt near ; The thoughts of coming spring, love, Will staj the coming tear. Let sorrow's gloom no more, love, In thj blue eyes be shown, For ere the snmmer comes, love, I will call thee my own. THE BUSY SEASON. Dear Tim, I'm tired of Montreal, The why I'll give my reason ; Meet whom I may, go where I will— With all here, it ig busy season. Examples, I will note a few : Your compliments I gave old Teeson, He grinn'd, and with a business bow Remark'd that it was busy season. I went to friends, expecting tea, Thei<' looks would almost make you freeze on- They said that now tbey nothing eat, Bee I use, as how, 'twas busy season > I called on Holderafast nnd Co., Expecting I'd have cash to seize on ; The batch of Hardfists said — Pray call When we get through our busy season. I met Bob Sweet, his beard unshaved, I said his chin seemed to have trees on ; Chin, chin, trees, trees — no, none on hand ! — With him I saw 'twas busy season. I asked Miss Pink about her beaux. She simper'd no one tried to please on , And yet you know her charms can tell That with them it is busy season. ST. ANDREW'8 DAY. 27 Qo to the clubs, a blank's the prize ; SeatB eret that you were glad to squeeze on, May now be had for lying on ; — And all because lis busy season. RirLSOTION. Oh man ! it may be that to-day Qrim death thy head lays his decrees on, And then, prepared or not prepared, You can't avoid HtB busy season. ST. ANDREW'S 1>AY. Auld Scotland's sons are hardy, Auld Scotland s sons are brare, Auld Scotland's blooming heather Was ne'er trod on by slave. Yet though her sons are hardy, Their hear's are ever warm, Their courage in the cot or camp Protects the weak from harm. Auld Scotland's sons are loyal, Auld Scotland's sons are leal. Their queen the} 'd gladly die for. Next to their country's weal. They have no spot from north to south On which a foe could stand, For the proud earth in wrath would heave The tyrant from the land. No traitor to his country Their patron saint will brook ; No t*'aitor to his country On Andrew's cross will look. So while our saint vte pledge in faith, May love our actions sway. And Scot wish Scot a happy time, Ti'l next St Andrews day. 28 " ANOTHER OF THE SAME." Our early days were near the hiUs where heather bells are seen, And echoing rills from mountain pass leap down on meadows green, And where the waving thistles grows : — stern in its native soil. It makes the tyrant wish'to-crush, within itself recoil. But scenes have changed, and other lands have now become our home, And strangers in an unco soil, fVom Scotland's hills we roam. Yet Qod is our protector, as he was in days of yore. When Andrew's flaunting cross came forth unharmed from heathen shore. As scions of so good a stem ; on this auspteious day We meet in honour of our saint, and to him homage pay. Yet, while we boast as being sons of earth whfe Andrew trod. Let no vain glory lead us from the homage due to €U>d. ITor may we in our festival forget w humbler friends, But freely share with them the gifts ,. '-^^ bounteous Heaven sends, And cheer onr country's wanderers, with ontotretehed open hand, Whose spirits grieve 'neath ripened woe? ftur from their native land. Our country's honor may we guard, nar avMy her high fame, Be zealous for the weal of all wha bear the Scottish name ; And weave, with kind remembrances, a laurel for our dead, Who died as Scotchmen ought to do, in battle or iu bed. Hurrah ! then, for the Thistle— for St. Andrew and his cross. For Highlandmeu and LowlaDdmen,-^from Berwick round to Ross, Uplift your voices — shout again 1 — as 'tw«re a Scottish fray, Peace, he&ith, and pfen^ to all friends— till next St. Andrew's day. ME." »ll8 are seen, on meadows 8 native soil, soil. DOW become 8 we roam,. armed from ij ?e pay^ indrew trod, » God. nds, ous Heaven tefaed open heir native gh fame, name ; ur dead, bed. lis cross, round to> |sh fray, Andrew's 29 A " SOCIAL " SONG. Drink friends— the glass pass round, There's woe within the bowl ; What though the devil in the end Will claim the drunkard'^ soul. There's fui. in wine — When sparkling fine ; A toast I'll give to-day— , " Our wives— old hags— Our children's rags ?" So drink boys while we may. Drink, fi lends — let no dull thought Of care or grizzly sorrow, Whisper to any "jolly dog," " Your head will ache to-morrow." No, no such thing. Let sense take wing ; W hile here we don't require it ; Twixt you and me, Fools we would be. Should ever we admire it. Drink friends — our wives may wt t'p. We'll curse them should they grumble ; What though our children cry for bread — We drink to keep them humble. Gome, come then boys. We'll taste the joys. Which bring their vot'ries sorrow. What though our glee Cause misery. We'll think of that to-morrow ! THE DRUNKEN MOTHER Stay, lady, step aside with me Into this bumble place. Start not I That term was fair as ihloe And beauty in that face.--« 30 ; |i THE daughter's APPEAL. 'Tis bloated now. Yoa ask me, whj 7 The tale is on** of sin ; She fell beneath that world's curse — Man-rain-spreading gin. Whose sickly little babe is that ? 'Tis hers — yet there she lies ; The fondlinfr-mother-feelings deaf To that sick infant's cries. 'Tis but the shadow of a child ; Yet let the parent wake, Like aspen leaf, in summer breeze, That helpless thing will shake. The husband— where is he 7 you ask ; He toils from morn till night — Too often, when his work is o'er, He looks on that sad sight ; And lifts his baby in his arms To hush its feeble moan, And prays that God may guide its steps, For mother^ it has none t'h, lady, weep not — rather pray That this poor erring one ; May 6nd a refuge yet from sin In God's own holy Son. Pray thai the father, mother, child, Be found 'mid heaven's host ; And that the b&ppy greeting be — " All here — n« wanderer lost." THE DAUGHTER'S APPEAL mother, throw that cup away, It is an evil thing ; There's venom in the subtle draught. Each drop contains a sting. It flattereth— then deceiveth ; And Iivld'^th up to ecoro ■ ■ • ' WHY AM I SAE SAD. 81f! The victims of its deadly course—- The wretched and forlorn. mother, throw that cup away. Or soon that little child That looketh now so pleasantly, So laughingly and mild ; May come to be, what God forbid So sweet a thing should be, The orphan of a drunkard And a child of misery. A I,. mother, dearest mother. These are not words of wrath ; My wish is but to show you how To shun the drunknrds path ; 'T'*3 but the lesson I give back You taught me in my 3'outh, Ere that foul cup had wil'dyou from The path of God and truth. mother, dear, dear mother, The day Is drawing nigh, When little babe, and you, and I, In father's grave will lie : And oh : think on the agony, The anguish fear and gloom. With which the drunkard's soul is filled To hear the drunkard's doom. O, WHY AM I SAE SAD ? OfVi^^ am I sae sad, Why is my he«rt sae sair? Say, if you d mak* me glad, rU see my country mair; For there the fondest ties, A mother e'en can feel. Under the ti.rf there lies In (he land o' the leal. 82 FEBIi FOR THE POOB. 0| dinna T9z me •«» , This country'! fkir nae doubt : Thochts 0' my bairns bring wae,- I've nane to rin aboot. Wha hae oar love to keep ; Wi* them the heart will bi, For a blink o' where they sleep, 0| I would cross the sea. The trackless road is lang, An' storms may sleep aboon, The mermaid's sweet cave-sang May wile the ship to doom : A' dangers I would dare, An' cross the ocean wide, To snod my bairnies' lair, An' lay me by their side. M 1 FEEL FOR THE POOR. Feel for the poor, they are brothers and sisters : Their hearts can be warm, though their spare limbs be cold ; A thin garb may cover a mind that is noble, And hunger can tame the rich, powerful and bold. Peel for the poor, they are sad and lone-hearted, And sorrow sits brooding within their damp walls ; No wood for the hearth — not a crumb in the cupboard, While children's bread-cry on the tortur'd heart falls. Peel for the poor ; they are broken in spirit, For want and its minions have crossed their life v^th, And the ice-winds of winter have marked their lone dwellings, To spend on their windowless hov^ls their wrath. Peel for the poor, ye in couches rc;^l' .'ng, Reraemoer the snows which 'n winter come down Nor turu y our warm bodies away at the wailing Of thos' who will ming'd their dust with your own. i abs be cold ; old. ills; )oard, falls. ^ath, IwelliogB, HYMN FOB MISSIONS. 