ii 
 
OJiNiilllAM IBTIiLS 
 
 9 
 
 BT WaUAM XIIBT. 
 
 iiti«^iitb« £ii^ti^. 
 
 Ckmtiuued from tim 'Oeuadiaaa Monthly 'of Alprilk ^88* 
 
 HUNTER, ROSE AN© COMPANY. 
 1883. 
 
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 CANADIAN IDYLLS, 
 
 BY W. KIUBY. 
 
 (Continued from the " Canadian Monthly" of April, ISS^.] 
 INTERLUDE SECOND. 
 THE HARVEST MOON. 
 " Formosam resonare doces AmarylHda sylvas." 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 The cowbell tinkled in the grass- grown lane- 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose, 
 As I went singing' the oil refrain, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose ; 
 My milk-pail brimming upon iny head. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose, 
 I met my lover and to him I s lid : 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, boi,,,ier the rose. 
 Just now, my lover I it would be unfair, 
 
 Bonny is the briei bush, bonnier the rose, 
 My lips to kiss them, if you should dare, 
 ^ Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose, 
 So let down the bars and I'll go through, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose. 
 And do not kiss me or you may rue — 
 ^ Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose ; 
 For you shall carry my milking-pail. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bu;ih, bonnier the rose. 
 To t!ie old farm-housy in the lilan vale, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose. 
 The moon was rising among the stars, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bn.sh, bonnier the rose, 
 Before my lover pi;t up the bars, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bmnior the rose. 
 For he kept me talking till he made me sav, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose. 
 That where is a will, there is always a way. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose ; 
 And he carried my milking-pail for me. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier tlio rose. 
 As we walked home by tlie trysting tree. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose. 
 Singing together a roundelay. 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose, 
 That where is a will, there is always a way, 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rosj. 
 That night my true lover pliuhted me— 
 
 Bonny is the brier bush, bonnier the rose, 
 His troth for ever and will marry mo ; 
 
 Bonny is the brier buah, bonnier the rose. 
 
CANADIAN JDYLLS. 
 
 That was the ballad sung in wilful mood 
 
 By lovely May, that drew the chorus up 
 
 In the refrain. She laughed as girls will laugh: 
 
 VV^ho mock at love, unwitting of its power ; 
 
 How to some happy ones, it brings but joy ; 
 
 To others, wounds of never ceasing care. 
 
 From youthful cheeks will brush the roses off— 
 
 And downward droop the lips to smile no more. 
 
 Old Clifford laughed, "It was not needed, May ! 
 
 Your milkmaid ditty we so often hear; 
 
 When all the west grows rosy as your cheeks, 
 
 And the short grass is soft with early dew ; 
 
 While from the pasture, come the sweet l)reathed cows 
 
 Behind their shadows, walking slowly home." 
 
 He looked at May approvingly, and thought 
 With touch of pride -" She is of my own kin ! 
 A girl compact of sense and every grace 
 That makes a woman dear — desirable ; 
 She is my kin— my all— my bonny May ! 
 Her mother left her orphaned to my care ; 
 To love as my own daughter, for my house 
 Was daughterless, and dull my hearth, until 
 My winsome May brought to it childish talk 
 And girlish gaiety — then was my man's 
 Deep natural longing for a daughter's love 
 Quite tilled and satisfied. For incomplete. 
 Unfurnished and unsoothed, is he who ne'er 
 Has childhood's secrets whispered in his ear. 
 
 My stalwart sons had all but one left home — 
 To seek their fortunes, easily found in this 
 Good land of plenty and of promise sure. 
 To all who earn the blessing, it is given ! 
 To hear May talk of them was my delight ; 
 Their names and boyish histories — and me 
 She easily persuaded to tell more ; 
 And every word stored in her memory. 
 Idealizing it, in woman's way. 
 
 Six sober lads were mine as true as steel, 
 
 Brought up in industry and fear of God ; 
 
 Some to the plough have gone to till new fields, 
 
 Won from primeval woods with lusty axe ; 
 
 Some stand the pilot's watch on our great lakes, 
 
 Or down the foaming rapids safely guide 
 
 The broad loose-jointed rafts, the yearly spoil 
 
 (»f our vast forests -dense— illimitable. 
 
 My younger lads had drank with eagerness 
 
 My old time stories of the people's war. 
 
 When Brock unfurled our country's flag, and called 
 
 For men in its defence, when all rose up. 
 
 And 'mid the dust and smoke of victory. 
 
 Smote down the invaders of the Forest land. 
 
 My two young lads to hear the tale would flush 
 
 With martial heat and pride ; and when our Queen, 
 
 God bless her ! called for men to go and take 
 
 Sebastopol— and fight for England, who 
 
 So often fought for us ; they joined the ranks 
 
 Oi our Canadian regiment, and wreathed 
 
 The British colours with the maple leaf. 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 And now to-day they wear the royal red, 
 And sentinel Gibraltar for the Queen. 
 
 The old man stopped, and for a moment, some 
 
 Unbroken words moved silently his lips — 
 
 "God bless the lads I " and then : " God bless the Queen ! 
 
 I gave them to her service, willingly. 
 
 As 1 served her myself. Her future wars, 
 
 For Britain's honour and our country's need. 
 
 Will never lack Canadians of my kin 
 
 To guard her crown and empire evermore." 
 
 May's jollity was for a moment dashed 
 With seriousness — 'twas but a moment, when 
 Shaking her long black hair, in sprightly mood, 
 Her rosy face, like sunbeams out of clouds 
 Disparting them, broke out in radiant smiles : 
 " And now good uncle Clifford ! " cried she, " Pray 
 Undo your censure of my want of power 
 To win and wear a lover like the rest 
 Of "iris when pleases us. For men the best 
 And wisest of them are but simple things : 
 Unlearned in this, to read a woman's heart 
 Against her will — much more in her despite 
 To win her love who shuns the fowler's snare — 
 Some think it easy, who have never tried ! 
 Although for woman's wit, I ever say : 
 That where there is a will, there is a way ! " 
 
 Old ClifiFord shook his head, "From high to low. 
 From Queens to beggar- maids 'tis all the same ! 
 Your kingdom is your birthright in our hearts ! 
 And through our hearts, our heads, and hands, 
 You rule most regally ! So now, dear May ! 
 Rule whom you will, no one will answer : Nay ! 
 Sit down and from our poet cull a tale 
 That fits this humour, if there be one writ 
 In that old book you worship. Is there one ? 
 You know it, I shall warrant, bonny May ! 
 A merry tale that suits this holiday ! " 
 
 May flushed a little— frowned and smiled at once. 
 
 Her woman's wit was kindled in a flash ; 
 
 That warmed her up to mischief. Down she sat, 
 
 With mock importance on the witness stone, 
 
 And bade her uncle listen with the rest. 
 
 Then ran she searchingly her finger down 
 
 The yellow pages ; and three times she hemmed, 
 
 And from her forehead brushed her drooping hair 
 
 While frolic humour glistened in her eyes — 
 
 And in the flashing dimples of her cheek, 
 
 The tricksy sprites of merry laughter, hid 
 
 And peeped alternately, like swallows' eyes 
 
 Out of their nests at watchers going near. 
 
 She first looked up, then down upon the page, 
 
 Then closed, then opened it ; as if to say : 
 
 " I know by heart this tale that I shall read — 
 
 And do not want the book ! So list who may, 
 
 And you shall learn how, spite of yea and nay ! 
 
 A clever girl of Croyland had her way ! " 
 
 \ 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 THE HARVEST MOON. 
 
 Cynthia Queen of the Harvest in full-orbed a,^^^ 
 
 Thou ait the lamp of the reaper the "'■"''V'l'r^^lhN through their tresses, 
 Tw" inu blue darnel an.l daisies for ^"'""^I'^'/.l^^'lhe ^tuTjbles o'erladen, 
 iTby'tl'ee i>^yi-^^;^:^^^:'^^!^:^lvU^donr, the dancer. 
 Kl^trSp tS;:C£e"S:^'ancI of pipe and of tabor. 
 
 TART FIRST. 
 
