.-v^ "^a> ^^V IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) 1.0 I.I 1.25 111 2.5 M 140 2.0 1.8 1.4 IIIIII.6 V] v^ ^^ M V y 7^ ^ ,j>^ \ 4^ i\ \ ;\ ^,. # CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 1980 Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques The Institute has attempted to obtain the best original copy available for filming. Features of this copy which may be bibliographically unique, which may alter any of the images in the reproduction, or which may significantly change the usual method of filming, are checi signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols V signifie "FIN". 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: Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent §tre filmds d des taux de reduction diffdrents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre reproduit en un seul clichd, II est filmd d partir de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 y T" H CHEBUCTO h AND ^ OTHER POEM :%4< BY JOHN ALLISON BELL. (FOR Private Circulation.) HALIFAX, N. 8. PRINTED BY JAMES BOWES 4 SONS, 125 MOLLIS STREET. 1890. W •WB Jll .J »t X ^"fSlk: ^'-'d.wvMiWW'^J ^jlt-'NyiShhfi'r'i'iiii.'ti '''-''"'-' >-<«• ■; aa- ^Jtii^i *.'-^^. 1 -!■■ -i.-^'^'aJiJi 4-*. ^■--'- -*f'- '.yj 'i¥:'y JOHN JAMES STEWART COLLECTION ^■W^"«^P' ,J»"ip|iijgi- ifPiPMj ^ ^CHEBUCTO^ AND MOTHER POEMS> u BY JOHN ALLISON BELL. (For Private Circulation,) j>o^^s>o«:o- HALIFAX, N. S. PRINTED BY JAMES BOWES A SONS, 125 MOLLIS STREET. 1890. SO/ ■ " " »'H"'- 13 Though cheerless fogs invade our coast, Though long be Winter's reign, What land a brighter sun can boast When Huninier smiles again? How sweet in 8i)ring the glades to tread When Mayflovvers scent the l)reeze, What glorious skies doth Autumn spread Above the tinted trees ! The blust'ring airs from Ocean blown A healthful clime ensure, The British laws that mould our own Our liberties secure. Than let us join — Long live the Queen! May Britain flourish still, — And may her banner long be seen, To wave above the Hill ! 14 THE SETTLEMENT OF HALIFAX. ; n I Tune — "/n the days when we tvevt Gipsi/iixj, a long time ago." In days of old, when George was King, On Britain's honored throne, Our fathers came to seek the land, We fondly call our own ; A hundred years ago, and more, Their ships came over sea, But we will keep a place for them Alive in memory. And every year the day we claim More dear to us shall grow, In the month of June, when our fathers came, A long time ago ; In the month of June, when our fathers came, A long time ago. From Albion's white-clifFed shores they came. And verdant Erin's strand. From Scotia's heathered hills, and some, From German fathor-land ; A stalwart host of artisans, And vet'rans fresh froui war. With sturdy limbs and hopeful hearts They sought their home afar. And every year, &c. They came not forced by despot acts. To leave a cherished home ; 'Twas enterprise, or love of change, That tempted them to roam ; And still to Britain, weal or woe, As Britons they were true ; The old home kept one-half their love, And half they gave the new And every year, (fee. ifl' time ago. " s came, 3 came, 0, 15 We Ijoast not of the deeds tliey \vrou>,'ht, To justify our pride; We know that in the land they ciiosc, They livc^d, and toihfd, and dicul ; They K^ft us all a heritage Of institutions frc^e, Time-honored laws and equal rights, The fruits of liberty. And every year, itc. And England's Rose will bloom for us, By Erin's .Shamnxjlc green, And Scotland weave her Thistle leaves. Their friendly stems between; But for luirself, Acadia's sons, A garland shall produce. Entwined of emblems all her own The Mayflower and the Spruce, — And every year, »kc. June 1850. " l-i i il ill 16 SONG OF THE HAYMAKERS. WiuTTKN' Fou riiK Com VVatrr Akmy. — 1852. TUNK.— " Dearest. Mae." Come rouse from liuulcMi sleep boys, tho light procliiinis the day, On rocky peiik iiiid gleiiiuiiig flood, the purple suiiheains pliiy ; 'Tis time to mow the hay l)oys, before the sun is hii,'h, While sparkling yet on earth's green breast, the jewel dew-drops lie. The hay, the hay, sweet as the flowers of May ; The happiest time of the summer's prime, Is the time we make the hay. Before the sun gets up boys, before tlie breeze goes down, For fields and meadows blossoming, we'll (juit the dusty town ; Afar from dust and din boys, while the dew is on the spray, And all the birds are carolling, we'll make the fragrant hay. The hay, the hay, &c. We'll make the hay till noon boys, and then together dine, Our table and our seat the turf, beneath the spreading pine ; Beneath the spreading pine l)oys, while the linnet sings above, And cheerful Humor sits a guest, with Temperance and Love, The hay, the hay, &c. We'll rest and feast at noon boys, and then we'll spend the day. Where hawthorn and thefern'ssweet breath, commingle with the hay ; And buttercups all gold boys, with air of conscious pride. Look down upon the violets, that nestle by their side. The hay, the hay, &c. For rural joys we'll stand boys, the joys unbought by care, The flowers that deck the mountain side, the water and the air ; The types of bounteous Heav'n boys, as sinless and as true, As old as Eden's paradise and still forever new, The hay, the hay, &c. Then rouse from leaden sleep boys, the light proclaims the day ; On rocky peak and gleaming flood, the purple sunbeams play ; Tis time to mow the hay boys, before the sun is high. While sparkling yet on earth's green breast, the jewel dew-drops lie The hay, the hay, the new, the fragrant hay ; The sweetest time of the summer's prime, l8 the time we