8ft. Feel for the poor j thej are scantily coTcred : Oive something, gire freely what ye can afford ; Remember what Christ on his earth-mission taught ns,— Who gives to the poor, only lends to the Lt rd. m — 'n. i I HYMN FOR MISSIONS. Qod of heaven, we will praise thee, That to Q8 a Saviour's known ; That for us he died and suffered ; That w^ claim him as our own. God, Uiy love to us ezceedeth Far above what we can think : From thy Word we learn salvation, And from living waters drink. Countless thousands of the heathen, Bowing still to stock and stone ; Giving thus to man's invention Honor due to Qod alone. Many cry *^ Come o'er and help us — C> ivf Had teach us ail you know ; hcit \H ti ar of Christ and Heaven, B v i<^ shun the place of woe.** Can vr^f '..^Qn.^ who know the blessing Of our Lord's redeeming grace, See thfcm perish midst their idols, While they cry io see His face? 0^' wltiat iiins we inay be guilty, J^^^usi us let not this one stand — Tk' v»b(^a ask'd[ forheav|nTy manna, W^,refu8ed ,a famish'i^ land. Lord, let not our mifsions' labours Rest, till every land r«joiee, W^ ^ jpy fol songf Mf ;»oii| From a unlv^i^l. fp^<}, u COME TO SABBATH SCHOOL. Come now, Robert, come away^ This k not a day for play ; It is Sabbath, and you know. All good boys to school should go. The Lord who died for yon and me. When bad men nailed him to a tree, Bids us leave off every sin And wickedness, and flee to Him. You'll be toi ^ God has done. In sending fosiu ss only Son To bear our sins, that we might be Happy throughout eternity. While on earth the Saviour said. When children in His arms were laidy " tSuffer them to Ci^me "—what love 1— - " For of such is heaven " above. i You know that we all must die— Repent, and God will heir your cry ; And when death and j^dgmenVfr past, A happy home is yours ai last. Gome, then, Robert, come away. In evil paths, oh, do not stay ; > . Christ is asking you to go ; — Will you, will you, answer No^ ODDFELLOWSHIP PILLARS, Where is love by love entwined. Where is heart with heart combined. Where is sorrow's suffering cries, Soothed by sympathizing sighs ? Where do those who heart-sore mourn. O'er the sad symbolic nrn. A WSLCOME. For he, who, while handed brother, Tanght us to lore one another? Where from all those springs of grief, Oan the joyless seek relief? Seek it where enthroned are three- Faith, and Hope, and Charity. Faith to point the mind above ; Hope, to reach where all is love ; Charity, where sister, brother, Fondly cling to one another. In onr temples these are seen, Crowned with laurels ever green ; Thus, or. earth, while plenty's giv'n, Let us make our peace with Heav'n. 86 -S, A WELCOME TO LORD ELGIN, THB OOYSBNOR QBNBEAL OF CANADA. Up, men of Canada, arise I the lord of Broomhall comes, A scion of the coble Bruce, the boast of Scotia's sons. Who fought for freedom, not for fame, a tyrant yoke to spurn And taught his foe what freedom dared, on noted Bannockbum Thanks be to God, thos« days of strife are now all but forgot. Though freemen often turn with pride to that heath covered spot; 'Tis hedrd but in tradition now, or cottage fireside books. For spears and lances then arrayed are turned to pruning-hooks. Though Bruce may call up Bannockburn, with many a noble deed, The marbles of Lis sire bespeak of praise as high a mead ; For science