 'Twas Autumn, ^vhen the days 'P"" .\\'7^^.' . . 
 Were waning from the summer s perfect pume , 
 And dJep in August stood the yellow corn 
 R pe She reaper, on the morrow n.orn. 
 A mile of level wheat and waving maize, 
 tnd 4rdaat pastures, mot the eager gax^e 
 3? two young^-eomen, come to claun the hand 
 
 OnlZ's adventure -d to wm the game. 
 -SVhich farmer Gay had oddly set, to jest 
 ^Vhich of them loved his lands or daughter oest. 
 
 Now Ada Gay was born in Croyland vale ; 
 
 \ airl iust perfect to the finger luul, 
 
 FrSm top to toe of every charm possessed 
 
 AvSi wcman wishes for, and man ikes best. 
 
 A figure shapely-face a htt e round 
 
 With constant smiling ; waist-a ^^^\'^'' \. 
 
 It ticdit, two spans about ; her skin ^^as t.vir 
 
 As silver water lilies, and her ha"' 
 
 Eyebrows and eyes were dark, of lustre tuli 
 
 And endless witcheries that never dull, 
 
 Her dress-not silk-was always mod sh neat, 
 
 \nd showed at once and hid her dainty feet. 
 
 Well sh<)d' well stockinged, ancks trim and clean, 
 
 An.l with a springhig instep like a -jueon. 
 
 From morn to night, her lovers, l^=f •;^ «j^«^^;^ 
 
 Slid " she was cold and cruel-nothing more 
 
 She'iieeded them than heeds tj- wind tha bio. s 
 
 The chatf when winnowed, and away it goes . 
 
 8he was indeed a little coy and Pi'^^^^ , 
 
 Towards her admirers of the common crowd 
 
 iet smiled on all somrames, she was so good, 
 
 And never looked as .f she understood 
 
 What lovers came for. With extended hand. 
 
 She turned the conversation on the lana, 
 
 J^if cornfields, pastures, fiocks and herds and all, 
 
 But on herself, not once, a word let tall 
 Tf vou were badly smitten and uncapped 
 
 When in her presence, as most likely happed, 
 
 Mie killed with doubtful smiles-you never knew 
 
 How mischievous her eyes did look at you. 
 
 Yet was she no cociuette, to flirt a part, 
 
 And cheat a lover gratis of his heart ; 
 
 Jiut tienerous as the sun that shines on all. 
 
 Her right 'i--<^ l'"mour beamed on great and small. 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 With warmth of welcome gave her hand ungloved, 
 Many she liked but only one she loved ; 
 And he tlie only one she seemed to shun 
 Encounter with. Although her heart was won, 
 She was so coy and shy, in very sooth, 
 She would not let him even guess the truth, 
 And yet beneath the snow of looks forbid, 
 The fire of passion was discreetly hid, 
 Till like a swift iohog'^tm down the slides, 
 Into her fate at last the maiden glides. 
 
 Old farmer Gay by honest thrift was rich 
 
 In good broad lands, and sheep and cattle, which 
 
 Still grew and multiplied, in field and fold, 
 
 And year by year his stockings bulged with gold. 
 
 He trusted not in banks — they sometimes broke ; 
 
 He was his own safe banker, yet when stroke 
 
 Of sad misfortune struck a neighbour— fire 
 
 Or flood, or sickness, ruined crops that byre 
 
 And barn left empty, he was first to aid, 
 
 And lent or gave as the occasion bade ; 
 
 But rather gave than lent, for so said he, 
 
 All that I have is God's good gift to me 
 
 Wisely to use, but not to make my own. 
 
 The treasures of the field, the Lord alone 
 
 Is master of. And thus had farmer Gay 
 
 Enough to use, enoui^h to give away, 
 
 And oft a round of proverbs he would chime 
 
 Like sleigh-bolls' jingle in the winter time 
 
 !» " Waste not and want not." " Sloth is Satan's rent." 
 " It is too late to spare when all is spent." 
 " The honest farmer who would live and thrive 
 " Himself must either hold the plough or drive." 
 " With seed to sow or harvest to cut down, 
 " Must eschew idleness, and jaunts to town ; 
 " Nor gossip at the iini with Jack or Jill, 
 " And only tipple at the cider mill. 
 " A yeoman gets by industry and thrift, 
 " But he grows poor who tries the sorry shift 
 <' Of laziness, to live upon his wits, 
 " A ragged pauper in the end he sits. 
 " Things got by honrst labour stick and stay, 
 " And it is getting not to throw away, 
 " And yet in giving wisely is great gain, 
 " God's paradox—Old Gains made it plain : 
 " ' There was a man, though some did count him mad, 
 *' The more he cast away the more he had ! '" 
 And thus ihe jovial farmer, conscience clear. 
 Lived by these rules and prospered year by year, 
 A friend and counsellor in word and deed. 
 Advice and help he gave to all in need. 
 
 He liked to talk about the good old time 
 When all the world, as he, seemed in its prime. 
 And life was worth the living, "For," said he : 
 " Canadians were like brothers frank and free. 
 Good men and true, in courtesy well met, 
 Whene'er they came together, for the debt 
 Of help they owed each (,ther ; none were strange, 
 And none unworthy, and in house and grange 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 Were welcome all, receiving welcome back, 
 
 However far we travelled, was no lack 
 
 Of hospitality at every door, 
 
 Where nij^ht o'ertook us, and our only score 
 
 Was not king's coin ; but kindly words to slay, 
 
 Or, come again, when we should pass that way." 
 
 Thus farmer Oay lived on for many a year. 
 Rich both in wis lom and in worldly gear, 
 When like a ])rudent man his will made he ; 
 And Ada his sole cliild and iieiress, she 
 Was to inherit all, with pots of gold 
 Laid by for dowry, so the tale was told. 
 If she would marry one her father set 
 Of two to choose from, Ada was to get 
 One half her fortune down, with house and land, 
 And plenishing, and all things to her hand. 
 In all the country round, the richest prize 
 Was Ada Oay, whose black and spaikling eyes, 
 Fair face and figure, men admiring swore 
 Were worth her dowry twenty times and more. 
 
 And so it hai>ped when his intent was known. 
 
 That brace of lovers sauntered up and down, 
 
 All hours between the early and the late 
 
 And always stopped before the garden gate. 
 
 But not for sake of dower in truth did they, 
 
 But for herself, make love to Ada Gay. 
 
 Sometimes invited in, and sometimes not, 
 
 They talked with her and sighed, were cold or hot, 
 
 Just as she pleased to warm or cliill them ; they 
 
 Sat in her parlour often half the day. 
 
 While she played music, sang or laughing said, 
 
 All sorts of nonsense running in her head. 
 
 Hours flew like minutes in her presence, till 
 
 The one forgot his farm, the one his mill • 
 
 Their work, their workmen, while the harvests call 
 
 In vain upon them, they neglected all. 
 
 For sake of Ada, when they c ime to woo, 
 
 Till farmer Gay declared ; " It would not do I " 
 
 "He hated idlers ; " said he, " Men of sense, 
 Who with a woman make no vain pretence. 
 Will work their six days out, in day-time bright. 
 And only court by moon or candle li^ht. 
 On Sundays only wear best coats and shoes. 
 And walk to church, where cosy in the pews. 
 They turn their prayer-books, over, and forget 
 The text, next minute whispering to get 
 The place from her, who turns a willing ear. 
 And only what the parson says, can't hear." 
 
 They were two manly fellows and good frien:ls, 
 Who scorned to gain unwoithily their ends. 
 They were in love up to their very ears, 
 And both had hopes, and both alternate fears, 
 For Ada Gay although her mind was set 
 On which she liked the best, yon could not got 
 From her a word or sign, to show the way 
 Her heart inclined, and neither night nor day 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 Could one or other of them feel assured, 
 Whether his fate was to bo killed or cured. 
 When Ada married, which would bo the guest 
 Or which the bride<rrooni / People said with zest 
 And tasteful lii)S, " The chance was two to one 
 That she might jilt them both, ere she had dene, 
 And then look round the country everywhere 
 To find a better man if one was there ; 
 Each prater saying this, drew up an inch. 
 With nose in air, and thouijht, "At such a pinch 
 Why might not I be he ! In laetter hands 
 Could never fall the charming Ada's lands ! 
 And I could spend her money with the best, 
 Were Ada Gay my wife and all the rest I " 
 
 But farmer Gay had better fish to fry. 
 
 And knew well, who was who, and what to try 
 
 To settle Ada's balancing, and make. 
 
 Her steady as a rock for Randal Blake, 
 
 Now Randal Blake was active as a hare. 
 
