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 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
* r I * 
 
T 
 
 THE 
 
 SONG OF THE EXILE 
 
 A CANADIAN EPIC 
 
 1BiBion0 m^ JtiBrcllancoujs Jomi 
 
 BY 
 
 WILFRED S. SKEATS 
 
 TORONTO 
 HART & COMPANY 
 
 3« & 33 KING ST. WEST 
 
 \ 
 

 150824 
 
 y 
 
 Entered acoording to Act of the Parliament of Canada in the Office of the Minister 
 of Agrioulture, by Ham dc Compant, in the year one thousand eight hundred 
 and ninety. 
 
DEDICA TION. 
 
 To Thee, whose cheering words have urged me on 
 When fainting heart advised me to stay 
 
 My halting pen, and leave my task undone: 
 To Thee, I humbly dedicate this lay. 
 
 Strong, womanly heart I whose long-enduring pain 
 
 Has not sufficed to rend thy faith in twain. 
 
 But rather teaches thee to sympathise 
 
 With those whose path through pain and darkness lies 
 
 Thyself forgetting, if but thou canst be 
 
 Of aid to others in adversity ; 
 
 The helpful word, the approbative smile 
 From thee have ever greeted me, the while 
 None other clieered Then let this tribute be 
 A token of my gratitude to Thee. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Song of the Exile : ***«■• 
 
 Canto the First - . . . 
 C&nto the Second 
 
 Canto the Third .... *^ 
 
 49 
 Canto the Fourth ...... 
 
 Canto the Fifth .... '' 
 
 93 
 
 Visions: 
 
 The New Resolve ... 
 
 - 121 
 
 The Higher Duty 
 
 ' • . - 124 
 
 The Hidden Purpose ... 
 
 «■ • • • . 127 
 
 Miscellaneous : 
 
 The Serpent 
 
 ' • • - I'lC 
 
 Pro Deo et Patria - . . . 
 
 • 137 
 Despondency •--... 
 
 To L. W ■ • • '39 
 
 - 142 
 You Wrong Me Kate 
 
 Flossie * '*^ 
 
 To Ethel * ' '*' 
 
 Dear Little Ethel ..... ' '49 
 
 T0D.R.P. . '^' 
 
 Christmas . '^^ 
 
 A Serenade .... 
 
 160 
 
THE 
 
 SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 A CANADIAN EPIC. 
 
 CANTO '^HE FIP .r 
 
 r. 
 
 Ye shores of England, as ye fast recede 
 The pain of parting rends my weary breast. 
 
 I must regret — ^yet there is little need 
 That I should mourn, for only wild unrest 
 
 Is mine while in my native land I roam. 
 
 Thou gav'st me birth, but cannot give a home. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet happy were the days that have been mine, 
 
 So happy that those days must needs be few. 
 
 It could not be that that bright sun would shine 
 For many months, and while its light was new 
 
 The clouds arose, and, in one fated day. 
 
 The jealous storm had swept my joys away. 
 
lo 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH^E. 
 
 nt* 
 
 That fated day, when I believed that all 
 The hopes that I had cherished in the past 
 
 Would be fulfilled, and I should fondly call 
 The being whom I loved my own at last : 
 
 Then fell the storm, and bursting on my head, 
 
 Still saved my body when my soul was dead. 
 
 i 
 
 IV. 
 
 I loved her dearly, and my heart was set 
 On winning her. My only aim in life 
 
 Was to secure her love, and so forget 
 
 The world beside — my world would be my wife. 
 
 I never loved another, her alone 
 
 I loved, and, loving, longed to call my own. 
 
 V. 
 
 The summer months were passed in tortured bliss. 
 
 My love had grown, but that it could not grow; 
 It all-enveloped me, and one sweet kiss 
 
 From her dear lips had made my bosom glow 
 With happiness ; and many months of pain 
 Had been as nothing, that one kiss to gain. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 II 
 
 VI. 
 
 And, when the many-tinted Autumn's reign 
 Succeeded Summer's more congenial sway, 
 
 I told her of the mingled joy and pain 
 That stirred my soul throughout each Summer's day. 
 
 And whispered, in emotion's softest tone, 
 
 The love that I had feared before to own. 
 
 vn. 
 
 She listened silently, then, sweetly shy. 
 She laid her gentle head upon my breast. 
 
 And, in the liquid depths of each blue eye, 
 I read the love her lips had not confessed ; 
 
 And quickly, fondly, pressed her to my heart, 
 
 Vowing that none should keep us two apart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ah ! happy were the months that followed then, 
 The months that flew as rapidly as days ; 
 
 And sweet the stolen hours of meeting when 
 We listened to the nightingale's sad lays, 
 
 Or, seated on a rustic bench alone. 
 
 Forgot all else in glad communion. 
 
12 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I had not asked her father for her hand ; 
 
 He was a baronet of ancient blood. 
 Proud of his lineage, jealous of his land ; 
 
 His pride was such as boded me no good, 
 I was an author, not unknown to fame. 
 But could not boast a title to my name. 
 
 Sore did my loved one beg me to confess 
 My love to him, and ask for his consent. 
 
 He loved her well, and could not fail to bless 
 Our union ; his pride had oft unbent 
 
 To her, and she had now but little fear 
 
 That he would hear me with a willing ear. 
 
 I gladly heard her speak in confident 
 And reassuring tones, and all the doubt 
 
 That had been mine now vanished, and I went. 
 With lightsome heart, to seek her father out ; 
 
 And prayed him give his daughter for my wife, 
 
 And thus confer a blessing on my life. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 13 
 
 \ I 
 
 XII. 
 
 He heard me silently, nor did he speak 
 For full two minutes after I had ceased ; 
 
 Then, while his eye flashed, and his livid cheek 
 Betrayed his passion, was his tongue released ; 
 
 And, in vituperative tones, he swore 
 
 That I should never cross his threshold more. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Was this my gratitude for patronage, 
 
 That I should thus inveigle his one daughter, 
 
 And seek to supplement my sorry wage 
 
 By the rich dowry that her marriage brought her } 
 
 He was a baronet of ancient name ; 
 
 No parvenu his daughter's hand should claim. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 His words enraged me, but I checked my wrath 
 For her dear sake, whose love alone that fire 
 
 Could quench, and mildly arguments put forth 
 To soothe the baronet, and calm his ire. 
 
 But useless all the arguments I wove ; 
 
 In foaming rage he cursed me and my love. 
 
H 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 What need to speak of all that next ensued ? 
 