wields her mighty sway, and art has conquered men. And other feelings now possess men's hearts — though brave as then. BSo TO AW. 1:^ But why go back to Baanoekbam? is Bigm not the t^^me7 A noble man, will noble be, wbate'er his.f»ilier!8 name : The actions, whether good or bad, tell what the heart will do, If noble, thej enwreaUr themielTeB -'ndd ftelingadotp and true. Go ask (he ebon-coloured son of Atcic'a golden ahmre, When down his iron chains were da8hed**rthi«k ooated with his gore, Who reared for him and hisitfaensebool^yand tmade him love the soilj ; Where long in galling jok^fae-groaiiedywitii^TecbtUNlen'd toil? He comes to us admir d, belov'd, by men of everj shade, His laurels, be tbej ever green ; his virttiM neTvr'fade ; 80 every man maj Uess the- day the lord'of Broomball came. And Bruce and Elgia longibet known ^or Canada4Mid fame. TO A. w. I'm weary, Sandy, weary, 0' this warld ^hd its slrife t rm weary, ^andy, weary-*- - I'm weary 0' this life, Ify.cares seem getting younger While I am getting auld f My ance fresh cheeks are furrow'd, noo— IfeilVm getting baiild^ I'm weary o' this worlds 0' it's misery andsin-^ It's spnnkie llchts 0* witchery , That draw the simple in. To marshy: bbgs o' wickednan, And covered pits o' woe, Thfrk i picture forth the ffottenness- O*. mi«'s designing Ibr. I'm wear|^i)Midy« weaiy, 0* this dreigh and glaury road^nr le: t will do, I and true. lied with him lore en'dtoiir kde, le; 11 came, 1 fame. ^ ^ 1 THB vA^<«W»||r/ m?. Vm ambled wV dfic^iipilat^ Whene'er I gfo^g Hbroa4.. For mirerthal^ iiber^flound^riin, ■ Jaups round «nQT^i7;iid§!i And wha wad wear a robe o' white 1 In their patb'maiinna rid*. i I'm weary ^ Sandy, weary, O' this warld and its ways j . It isna like the. earth, it w|m,. My gay and yoathful dayjs. . Folks then could he depended on, But now there's nae sic thing.; For evening promises when tried, G in morning )icht t^k', wing. I'm weary j Sandy, weary^ r An!'.teata cowQin my «en, An' wumple;Q'«rmy'Witber'd obeelis Aft when..thQy areim aem. -. When thinkin'r A hand, gien wF a willing heart, Maun be a freen's embrace ;— I'd walk twa miles, e'en should I err, To hear ye sing again, Gin ye would lilt anither tune, An' sing a sang o' hame. Ye've fung o' casjcets broH^n uPi Where hearts' bieat hopisi^ V.e 4tocei ; Ye poin t mo to % wtM^i^v^mn^^ Upon a fomtm #)kH9 i 88 THE ANSWER. Te tell me hame is hame luu mair, To yoa an exile noo, An* gin' I thoeht a' joj was fled, I e'en might think wi' you. Bot glaumer whiles come o'er my e'rn, An' witchcraft ower my heart, An' steals my willing mind awa' To Clyde, or rowin' Cart; Whare wi' the fishing line, orboai^ I think I'm yonng again. Syne whan my Tision fleets awa', I wish I war at hame Or through the fields I langhin rin. Or dim' the beechnit trees, Or loup the hedge wi' watery teeth. To pree the farmer's peas ; Or sittin' on a mossy bank, Wi' ane I winna name. Sic thochts gie dirling through my heart — I ish I were at hame. I The past has been sae full o' gloom. The present blacker seems, An' frae the thick veil'd future's face, I canna draw the screens ; Look oast or wast upon the earth, Where'er you like to name, I canna' see a sunlicht spot. But when I look at hame. I feel that God's been kind to me, I ken I shouldna pine, Nor greive aboot my faded hopes,) Nor present moments tyne ; But try to leeve, that when the shade 0' death is ower me cast, 1*31 fitted for oor father's hoose— And then —I'm hame at last. The^ vei his mil m THE TRUE FRIEND. There's not a gem in earthi/ crown, Nor pearl in the sea, Can cast so rich a lustre ronnd, As friendship can to me. Love cometh next, with harmony Pure t\om the hearl-fount's gush, And waters thought flowers in its mild, Oalm, sorrowr-soothing rush. A noble, be, who feels their power Fiower-buddin' in his heart, Can yield their fruiu to other hands, And nurse the thorny part. Nay, Qod-like is the power