 And strong of limb and purpose as a bear, 
 
 Good natured very, good at work or play, 
 
 And ready for adventure any day. 
 
 He was besides quite rich in house and goods 
 
 Broad fields well tilled, orchards and noble woods, 
 
 Fat oxen, horses, sheep and all the clack, 
 
 Of f-athered fowl, of which he had no lack. 
 
 Yes ! Randal Blake deserved the blues and reds, 
 
 Of ribbons, won at fairs for thoroughbreds, 
 
 InbulL and horses, beating Smith and Jones, 
 
 A farmer to the marrow of his bones. 
 
 And all he wanted to complete his life, 
 
 Was Ada for a helpmeet and a wife. 
 
 But Ada had her fancy, and a will 
 To find a way to what slie wanted, till 
 Sweet as she was, and ali'able in speech 
 No lover's craft or art could overreach 
 The pretty heiress, who had formed a plan 
 To please herself in pickmg out the man 
 Who was to wed her ; although farmer Gay 
 Was planning out for I'er, another way. 
 " If Randal Blake be his first choice," she said, 
 " 'Tis Simcoe Lake alone whom I shall wed ! 
 Him and none else, unless I change my mind, 
 Which is the right divine of woman-kird." 
 
 Now Simcoe was a yeoman, handsome, slim, 
 Lithe as an Indim, and as straight of limb. 
 With hair br(jwna8 an otter's, foot as spry. 
 As ever drew a girl's admiring eye. 
 Good natnred, clever, rich in every way, 
 But he felt not (juite sure of Ada (lay ; 
 More deep than Jie, her seci'et Ada hid 
 In her own bosom, sometimes half forbid 
 His suit, and tried to look a little grim. 
 That he might not be sure she favoured him. 
 If too successfully she played her part. 
 And Simcoe took her coldness much to heart, 
 She pr.vyed for thunder, or some odd event, 
 To show him, without telling, what she meant ; 
 
8 CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 Wished she co\ilcl tnnihle in the hike, about 
 Waisr deep, when ho was l)y, to iJnU her her out, 
 Or wrecked together, eacli the other siive 
 I'pon a desert Isle, where in a cave, 
 A hermit lived, who ofl'ered out of hand 
 To marry them, socjii as they touched the land, 
 And they complied, and so in that odd way. 
 Of day dreams, oft was manied Ada Gay. 
 
 Now Sinicoe Lake was of the good old stock 
 
 Of tiue Canadians firm as (,'ranite rock— 
 
 Bnuiilit up and nurtured, as a sacred thing, 
 
 In fear of <Jod and lionour of the King ; 
 
 Of purest bhiod without a single stan\ 
 
 That darkened by a drop his loyal vein, 
 
 In his forefathers' day when rebels set 
 
 The Continent in Haines, and fought to get 
 
 By rank secession— and the Empire's fall, 
 
 For their own selves, the heritage of all ; 
 
 And when the 1 nd was rent from Britain's side, 
 
 A himdred thousand of the pick and pride, 
 
 Of all the Continent rose up and went, 
 
 New- pilgrims exiled into banishment. 
 
 A hiuidred MaiifUm-ira sailed, and night and day, 
 
 The noblest oi the country bore away 
 
 To nt:wer Plymouth rocks — more blest; by God 
 
 Than Puritan or Pilgrim ever trod. 
 
 Northward and Eastward went they bravely on,— 
 
 yon:e laid the deep f(jundations of St John. 
 
 {some planted in ^e\v Scotia's vales of gold, 
 
 A new New Emjland, nobler than the old. 
 
 The broad St. Lawrence and the waters deep 
 
 Of blue Ontario welcomed them. While leap 
 
 For very joy, Niagara's tameless Hoods, 
 
 To greet their coming to his ancient woods. 
 
 Wisely and well they laboured to create 
 
 The fabric of a vast and loyal state. 
 
 Confederate wit li tile Empire— heart and will. 
 
 Through years and centuries growing grander .still, 
 
 And thus did they restore a hundred fold. 
 
 In their new lands the losses of the old. 
 
 ( »f that good stock citme Sinicne Lake. His home 
 Broad fashioned by his father in the combe 
 Of two lowhills, " the Place cf Oaks'' was called 
 Bright windowed, and veiandad, and well walled, 
 Ppon its tim!u>rcd gable, carved fair, 
 " Fear God, h(monr the King," stoofl lettered there. 
 Two generations had beheld the glow 
 Of tiery summer, turn to wintry snow, 
 Rude nature change her old primeval face 
 Of savage woods to cornhehls— room and space 
 For Hocks and herds to 'laze in pastures green. 
 Where ran a brook, out of a wild ravine, 
 » And turned the wheel of ati old dusty mill 
 
 That clacked and rumbled half way up the liill. 
 
 Though nature changed, changed not the hearts of gold, 
 
 Who in the " Place ( f Oaks," kept as of old, 
 
 A roomy chamber for the weary guest. 
 
 Where none unwelcome came, who stopped to rest. 
 
CAN^IDIAX IDYLLS. 
 
 The roving Indian or the yeoman known, 
 
 Kinsfolk or strangers all alike sat down 
 
 At the broad table diapered and spread 
 
 With linen white as snow, to meat and bread 
 
 Of purest wheat, and dainties such as none 
 
 But our Canadian honsewifes make alone. 
 
 Then after supper by the roaring fire 
 
 Of winter logs what tales and songs inspire 
 
 Of Wolfe and Brock, and the heroic band 
 
 Who came with Butler to this forest land ! 
 
 Or haply in the glorious summer nights 
 
 Befora the bed-time stars put up their lights. 
 
 Stretched neath the oaks they talked the hours away 
 
 With cheerful stories, mixed with rustic play 
 
 Of country humour to the occasion pat. 
 
 But oft in graver moods conversing, sat 
 
 In judgment on the present and the past, 
 
 And even the future, boldly they forecast. 
 
 Some had been pioneers who searched the woods 
 
 For their fresh treasures. Some had braved the Hoods 
 
 Of foaming rapids. Others from the cold 
 
 Dense wintry forest?, with adventures bold, 
 
 Bought spoil of mighty game, the elk and bear. 
 
 While otliers told of land.i far distant, where 
 
 Blue skies and prairies sluml)er breast to breast, 
 
 Unroused cas yet from their pritueval rest. 
 
 Latids which one day would wake as from the dead, 
 
 And feed the hungry world with meat and bread. 
 
 Their minds expanded thus wiih broad survey 
 Of our Dominion growing day by day. 
 And the still jirander Eiupire throned and crowned, 
 Which links it to the world's remotest bound. 
 
 That olil Canadian home like many uKjre, 
 
 Preserved its tjwii traditions and the hjre 
 
 Of history, related with a clean 
 
 And trutliful tongue, of all things that had been 
 
 The pregnant cause of long and angry jar — 
 
 The revolution, and tlie spoil aii(i Wiir 
 
 That basely minglid in the gr^'at debate 
 
 Of principles in our Imperial state. 
 
 And making two, where i^ue ha'l been before. 
 
 Wrenched ruthlessly apart for ever more. 
 
 Old heirlof)ms valued in tliat ho'iso were found, 
 
 The father's sword hung on the wall new bound 
 
 With garlands once a yciu', in honour due 
 
 The loyal soldier who had worn it, true 
 
 To King and country. Deeils jind papers grey 
 
 Of old Colonial lands were stowed away 
 
 In antiipie drawers. Commissions with tlie ring 
 
 Of nuutial life upon them, which the King 
 
 Had granted to their race, who (pue and all 
 
 Were ever ready at the trumpet's ca'l , 
 
 To go to batile lull of pith and powt r 
 
 Stout yeomen who turned soldiers ni an hour. 
 
 Who left the plou','h, and gun or sword in hand 
 
 Met all invaders of their native land. 
 
;^Q CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 A flag of silk deep blue and crossed with red 
 Was draped with care, and in an alcove shed 
 The radiance of a glorious past that blent 
 Our country's fame with Lincoln's regiment. 
 The word '"' Niagara," wrought in broidered gold 
 Recorded honours won in days of old. 
 
 Beside young Simcoe's desk were books a few, 
 
 Not richly bound but priceless, whence he drew 
 
 By frequent reading of the choicest lore. 
 
 The seed-thoughts of the world, the garnered store 
 
 Of new ideas that leap to life in time, 
 
 And fill the world with progeny sublime. 
 