 Still constantly, throughout those weary days, 
 Impelled by hope, with fondest love imbued, 
 
 Did I renew my suit. By bold essays 
 I sought to win the baronet's consent — 
 Each day a wilder rage his bosom rent. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 He had forbidden me to see my Love ; 
 
 But one glad morning I received a note 
 From her. She bade me meet her in the grove 
 
 Behind her father's house. In pain she wrote, 
 For, though the letter spoke no word of pain. 
 Her tears had left a sorrow-telling stain. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 We met at night-time ; and her tear-stained face. 
 Upturned to mine, was sorrowful and pale. 
 
 I pressed her to me in a fond embrace, 
 
 And kissed the cheeks that told so sad a tale. 
 
 She sadly smiled, then spoke, her cheek bedewed. 
 
 The while, with bitter tears again renewed : 
 
 |! 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 15 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " My fondest Love, within this silent glen, 
 I bade thee come to say a last farewell. 
 
 Alas ! my Love, we may not meet again. 
 For thou must leave me. Ah ! I cannot tell 
 
 What pain was mine as on my knees I cried. 
 
 And begged my father to unbend his pride. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " He will not hear me; nought that I can say 
 Will calm his wrath, but rather do my prayers 
 
 Increase his passion. Each recurring day, 
 When I would still importune him, he bears 
 
 A sterner aspect, and 'twere better now 
 
 That we should speak no more of this our vow. 
 
 XX. 
 
 " But leave thou me, and seek a foreign clime. 
 
 My father thus will think that thou hast lost 
 All hope of winning me. In one year's time 
 
 Return again ; perhaps, by conscience tossed, 
 My father will repent his stern decree. 
 And gladly, as my husband, welcome thee." 
 
i6 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXI, 
 
 " Oh ! fly thou with me, Love," I trembling cried, 
 " And — " but my loved one would not hear my cry : 
 
 " 'Tis but a twelvemonth since my mother died, 
 And I should sin against my God if I 
 
 Should leave my father. Oh ! my Love, seek not 
 
 To tempt me thus, but help me bear my lot." 
 
 xxn. 
 
 Twere wrong to more persuade her. Silently 
 I kissed her gentle lips. A loving spell 
 
 Of sweet communion followed — it could be 
 But short — and then we bade a long farewell. 
 
 O'erwhelmed with tears, my gentle Love was gone. 
 
 And I must wander exiled and alone. 
 
 xxni. 
 
 Yet is it best that I should wander thus, 
 
 Far from the cherished spot where we have passed 
 
 Such happy <lays, since not again for us 
 
 Will be the joy that seemed too great to last. 
 
 Her father is too stern a man to know 
 
 Remorse's sting ; his hatred will but grow. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 17 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Each year my wandering feet shall hither stray, 
 Each year my heart will feel the pang anew. 
 
 And this one thought alone will cheer my way, 
 That she, my Love, is faithful still, and true. 
 
 Her father may forbid our union, 
 
 But still our hearts together beat as one. 
 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Lonely I stand, and silent gaze upon 
 
 The fading shore, where dwells my soul's twin-soul. 
 'Midst my companions I am still alone. 
 
 Less near to them than her, though billows roll 
 Between us two. Fast fades the distant strand. 
 Farewell my Love ! Farewell my native Land ! 
 
 li! 
 
 M 
 
 11 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 England ! dear land of liberty and peace. 
 Great art thou now, and greater still wilt be, 
 
 If but thy truth and honesty increase 
 As each revolving decade renders thee 
 
 In population greater. Let the name 
 
 Of Christian England fix thy future fame. 
 
 
 ll 
 
i8 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The tale is told that when a foreign king . 
 
 Would know what pow'r thy gracious Queen pos- 
 sessed, 
 That she could rule, with might unfaltering. 
 
 Her people, and by them be ever blessed ; 
 
 She laid her hand upon a Bible near. 
 
 And, smiling, said : " That pow'r lies hidden here." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Defender of the Faith we call our Queen, 
 And she has been that Faith's exemplar too. 
 
 Not all the ages of the past have seen 
 A sovereign more noble, pure, and true. 
 
 And sh*? has kept, as well as monarch could, 
 
 Her childhood's promise : " Oh ! I will be good." 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 11 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 And not without the help of that great Book 
 Could she have kept the promise of her youth. 
 
 Through all the backward years of history look — 
 These plainly prove that declaration's truth. 
 
 Kingdoms may rise, and, with unquestioned sway, 
 
 Monarchs may rule, and none their right gainsay, 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 19 
 
 XXX. 
 
 But, founded on another base than this, 
 
 That monarch's might shall surely pass away; 
 
 No kingdom is so strong that it can miss 
 This destiny. A premature decay 
 
 Has greeted, and will ever greet, that land 
 
 Whose weak foundation trembles in the sand. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The sword is mighty ; by its bloody might 
 Empires have risen — risen but to fall. 
 
 A nation built in blood must ever fight, 
 Or lose its name and power. *Tis not all 
 
 To conquer once ; an enemy subdued 
 
 Waits but a happy chance for further feud. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Nor will the nation nurtured by the sword, 
 If undisturbed by subjugated foes. 
 
 Remain in peace and rest ; one murmured word 
 Of discontent will plunge it in the throes 
 
 Of fratricidal warfare ; and not long 
 
 That word remains uncalled for by some wrong. 
 
20 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Ifi 
 
 i 
 
 111 I 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The page of history is blotted o'er 
 
 With tales of bloodshed. Not a single nation 
 Exists, but spent its greater life in war. 
 
 And in each Power's restless fluctuation 
 From might to weakness, and from servitude 
 To might, is shown the sword's incertitude. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Until the time when every mighty Power 
 Stands ready to confess the Christian creed 
 
 That bloodshed is a sin — until that hour 
 
 Has come, all Europe's treasuries must bleed, 
 
 That naval armaments may grimly stand, 
 And military menace every land. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Then, Englaid, since an universal peace, 
 A peace eternal, has not been proclaimed, 
 
 Thy military might must still increase, 
 Thy naval glory must not be defamed. 
 
 But only when thine honour shall demand, 
 
 Or injured right, upraise thy martial hand. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 21 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Be Christian first and last, and be not slow 
 To propagate the cause of arbitration. 
 
 Let peaceful compacts, bloodless victories, grow 
 Till hideous war, with ruthless devastation, 
 
 Destroy no more the beauty of thy land, 
 
 Nor raise against thy homes its bloodstained hand. 
 
 xxxvii. 
 
 Be Christian first and last, for thus alone 
 Shalt thou attain to might unfaltering. 
 
 No nation in the past has ever known 
 The lasting power which faith alone can bring. 
 