of him, To fill a cap of bliss, Qives heart and home at friendship's shrine. Then woos death's chilly kiss. Search 'mid the earthquake throes below, The star-seer's boundless path, Where meteors flit, and comet-fires Tell nature's day of wrath. Yet 'mid the fire balls' dazzling light, Or mountain heaving high, More beautiful the heart-felt thought, « For love and friend I die." THE TRANSCRIPT LIBEL FUND. The Proprietor of the Montreal " Transcrift" being sued for inad- vertently publishing a false raarriaRe, a subscription was got up in his favour, and the follovring sent to Mr. M'Donald, with the author's mite:— Ye who suffering worth would succour, Rouse ye now, a time has come ; Hard times now would still be harder Were the printing presses dumb. What though sometimes they may stumble, 'Tis but human should they err; 4§a HEAR Y£ THE ROD. Spam them, if they knowing ilander— Wronged — our sympathies confer. 'Mid their many thous^i^d items, Read and pQn^^l^ inorja and qig|;^t,, Wonder not at one .spftjl eirrojr. But th(kt,,they jio oft i^re rig^tr Oft w))eAde0p. deceit is g|f*^ With the.powv to wield, lypen,,. In the h^rry of th^ir labpj)): They may be imposed on then. Ye who suffering ^orth would Buccour, Rouse ye know, a tin^^ is come ; Hard times now, would still be harder, Were the Printing Presses .d^mb. See, our worthy friend i M'Donald, Has beAt^ap|ipi|ited it.— M^t vi. 9. Written during the Ffper peetV^enee. Hear ye the rod when pestilence Is stalking to and fro. And 'mid the homes of rich and poor Wails woe, woe, and. a woe. Hear ye the rod when maidens fall-- Ask, who appohited it? Are ye prepared to meet your God, Should he in judgement sit ? Heai^yet^Q rpd /^^cip Uttle onf»s Their tiftf yrings f.l^pand, And f^m j^etii! ^nbulatiiQ{^ fief^. Soar f9i;,^Ai(t^,fat^rla,n4 «^yMbe,j;Q^,fihej>yQ^^,a|»^ ,, Shrink. ^i^tl;f)ei^4i h», a .'^1^ TVboMAb Apr Tit9d H ? wl^ bfktb? H^iur j:e ^le rod ;— a#k ye jojor hefurtor-* Who Mth appomWd it ? For wo^i upon our naUon's waUS'^ By Qod's own finger's writ. Hear ye the rod ; — Let each one ask How much of blame he bears, Thus to call forth God's diead command, To harvest wheat and taMS. Hear ye the rod in penitence. Bending the knee in prayer. And as death's shafts fall thick around, Enow that Qod's hand is there. And pray ye fervently that He May stay th' avenging rod. And that men's hearts may turn again To serve the living God. 41 MEN OF CANADA. Men of Canada be s^i^ring, Si^n.d not i^ly ^ and s^e Bigot tyrants sei^e your coUA^, Fitted only for the free. Cringe not to tbe,^ien wbo ever Treated you w^t^ bitter 8C04?n, Called you trfiitors, rebels,, jT^^^cals, Till yppr b^i^ts were sorrow- torP' Are your old deep wrongs forgotten,' Sleeps the spirit of the past ; Which, when roused against oppression. From bispP^Q' ^ke t^^jni i^a^t 7 Long yp mourned with |uid misj^vingp, Waiting for the coming ^our, ' 4S OREBTINa TO BOSTON. When the dawn should ohase oppresson | From their mind-enslaving power. Let your might, which oft has broken Down corruption's servile rows. Rise in moral strength to combat Yet again your ancient foes. Scathed, not dead, they live and threaten To enchain you mind and soul, Gird, then, for the moral conflict— Bqual rights at freedom's goal. m A CANADIAN'S GREETING TO BOSTON, OS TBI OCCASION OF THB OBSAT RAILROAD JUBILEE, 1861. Hail I gen of Massachusetts, Hail ) cradle of great things, Hail I depot of man's intellect, A guest ihis greeting brings — A guest, who seeks in Concord Oblivion for al! past That here would tend to mar our joys, • Or gloom around us cast. I greet thee as a brother. Though from another land, I greet thee as one link in the Far stretching human band ; A band, by Boston's master-minds Brought nearer day by day. For commerce and for intercourse In life's untented fray. Across the crested bine ware, A mighty host has been ; A gathering of < nations, such As ne'er before