make the hay. 17 ■1852. ■"Dearest Mae." ;liiini.s the day, » beams [Any ; !iierh, ^el dew-drops lie, ^lay ; LINES To the memory of a Brother, who died at the Island of lUauritiun, on board the brig '* Ann," of Halifax, 5th April, lS4o, at the early aye of 22 years. s down, dusty town ; the spray, grant hay. ^er d dins, ine, pine; k I sings above, e and Love, pend the day, jle with the hay; \ pride, ide. by care, and the air ; as true, ms the day ; Jams play ; 1 dew-drops lie WiiKRK India's ocean rolls its tide, Beneath the orient sky, A rock-bound islet lifts with pride Its rugged clifis on high. Lone mountain-isle, scant thought I ween. The great world giv<;s to thee ; But Earth's broad continents between Are not so dear to me. For there where Hope would fondly seek. That boon no wealth can buy, With wasted form and hectic cheek, A brother came to die. And there whero beats the torrid sun. In manhood's budding prime, They gave to dust that wand'ring one. To wait the end of time. Sleep on, dear brother, — though thy bier By strangers' hands was borne, Thy spirit saw the loved ones near That still survive to mourn. And though no friend may train the rose About thy tomb to creep, Nor sister come at day's bright close To read thy name and weep ; r I 18 Yet Nature, still, as ever, true, While distant kindred grieves, Shall hid the zephyrs gently strew Thy bed with od'rous leaves. The Agfvthis its milk-whito flowers, For tluH) each your shiill spread, — The Blue Liana fall in showers Of blossoms o 'er thy head ; The Plantain and the fragrant Lime Above the spot shall wave. And tow 'ring high the Palm-tree climb To shade thy humble grave. And hap'ly there, at fervid noon, When wearied groups shall stray. Shall oft be said, " alas ! how soon That youth was called away." And should, perchance, with awe draw near, Some traveller like thee, He'll think of home and drop a tear, For those beyond the sea. 19 ODE TO THE PUMP. WlUTTRN FOIl THE CoLD WaTEU AUMY.— 1846. lear. While miflnight rev'llers praise the vine, While lights and glasses gaily shine, While time flies by with catch and gleo, And healths go round with threo times three, While thunder forth from bloated throttle, The glories of the oblivious Bottle ; Be mine the pride to mount the stump. To pay the debt we owe the Pump. Through hail and rain, through sleet and fog. Let times go dull, or briskly jog, By day, by night, throughout the year. Dispensing streams, salubrious, clear ; For rich, for poor, for proud, for humble, For garments soiled by gutter tumble. For lordly halls, for lowly sheds, For toiling hands, for aching heads, For tea, for soup, for physic drear. For chocolate, coff'ee, ginger beer ; To scrub the floor, to boil the fish. To mix the pudding, wash the dish ; Why worthy Pump, 'twould take a week, Of all your various calls to speak ; And he indeed were bold detractor. Who hails you not a Benefactor. r 20 Hi li!! I. i i I Ah ! honest Pump, would you but tell, What humorous pranks might you reveal ! How oft at midnight, staggering home, Bewildered gents to you have come. Confounding you with lamp-post bright With hiccough grave to.ask "a light." Were you on worthy cits to '* blow, " Their nightly peccadilloes shew, 'Twould strip the plumes from honoured crests. And plant sharp thorns in loving breasts ; But proudly scorning such mean part, 'Tis yours to cheer, not wound the heart, You kindly hide from searching light, The deeds you witness in the night ; And what you see to night with sorrow. You'll do your best to mend to-morrow. But time is short, and space is small, So let me urge you topers all. Before I leave the spouter's stump, To quit the Bottle for the Pump ; Forsake a fiend, a devil blue, And trust a friend, long tried and true, The Pump and Truth together dwell, Por Truth lies hidden in a Well. 21 SMILES AND TEARS. ts, In amwer to Miss M R '« Lines on the same subject. But smiles alas ! though bright and sweet, May still belie the guile they cover ; The smile that charmed — the friend may cheat, The smile that won — betray the lover. And still distrust Experience saith, Eve's weeping yet most witching daughter ; The lightning's flash may scatter death, Through glistening drops of harmless water. But since 'tis fate, that man must yield To Woman's smiles and tears for ever ; Love's sceptre still let Woman wield, Shall subject man rebel ?— ah never ! He knows the heart that Truth inspires. No feign-ed smiles or tears will borrow ; The smile will beam when joy requires, And tears respond to melting sorrow. I r Mi 5r ..'. 22 TO A YOUNG LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY, 1853. I Dear Mary, with thy winsome ways And thoughtful manners mikl, I scarcely know which most to praise The woman or the child. Not woman yet, — nor yet a child. But both, — at sweet sixteen ; — Thou hast of each some charm beguiled, To suit the age between. A jubilant young summer's day, Advancing into noon ; The tender, blossom-covered May, Just bursting into June ; A lily floating daintily Whose lips the waters meet ; All these are images of thee, So bright, so fresh, so sweet. But more than fleeting charms of sense And higher would I prize, The radiant intelligence. That lights those earnest eyes. For beauty is at best but frail, Thegold soon turns to clay ; The loveliest cheeks grow quickly pale, The glossiest, tresses — grey, 23 But Goodness, Mary— Truth, and Love, Like gentle dews of ev'n Have each their origin above And all return to heaven. Then be those graces ever thine, As ever they have been, That happiness and heav'n may shine About thy path serene ; That wafted safe, from shore to shore Of life's uncertain sea, The king that ruleth evermore To bliss may welcome thee. '^^^ J ^I^IJII«'>Uil i i i \ 24 TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS ALBERT EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES, On his visit to Halifax, JVova Scotia, 31st July, 1860. 