 A century we mr.y wait to see their power 
 
 But it will come sure as the Aloe's flower. 
 
 In Shakespear, Milton, B^con, and the Book 
 
 Of Books— God's own— whoever will but look, 
 
 Shall find the gold of Havilah, alone 
 
 Matrix of truth, Bdellium and Onjx stone. 
 
 A daughter of the house with pencil rare, 
 Had painted skilfully some pictures there, 
 Simcoe and Brock, heroic men and grand, 
 The Fountler and Defender of the land. 
 Her father's wise— her nioiher's comely face 
 Both full of kindliness and truth, and grace 
 Of old Colonial breeding in the days 
 Before the deluge came of anti(H)e ways, 
 
 A landscape too of that majestic gorge, 
 
 Where up and down, the stream and eddy forge- 
 
 Against each other past the rocky walla 
 
 of wild Niagara's eagle haunted halls ; 
 
 That sava'^e solitude where foot of man 
 
 Walks warily, and seldom as it can. 
 
 For the fell rattlesnake still hatnits the glen, 
 
 And broods and basks in many a stoney den. 
 
 Another, was a Grecian girl, intent 
 ;^ With quivering lii) and eye, on the event 
 
 Of some grand tragedy of Sophocles. 
 An ancient church in England, overseas, 
 Revered as the old cradle of their race. 
 Upon the wall found an abiding place. 
 The old French thorn.'= donning their robes of green, 
 In rustic portraiture were also seen. 
 Another showed the verdure of the spring 
 With millions of wild pis^eons on the wing. 
 But, in the place of honour was the King. 
 
 Now evening came which melted into nii^ht, 
 And that in turn was swallowed up by bright 
 And hungry stars, that silently looked down 
 In solenni juilgment, without smile or frown, 
 Or sign or wonder, that miiiht haply show 
 A consciousness ot human life below. 
 The wind had fidhn, with no leaf astir, 
 Yet was the air alive with endless chirr 
 Of insect life nocturnal, and the llight 
 Of tiretlies Hashing through the summer night. 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 11 
 
 These things provoke to sleep, and to their beds 
 Household and guests retire with sober heads 
 Not fearing for the morrow, certain they, 
 God for the morrow cares, as for to-day. 
 
 INTERLVDE THIRD. 
 
 Thus far May's tale. Some called a halt, to think, 
 
 Some looked quite wisely round, and with a wink 
 
 Of approbation said : " It is a tale 
 
 Quite homelike and and as rustic as a rail." 
 
 " They liked " they said, " a story told so plain, — 
 
 About themselves — not castles budt in Spain. 
 
 But picked up by the light of common day. 
 
 As treasure trove upon the king's highway. 
 
 Where they could share in every hope and joy, 
 
 The poet's song revealed, without alloy.'' 
 
 Old Clifford listened, as May's reading sped, 
 
 His ears took kindly in each word she said, 
 
 His eyes were steadfast, tilled with deep content. 
 
 When she spake of the Lincoln regiment. 
 
 Where he had worn a sergeant'.s sash, and fought 
 
 As every true Canadian did, and ought ; 
 
 But far too manly, he, for boast or praise 
 
 Of his own deeds in those heroic days. 
 
 You would have known him long, and well befoi'e 
 
 You learned from him, how many wounds he bore. 
 
 Some still unhealed and painful, yet no trace 
 
 Of discontent was on his manly face. 
 
 To learning though he made but small pretence, 
 
 By nature he was gifted — full of sense. 
 
 Had studied, profited and come to know 
 
 From life's experience more than books could show. 
 
 Ho broke the thread of INIay's pretended tale. 
 And gaily cried, " Vou carry too much sail. 
 My pretty May ! Your story's all afloat 
 And drifting seaward like a tisher's boat 
 Blown from the shore — to h)se with long delay 
 The market for your fish. A single day 
 Will spoil its freshness — and your story here, 
 I don't remember it — with eye or ear. 
 I doubt our poet dreamt it — and that you. 
 For our amusement only dream it too I — 
 Before it ends your hair will be uncurled 
 And A<la's wooing rtach the other world." 
 
 May with a roi<y blush unrnflled said : 
 "Dear Uncle, do not judge wliy maidens wed, 
 And long or short the tale — slow, fast or coy, 
 Or labyrinthine as tlie walls of Troy — 
 You'll find as all roads load to London, this 
 Will surely lead at last to wedded bliss. 
 And Ada Cay and he who is her cliuiuo, 
 Will underneatlv the harvest moon rejoice." 
 
 May bit her lips in every pretty shape, 
 To keep the laughter in, that would escape ; 
 And spoil the mischief she was bent to do 
 And set her crowd of listeners laughing too. 
 
j2 CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 She stood upon her seat— the witness stone. 
 And made her husting what had been her throne. 
 "This tale," said she, " I read out of the book, 
 Out of it, mind ! " and then she gave a look 
 Half-mischievous, and tried in vam to frown, 
 And turned the page adroitly upside down, 
 " You now shall hear what poet never writ 
 IJefore or since, of woman's ready wit. 
 To win the man whom she resolves to wed, 
 \nd lof.e the one, she wants not— spite of dread 
 Of c-uardian's preference. This tale will show 
 That love is his own judiie- much better so ; 
 And though blindfolded he can clearly see 
 Which is the pleasantest for him and me. 
 
 THE HARVEST MOON. 
 
 PAKT SECOND, 
 
 " lacultaj pacantur vomere sylvie." 
 
 Old farmer Gay was jolly as his name. 
 
 Fresh-fHced and always suiiling, as became 
 
 A yeoman with two miles of well-cleared land, 
 
 Broad in the sunshine lying to his hand. 
 
 With other miles beyond of forest fair 
 
 That overran the slope of high Belair, 
 
 Where bright Ontario's waters in full view, 
 
 Bound the liorizon with a belt of blue ; 
 
 Wheat fields and fallows, meadows, pastures green. 
 
 With tlocks and herds at intervals were seen. 
 
 Each side a brook, where clumps of sycamore, ^ 
 
 Broad-leaved and shady, from its bank looked o er. 
 
 A sliallow I'ool, where cattle to their knees, 
 
 Sto(jd ruminant and silent at their ease. 
 
 The great old-fashioned house of farmer Oay, 
 Stood at the turning of the King's highway. 
 High pitched and yabled, with a broad Dutch stoop 
 That ran its length festooned with mmy a loop 
 Of climbing rosen, blossoming iind sweet, 
 With lusty chairs will cushioned for a seat 
 Of comfort, when midsummer rays struck liot 
 And rest from woik was sou-ht in that cool spot. 
 A sweepnig elm giuantic, overhung 
 The entrance gate that free and easy swung 
 Upon its hinges-, turning either way- 
 Repelling none, where all were free to stay. 
 The verv dogs that stretched upon the grass 
 Looked friendly wlien they saw the stranger pass. 
 A pretty garden climbed the sloping liill, 
 With orchards Hanking it, and cider mill. 
 Oreat apple trees set uut in rows and S(|uare8, 
 Past counting, int.Tuiixed with plums and pears, 
 Wliere irelliscd vines and iieaches turning sweet 
 Might tempt a second Eve to pluck and eat. 
 Tlie l)arns and byres were painted brown or rod, 
 With weatlier vanes that rattled overhead, 
 Tiio barnyards were alive with cheerful din 
 Of crowing cocks ami chicking hens. Within 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 13 
 
 Were ducks and geese and turkeys, fatted calves, 
 And pigs in litters, squabbling, not for halves. 
 But all of every thing. Plump, sleek and fat 
 Were all, from stabled ox to dog and cat. 
 The very mice in glossy jackets run 
 About the corners, and enjoy more fun 
 Than any town or city mouse, away 
 In Newark or in York, where people say, 
 The careful housewives have a frugal thumb, 
 That never drops or wastes the smallest crumb, 
 But sweeps all clean soon as they draw the cloth, 
 And not a scrap is left for mouse or moth. 
 
 The house and household stuff had been the pride 
 Of Ada's mother, when she came a bride 
 And helpmeet worthy of young farmer Gay, 
 Not empty handed either— as tliey s:iy. 
 She had as had each daughter of the land 
 Her own fair dowry when she gave her hand ; 
 The good Kin 's gift— two hundred acres round, 
 To every child of loyal lineage found, 
 Born or adopted on Canadian ground. 
 