wm seen ; >l J TO 1861. DARKEST HOUR PRECEDES THE DAT. 48 Yet though no crjstal palace here lU lofty bead opreara, The influence of thy Jub'lee will Be felt in coming years. The memory of Lexington May swell the throbbing heart, And stir the young blood of thy sons To play a noble part ; But thy Jubilee of fifty-one, More glorious than all, Will, with a moral in its wake, XJpoo the woild fall. Tes ! gem of Massachusetts, Let thy mighty heart leap high And let thy banner flags stream forth From out thy turrets high ; For this era in thy journey, A history-page will fill. More fraught with good to other lands Than the far-famed Bunker Hill. AH thoughts of strife and turmoil, Let nations sink for aye ; War-steeds give place to steam-horse>— Dawns of a brighter day. The sword into the ploughshare . Be turned — that so we may Meet year by year in peace and love In honour of the day. DARKEST HOUR PRECEDES THE DAY. Droop not though the limbs are weary Toiling on your tedious way ; Let the heart rise, hoping, upwards — Darkest hoar precedes the day. 44 THE HEUNKAUiys BUILDING. Though the hands be hard wiih labour^ Sweat from erery pore flow free, Struggle nobly — trust in He«yen — This is best for you and me. Tyrants may oppress and mock you, Proud ones spurn you from their path. Honest hearts oan pray, though aching, Peaceful hearts ne'er harbour wrath. Ne'er bow down to fellow mortal ; Did ths Qm not form mankind ? Noble souls are only worthy ; Spurn the tinsel —reverence mind. Mind, the symbol of your Maker^ Felt by all, though never seen -p^ At the last this te^t will try you, What rou are-— not what you've l^en. Give your spirit play-room ever, Lag not in your forward way, Work, and hope while conscience whispers- Darkest hour precedes the day. THE DRUNKARD'S BUILDING. [So it 18 with the body of the drunkard ! The home he lives in. The workingraen building it are drank, and putting thinjss in a confused heap, where there ought to be a scientifio arrangement of materials. — Mudge's Drunkenness Illustrated. Near to a village site, down in a dell, Where shading beeches grew on every side, John own'd a lot, who oft was heard to tell. Here will I build^ when Mary is my bride ; And thus, from year to year, John plodded on. But on the lot he never raised a stone. Unhappily for John, and many more, A worthy jMktriot, whose name was. Ftynn, THE DBUIJKARD'S BUII^DINa. 45 G. in. The , confused laterials. Who for the people's g^ooii open'd a store, To sell them hardware, gxass, an.d cloth, and gin, And though he sold below tho market price, 'Twaa strange that he got wealthy in a trice. John and this Fl jnn became the best of friends, Ahd oft he called to sit and talk of trade. Nor thought not of how tavern friendship ends, Or, that < John is a drunkard 1' should be said ; And Kiyer-freedom was discussed awhile, John cared, not which, the Lawrence or the Nile. John's house was shadow'd still wimin his mind, Though brick and mortar he could not afford ; He spent his all on no,ih^* Flynn was so kind, That John had not a copper for his board : So poor at last, he sold his lot to Flynn, And were it known, all he received was gin. A double building now «7ent swift along, John's lot was speedily turned upside down ; And brick on brick was laid, till fast and strong, Flynn built a house by doing poor John brown : And for each brick, John's friends have often said, Thbt on John's nose a carbuncle was laid. The house John built was like the one described. The workmen on it were too often drunk, Those on the nose, those on the eyes oit jibed, Till John's eyes did look blear'd, and red, and shrunl In fact, John's eyes led him a deyious way. Rejoicing in a drunken holiday. At last John's house wanted so much repair. That Flvnn's hext nails couid do it little good ; His hat .and coat made him look quite a scare, That li'-tle children ran whene'er he stood ; Indeed, "^wa^ seen that he was bound down h. oh, do— For I've neither silver nor ,gol4. 