 Though each in turn has gained a glorious name, 
 
 Not one has risen to eternal fame. 
 
 ■I 
 
 
 xxxvin. 
 
 The Roman Caesars, with increasing pride, 
 
 "Outstretched their hands and grasped a hemi- 
 sphere." 
 
 Their glory swelled with ever-flowing tide, 
 And nations bowed to them in trembling fear. 
 
 Their eagles flew, and lofty was their flight, 
 
 Yet only Caesar's empire met their sight. 
 
 J? 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
aa 
 
 THE SONG QF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But now the Roman Empire is no more ; 
 
 No longer Roman eagles sweep the sky. 
 The pampered luxury of Rome soon bore 
 
 Its wonted fruit — gross immorality ; 
 And weakened thus, and by internal strife, 
 Great Caesar's Empire yielded up its life. 
 
 I 
 
 And classic Greece, which, in a former age. 
 Bore mighty warriors without compeer. 
 
 Knew not the land whose war-compelling gage 
 Could not be taken up without a fear. 
 
 But now her power is so completely broke. 
 
 She almost yields her to an Asian yoke. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 And France, in later days, has girded on 
 A might magnificent ; and none could stay 
 
 The pow'r of her adored Napoleon, 
 
 Before whose hosts, in ill-concealed dismay. 
 
 The nations fled. Then France her flag unfurled, 
 
 And waved it proudly over half a world. 
 
 ^J 
 
TIIK SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 23 
 
 XLII. 
 
 But not in England. And when Bonaparte 
 Would lay the British nation at his feet, 
 
 Her legions tore his mighty hosts apart, 
 And snatched the Conqueror from his lofty seat. 
 
 Then France's glory faded fast away, 
 
 Till not J nation owned her sovereign sway. 
 
 • 
 
 XLin. 
 
 And thus have mighty nations ever perished, 
 Or lost the greater portion of their might, 
 
 When, as their sole upholder, they have cherished 
 The reeking sword, in disregard of right. 
 
 Then, England, take thou warning by their fate, 
 
 And keep thy Christian faith inviolate. 
 
 ^1 
 
 d 
 
 
 U! 
 
 
 Hi 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 America's Republic stands alone. 
 
 But once for bloody glory did she raise 
 Her martial hand ; and Canada was thrown 
 
 Into a state of war.* But all essays 
 To sever her allegiance from her King 
 Proved vain — her faith remained unfaltering. 
 
 *The war of 1812-14. 
 
24 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 But once America unrighteously 
 
 Led forth her armies. Only to defend 
 
 Her people's honour and integrity 
 
 Has she, since then, allowed them to contend 
 
 In bitter warfare. And the peaceful arts 
 
 Engage more readily her people's hearts. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 ^ • 
 
 A noble nation striving peacefully 
 
 To gain the highest pinnacle of honour ; 
 
 Without a peer in ingenuity ; 
 Well mayest thou, great England, look upon her 
 
 As worthier far to be thy firm ally 
 
 Than any European monarchy. 
 
 XLYH. 
 
 Send forth thy Prince's son, and let him find 
 In broad America a worthy bride. 
 
 Thus let the ties of blood together bind 
 The Anglo-Saxon race on either side 
 
 The great Atlantic. Keep thy princes free 
 
 From royal Europe's mad heredity. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 25 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Far better were it they should choose their brides 
 
 From some American pure family, 
 Than wed their cousins, in whose blood, besides 
 
 The fell disease which immorality 
 Of ancestors has planted there, there run 
 Weaknesses caused by kindred's union. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 The scurvy-stricken family whose head 
 Rules all the Russias' limitless domain ; 
 
 The progeny of Ludwig, lately dead 
 
 By his own hand ; the Hohenzollern vain 
 
 And proud, and yet diseased ; or Austria's queen 
 
 Whose hidden madness still is plainly seen : 
 
 Shall we defile our royal English blood 
 By marriage with such families as these ? 
 
 Shall English kings inherit all this flood 
 Of imbecility and dread disease ? 
 
 Must all the purity of Guelph be so 
 
 Impaired and ruined by this noisome flow ? 
 2 
 
 ■I 
 
 rr 
 1 Jii 
 
 1 
 
 h. . 
 
 
■^ 
 
 26 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 LI. 
 
 Nay, rather let us throw aside that form, 
 (That well had been abolished in the past). 
 
 Which bids our royal princes to conform 
 To rules as rigid as the Indian caste 
 
 Distinctions, nor a single Prince allows 
 
 To marry other than a royal spouse. 
 
 LU. 
 
 And let our England's royal House be bound 
 
 By wedlock to America. Perchance 
 This bond may, in a future day, be found 
 
 The first of many, which shall so enhance 
 Our mutual love that, by God's kindly grace. 
 On History's page this name shall have a place : 
 " The Empire of the Anglo-Saxon Race." 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Great England ! Land of liberty and peace. 
 With fond regret I leave thy hallowed shore ; 
 
 But, in my exile, I can never cease 
 To love the Land that I may see no more. 
 
 All foreign countries are alike to me ; 
 
 My heart's affection is bound up in thee. 
 
p — _ —^ 
 
 • 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 1 
 
 27 
 
 Blue, boundless and free, the deep-flowing sea 
 
 
 ' Environs on every side 
 
 
 The ship, which the gale, well-filling each sail, 
 
 
 Impels through the rolling tide. 
 
 
 Around, far and near, bright, foaming and clear. 
 
 
 The billows tumultuous roll ; 
 
 
 ' And their message to me is, " Free, wildly free ! 
 
 
 " Free ever from man's control ! " 
 
 ■ 
 
 As round me they throng, I hear their wild song, 
 
 And echo its truthful strain. 
 The power of man, that limitless span 
 
 Of ocean, can ne'er restrain. 
 
 li 
 
 V !■' 
 
 f^f 
 
 But I know that their Maker can challenge each breaker, 
 
 And still every wave by His word ; 
 And o'er me a feeling comes silently stealing 
 
 Of awe at the might of the Lord. 
 
 And sweet is the thought, by memory brought. 
 
 That once on the waters He trod ; 
 And my soul seems to be, on the breast of the sea, 
 
 Alone in the presence of God. 
 
 Then soft on the air I whisper a prayer, 
 
 And know 'twill be echoed above : 
 " Be Thou very near her to comfort and cheer her, 
 
 Oh, God, bless and cherish my Love ! " 
 
 
 I 
 
r^ 
 
 ! II 
 
 ■I :i 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 :ii 
 
 I 
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 III 
 
 N 
 
 Ai 
 
 A 
 Be 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 29 
 
 CANTO THE SECOND. 
 