1. Prince of a Royal race — Victoria's Son, We give thee Welcome, hearty and sincere ; Born to inherit Britain's stately tlirone, The right was thine to claim clue fealty here ; Not the base homage paid by servile fear, But such as freemen, prizing freedom, owe, Pay we to thee ; may all that men hold dear, Friendship and love, and health's perpetual glow. And loyal hearts, be thine, throughout life's onward flow. II. Five centuries since, a kinsman, like in name, A gallant youth, left home to cross the sea ; On Cressy's field he won undying fame, And chose the Ostrich Crest still worn by thee ; Old England, even then, was great and free, Foreshadowing the glory since attained ; And bravely has she wrought her destiny, The wrong repented, and the right maintained, And by her stirring deeds, her high pre-em'nence gained. III. And other Edwards, born of kindred blood, In later days, have left their native shore ; Ill-fated Charles, ■**■ on fancied right, who stood, Who battled for the crown his fathers wore, Then fled in sorrow, to return no more ; And later still, was Royal Edward sent. As Royal Prince was seldom sent before ; Not, as of old, on war's dread mission bent. He came, as thou hast come, on peaceful ends intent. Charles Edward, the Pretender, 1745. I ■wpww^ST^^WinPWr^ 25 [WALES, Jidy, I860. glow, nwarcl flow. e, m hee ed, ce gained. d, itent. IV. Grey-headed sires, a^ain this joyous day, Unlocking mem'ry's stores, shall proudly tell, "'Tis sixty years since Royal Edward's stay ; In such, or such, a house, did Edward dwell ; We mind his tall, commanding, presence well ; " And happily, among that bright-eyed throng, | Whose touching anthem rose with heaven-like swell. May some, perchance — should time reprieve so long — Be left, to greet thy heir, with cheers, and Welcome Song. Illustrious Prince ! at thought of thee and thine. What crowding fantasies spontaneous rise ; All the long record of thy Royal Line, All the grand future that before thee lies. Flits like a dream before our waking eyes ; What hopes, what fears, in thee concentre now ! How great thy earthly trust ! how vast the prize ! ^[ay Heaven, with highest wisdom thee endow, And ev 'ry grace befitting Kings enwreathe thy brow. m VI. God of the Empires, hear a people's prayer, Prayer for the Queen — prayer for her household band ; Her life from ill. Her throne from evil spare, And Them preserve by thy Almighty Hand ; And grant to Britain — glorious Mother Land — That she may use her growing power aright ; So, like a beacon, she shall ever stand, On struggling nations shedding steadfast light, And pointing them to good, by her example bright. t The children of the Public Schools, gathered on the Parade. This prophecy was fulfilled in the visit of the Prince's eldest son some twenty years afterwards. 26 TO THE MEMORY OF ALEXANDER J. RITCHIE, Editor of the " Siui " newspaper, ivho came to a sadden an- melancholy death by drowning, on the evening of Thursdiv 5th September, 1S67. i I I Cold in his sliroud to-day he lies, Who yesterday was warm with life, Now all is o 'er — the fret, the strife, And sundered short are earthly ties. Ah ! fatal slip — from Life to Death, No parting word with wife, or friend, The goal where human friendships end. He reached, the treacherous wave beneath. We conjure up the days of yore, The hours we ne'er shad spend again ; They wring us now with keenest pain But he, we trust, hath pain no more. We bow our heads beside his grave. The words in solemn cadence fall ; " As fades the flower, so fade we all," 'Twas His to take the life He gave I The mystery awes — for we are blind. We grope in darkness, stretching out Our feeble hands in wondering doubt ; He gone ! — the worthless left behind. The manly Truth — the pleasant Wit — The virtues that endeared him here. Are these transferred to higher sphere ? Ours not to question, but — submit. For us the grief, the rending tear. Our friend no more on earth we greet, But when on that far shore we meet. To vision purged, shall all be clear. 27 . RITCHIE, to a sudden im i'^y of Tkursdw. ife, strife, 1, frioiid, ips end, aaeath. again ; ^t pain II; 3 all," 1, ( out oubt ; 5re, phere ? THE FISHERMAN OF CHEBUCTO BAY. On the brow of a headland, closed round by the sea, Roof and gable o 'erhung by the old willow tree ; With a patch for a garden, and another for hay, Stands the Fisherman's Cottage, looking out on the Bay. There are dwellings of neighbors, hard by in the Cove, Little cots like his own, with a church just above ; Very quaint seem the tenements, seen from below. Perched here and there one, like the nest of a crow. Low down on the beach are the Fisherman's sheds, You may see him there now, with his lines and his leads ; He is landing his nets — but his work is not done, Till the catch has been salted, or spread in the sun. Riding light near the flakes, are the Fisherman's boats Each a picture to look at, so buoynant it floats ; So roomy amidships, so shapely in bow, Not a cleaner built craft, rides the billows, I trow. By the dawn of to-morrow, the fleet, all away, Like a flock of great sea-birds will whiten the Bay ; Good luck to the Fisherman, breasting the wave ! Who follows such calling, had need to be brave. ;reet, set, Success to the Fisherman, hardy and bold ! Toiling oft to no purpose, in heat and in cold ; To be caught now and then in the darkness and storm, While landsmen are sleeping, all cosy and warm. I I m 28 A prayer for the Fisherman, tosstd in the foam ! A prayer for the watcher, by the cradle at home ! Ah ! times there will be when the night lamp grows dim, While his true wife sits rocking and waiting for him. But a shout she well knows, comes at length from the shor And the wife oveijoyed, will bound up to the door; Now thanks be to Heaven, that rules the fierce blast, With her husband beside her, all trouble is past. Let us honor the Fisherman, worthy of song. Like his own native cliffs, he is rugged and strong ; And his sons will be like him, — what else could they bet To be born in that cottage, looking out on the sea. October, 1868. 