6,0 CANADA AND NEW BRUNSWICK. My brothers and sisters are dead. No friend on the earth can I trace, Beneath the deep snow they all lie, And now, I'm the last of my race. I flew to my cupboard with speed, My heart beat, I thought I would cry, " Come live here," I faltering said, Thuu poor little winter-starved ^ly. RBFLBCTIQN. In winter remember the poor, Oh, let them not shiver and die, Our charity should not stop short With harbouring merely a fly. There are widows, the last of their race. There are orphans, the last of theirs too, And the cloud that now hangs over them, May speedily hang over you. CANADA AND NEW BRUNSWICK AT A BANQUET GIVEN TO CANADIAN GUESTS IN THE CITY OF ST. JOHN, 1864, THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS READ : Brothers of Brunswick, thanks, kind thanks We give you for your greeting. Deep in our hearts will be impressed This grand fraternal meeting. And may ihe seed now sown bring forth, If not Confederation, At least the knowledge — here's the stuff- To form a noble nation. Strangers no more, let hand go forth, And with the hand the heart, That from this first love's solemn pledge, We never will depart ; THE PRESS ASSOCIATION. But hand to hand ani foot to foot, All common foes we'll dare, And in each other's good or ill Each will a portion share. The heroes of the fatherland- Philosopher — Savnnl — Historian, Poet, Omtor, " Or any other man." Let then^ be neither jour's nor mine, But ours for rights we own, As subjects of a noble realm, And good Queen on the Throne. Afid may the Press, mighty iu power, The fourth state of the realm. Stand steadily and fearlessly With those placed at the helm, So that our nation's birth be watched ■ And guarded from bad leaven. That our grand ship of State may reach The safely sheltered haven. Brothers of Brunswick 1 thanks, kind thanks We give you for your greeting. May good to all come forth from this, Our first nnd happy meeting, And, as Canadians, we will pray, Free from all hate and spleen, May Brunswick prosper gloriously, And God bless our good Queen. 51 rwA THE PRESS ASSOCIATIOiX. THB FOLLOWING POEM WAS RB'D AT THE ANNUAL MKiSTING OF THE CANADLAN PRESS ASSOCIATION, AT BBLLSVILLB, 1361. Brethren of the Press, I greet you, Happy thus once more to meet you, To renew our kind fraternals. Free from all our young infernafu! 52 ^ THE PEB8S ASSOCIATION. Whose eapaeionft *' copy " maw; Never fills the " devil " jaw. Now while off from imph^ sin. A Nova Governor might end the ril. And help to purge our way-ward aibter's bile ; PRESS POBM. 69 Dove-tail the provinces so tney wonlci match, And end the fight without a single scratch. Howe — minus Zanrf-- would settle soon the matter, But Howtf with land^ has now become the squatter ; Rowland is happy, Howe ii not well pleased — He went in Lemons, and he came out squeezed. God bless the New Dominion, pray we all ; God bless our people, be they great or small, Bless her broad lakes, he forests and her fields, Bless all the produce the DomiDlon yields. Grant her long peace, and distant be the day Whea swords are drawn, and scabbards thrown away ; Live and let live our motto, as we go, Never intruding — never fearing foe. And bless our rulers, for they want it much, Especially the Irish, French and Dutch ; For Britons in their lofty pride and ease Think themselves biess'd— " Britannia rules the seas" — Therefore no blessing want ; but this is fudge, For no men want it more — if I'm to judge. Here let me pause and soberly reflect-— Unblessed men ! wh'»t would be the effect ? No man in Canada should rule the rod, Who honors not the* Queen — who fears not God. Let Legislation follow earnest prayer. And let the people duly do their share ; Then might we hope to see a happy land. Prosperity with freedom hand in hand. God bless our cousins oo the southern shore, Bless