 ■'■ i 
 
 ill 
 
 11 
 
 Renowned Quebec, upon its rocky height, 
 
 Stands frowning o'er St. Lawrence' noble river ; 
 
 Well-nigh impregnable, its chosen site 
 
 Bespeaks its founder's wisdom, and forever 
 
 Should be rciiembered all the toil and pain 
 
 Endured by him, brave Samuel de Champlain. 
 
 II. 
 
 Not light the task, nor enviable the lot 
 
 Of him who thus would plant, on shores unknown, 
 And in a wild and never-trodden spot, 
 
 A new-born city's first foundation stone. 
 A sturdy courage and a fearless heart 
 Belong to him who plays so bold a part. 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 ]' 
 
 ii' i. 
 
 !l 
 
 ^1 
 
^ 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 III. 
 
 J! I I 
 
 Not first to land in Acadie, nor first 
 
 To sail the great St. Lawrence, brave Champlain 
 Yet dared what none before him ever durst — 
 
 To give his life and labour — not for gain 
 To be derived from profitable trade — 
 Ambition else by hardship had been stayed; 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, for his king to found a colony, 
 And, for his God to win another land, 
 
 He sufifered pain and hardship patiently ; 
 And, with a busy and unflinching hand, 
 
 He laboured on that wild and rugged shore ; 
 
 Nor ceased to labour till he breathed no more. 
 
 V. 
 
 I 
 
 He had not thus endured, as he endured, 
 Except his faith had given him new might ; 
 
 Nor had he been to suffering inured, 
 And patient borne, except the holy rite, 
 
 Each day renewed, had cheered his fainting soul, 
 
 Enabling him to keep his courage whole. 
 
 ' 11 
 
iU 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH^E. 
 
 31 
 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ye, living in your luxury and ease. 
 
 Think not of all your country's fathers bore ; 
 
 And still forget the famine and disease 
 Those pioneers suffered on your shore. 
 
 Their names are unfamiliar on your tongue, 
 
 Their deeds but vaguely known, their praise unsung. 
 
 I- il 
 
 vn. 
 
 So has it been, and so shall ever be • 
 The man who stands to-day a shining light, 
 
 The hero who commands our fealty, 
 To-morrow, in oblivion's dark night, 
 
 Will be forgotten, or, on history's page, 
 
 May flicker dimly in a future age. 
 
 i: 
 
 vin. 
 
 Think not, ye men who seek to carve your name 
 On monuments of everlasting stone, 
 
 That ye can thus secure eternal fame. 
 
 Far greater deeds than yours have others done, 
 
 And greater far the harvest they have sown, 
 
 Which now ye reap, while they remain unknown. 
 
 II 
 
 wi^i 
 
 i ;^ 
 
 ,'; 
 
 m 
 
 iM 
 
Mfi 
 
 I: 
 i 
 'i'i 
 
 illi 
 
 liii 
 
 32 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 As through the ages, silent and unseen, 
 The tiny corals work beneath the wave 
 
 And build a reef, which reef had never been 
 Except each coral there had found a grave ; 
 
 So work the heroes of the human race, 
 
 And in their work-field find a resting place. 
 
 How vast the number of the coral shells 
 That form the reef ! And yet of these but one 
 
 Of many thousands ever elsewhere dwells 
 Than on that reef; all hidden and unknown 
 
 The rest remain, and few indeed are they 
 
 Which shine as jewels at a later day. 
 
 XI. . 
 
 And thus have lived our heroes in the past : 
 The army of the brave and noble who 
 
 Have laboured uncomplaining, and at last 
 
 Have yielded up their lives ; but there are few 
 
 Whose names stand forth, as worth would bid them 
 stand, 
 
 Revered and honoured in their fatherland. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 But Canada, let not the brave Champlain 
 
 Be thus in dark oblivion forgot. 
 Grant him the fame he never sought to gain ; 
 
 Pay him the honour that he courted not ; 
 And on thine earliest page of history 
 Write large his name, not as a mystery 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Or name unknown — but tell his deeds abroad. 
 And teach thy children all that he has done. 
 
 Not hard the task, and thou canst well afford 
 To show the gratitude that he has won 
 
 From thee ; and thus thou surely wilt impart 
 
 A proud ambition in thy children's heart 
 
 33 
 
 
 ;: 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To imitate the man, so true and brave, 
 Who laboured self-denyingly in life, 
 
 And 'neath the city's walls has found a grave, 
 At rest at last, and free from further strife. 
 
 Thus, as thy children knowledge of him gain, 
 
 Their hearts shall burn to emulate Champlain. 
 
34 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 I stand upon the plains of Abraham, 
 And, silent as I stand, a train of thought 
 
 Comes o'er me, and the spot whereon I am 
 
 Seems almost holy ground ; for here was fought 
 
 That mighty battle, whose event would show 
 
 If Canada were British soil or no. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Before my eyes a vision rises bright, 
 And, in the vision, I can clearly see 
 
 The actions re-enacted of that fight ; 
 
 And grand indeed the sight appears to me. 
 
 Repictured thus, I gaze upon the scene, 
 
 And meditate again on what has been. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Ere yet the light had broken on that morn,* 
 Before the sun had shed his rays around, 
 
 * The facts related in the following verses relative to the siege of 
 Quebec and the death of Wolfe have been taken from Dr. Withrow's 
 " History of Canada," and I take this opportunity of acknowledging 
 my indebtedness to the author. The history has been invaluable to me 
 in the composition of this poem. Without its help the " Song " would 
 have been far more incomplete than it now is. — W. S. S. 
 
THE SON(i OF TIIK KXILE. 
 
 IS 
 
 While blackest darkness heralded the dawn, 
 The little fleet had left its anchor-ground ; 
 With not a lantern showing light or gleam, 
 It floated silently adown the stream. 
 
 ;. ii 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Within the flagship, weakened by the pain 
 Of recent fever, Wolfe reclining lay. 
 
 Unfit to bear the war's fatigue and strain, 
 He yet was armed and ready for the fray. 
 
 Forgetful of his pain and sufi*ering, 
 
 He thought but of his country and his king. 
 
 
 n 
 
 VM 
 
 .,'1. 
 lit 1 
 
 XIX. 
 
 His duty bade him fight, and he would fight ; 
 
 His country bade him win, and he would win 
 If bravery could put the foe to flight. 
 