 Fat sheep and comely kine, her dowry swell, 
 A hoard of old doubloons was hers as well, 
 Won in the war, and saved by honest thrift 
 Of her good father for her wedding tiift. 
 By waggon loads her household stuff caine in, 
 Such things as maidens gather, to begin 
 Their wedded life— as natural as the bird 
 To build its nest, are they divinely stirred. 
 She also brought soft feather beds like down, 
 Aud linen spun oi flax, both bleached and brown 
 Her girlish work, while dreaming of a time 
 The wedding bells for her woidd gaily chime. 
 Bugs, quilts and cushions— all that niake^ life soft 
 And easy for a man— with patchwork oft 
 Beminding her of kinswomen and friendi, 
 Who wore the patterns of these odds aud ends ; 
 With lots of things besides, both groat and small, 
 And Ada was the heiress of them all. 
 
 One night the friendly rivals for a bride 
 Had joined the farmer's cheerful ingle side 
 Where each paid Ada tribute of his smiles, 
 Nor missed a word, as aweetly she beguiles 
 Them both a little, in a woman's way. 
 And will to neither, .signal yea or nay ! 
 Siie takes their tialteiies without other view 
 Than takes the t^aecii the homage is her due ; 
 Yet to herself— in secret wliisper said : 
 " 1 know 'tis Slmcoe Lake whom I shall wed ! 
 1 like young Randal well enough, but part 
 With him, lor sake of Simcoe, who my heart 
 Has wholly in his keeping, thoU[';h he knows 
 But little how 1 h)ve him ! 1 propose 
 To set my dear old father on a plan 
 To work against himself — and tor the man 
 Whom 1 decide for, and the world shall see, 
 That Simcoe Lake deserves a girl like me 1 " 
 
^^ C AX A DUN IDYLLS. 
 
 She sat beside her father with her chin 
 Upon his shoulder— ran her fingers in 
 His grizzled locks ^..d whispered in his ear 
 And kissed him then, to make it plain and 'clear, 
 When she had told him all her pretty plan— 
 ''Now don't forget ! " she cried-and off she ran ' 
 Uld farmer Gay looked grave, resumed his pipe, 
 look a huge puff and then began to wipe 
 His brow in some perplexity— in doubt, 
 How Ada's odd suggestion would turn out— 
 And yet— thought he— the girl is too discreet 
 
 ti?u * "^^"- "'^° ^^^^^ ^^^ lowest seat, 
 When he might take a higher one ! and so 
 As Ada will— I let the trial go ! ' 
 
 " Simcoe and Randal, both ! " he said, •' come up 
 And take with me a bright and brimmin<^ cup 
 Of wine— my own Catawba, cool as snow— 
 1 et full of Indian summer's parting glow." 
 S-l.*^^*^,^'^ pipe down gently— brushed the crumbs 
 Utt his broad waistcoat— where he thrust his thumbs 
 liis teatures beamed fortJi with a hearty smile 
 Might have been seen or felt for half a mile, ' 
 " My boys ! to give a preference I am loth' 
 And truly wish I had a wife for both ' " 
 He said— and added-" But with only one, 
 Half of my wish of course, is left undone— 
 1 will not choose betwixt you— and I find 
 My daughter too, is puzzled in her mind- 
 She vows that she will write and ask the Queen 
 What she shall do / There is no other mean 
 io hnd out her own mind, and what she wants, 
 And how to get it- ere she gives and grants 
 Her promise to a man, to love and cleave 
 To him till death ! And truly I believe 
 The loyal little witch would gladly wed 
 A wooden gate post if the Queen so said ! 
 But there's no fear of that ! I trust that she 
 1VUM ' ^"^' guided now by me,— 
 
 W hile I sat here to night, a little plan, 
 I rubbed into my head, which if 1 can, 
 W ith help of you but carry out— we may 
 Decide which is to marry Ada Gay. " 
 
 The young men looked with very open eyes 
 As if expectant <jf some great surprize, ' 
 
 Half fearing it and doubtful, Randal Blake 
 Looked rather blankly-more than Simcoe Lake, 
 W ho somehow caught a glance of Ada's eye 
 As she ran off, and guessed the reason why, 
 wf u ^° swiftly, like a bov at play, 
 Who throws down a petard and runs away. 
 
 Yet ran not Ada far— in love's duress, 
 
 bhe leaned against a tree with half caress, 
 
 Ut elbow up, and palm against her head, 
 
 And listened eagerly to all they said. 
 
 When farmer (>ay spoke up : " There is a man 
 
 In Smoky Hollow, makes a boast he can 
 
 1 wixt morn and nigiit, cut down and bind, and shock 
 
 MX acres good of wheat, and then will knock 
 
CANADIAN TDYLLS. 15 
 
 The first man down he meets, who dares dispute 
 His title to the name of best repute 
 Among all reapers, cutting fast and through 
 The best of them, however much they do. 
 
 "Now I mistrust a bragaart's wordy noise, 
 
 Six acres are a man's work, not a boy's, 
 
 I grant — but I have seven acres shown, 
 
 Well shocked upon the stubble — and then thrown 
 
 The best man off his legs, upon the green 
 
 For sport — before my supper, and was seen 
 
 No boast about it. Every body said : 
 
 That Roger Gay, in Lincoln, born and bred, 
 
 Oould cradle wheat the most, and turn a man. 
 
 The stoutest of the Smoky Hollow clan 
 
 Upon his back, and oft on training day, 
 
 I put down half a dozen in that way, 
 
 With our old colonel looking at the fun, 
 
 Without reproof, if drill bad been well done; 
 
 But if it hfid not — than beware to try 
 
 Such merriment, if he wiis haplj' by I 
 
 The men all liked him— tnit he would let out 
 
 A word or two, that made you look about, 
 
 If you stepped awkwardly, or dressed your ranks. 
 
 Less straight than sergeant's halberds — or played pranks. 
 
 When marching past, with drums and fifes in tune, 
 
 Upon the old King's birthday — fourth of June! 
 
 O ! days of youth, the heavens were clear and blue ! 
 
 We seemed to drink them — and our hearts were true, 
 
 And hands were strong to meet by night or day, 
 
 Or friends or foes whichever came our wayl 
 
 The wear of tune as yet had touclied us not, 
 
 Our country here was just the freshest spot 
 
 Of all the earth — and loyal to the core, 
 
 Our men were good and true — our women more 
 
 Than angels in the house, where night and day 
 
 They never ceased with love to watch and pray. 
 
 Sinicoe .and ilandal, I will make no vow ; 
 
 But this I say, before I tell you how ; 
 
 A winner not a loser he will be, 
 
 W^ho gets my Ada with consent of me ! " 
 
 Simcoe replied, — " Well said! with youth and health. 
 
 He who gets Ada has enougli of wealth! — 
 
 A treasure in a treasure house! for slio 
 
 In her bare-feet were rich enough for me ! " 
 
 He glanced towards the spot where Ada stood 
 
 Behind the tree, as red as Riding Hood, 
 
 " Simcoe " she thought "looks at me with both eyes, 
 
 And thinks no other girl so fair (U- wise — 
 
 For said he not that 1— how very trim, 
 
 ' In my bare feet were rich enough for him I ' 
 
 And barefoot I would wed him on the green. 
 
 And think myself us happy as a queen ! " 
 
 " But Randal! what say you I " the farmer asked, 
 I,' To choose OIU1 of yon, Ada must be tasked ; 
 And yet she will not drop the smallest hint, 
 l{ut looks and huighs, and says, 'tis [ilain as i>rint, 
 Whicli of you <iod ordains that she siiouid wed, 
 If either, and then asks, ' What 1 have said / 
 
16 CAXADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 What I should think i or what would haply du ? ' 
 If she should wed to please herself — not you ? 
 If she should marry one from Hudson Bay ? 
 Or where the west winds gather on their way, 
 The smell of prairie iiowers l And then she comes 
 And twists me by the fingers and the thumbs, 
 To make me tell — and vows in her old style, 
 She would not travel from her home a mile, 
 For all the men she ever saw— but one. 
 And he won't have her. "So, if she wjnt on 
 Her bended knees ! 1 doubt it much ! and so 
 There is no telling how the game will go! " 
 
 Now Randal was tlie soul of honour, and 
 Woukl not have thrown a single grain of sand, 
 Into tlie scale, to give it half a cast 
 Unfairly, but he rose and slowly passed 
 His hand across his forehead— as in doubt 
 How the old farjner's story would turn out. 
 He felt a coldish breath, his face upim, 
 But bade him briskly with his tale go on! 
 