them in health,^in basket and in store ; True to themselves, to their own country leal, Bearing, forbeaiing for the nation's weal ; Respecting all that's really good and true — Doing to others as they'd be done to GaaadinD's feel a prid*^ in their success, Why should our cousins seek to make un less ; ' ^00 PBSflS FOBM. Religion, UiUfptagei laws ; all are tbe sMne — ' There's gcope enough for each to siriTe for fKme. The liberty of speech is ourSi as theirs ; The Press an equal freedom, also shares ; Our han(is, like theirs, can use tbe spade or hoe, Or grasp the rifle, should we meet a foe. WeVe mioes to dig, and lands that may be sown. Streams wooing mills, and forests to cut down. All men are welcome, be tbey rich or poor, There's room for each on our Dominion floor. So 'tis with cousin Jonathan, — then why At each the other's throat in anger fly ? Forbid it, Hearen, that war should ere arise ; Instead, let's aim to grasp the peaceful prize — Freemen on every side — then there would be Peace and Prosperity from sea to sea. What Statesman now will tower above the crowd^ And dash from our fair land the looming cloud Flash'd in the murmurs high tazittion bringSy Humm'd in the air the opposition sings. Stamps, coal-^oil, tea,— the Word is even made To bear it's burd(>n, as if mix'd with trade. We trust our Rose will shortly deem it meet. To change all this, so he may still * smell sweet;' Else he may have to bear the snuffy grue Felt at the olden cry " Wha wants me noo." From highest to the lowest — let each strive T' expel all drones from the Dominion hive. Let hooest labor have its due reward, C B's and K's all honour and regard ; So, too, the opposition, to be true. Should censure only where censure is due. The people then m mild,^but conscious mood, Would crush the evil and uphold tb«! good. Qod bless our Que<:i2, and may sbe ever be Secured by bulwarks of tsue loyaHy ; irr HEABTH ASD HOME. M Long may the reign, though widow'd and alone, To show that Wrtae best adorns a throne. Oh, keep the motherland from war's alarms, Safely to oesftle in ber peoples arms. First in the march of freedom may she be^ The oppress'd find succour when they to her flee ; Ready as ever in her power and might To trouF . the tyrant fi,nd support the right ; Her name respected, as it was of old, Where'er the union banner we unfold — Be it on Abyssinia's rugged shore, The plains of India, or cold Labradore. Now ends my task in plain and simple rhyme, I'tc tuned my reed in rough and tumble time. With this I close — May our Association Become the glory of our new-born nation ; Tilting " free-lances " for the weal of masses. The fear of tyrants, and the scourge of — asses. MY HEARTH AND HOME. My hearth and my home may be lowly, My home and my hearth may be bare. But there's warmth in the hearts of its circle, — And the poor still find something to share. The wind may sweep fierce through the pine logs, The rain may drop, drop on the floor, But the hearts round my hearth and m^ home are Xe'er closed to the plea of the poor. My hearth aud my home may be lowly, My hearth and my home may be bare. But there's warmth in the hearts of ltd circle — And the poor still find something to share. Should sadness come over my pathway, Or sorrow sink deep in my heart, I then turn inst'ctively homeward, As th«i mariner turns to his chart. 62 MY HEARTH AND HOME. i i My hearth and my home has a solace, A balm for each wound as 'tis given ; My hearth and my home is an emblem Of the peace that we dream of in Heaven. My hearth and my home may be lowly, &c. I care not where'er I may wander, On mountain, in valley, on sea, I Know in my home that my iov'd ones Round the hearth are aye praying for me. My home-gems I prize above riches. They are jewels not purchased witn gold, And when life and its struggles are over, May we all join God's Hearth-Home and fold. My hearth and my home may be lowly, Ac. y* ■