1 29 J foam ! t home ! amp grows dim, ng for him. jth from the shor the door ; fierce blast, s past. 1 strong ; could they be t the sea. HEART SICKNESS. My days are weary, sad and lone, And like a dismal ni;nrlit-mare, Care, Has made my heart his special throne. And haunts me, always — everywhere. I miss the hand that smoothed my brow ; I miss the voice that eased my pain ; Would I could press that soft hand now. Would I could hear that voice again ! Nor would I selfishly forget. My love has sorrows all her own ; I know what griefs her life beset, I know she bears her griefs — alone. But distance parts me from my love, And Fate all unpropitious seems ; In joyless round my duties move, I pass my days in aimless dreams. Yet dream I must, and dream I do, Of joys, perchance, that yet may be ; Nor can I doubt — I know 'tis true. My loved one dreams and thinks of me. The happy hours I oft recall Which memory keeps — a precious store, With fond delight recount them all And miser-like, still sigh for more. Thus from the Past doth Hope evolve Sweet augury, despite of Fate ; So from my dreams I pluck resolve, To bear my burdens, and — to wait. 80 THE WIDOW AND HER LOVER. ■iiil I m n I ( Widow Simper was rich and her daughter was fair, And the widow was soft on a hatidsomo young man ; Mr. Jones was his name, and his languishing air, Quite equalled the widow's when courtship began. The widov.' was loving but wary as well, And she thought she was wise in the ways of the world So she deemed it but prudent — whatever befel. To question her suitor with locks so well curled. Like a worm in the rose, Suspicion each day. Ate the heart of the widow, disturbing her joy ; Just when it's least wanted, is always the way. Some pestering worry is sure to annoy. Quoth the widow, all smiling, I fear, Mr. Jones, That you think of my money and not much of me ; Oh ! why do you doubt me 1 — in sweetest of tones Said the handsome young fellow — the husband to be. If you cherish such doubts — so unworthy, my dear ; If you dream for a moment my views are of pelf, I have thought of a plan that shall make it all clear. That my truest devotions are due to yourself. May I beg to suggest, that you part with your gold ; That you give it to science, the church or the poor ; Or if you prefer it — I humbly make bold. To ask for your daughter your plentiful store. Ah ! my dear Mr. Jones, you have quite hit the nail. Said the gushing old charmer, and flew to his arms ; And she lay on the breast ofthat wicked young male, While he soothed with his wiskers her bosom's alarms. r So the widow assigned by a deed squarely drawn, Not doubting the whiskers so trimmed for heart-slaughter And Jones and the maiden now sit on their lawn ; Jones cozened the widow and — married the daughter. Tl Who u of 31 )VER. ;er was fair, young man ; shing air, liip began. Who TO THE MEWOIIY OP THE HONORABLE THOMAS D\ ICY McGEE, was shut 1)1/ (in nsmHsin when rfifjtrninfj from the. House of Commons, Ottawa, on the nwrnhuj of April 7th, ISOS, 'M lys of the world T befel, 1 curled. day, her joy ; le way, p. Jones, uch of nie ; st of tones usband to be. y, my dear ; e of pelf, e it all clear, irself. h your gold ; >r the poor ; d, store. hit the nail, his arms ; i young male, osom's alarms. [y drawn, | Dr heart-slaughter leir lawn ; the daughter. Sad, by the River's turbid stream, Slow moves the long funereal train ; Mark, how e.ioh broasb is wrung with pain. Ah, me ! it seems a ghastly dream. Would that it were a baseless dream ! Then might we hap 'ly wake to find. Naught but a phantom of the mind, And Grief were spared such piteous theme. Young Nation ; where his l\;er ? Oh where ! — Never — by Patriot Victim paid — Upon thine altar shall be laid, A sacrifice, of cost more rare. Curs 'd be the wretch — too vile to name, Whose fiendish vengeance brought this woe ; What floods of tears must vainly flow, For one foul murderer's deed of shame. From list 'ning crowds his voice no more, Shall nightly draw the raptu'rous cheer ; No more, his pen, to nicest ear, Attune the lays that charmed of yore. Fondly his record we retrace. Through error struggling on to light, Till Wisdom purged his inner sight. And noblest deeds to dreams give place. ^ I I li Hi I 1 !