 " I have no tale at all! " he answered straight, 
 
 " The girl is full of fancies— 'tis her right. ° 
 
 Ada's caprices, I account no fault, 
 
 You cannot catch her with a pinch of salt, 
 
 * Try all things, and hold fast to what is good,' 
 
 Is just the text, slie says for maidenhood. 
 
 But I have an (xld fancy in my crown. 
 
 Which from her perch, I think will bring her down, 
 
 And make her walk with careful measured tread 
 
 As when she bears a milk-pail on her head. 
 
 " Down in the valley yonder, where the stream 
 Meanders through it, flashing in the beam 
 Of moonlight— stand two fields of golden wheat. 
 Both ripe and ready for the reapers' feet 
 To enter them to-niorrow, and cut down 
 The harvest drooping lu}avily and brown. 
 
 Sinicoo and Randal, mark ! what I intend 
 You two shall do striving as friend with friend. 
 To reap those tields with cradles, as of old 
 Our fathers worked, like men of pith and mould • 
 Not with niachini'H to rattle out our grains ' 
 
 When there is but one harvest for (hh- jtains, 
 There is no need why life should go so fast, ' 
 The whole year's woik does just four seasons last 
 But yediiien then won yuineas by the plough, ' 
 For silver dollars they can boast of now ( " 
 
 " I now say tills ; that reaping shall decide 
 Which of you two wins Ada for his bride, 
 Those two fair lields of equal acres found, 
 Each one shall cut and bind, and on the ground 
 Set up his sheaves, and he the prize shall win ' 
 AVho reaps the fastest, Ada will give in, ' 
 
 I think, but would not swear it, she may say ; 
 81ie will have neither I with emphatic Nay ! ' 
 And if she does ; you understand that she 
 Must have her way, in spite of you and me." 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 Next day tho rising sun came flaming up 
 
 The red horizon, and from out the cup, 
 
 Brimful of Lake Ontario seemed to sip 
 
 A moment as he rose, with dainty lip 
 
 The bright blue waters, sweetest that he found 
 
 In all the circuit of his daily round. 
 
 "Good morrow ! maids and men ! " he seemed to say 
 
 As all woke up to greet the rising day. 
 
 The trees hung full of diamond drops of dew. 
 
 Which fluttering birds in glittering showerlets threw, 
 
 With gorgeous summer tints, the garden flowers 
 
 Purple and red and yellow lit the bowers, 
 
 Dahlias and asters proudly take the room 
 
 Of violets and roses out of bloom. 
 
 The silver water lilies, from their beds 
 
 Deep in the pools, wake up and lift their heads 
 
 To greet the sunshine, while the thrushes till 
 
 The air with music, turn which way you will ! 
 
 Before the sun was up, rose Simcoe Lake, 
 And promptly by his side was Ranilal Blake, 
 Bright as the morn also, rose Ada Gay, 
 To see the two young yeomen start away, 
 She blushed like a carnation, as they passed. 
 Though neither saw her, for her blinds were fast 
 And curtanied thickly, all but one small rift ; 
 Where she peeped through, half slippered, hair adrift 
 And one bare foot as alabaster white, ' 
 
 And eyes like stars that sparkled with delight. 
 
 A bosom friend she had, blue-eyed and fair, 
 
 Composed of all the spices, lovers swear 
 
 They find in woman. She stood by her now. 
 
 With one white arm around her, brow to brow. 
 
 And stealing, when she could, a glance that hit 
 
 The narrow o|)oni)ig, Ada would not quit. 
 
 When Molly JJiand half laughing, crying, spake ; 
 
 " These are both men wortli loving ! I could ache 
 
 For one of them ! though I should burn like fire, 
 
 If either spake to me what girl's desire, 
 
 Their one true love to soy. But I forget, 
 
 One is my cousin. Randal is my pet 
 
 Of cousinly yo\nig men. But I confess 
 
 Thai Simccjo Lake is handsomer— in dress. 
 
 And bolder too I think, for but last night 
 
 He kissed me in the forfeits with delight. 
 
 Seeming like preference, ])ut it was not so, 
 
 For we are second cousins as you knt)W ! 
 
 And should not marry, 'tis a thing furbid 
 
 In cousins whole or halves. So if he did. 
 
 He nothing meant of harm in kissing me. 
 
 Just in the forfeits kneeling on his knee, 
 
 With you beside him holding up the light, 
 
 To see the forfeit paid,and paid aright ! " 
 
 Cried Ada, qnickly, "Molly ! do not pinch ! 
 Say what you please, you cannot make me flinch, 
 The law in love is this, which you forgot, 
 That cousins you may kiss, half-cousins not. 
 For my own share, I give you Randal Hlake. 
 I know you want him, I will Simcoe take, 
 Because that ho wants me and he will mow 
 The world before him, en> he let nio go. 
 
 17 
 
I 
 
 Ig CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 I i 
 
 I i • Simcoc will win me, Molly ! you will see, 
 
 ' The prize is his, for it depends on me. 
 
 I i I am, you know, a girl of no pretence, 
 
 <; ' To swim a river or to leap a fence, 
 
 J J Or climb a tree, or ride a ragged colt, 
 
 , But 1 will give you leave to call me, dolt ! 
 
 ! I If I am at a pinch the least afraid 
 
 I i To help my lover win a willing maid." 
 
 I ; " What will you do ? " cried Molly, quickly warm 
 
 I With new emotions rising like a swarm 
 
 , ' Of bees about her. " Tell me, dearest, do ! 
 
 . ' For I may go the self-same road as yon. 
 
 ( I am a weak girl too, no heroine, 
 
 I I can't do much, I was not made to shine. 
 
 I am not pretty even, no, nor wise, 
 I cannot hide my heart behind my eyes, 
 I like to be persuaded to give in, 
 I • To those I love, who tell mo 'tis a sin 
 
 To be hard hearted, cold and rarely kind, 
 1 Nor twice alike in my inconstant mind ; 
 
 And yet how little (me would read me through, 
 Who thought me cold, hard-hearted or a shrew ; 
 If Randal Blake would fancy me and say ; 
 He loved me ; think you, I would answer ; nay ? 
 I could not, would not, I would gladly take 
 My bundle and go barefoot for his sake. 
 If it were needed, but it will not be ! 
 For Randal is in love with you, not me." 
 
 The young men passed, the maidens quickly threw 
 
 The window open, and looked out anew. 
 
 With heads together, rosy chins apeak. 
 
 And breezy hair that swept each other's cheek, 
 
 They watched the reapers down the grassy lane, 
 
 Pass swiftly to the fields of golden grain, 
 
 Which overtopped the fences with a flood, 
 
 A yellow sea, that islanded a good 
 
 Thick clump of maples, left for shade and rest. 
 
 For man and beast with work and heat oi^prest. 
 
 The girls half dressed, and Ada barefoot (juite, 
 Knelt at the window, until out of sight 
 The reaper's almost ran, as of intent, 
 To win a bride before the day was spent 
 But little thinking when the day was through 
 It would be found that they had captured two ! 
 The batch of harvesters, and f.armer Gay, 
 All ran to see them, some with much display 
 Of knowledge, said, while looking wisely up, 
 " The prize they reap for, is a silver cup. 
 Set by the farmei-'s club ! '' "A county prize." 
 Some said it was, " or else a wager," cries 
 Another, " It is for a hundred pound 
 Of Halifax good money, round and sound ; '' 
 While others just as positively swore. 
 They strove for victory and nothing more ! 
 
 At morn the two began to reap the wheat. 
 
 Up to the nineties rose the quivering heat, 
 
 And still they worked, the scythe unwearied swung. 
 
 They laughed and jested, as they gaily tlung 
 
VANADIkN JDYLLH. 19 
 
 Fatigue aside, and so, hour after hour 
 
 Out down the fields to stubble, while the power 
 
 To work seemed equal, both in strength and skill, 
 
 In manhood, spirit and obdurate will 
 
 To conquer in the strife, nor would they rest 
 
 A single minute, but with fiery zest 
 
 Outwrought the sun, and when the day had Hown 
 
 No one could tell which of the two had mown 
 
 Most acres, swathes or strokes, for to a straw 
 
 Their work was equal, and the match a draw ! 
 