 If courage and a sturdy heart within 
 Could win the day, he feared not the event ; 
 His men were veterans on victory bent. 
 
 iij 
 
 ! !• 
 
 IS;)- 
 
 w 
 
 
 
36 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Yet, as he lay upon his couch at rest 
 Among his officers, he seemed to be 
 
 Prescient of his fate ; for he addressed 
 His friends in verses from an Elegy, 
 
 And to this line a special accent gave : 
 
 " The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Foreknowledge of his fate perchance impressed 
 This truth upon him. Glory's path would lead 
 
 Him to the grave that day, and there at rest. 
 No longer pain or glory would he heed. 
 
 Full well might these appear a mockery 
 
 To him who soon would meet eternity.* 
 
 * " Pale and weak with recent illness, Wolfe reclined among his 
 officers, and, in a low tone, blending with the rippling of the river, 
 recited several stanzas of the recent poem, Gray's ' Elegy Written in a 
 Coimtry Churchyard.' Perhaps the shadow of his approaching fate 
 stole upon his mind, as in mournfrJ radence he whispered the strangely 
 pathetic words : 
 
 ' The boast of heraldry,, lb,; pomp of power. 
 
 And all that beauty, ail that wealth ere gave. 
 Alike await the inexorable hour. 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave.' 
 
 ** With a prescience of the hollowness of military renown, he ex- 
 claimed, ' I would rather have written those lines than take Quebec 
 to-morrow.' " — Withraufs History of Catrnda, p. 246. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 37 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And who will blame him if his thought recurred, 
 At such a time, to England and the maid 
 
 Beloved, to whom he gave his plighted word 
 Ere parting ? Who will wonder at the shade 
 
 Of sorrow darkling on his troubled brow, 
 
 As he reflects on what may not be now ? 
 
 5 
 
 , I 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 A vision bright, of home and happiness. 
 Of calm domestic joy, before him lies. 
 
 One moment gazes he — his hands hard press 
 His forehead, and the hardy soldier sighs — 
 
 One moment only, then he turns away. 
 
 Prepared to lead his army to the fray. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Below the city, anchored by the shore. 
 The fleet is floating ; and in silent speed. 
 
 The soldiers land, Wolfe leading in the fore. 
 And, if of urging there were any need, 
 
 His fearless mien and proud determination 
 
 Would banish every thought of hesitation. 
 
 ',] ' ; I, ■ 
 
 m 
 
^r 
 
 ■B 
 
 38 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 ■1 
 
 XXV, 
 
 But fear is foreign to each noble heart 
 That follows him, and in the breast of none 
 
 Has doubt or hesitation any part ; 
 Let him but lead, and they will follow on. 
 
 They listen to his orders and obey ; 
 
 He fears not death or danger — why should they ? 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Above them tow'rs the cliff precipitous, 
 Well-nigh impassable its steep ascent. 
 
 How hard the task and how laborious 
 
 To scale the cliff ! Yet forth the order went. 
 
 Then, in the darkness, stealthily they creep, 
 
 And silently approach the rocky steep. 
 
 xxvn. 
 
 Like Indians soft stealing on the trail 
 
 Of hated foes, intent upon surprise, 
 And silent moving lest their project fail, 
 
 When death in premature detection lies ; 
 So noiselessly that army scaled the height, 
 While darkness hid them from the foemen's sight. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 39 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 At length they reach the summit unattacked, 
 Then form, and silent march upon the plain. 
 
 And now they learn the foe has seen their act, 
 For onward towards them comes his shining train. 
 
 The day has broke, the sun now brightly shines, 
 
 And each can plainly see the other's lines. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Then from the French battalions comes the fire 
 Of musketry, and bullets hissing loud 
 
 Pierce through the English ranks, yet but inspire 
 The veterans to vengeance, and their blood 
 
 Boils in their veins. Yet silently they still 
 
 March on, awaiting their commander's will. 
 
 i; ( 
 
 ii 
 
 It! 
 
 m 
 
 !^:i 
 
 XXX. 
 
 At length is heard the geaeral's command 
 To fire. A fearful volley from their ranks 
 
 Then belches forth, and, sweeping o'er the land. 
 The bullets carry ruin to the Franks. 
 
 In deep d'smay the Frenchmen hesitate 
 
 One moment ; then, with valour desperate, 
 
 li.ri. .! 
 
 u 
 
 ..I;:: 
 
 t :;. :rf 
 
 it! !i 
 
 : I 
 
 rii 
 
rr 
 
 40 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 They turn again, restrengthened, to the fight. 
 
 But fruitless all the bravery they show ; 
 Repulsed anew, ere long they take to flight. 
 
 Pursued by English bullets as they go. 
 And from the time the battle first begun, 
 But fifteen minutes passed till it was won. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 But deadly was the devastation wrought 
 On either side, and dearly was the day 
 
 Of glory by the English army bought. 
 
 Thrice bullet-pierced their young commander lay. 
 
 He lived to hear the cry of victory. 
 
 Then yielded up his spirit willingly. 1 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Good reason had the conquerors to mourn ; 
 
 . Yet had the vanquished greater cause than they. 
 
 The day was lost, and sadly had they borne 
 
 Their leader from the battle-field away. 
 Beloved Montcalm, the generous and brave, * 
 Upon that field had found a bloody grave. 
 
THE SONr. OF THE KXIEE. 
 
 41 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And what of her who sat in silent grief, 
 And listened vainly for the step of him 
 
 Whose coming only could aCord relief, 
 
 And stay the tears in which her eyes will swim ? 
 
 Ah ! History has nought to say of her. 
 
 Nor speaks it of the sorrow she must bear. 
 
 m 
 
 .<■' ■ 
 
 v. i] 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The full extent of war's resulting curse 
 Is never known : the country's gain or loss 
 
 Is reckoned by its victory or reverse, 
 The dead are numbered — but the heavy cross 
 
 Of suffering, which womankind mur.t bear, 
 
 Is reckoned not among the deeds of war. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Nor can ii be : while war is arbiter 
 Between the nations, private suffering 
 
 Must count for nought ; affection must defer 
 To duty, whatso'er the pain it bring. 
 
 The soldier must obey the bugle call ; 
 
 The ^^e must weep, and pray he may not fall. 
 
42 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH>E. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 While war is arbiter — but must it be 
 Forever arbiter ? Will not the day 
 
 Of lasting peace dawn ever ? Will not ye, 
 Ye Christian nations, raise your voice, and stay 
 
 The march of w?"- throughout the universe ; 
 
 And rid you of itb y and curse ? 
 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 It lies not in your pow'r to order those, 
 The nations still uncivilized, to cease 
 
 From war, and, if they make themselves your foes, 
 Ye must resist ; yet can ye order peace 
 
 Among yourselves. And, sure, ye Christian lands 
 
 Would wash the blood of war from off your hands ! 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 Slow, slow, the march of Christianity, 
 Yet sure — more sure because its march is slow ; 
 
 And settled now in peace and amity 
 Are issues which, but fifty years ago. 
 