■'"■ ■ i 32 High on his country's proudest scrolls, Shall stiuul, henceforth, his honored name ; 'Twas more than genius gave him fame — More than his words that stirred our souls. His was the warm, Milesian hlood, The teeming fancy, — Hashing wit — And gifts that largest minds betit. But gifts, devoted, niost to Good. Untainted he, by lust of greed. He loved to act th' unselfish part ; Wide was the room in that wide heart ; Mankind, to hira, was more, than Creed. When factions, maddened, rushed to war, When ranc'rous sects stood face to face, 'Twas his to lift, with matchless grace. From Reason's path, th' opposing bar ; With kindly eye the Wrong to scan. To point to Right — the truer course ; To Justice — better far than Force, And Charity, from man to man. Ah ! Glorious Work — cut short to soon, The Workman claimed, too soon, O Grave ! Yet thank we God, to us who gave — And gave the world — so rich a boon. Illustrious Martyr ! through all Time, — Thy great example looming high, From sordid aims shall purify, And lead men up to acts sublime. ^S^i i #' I- )re(l name ; u fame — souk, it- it, t; 1 heart ; Jed. war, to face, grace, y 3urse ; rce, oon, , Grave ! Lve — I 33 ANTHEM. ''J Sung at the. Promenade Concert, given at the Puhfic Gardens, Halifax, in honour of the visit of //. H. H. Prince. Arthur, 24th August, lS(;i). I. God save our Gracious Queen, Long live our noble Queen, God save the Queen ! Monarch of people free, Proudly we claim to be, Sprung from her kingdoms three, God save the Queen I II. God bless her Royal Son, Her children every one, God bless them all ! Not for themselves alone, But for the Crown and Throne, And Britain's weal we own. On Heaven we call. III. God keep our Mother-land, May Britain ever stand, Pride of the world ! Her flag on land and sea, Symbol still may it be, Of might and majesty, Where 'er unfurled ! IV. Welcome ! young Prince to thee ! True to the Empire, we Have ever been : The changes time may bring. Far from our thoughts we fling, Join we this day to sing, God save the Queen ! r 84 TO MY DAUGHTER BERTHA— 6 Months Old. II ;l; ; ; - LAUfJiiiNG Bertha, fat and fair, Thou for ine canst' banish care, Thou with ar(;h, bewitching, rule Bid 'st nie tliink myself a fool. Who taught thee, sprite, such, cunning ways? That winsome, open, won 'dring gaze, Stretching wide those orbs of blue That seem to read one through and througJi ; Who taught that chirp — so like a bird's That speakf of joy more plain than words, Tears and smiles each other chasing. Each the other fast erasing ; Thou to reach my inmost heart, Has't a trick more deep than art ! Wherefore use we speech or books ? Thou oan'st better speak by looks, I, with all my gathered store, Experience, thought, and fancied lore, Cannot ray emotions tell, Half so quick or half so well. Gleesome Bertha, bright and fair, Thee should Heaven kindly spare, Should to opening charms impart Graces of the mind and heart — Dare I then for thee presage Naught but joy thine heritage 1 Ah ! sweet Bertha, know I well. Love itself dare not foretell Days that see no cloudy morrow, Life that knows no touch of sorrow : But, at least, for thee I may Fondly hope, and humbly pray. All thy future yeaia may prove Years of virtue, truth and love. Years of wisdom riper growing Acts of goodness ever showing — Years that gently lead thee through. Brightening tov^ards the Kingdom New Till at last thy pulse be stilled Life and all its ends fulfilled. Hi IS Old. 85 Ig ways ? irough ; rd's 'ords, TOWER WOODS, HALIFAX, N. S. Tub old Pine Woods are dark and sere, And sighing winds around them sweep ; Over the tree-tops — out in the clear, Just as it has for many a year, Stands the Old Tower, crowning the steep. ^l^W^ Stands as of yore — the grey old Tower ; Massive and firm ; as doth belong To Empires and to world-wide power ; Strong to defend should danger lower. Recalling times renowned in song. Guarding the coast, around, beneath, Crouched each in green embankment trim, Lie messengers of woe and death ; Silent, yet fierce — holding their breath, The dogs of war, wide-mouthed and grim. Long may they wait, these guards of ours, On distant perils, watchful bent ; In mock engagements waste their powers, The ponderous toys of peaceful hours, Their roars in harmless thunder spent. vr Be tuned my lay to gentler themes, Nor thought intrude of war's alarms , Sacred these groves to holiest gleams Of friendship pure ; to lover's dreams, And commune sweet with Nature's charms. ^VPlii ^'J,""*!'! I 36 Down the long past a glory shines, And like a lingering sunset dwells, Among the paths, O cone-tipped pines, Where crept through moss the tangled vines, We gathered in your odorous dells. And still at ouch of buoyant Spring, The welcome Mayflowers bud and blow ; With merry shouts the hollows ring, And trooping maidens, wreath-crowned, sing, Their cheeks the while with health aglow. Musing I sit, this Autumn day, To outward eye, outspread, the shore, The cliffs, the islands, and the Bay ; To inward sight, a sad array ; Faces and forms that come no more. ; it I ' ;•: i: And yet with sadness, — not with pain. Is tinged the record of the years ; In Life's mysterious round, the gain Transcends the loss ; its joys remain, And live in memory more than tears. liil Hither in summer's fervid prime, A noisy throng, we hied from school j At ball or leap-frog passed the time, Drew molluscs from the weedy slime, Or gambolled in the surf-waves cool. ! I ill Then boyhood left, and grown more grave, With friends of riper years we roved ; To earnest ends our converse gave. Talked much of men — the wise, the brave ; But chiefly, of the books we loved. 