 The sun-tanned crowd of reapers sat that night, 
 Upon the lawn out in the full nuxmlis^ht. 
 Disputing, arguing, as oacii liked his man. 
 Split straws and hairs ending where they began, 
 They argued it at supper, and in bed, 
 They argued all the night till morning red. 
 And none gave in, but some for Randal cried, 
 And some as stonily held to Simcoe's side. 
 And swore that on the morrow all would see, 
 He was the best man, his the victory ! 
 
 When sunset faded and the world turned gray, 
 Strewn with the ashes of another day, 
 Jioyond the elms rose up the harvest moon, 
 Broadfaced and magnihed, kind nature's boon. 
 For busy husbandmen— to help them win 
 Their ripened crops and get their harvest in.'' 
 As sat the men disputing loud and hjug, 
 Came Ada out with cider brown and strong, 
 That sparkled like old wine, to keep tiiem there. 
 While she and Molly for tlieir work prepare. 
 
 They tucked their dresses up, and 'kerchiefs brown 
 
 Tied on their heads, to keep their tresses down ; 
 
 W^ell shod to brave the stubble, and aglow, 
 
 Each with a rake, the eager maidens go. 
 
 " 1 do not care," said Ada, " what men say. 
 
 Let them dispute, while we will win the day, 
 
 Simcoe shall gain this match, and also me ; 
 
 llandal shall lose it, but will then be free 
 
 To marry you dear Molly ! blossom crowned, 
 
 If you have wit to catch at the rebound 
 
 His heart — I tell you it will surely fall 
 
 Into your fingers like a bounding ball. 
 
 A year ago he liked you, Molly Bland, 
 
 Nor would have fancied me, without my land. 
 
 He would not marry me just for my eyes, 
 
 And dowerless, I truly were no prize — 
 
 Except to Simcoe, who would gladly take 
 
 Me for myself alone, and true love's sake. 
 
 Red as a rose blushed Molly, with surprise 
 
 And pleasure sparkling in her deep blue eyes. 
 
 She thought the plan was perfect, and quite sure 
 
 t)f full success, to work a speedy euro 
 
 For all her heartaches, " Now I feel," said she, 
 
 " The honeymoon of a new hope in mo ! 
 
 If Randal loses, 1 shall win a chance, 
 
 Something must grow out of the circimistancc ! '' 
 
 Molly the more she turned it in her mind, 
 
 The more resolved the wheat to rake and bind. 
 
::0 VANADIAX IliYLLS. 
 
 [four after hour their niooii-light labour sped 
 When all the household else had gone to bed. 
 The sheaves thoy boniid by dozens and by scores, 
 In yeUow heaps they piled the precious stores. 
 " The prize is won," cried Ada, " All is ri<|ht ! 
 And Sinicoo Lake shall bo the lucky wight, 
 Who marries nie— and then the world can say : 
 That, ' Where there is a will there it a way' ! " 
 
 Next morning early, shouts of wonder greet 
 
 'I'he waking house- that bound was Sinicoe's wheat. 
 
 Thoy all jumped out of bed and ran to see. 
 
 Half dressed as hajjpened, what tiie thing could be. 
 
 The lads ran tirst like deer — the men gave chase, 
 
 The dogs went barking after in the race. 
 
 8imcoe ran out, aiul llandal. in full view 
 
 Ada and Molly and the maids pursue. 
 
 And after them, the last, came farmer (Jay, 
 
 Hatless and coatless,— for he giiessed the way 
 
 The wheat was bound, and yet his jolly throat 
 
 Was tilled with laughter, as he chanced to note 
 
 The look in Ada's eyes brimful of fun. 
 
 Demurely asking him " what had been done ( " 
 
 He blamed himself for total lack of sense. 
 
 In not foreseeing, that by no pretence 
 
 Can man deceive a woman's heart, and give 
 
 Her where she likes not — and expect to live. 
 
 Then heavily her father sat him down, 
 
 (•ihiite (Jut of breath, and feebly tried to frown 
 
 Stern as a judge, who with his linger points 
 
 At some poor culprit trembling in his joints, 
 
 He failed egregiously. As down the lane 
 
 He looked and saw her running back again. 
 
 " The witch has toes of f[uick8ilver," said he, 
 
 "They are too nimble for the like of me ! " 
 
 An instant more, his neck was in a yoke 
 
 Of two white arms— a shower of kisses broke 
 
 Upon his face like bubbles — ere he had 
 
 Time for a word — to utter — good or bad. 
 
 " I did it father," cried she, clasping tight 
 Her arms about him, " and worked all the night 
 To bind up Simcoo's sheaves, assured if you 
 Had been a girl, yourself had done it too ! 
 A woman's heart is not her own, to give 
 At others' bidding, else I would not live 
 An hour in disobedience to my sire ; 
 But marry any one at his desire. 
 Try me with any ordeal that you know, 
 As touching red-hot iron, or in snow 
 Run bare-foot out — and wood and water bring 
 To do your bidding in the hardest thing. 
 And this to my life's end would rather do, 
 Than marry one I love not— wouldn't you ? 
 Nay, do not answer me, dear father, yet, 
 I'ut let me wipe your brow of angry sweat. 
 (), f would gladly ait, and always wii)e 
 \'our face like this ! and lillyour evening pipe. 
 And mix yo>ir silvei' mug of punch, with spice 
 And lem<ms — everything to make it nice ! 
 < )r for your supper toast and broil and dish 
 All sorts of dainties — 3(iuirrols, birds and tiah. 
 
CAN API AX IDYLLS. 
 
 21 
 
 Sing, play and talk, and then at bed-timo take 
 
 Your loving kiss, and sleep or lie awake. 
 
 Happy in either as a daughter should, 
 
 Who loves her father rightly. (), I could 
 
 Consent to live forever in that way. 
 
 And never change luy name from Ada Gay ! 
 
 Hut if you will be rid of me, and try 
 
 To wed mo where I love not — by-and-by, 
 
 My nature wotdd bo changod and you would soo 
 
 Tho crossest of old maids grow up in rao ! 
 
 For till my dying day, a vow I take 
 
 That I will marry none but Simcoe Lake ! " 
 
 The farmer grimly smiled; but word not one 
 Could he get in, for Ada's talk ran on. 
 *' I do like Simcoe best, you know," she said, 
 " God made it so, for love is only led 
 By liking. Yet dear father if you scan 
 Tho country over ; there is not a man 
 3Iore worthy of a woman's love and life, 
 To marry and obey him as his wife, 
 Thau Simcoe Lake, and if he will have mo, 
 I'll V^ind his sheaves forever. So yoii see 
 Dear father ! 1 am done for, life and limb, 
 If you refuse to let me marry him ! " 
 
 Old farmer Gay looked kindly on her face, 
 lied with her eager pleading— and a trace 
 Of doubtful tears— not many, .lust a pair 
 Of diamomls in her eye lash, trembled there, 
 And when they droijped, the farmer bent his head 
 And kissed her f(jr forgiveness, and he said : 
 " A woman's heart is lightly on the latch 
 For him to lift it, who was born to catch 
 Her fancy. I'.iit to one unloved before. 
 She is a locked and double l)olted door ! 
 That God has made it thus i rightly know, 
 And Simcoe's wheat is bound no matter how, 
 So it is done, and you are well content, 
 .My daughter, with the labour you have spent, 
 And count as gains, all losses for his sake I 
 I give you leave to marry Simcoe Lake." 
 
 Think now was Ada glad.' lu her great joy 
 She could have danced, but suddenly grew coy 
 And very grave, struck with a chilling doubt. 
 Would .Suncoe take her since, she was found out .' 
 Would ho accept the work that she had done, 
 And claim the victory which she had won ! 
 I'oor Ada then began to quake, and knelt 
 Ueside her father's knee. I'ntil she felt 
 Simcoe's strong arms about her, who had sped 
 With all his might to claim iier, blushing red 
 As his own bride, so featly won and .soon, 
 In this great reaping of the Harvest Moon. 
 