 Had been the cause of bloodshed and of strife, 
 
 And cost each country many a noble life. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 43 
 
 XL. 
 
 Then let the infidel or atheist, 
 
 Or him who doubts if ever God can be, 
 
 And questions the existence of a Christ, 
 Mark v;cll the fruits of Christianity, 
 
 And say what other power has ever wrought 
 
 The good that Christianity has brought. 
 
 XL?. 
 
 No myth or vain delusion can achieve 
 
 What love of Christ has done ; no mockery 
 
 Can bring the troubled comfort, or relieve 
 The broken heart ; nor can idolatry 
 
 Inspire our hearts with love and charity : 
 
 These follow only Christianity. 
 
 I pause before a simple monument, 
 
 And read inscribed thereon the noble names 
 
 Montcalm and Wolfe. Their enmity is spent, 
 And each f om French and English justly claims 
 
 An equal reverence. This humble stone 
 
 Stands emblematic of their union. 
 
 ■\ 
 
 1 
 
 li 
 
 
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^ 
 
 AA 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 And are the nations so united now, 
 
 In Canada, that nothing comes between 
 
 To break the bond, or disannul the vow 
 Of friendship and of fealty to our Queen ? 
 
 Do they not rather live each wide apart 
 
 From other, bound in name but not in heart ? 
 
 mi 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 Well nigh a century and thirty years 
 
 Have run their course since Canada became 
 
 An English colony ; and yet appears. 
 Within her shores, a unity in name, 
 
 And name alone, between those races who 
 
 Should live as one, but still exist as two. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 What boots it that an oath of loyalty 
 
 To Britain's Queen is taken by the French, 
 
 If they but wait the opportunity 
 
 To give that man support who seeks to wrench 
 
 This vast Dominion from the British Crown, 
 
 And tear our noble red -cross banner down ? 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 45 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 And why call that an English colony 
 
 In which a foreijn tongue predominates ? 
 
 And how will he preserve his loyalty 
 
 To England, who the name of England hates ? 
 
 Too generous have been your governors, 
 
 Too lightly exercised their given powers. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Ere this, if England had asserted all 
 
 The rights that conquest gave, here might have been 
 A colony which we could truly call 
 
 A British land. Nor should we now have seen, 
 In Canada, two nations side by side 
 Upgrowing, by affection's bond untied. 
 
 M 
 
 ; tl 
 
 t :• 
 
 XLvni. 
 
 ' A nation self-divided cannot stand." 
 All history has proved this adage true. 
 
 And, Canada, if thou would'st be a land 
 Of might and power, thou must surely do 
 
 As other lands have done ; it cannot be 
 
 That thou wilt else secure prosperity. 
 
 
rl' 
 
 46 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Let not incipient rebellion grow 
 To actual revolt, but trample down 
 
 Its very sign, and with a mighty blow. 
 Crush all who rise disloyal to the Crown. 
 
 Do this, but this alone will not suffice ; 
 
 A sterner duty yet before thee lies. 
 
 Send forth the edict that the English tongue. 
 And it alone, shall be official here, 
 
 And teach the language everywhere among 
 The French in all the counties far and near. 
 
 Thus, and thus only, canst thou hope to see 
 
 Thy future self preserved in unity. 
 
 ' Lt 
 
 But what are these to me ? A passing thought, 
 An evanescent stirring of the brain, 
 
 Which, for a time, forgetfulness has brought, 
 . nd temporary soothmg of my pain. 
 
 But as I turn away, anew I feel 
 The burning sore which time can never heal. 
 
 t'XfM 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 47 
 
 Lll. 
 
 Apart from her I love I wander here, 
 
 In thought communing with that absent one ; 
 
 In body distant, though in spirit near, 
 I feel our hearts are in communion. 
 
 Then, softly murmuring, I breathe this lay 
 
 To her so near, and yet so far away. 
 
 From regions remote my message shall float 
 
 On zephyrs across the sea, 
 And softly thou'lt hear the words in thine ear, 
 
 " I love thee, I love but thee."* 
 
 t' 
 
 Though distant I rove, sweet thoughts of my love 
 
 Are ever at home with me. 
 Each day and each hour but strengthen their power ; 
 
 I love thee, I love but thee. 
 
 *Yet in spite of thy queenly disdain, 
 Thou art seared by my passion and pain ; 
 Thou shall hear me repeat till I die for it, Sweet, 
 "I love thee ! I dare to love thee. 
 
 — Marie Corelli, " The Romance of Two Worlds.''^ 
 
 > 1 
 
 \ r\ 
 
 I 4 
 
 
'f^ 
 
 48 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH^E. 
 
 If sorrow be thine, oh ! cease to repine, 
 
 For mine thou shalt always bo. 
 Oh ! breathe not a sigh, though I am not nigh, 
 
 I love thee, I love but thee. 
 
 Though odeans divide us and fortune deride us, 
 
 No two are more near than we ; 
 Our hearts close are beating in tenderest greeting ; 
 
 I love thee, I love but thee. 
 
 I ask not of Fate a lordly estate. 
 
 Or position of high degree ; 
 I ask her alone to grant me my own ; 
 
 I love thee, I love but thee. 
 
 I 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 49 
 
 CANTO THE THIRD. 
 
 ■W 
 
 Below me, as I stand upon this mount, 
 
 I see, in panoramic view displayed 
 So clearly that with ease I could recount 
 
 The mighty buildings and the ships fast stayed 
 Within the harbour, Montreal, the port 
 Of Canada, and once its chiefest fort. 
 
 ir. 
 
 And, winding through the valley, I can see 
 St. Lawrence river, and the fields beyond 
 
 Of corn and pasture land. The scenery 
 Reminds me of my native land, and fond. 
 
 Yet sad and sorrow-laden, memories 
 
 Possess me as the vision meets my eyes. 
 
 
 1^' 
 It 
 
 itf 
 
 1 t!. •' 
 
 
 
50 
 
 THE SONd OF TIIK KXILK. 
 
 III. 
 
 My native land ! still, still I think of thee ; 
 
 By day and night the oft-recurring thought 
 Brings intermingled pain and joy to me. 
 
 And oft I curse the fortune which has brought 
 These days of exile and of solitude 
 To one who longs for peace and quietude. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My life has not been sinless, yet what sin 
 Have I -ommitted that my punishment 
 
 Should be so great ! An aching heart within 
 Still makes me sorrowful. Why was I sent. 
 