37 Or hap 'ly, on some knoll reclined, We watched the sea-birds, glancing, play ; While annp's, direful, rose to mind. How, in the storm-god's fury blind. Our home-bound ships were cast away. Perchance rehearsed the ■>*■" Tribune's " fate, When dashed on Thrum-cap's treacherous shoals, In manhood's pride of strength elate. Went down, th' Archangel's trump to wait. Twelve score of gallant human souls. Yet pausing oft, from harrowing tales We turned, to fix our loving gaze. On cloud-land's peaks and rifted vales ; The flashing main, white-flecked with sails ; The headlands wrapped in dreamy haze. But times are changed, and while I sit, Come thoughts of present needs and cares ; Across the Bay the shadows flit, In SherbrookLight the lamps are lit, For shrouding night the world prepares. From ruthless axe, from fire, decay, Our old Pine Woods good angels keep ! Adown these glades while soft winds play. Be green the paths where friends shall stray. The Old grey Tower, still crown the steep. * The British Frigate "La Tribime" (captured from the French) was wrecked on Thrum Cap Shoals in Nov., 1797, with a loss of 240 men. 38 t I ! I ihlit ODE OF WELCOME. Pahlic Reception of National Division S. T., Halifax, N. S., July 9th, 18S4. A Welcome warm dear friends we give ; Though cool our climate be, Cold hearts, believe us, do not live With us beside the sea. From North, from South, we count our men, From prairies rich with grain ; The Old Bay State— the land of Penn— And " hundred-harbored Maine." if ! ill; 1 ! i ^ i I Hill Our aids, the Fair, we hail with pride. And yield them honored place ; Their counsels wise onr own shall guide, Their presence lend a grace. Though different flags allegiance claim. To President or Queen, We meet with undivided aim, Man's good alone we mean. A bloodless warfare still we wage, But not for lands or pelf ; The subtle foe our hosts engage Is man's besetting self. Ambition oun, to lessen sin ; With Satan's wiles, our strife : From habits base, mankind to win And rouse to nobler life. 39 ^ax, N. S., len, The toils of other years and men Have not been spent in vain ; The scathing speech, the pliant pen, Have brought the world true gain. Have gained to right what once was wrong ; Have raised what erst was low ; In homes depressed by misery long. Made hearts with joy to flow. Be it our task to labor still, Though scoffers jeer and frown ; Our Cause is just, and Stubborn Will Shall beat all barriers down. God speed the Right, and haste the day. The day foretold to be, When Righteousness shail point the way To Earth's Grand Jubilee. I' 40 FAREWELL ODE. 1 Fortieth Annual Session National Division S. 2\, Halifax, July, 18S4. Our Conference ended, friends, we part, And, parting, fain would keep The kindly thoughts that in each heart Have found a lodgment deep. Together we have talked and planned. And, aiming still at good. Have wrought united, heart and hand, A willing Brotherhood. If views diverse at times provoked Sharp conflict, mind with raind, The wordy tilt no ill evoked; It left no sting behind. The friendships formed, we trust, will last ; To each a cherished gain ; A light to cheer Life's chequered Past, A joy to sooth its wane. Our lives, alternate, flit in gleams. Now sunshine, and now shade ; And brightest all of sunlit beams, Shine those by kindness made. By honor guided, every one, Let each befit the claim, To be a true Consistent Son, In worth as well as name. 41 Our goal be this, whate'er befalls, By deeds our creed to prove ; Fidelity to Duty's calls, With Purity and Love. Though oft defamed, and,— Argus-eyed.— Our foes denounce our ways. Yet heed we not, liowe 'er decried Persist we — blame or praise. That Cause is surely most alive And lives to greatest length. That trusts for aid whereon to thrive, Its own inherent strength. And now that Home, Sweet Home, invites. By river, lake or dell. Commend we each to Home's delights. And so, dear friends, Farewell ! C-:::^^^^?^^ 42 THE NEW YEAR TO THE OLD. Spake low in the door-way, the sprightly Young Year, And fain would have entered, but dared not go in; For Time with his scythe-blade and Death witli his spear, Kept a watch by the sick one, all pallid and thin. You are sinking, Old Y''ear, and your pulse it runs slow, I fear me. Old Year, you are nigh to the end. By your lustreless eye and your breathing — I know, How few are the hours that are left you to spend. I am dying New Year, I know it full well, I breathe but with pain, and my pulse it beats slow, This dimness and faintness — they surely foretell, The end of the journey you also must go. You have travelled Old Y''ear, over mountain and plain. You have seen the Earth's beauty — its groves and its flowers, Its fruits of ripe summer, and harvests of grain ; That the world is so happy — should sootiie your last hours. I have travelled, young friend, the great Earth around, I liave seen its rich beauty, at morn and at eve. But a heart without sorrow, never one have I found. That the world is not happy — I am forced to believe, You have listened, Old Year, to the lettered and wise, You have marked how the thoughtless give heed to their lore, The secrets of knowledge they are learning to prize, The world, if not happy, is more wise than of yore. I have lisi Tlic seci But sages That th You are v The vih That Goo( The wo I have no How th But for CI That th I fear me. The Ei That vou I am sc The fault The w| But to y<^ When! I have But hi The Oldf Fare\ 48 I have listened, Youii^' Year, to the lore of the Sage, The secrets of science I have heard hitn unfold, But sages are countless in history's page. That the worlil has grown wiser, I must not be told. You are witness, Old Year, how the poor have been fed. The vile and the erring sought out by the pure ; That Goodness is active, can trul}' be said ; The world if not wiser, is better I'm sure. I have noted young friend, holy Charity's deeds, How the poor have been cared for — the erring reclaimed ; But for crimes I have counted, my heart it still bleeds ; That the world is no better — I am sadly ashamed. I fear me. Old Year, you are cynical grown. The Earth and its glories — they f'-'de from your