 Her father shrewdly gutvssod (Ik- sudden ]);iiu 
 Of iinxious doubt, that occuiiicil lu^r brain. 
 He nothing spake, but took her williii",' hand, 
 And into Simcoes placed it. No cmnmand 
 Oi arch magician wr( night such sudden charms I 
 An instant more and she was in his arms, 
 
<i-2 
 
 CANADIAN TOrLLS. 
 
 i! 
 
 i 
 
 1 I 
 
 
 \ 
 
 Betrothed and promised, and the happy day 
 Fixed for their wedding. Then said farmer Gay, 
 As he among his reapers gravely rose, 
 "One thing there is which I shall now propose, 
 For our brave Randal. If I do not err. 
 He is far better off than having her 
 To be his torment I — for my Ada here, 
 Has made her choice for Simcoe, very clear, 
 And Randal truly, will more easy find 
 In Molly Bland, a maiden to his mind ! 
 What say you Randal ? and dear Molly, yon 
 Will not say naj', for coyness ? If you do, 
 Randal will make it yes — so let it be 
 A double wedding and the world shall see 
 Two pairs of lovers crowned with golden wheat, 
 \nd such a wedding feast, I'll give you, meet 
 For our King's daughter, if she wed this way. 
 A whole roast ox upon the lawn all day. 
 And all the fiddles bring from Newark Town, 
 And tambourines, for footing up and down 
 The country dances, Moneyuiusk and Reels, 
 That put quicksilver in the dullest heels, 
 And such a feast of platter, dish and cup. 
 With pitchers all atilt and then tilled up ! 
 With all the country side to eat and drink 
 And dance all night and never sleep a wink ! 
 Toasting afresh the bridegroom and the bride, 
 Wishing them health and wealth and all beside ! 
 
 Randal took Molly's hand, and whispered low, 
 Something that set her features all aglow. 
 What I know not, but shyly she looked up, 
 And drunk his words, as from a silver cup 
 One drinks good wine. Said she, " I did not bind 
 The sheaves for Simcoe ! Truly no ! my mind 
 Was not on him, but thn)Ugh defeat to score 
 For you a victory which will ever more 
 Requite you for the loss of Ada Gay ! 
 For 1 love you my Randal, night and day." 
 She raised her rosy lips. He kissed her then. 
 And Randal Blake was happiest of men ! 
 
 L' P]NVOY. 
 
 Jlay shut the book. It had been upside down. 
 
 She tried in vain to wear a little frown. 
 
 As in a study — whether t(j no on — 
 
 Or stop or laugh it otl". When every one 
 
 Clapped well their hands, and cried, " that is a tale 
 
 Worth all the rest ! Read on ! dear May ! nor fail ! 
 
 To finish it I " 
 
 " J>ut it is done " she said, 
 " Love stories end witli weddins.-;3 ! I have read 
 A score of them. 'J'hat is — tales of delight, 
 That make one read in bed by candle light 
 To hours forbid and very bad for eyes, 
 Tho' elders say, wc must bo sago and wise 
 And .stay at hniin! and wait, anil stitch and sweep 
 And only dream of lovers while asleep ! " 
 
 Old Clifford slowly shook his head. "I see 
 My pretty May, you are too wise for me ! 
 
 i i 
 
CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 Your story like a salmon fly, you cast 
 Into the rivor, and you take at last 
 The very fish you want, but never hook 
 Drew that gay story from the poet's book ! 
 No poet made it ! Though 'tis true as time, 
 And happened in my own young lusty prime, 
 For I danced at those weddings all the night, 
 And at the infares with renewed delight. 
 For one whole month, the fiddles were in tune 
 All through that famous harvest hone3'-moon 
 
 It was the year before the war. I know, 
 
 "When men began to get into a glow 
 
 Of angry heat, at rumours flying in 
 
 Like war birds from the States. ' Let it begin,' 
 
 They said in Congress, where in factious flood 
 
 Rose up again the old Rebellious blood, 
 
 " Now England's mighty hands are full. At last 
 
 Her flag is half way down upon the mast I 
 
 AH Europe in her front with banded war. 
 
 And France to lead tliem her opponents are I 
 
 Canadians are but few and fight or not, 
 
 We are enough to sweep them oft" the spot 
 
 Of land they claim as theirs, gifts of the crown, 
 
 Which we will take wlien we have put them down. 
 
 Randal was brave and loyal to the bone, 
 
 A true Canadian, better man was none 
 
 Of all the thousands who together rose, 
 
 When Brock called out for men to meet the foes, 
 
 He had been wed to Molly but a year. 
 
 When she girt on his sword without a tear, 
 
 Till after he had gone, when floods she shed, 
 
 Uncomforted, for in her heart a dread 
 
 Deep and prophetic lay. Thoughts come and go 
 
 We know not whence or whither. Signs of woe 
 
 Too oft they are. And all to Blolly bore 
 
 This burden, " Randal will return no more." 
 
 The war broke out, with glory for our land. 
 And with the foremost Randal took his stand 
 In its defence, saluting with his sword 
 Detroit's surremler— while tiie cannons roared 
 For victory. Invasion's neck we broke 
 And Michigan fell at one royal stroke ! 
 But Randal's fearless eyes saw but the morn 
 Of glory's seeding, not the ripened corn. 
 Among the first he fell on Queenston rock, 
 Beside Macdonald and heroic Brock. 
 Willing to die that Canada might live 
 Its own t. ') life of honour, and to give 
 Assurance of its pledges made of yore, 
 Our Empire never shall be broken more. 
 
 Yotnig Simcoe bore him from the field of fight 
 Where he lay bleeding on the stony height. 
 And in his arms ho died, nor lived to see 
 Our noble dead avenged that day, when we 
 The army of invaders headlong cast 
 Beneath the yoke, disarmed in crowds at last. 
 Till Newark overflowed, while through the town. 
 The flags half mast for grief drooped sadly down. 
 
 M 
 
24 
 
 i:i 
 
 r 
 
 CANADIAN IDYLLS. 
 
 And strong men in the street wept tears of woe 
 
 Tliat Brock was dead though conciuered was the foe. 
 
 O ! Life was worth the living in that time, 
 
 When our great land was in its youth and ijrime, 
 
 When every man laid by his private feud, 
 
 And party rivalry at once subdued. 
 
 And all together struck blow after blow, 
 
 Until the land was free of every foe, 
 
 And we at peace held all our own and more, 
 
 With fame to keep and conquests to restore. 
 
 Like music from the sea, there come from far 
 Dear voices hiislied on earth, fair forms that are 
 Fair as the fairest that are here to-day, 
 The parents in their children seem to stay, 
 And from their eyes look out perplexing me 
 If they are you, or you arc they, I see. 
 
 But what became of Molly 1 some began 
 To ask in whispers. O for such a man. 
 She should have stayed a widow all her life. 
 So said the girls— not all. " To be a wife 
 is always better 1 " others said. Therefore 
 One can't do better always. Thus they tore 
 Comment to pieces. Clitl'ord then replied ; 
 ' ' Molly remained a widow till she died. 
 Simcoe and Ada are both here to-day, 
 ^^'ith children half a score as tall as they. 
 To keep the name of their old loyal race. 
 The boys as brave, the girls as fair of face. 
 And all as good as gold, as true as steel, 
 In mind and body sound from head to heel." 
 
 When Clifford so far s))oke, May knew that ho 
 
 Forgave her girlish i)rank, for was not she 
 
 Herself grand daughter of stout Simcoe Lake, 
 
 And Ada her grand dame, whom she saw shake 
 
 Her finger at her often, as in tune 
 
 She told the story of the Harvest Moon I 
 
 May whispered to her uncle, '" I was near 
 
 Forgetting why I made it, for I fear 
 
 J know too well what love is, like the rest 
 
 Although 1 kept my secret in my breast 
 
 Imprisoned till to-day ; so yon can see. 
 
 How very wise untaught, a girl can be I 
 
 And yon will doubt no more, that, yea or nay, 
 
 Where is a will there always is a way." 
 
 May stopped perforce. A rush of bounding men, 
 Some white, some red, together shouted then, 
 For victory as through the distant goal 
 They drove impetiiously the flying ball. 
 Long limbed and picturescpie, Lacrosse in hand, 
 They plaj'ed it well each side a stubborn band, 
 But what they played for and what came of it. 
 Is quite another story, bit by bit 
 Interpreted out of the Indian tongue, 
 To our young poet by a chief among 
 The stately Chippewayans and as true 
 'J /As Wampum wrought with beads of white and blue, 
 *J tl Ifrhat never lies however books may do. 
 
 3822 ^^cy