 Far from my home, to wander lonely here, 
 
 Apart from those whose love I hold so dear } 
 
 I met and loved her whom I may not wed. 
 And, ere I knew that she could not be mine, 
 
 I thought that God upoh my life had shed 
 A brighter light than had been wont to shine. 
 
 And, sure, this power cometh from above ; 
 
 lie teachef.h us to love, whose name is Love. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 M 
 
 And since He giveth us this love, oh ! why 
 Doth He not smooth the path of love, and hear 
 
 The prayer of those who in their anguish cry 
 To Him for help, and in their godly fear 
 
 Rely upon His aid ? And why hath He 
 
 Prepared this pain and agony for me ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Be still my soul ; it is not thine to take 
 Thy God to task. Canst thou forget the pain 
 
 And agony He suffered for thy sake ? 
 Or canst remember these and not restrain 
 
 Thyself from challenging thy God ? Be still, 
 
 And bow submissive to thy Father's will. 
 
 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Twas man condemned me to a life of woe, 
 
 And 'twas not God. The pride of man hath said 
 
 That I must suffer thus. It must be so 
 Because the baronet was nobler bred. 
 
 Oh, cruel, cruel wrong ! Oh mockery ! 
 
 That bluer blood should sever her from me ! 
 
 k. 
 
 \ ]k 
 
 ' '1 
 
 t' 1 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 r i 
 
 
 1 
 
 hi 
 
 1^. J 
 
 ,i . 
 
52 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Give thanks to God, Canadians, that ye 
 Have not been cursed with nobility. 
 
 And, as you love your country, keep it free 
 From those whose utter inutility 
 
 For any good is proven by their pride 
 
 Of blood ; they have not aught to boast beside. 
 
 A noble land is yours, and ye may well 
 Be proud of her. And here before me lies 
 
 Your greatest city. Would that I could tell 
 One-half the tales of brave self-sacrifice 
 
 Which those who founded Montreal had shown, 
 
 Ere yet the name of Canada was known. 
 
 XI. 
 
 But, should I strive to speak of every deed 
 Of sacrifice and brave endurance borne 
 
 By all your heroes, I should feel the need 
 Of greater time, and heart less sorrow-worn ; 
 
 Nor have the Muses so inspired my pen 
 
 That I can fitly praise those noble men. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 Si 
 
 XIL 
 
 Yet would I strive to sing as best I may 
 Of him who landed first upon th^s shore ; 
 
 I fain would speak of hardy Cartier : 
 
 His ship the first St Lawrence ever bore ; 
 
 His face the first pale-face the Indians 
 
 Had seen ; his deeds well merit utterance. 
 
 xni. 
 
 Three centuries and half a century 
 
 Have sped their course since Cartier set sail 
 
 From France, intent upon discovery. 
 
 He oft had heard the wonder-stirring tale 
 
 Of distant lands possessed of mighty wealth ; 
 
 These now he would discover for himself. 
 
 «i 
 
 m 
 
 
 
 XIT. 
 
 And westward sailing on his unknown way, 
 In course of time he met his due reward ; 
 
 And sailed this noble river on the day 
 Made holy to St. Lawrence. He implored 
 
 The blessing of the Saint upon his aim, 
 
 And called the gulf and river by his name. 
 
 $i 
 
54 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Then, landing on the wooded shore, he knelt 
 Before his God, and offered up a prayer 
 
 To Him, to show the gratitude he felt 
 
 Towards the God whose hand had brought him there 
 
 In safety. And he asked for further aid 
 
 And guidance in the land where now he stayed. 
 
 ii 
 
 
 XVI. 
 
 When men were more unlearned than they are 
 
 In this our present scientific day. 
 The earth to heaven seemed to be more near, 
 
 And God Himself appeared less far away. 
 For deeds accomplished, or for blessings given. 
 Due praise was offered to the God of Heaven. 
 
 ^1 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But now our wise philosophers, and those 
 Whose scientific knowledge is so vast 
 
 That he who knows what has escaped them knows 
 What is not worth the knowing ; these, at last, 
 
 Have reached to such a pinnacle of pride. 
 
 That God Himself is little by their side. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 In truth, their learning has become so great 
 That their imagination can conceive 
 
 No being mightier than they, and, straight. 
 In God's existence they will not believe. 
 
 And men untutored listen to their word. 
 
 And deem those foolish who believe the Lord. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 But Cartier was living in an age 
 When Science in her cradle was asleep. 
 
 And men accounted not themselves too sage 
 To bow to God in prayer, nor to reap 
 
 The benefits which only can accrue 
 
 To those whose faith in God is pure and true. 
 
 9w 
 
 
 t 
 
 
 XX. 
 
 So he besought a blessing from his Lord 
 Before he re-embarked ; then, setting sail, 
 
 The newly-christened river he explored, 
 Till, favored by a gently-blowing gale, 
 
 He reached the Hochelaga settlement 
 
 Of Indians, and thence no further went. 
 
 :>| 
 
 ! M 
 
 ' M 
 
 '1 
 •■1 
 
 '1- 
 
 ■i 
 
 I ; ■■;>H 
 
 € 
 
 f 
 
 
56 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 A hundred years elapsed, and then there came 
 A little band from France to yonder isle ; 
 
 To found a mission and a fort their aim ; 
 
 And there they laboured for their faith, the while 
 
 Protecting them as best they might from those 
 
 Who proved themselves their fierce and bitter foes. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 The Iroquois, by cruel hate possessed. 
 
 Left not a chance untaken to obtain 
 A reeking scalp ; and fiercely they oppressed 
 
 The little band, whose suffering and pain. 
 In Montreal and all throughout the land, 
 Seemed more than human frailty could withstand. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 But Maisonneuve and they who followed him 
 Were bent upon a high and holy aim ; 
 
 Their undertaking was no foolish whim, 
 Nor had they come for honour or for fame. 
 
 A Jesuitic band, they sought to win 
 
 Those Indians from a life of death and sin. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 57 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 They sought to win them to the faith which they 
 Themselves possessed, and thought it not a hard, 
 
 Nor yet an unexpected, thing to lay 
 Their own lives down to win them. Their reward 
 
 They counted not to win on earth, but knew 
 
 That each in Heaven would gain the glory due. 
 
 t ! 
 \ 1 ' 
 
 XXV. 
 