view ; That you once were more hopeful, I am i.ure you will own ; I am sorry to think it — the fault is in you. The fault may be mine — I confess it New Year, The world and its trifles, they charm me no more ; But to you — as to nie — they will doubtless appear. When the next coming year shall have knocked at your door. I have wearied my friend — I have spoken too long, But hark ! the clock strikes — - Ah ! there, it is done ; The Old Year may be right — but I trust he is wrong ; Farewell, my old mentor — poor fellow ! he 's gone. !! I 1 ll ,w « WW' mmwm' 44 JUBILEE ODE. Head at the gathering of the Public Schools, 2l8t June, 1S87, God save our gracious Queen, Long live our noble Queen, God save the Queen ; From cliines remote and near. From each broad hemisphere, Rings out the anthem clear, God save the Queen. II. With rev 'rent hearts we sing. To Thee, of kings the King, Whose guiding hand Hast lengthened out her days, Hast ever kept her ways. And made our Queen a praise In every land. in. We mark the rule benign. That strict to Duty's line. The wrong withstood ; A life and walk we trace, That, born to highest place, Gave more than regal grace To Womanhood. ■^"^^ 45 IV. In gravest calls of state, Or ministries that wait Her gentler sway ; Never, in a«^es gone, The blaze that li<>hts a throne, With more efTulgence shone, Or purer ray. V. Through honours firmly worn, Through sorrows bravely borne. What forces shine ! If dear to Britain's heart, Her Science and her A.rt, The glory is in part, Victoria, thine. VI. Nor him may we forget. Who dead, still liveth yet, The Consort wise ; For him, in joy or gloom. The nation's heart finds room, And wreathes with her the tomb Where Albert lies. Ml h I ! 1 VII. Continue, Lord, thy care, Preserve from every snare Our Queen and Throne, Our own Dominion bless, Thy favour ne 'er be less, Our homes for righteousness Be ever known. '^ t 46 vrii. What 'or our future fato, Be held inviohite, The Past wo share ; Be never l)rou<,'ht to shiune The herita<,'e wciclaiiu, Or tarnished !iuj,dit the name We proudly bear. IX. Ood koop the British Tsle.^;, ISubvert the plotter's wile.s, Uphold the <,'oo(l ; For all thy bounties choice, The while we now rejoice, Accept a people's voice Of gratitude. To Britain's utmost mar<,'o, Howe 'er her bounds enlarge, Give noblest aim ; With ever-growing might Give ever-bright 'ning light, And zeal to do the right, Unheet?ing blame. XI. O Land our fathers loved, O Land by actions proved Worthy of Love ; Be thou in Honor's vievv. All tests and trials through. To thine own greatness true. Nor thence remove. XII. So shall thy oifspring still. With widening circles, fill New realms to be ; So shall thy old renown, Through mellowing years go down, And with fresh lustre crown Each Jubilee. 47 AN APOSTROPLi.. Vivacious, vicious, nipping Flea, Veriest imp in ontonif)logy, Long years eacli other wo have known, Your kin I mean — not you alone ; And so, for old ac»iuaintanf(i sake, A chatty rhyme ['11 try to make. I cannot promise thee much praise, For, sooth to say, I hate thy wa"s : So full of tri(!ks, so stealthy, sly. That sorely thou dost patience try ; So savage and bloodthirsty too, You 'd make a saint as bad as you ; The saint, indeed, were extra good. Who would not hunger for your bloo 1. But how to catch you — that's the point That puts one's nose quite out of joint. Last night I had you fairly fixed, My finger and my thumb betwixt, At least I thought so, till I found My slippery friend had changed his ground. Had swiftly made a fresh attack. And left my neck to bite my back. But though thou set me all afire In spite of rage, I do admire The strength that marks thy bold escapes And gets thee through so many scrapes. Tf I could only jump like thee, Zounds ! what a wonder I would be ; The nimblest athlete I have known, A length not more than thrice his own, With utmost force that he could bring, Was all the space that he could spring ; But thou, and with the greatest ease, When one attempts thy pelt to seize, ^:...M^MM..MmJim)- ^ ^ 48 Cans 't vault in air, and cut an arc, In glare of sun or in the dark, That straightened out would make a line Five hun Jred times a length of thine. Could I perform such feats as that, Were such a peerless acrobat, No wall or house I 'd walk around But simply take them at a bound. Were I disposed the Park to view, Or woodland haunts to ramble through, With conscious power I 'd scorn a hack. Just take one jump and then jump back ; For such small work not care a fig, But do it all without fatiefue. Nor slit my pants or burst my liver. To clear a navigable river. Why Life should teem with fleas and flies. Is one of Nature's mysteries. Yet doubt I not, in Nature's plan, Both have their place as well as Man ; I must believe, my impish friend, Thou wer 't designed for some wise end, But still, — if all the same to you, I trust you '11 keep this hint in view. And do, I pray thee, thy good service On someone else's epidermis. But I must end my rambling song And as before, must scratch alonir : 'Tis true, I make, if thou go free, A virtue of necessity. And only spare your hide because You deftly slipped between my claws ; But that 's the way things mostly go, And virtue oft is but a show. So fare thee well, my agile flea The world has room for me and thee. 49 THE TRAVELLER'S REST. Somewhat back from the road, years agone, stood the Inn, With its long straggling front, its verandah and vine ; While behind and adjacent, each neat as a pin, Were the stables and coach-houses all in a line. An old-fashioned place was the " Traveller's Rest," Many-windowed and doored and its sign swinging high ; For man and for beast it provided the best, And its fame for true comfort not one could deny. A well-mated pair were the hostess and host. He, bland and sharp-witted, she, thoughtful and kind; And indeed, without brag they could honestly boast, That a better kept inn 'twhere not easy to find. To her guests the trim hostess, — still hovering near, What attention and care would she promptly devote ; How leisurely then could we test the good cheer, And sip the hot coffee without scalding one's throat. How perfect the rolls were ! and the butter how sweet ; The napkins so snowy — so delicious the cream, That chronic dispeptics perforce had to eat. And a peep at the bedrooms disposed one to dream. At mid-day in summer, all panting and blown. How the four-in-hand roadsters dashed up with a bound. And how like a monarch vacating his throne, The coachee descending looked proudly around. Then, in winter, at night-fall — storm-caught in the snow. How the lights afar-gleaming shone pleasantly bright ; As we leaped from our sleigh-robes how heartsorae the glow Of the wood-fire blaze where we sat half the night. 50 Ah ! these were the glories of old coaching days, And a glamour hangs o'er them of golden-hued sheen, And sometimes I doubt whether modernized ways Are anywise better than those that have been. But the train sweeps along through the valley below. With a rush and a scream and a thunder-like roar; ' O'er the roofless old hostel the gre.n mosses grow/ And the guests it once welcomed, it we.' „mes no more. Not a gun-shot remote from the spot they loved best, In a, white-railed enclosure just over the hill, Sleep the host and the hostess of Traveller's Rest ; But the world it moves onward and never stands still. '■^\&y-m^^'^>^ LINES WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. Since thou, my friend, has't bid me write Some thought among these treasures bright, T dare not such command refuse. Though hard it be fit words to choose ; Be simple then, my humble line, A reminiscence and a sisfn. That thus it chanced in days gone by. We met and parted— thou and I, But so the parting — there and then, It left the wish to meet again. September, 1888. 51 ACROSTIC— In Memoriam. Rev. David Iloneyman, D. C. L., F. S. A., ^- ^•/•^^•' '^^'^^ who died very suddenly 17th October, 1889. Aged 7o years. Dread King of terrors, thy fell dart, All unexpected, pierced a heart Veracious, rev'rent, loving, strong. Incapable of guile,— of wrong. Devoted heart ! to knowledge lent. High-aimed, self-poised, on progress bent. O Death, thou can'st not hold thy prize, Nor thou, Grave, though low he lies. Enquire we not ; not where, nor how, Yet sure, Lord, the while we bow Most humbly, to Thy holy will, A trust we have, Thou keepest still, No lesser niche for him to fill. Halifax, October 20, 1889. ^ i msamsmmm 52 SONNETS. (A8 liberty seems to be (jenfraHy allowed to Sonneteers to depart somewhat from the strietly classical or Petrarchian model, the writer, it will be seen, has availed himself of that liberty. ) Spring. A voice is in the air, — a mingled sound, Of winds and swaying trees and loosened floods ; The pinken May-flower scents the deep pine woods ; Young grass-blades, spiry, pierce the steaming ground ; With conscious joy all nature beams around ! Oblivious of the winter's frosts, loud sinjis. At earliest dawn, the grey bird to his mate ; Now Betty, open wide the casement flings; Her mistress seeks for moss to deck the irrate : Prepost'rous haste ! the storm-begotten brood Of Boreas, all wild and eager wait To waste our fields with sleet and hailstones rude ; Be patient, yet good wife ! nor scorn the fires ; Acadia's Spring their genial warmth requires. Summer. Season beloved ! a gladsome life is thine, Each morning from thy meadows pearled with dew. To mark the glowing concave's changeful hue To feast thine eye on beauty ; to incline Thy ravished ear to melodies divine ; Anon, recumbent in a latticed bower, Of honeysuckle and sweet eglantine, To take voluptuous ease at noontide hour ; Or, by the shore, at eve, to watch the sea. While a'morous winds flit softly whispering by : O summer ! who so born to joy as thee ? Or who, so born, would ever wish to die ! But thou art frail ; ev'n now comes Autumn brown With sickle keen, prepared to cut thee down. 53 ■■s. Autumn. How fresh the fielda this fair October day, How cahii above, yon qloriou''. azure sky, How rich beneath, the maple's crimson dye And varied woods with green and orange gay ; Can tints so gorgeous indicate decay ? Or is it, Autumn, midst thy falling leaves, That Memory recalls thy garnered sheaves, And Earth, heart-glad, wears holiday array : Or is it Hope that lights thy beaming eye, That, wreathed with flowers, afar, sees coming Spring, O 'er heath and mountain, health and beauty fling, While heaves with joy Old Ocean's bosom high. Ah ! blesse'cl Memory, of Time well-spent ; Ah ! blissful Hope, on Spring, eternal, bent. Winter. Fierce is thy aspect, grim and bearded King, Wrapped in a cheerless robe of sheeted snow ; Checked by thy breath, the rivers cease to flow ; Touched by thy hand the flowerets shrink and fling Their charms away. But yet, monarch stern. Thy brow of icicles doth shade an eye For beauty ; thou with magic wand canst turn Gaunt trees to things of fairy fantasie ; Thou art a lover too of mirth, when in the air Rings sharp and clear the sleigh-bells merry chime, Or o'er the glassy lake, foresworn of care. The whirling skaters pass the jocund time. But best, O King, '"hy fireside joys, and nights Of Home and intel'ectual deligh -.