 What though the Jesuitic creed be not 
 
 As true and generous a faith as that 
 Which we profess ; what though a bloody blot 
 
 Has stained its page of history ; the great 
 And worthy deeds those fathers wrought should raise 
 A feeling in our hearts of loving praise. 
 
 m 
 
 ■-<i 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 They suffered for their God and for their Pope ; 
 
 They suffered for their faith, to them as true 
 And pure as ours to us, and in the hope 
 
 That God would bless their labours, and endue 
 
 The savage Indians with a softer heart, 
 
 And give them with the blessed ones a part. 
 4 
 
58 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXV II 
 
 They merit praise and honour, but the cause 
 
 For which they laboured merits none of these ; 
 
 A cruel creed, with harsh and bloody laws, 
 The very name of Christ it travesties. 
 
 An evil Order, working in the name 
 
 Of Christianity dark deeds of shame. 
 
 
 I 1 
 
 I 
 
 xxvjn. 
 
 He whom they call their Master suffered not 
 His followers to mingle in the strife 
 
 Of politics — not such their chosen lot ; 
 Theirs to prepare men for a higher life. 
 
 And yet He bade them to their king be true. 
 
 And offer unto Caesar all his due. i' 
 
 xxix. 
 
 But this do not the Jesuits ; they fain 
 Would undermine the power of the land 
 
 In which they dwell, and every effort strain 
 To take the civil sceptre in their hand. 
 
 They creep, as serpents, smoothly on their prey, 
 
 But subtly spread their poison in the way. 
 
 C 
 
 T 
 T 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 59 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And these, Canadians, have found a home 
 Within your shores. Ye know not what ye do 
 
 In harb'ring them. Be sure the day will come 
 When ye will bitterly and sadly rue 
 
 Your action. Other lands will not permit 
 
 The entrance of the hated Jesuit. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But why should I presume to thus dictate 
 To ye } And what know I of all the things 
 
 Which influence your Ministers of State, 
 That I should utter forth these murmurings ? 
 
 By greed and selfish motives unpossessed, 
 
 They, in their wisdom, must do what is best ! 
 
 '■ ■ f.: . 
 
 \<} K? 
 
 ■if 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 I stand upon the hill at Ottawa, 
 
 And stretching wide before me lies a scene • 
 Of pretty lowland country. Near and far, 
 
 The river Ottawa winds on between 
 The wooded slopes and meadow-lands, where lie 
 The lazy cattle chewiftg silently. 
 

 I! 
 
 60 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 The scene is unimposing ; there is nought 
 Of grandeur or magnificence displayed ; 
 
 But by its quiet prettiness is brought - 
 A sense of calm enjoyment — hill and glade 
 
 And peaceful meadow, all alike suggest 
 
 Sweet thoughts of still serenity and rest. 
 
 xxxrv. ' 
 
 The face of Nature, for the student's mind, 
 Provides a subject inexhaustible. 
 
 And, in its study, weary men may find 
 A solace for the troubles caused by all 
 
 The sorrows and afflictions which must be 
 
 The lot of all, of high or low degree. ' 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The mountain, by its grandeur, testifies 
 To His omnipotence who placed it there ; 
 
 The rushing, mighty torrent vcifies 
 
 His ceaseless working ; and His constant care 
 
 And kindliness is proven by the still 
 
 And growing meadow, and the purling rill. ' 
 
THE SONCl OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Thus, whatsoever his environment, 
 
 The sorrow-stricken one can find a balm. 
 Which should assuage his moody discontent. 
 
 Replacing it by trustfulness and calm. 
 
 For God reveals Himself in every place. 
 
 And writes His presence on Creation's face. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 And here I feel a quiet peace unfelt 
 
 In all my solitary wanderings 
 Before. My heavy troubles seem to melt 
 
 Away, and Faith a calm contentment brings, 
 And all my misery aside is thrown ; 
 He cares for me who cares for all His own. 
 
 6i 
 
 M- 
 
 'V.\ 
 
 l\fV 
 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 A pile majestic and magnificent, 
 Of lofty buildings, stands upon this hill ; 
 
 Unequalled elsewhere on the continent, 
 It well bespeaks the architective skill 
 
 Displayed in this our nineteenth century ; 
 
 And clothes the city with its dignity. 
 
i: 
 
 62 
 
 TIIK SONd OF TirK EXILE. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Within these walls are gathered in debate 
 The statesmen and the legislators, who 
 
 Are learned in the matters of the State. 
 Alike to God and to their country true 
 
 These men should be, and high above the rest 
 
 Exalted, seeking not self-interest. 
 
 XL. 
 
 These hold the country's welfare in their hand. 
 
 A mighty trust to them has been consigned. 
 They know their duty, and should understand 
 
 What acts will echo best the people's mind ; 
 And they should act, in matters small or great, 
 As wisdom and their consciences dictate. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Thus should they act, but thus do not they all, 
 But mildly bow to their Dictator's bid ; 
 
 They fear to disobey him, lest they fall 
 Quick victims to his anger, or be chid 
 
 Severely by the leader, in whose power 
 
 It lies to give his slaves official dower. 
 
TFIK SONC OV TIIK KXILK. 
 
 63 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Thus is a heavy premium placed upon 
 A blind obedience and servih'ty ; 
 
 And high position hardly can be won 
 Except by meekness and docility^: 
 
 By meekness where assertion would be right ; 
 
 By weak docility where should be might. 
 
 XLHI. 
 
 And they, the Ministers of State, who hold 
 The gift of the office and the nation's trust, 
 
 From long retained authority grow bold, 
 And, almost flagrantly, they dare adjust 
 
 The national affairs in such a way 
 
 As best will serve them, and protract their sway. 
 
 ^m 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 But not too far do they attempt to go 
 In serving self. There stands an arbiter 
 
 To whom they must appeal ; were this not so, 
 Their conscientiousness might not deter 
 
 The country's servants from committing deeds 
 
 To hinder which their shame now intercedes. 
 
64 
 
 TIIK SONd OK TIIK KXILK. 
 
 1 
 
 XI.V. 
 
 And yet, methinks, the arbiter to whom 
 They must appeal is far too liberal, 
 
 Or far too careles^. When the day has come 
 In which a judgment must be given on all 
 
 The actions of their Ministers of State, 
 
 The people are too mild and moderate. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Or they forget the misdeeds of the past — 
 Misdeeds which well deserve a harder name, 
 
 And which at first provoked a stormy blast 
 Of anger, and aroused a sense of shame 
 
 Within the people's hearts — these are forgot. 
 
 Though on the Nation's life they leave a blot. 
 
 XLvn. 
 
 They are forgot ; for party feelings run 
 
 More high than love of country, and the man, 
 
 Who can defeat the chosen champion 
 Of an opposing party, will obtain 
 
 A full forgiveness for his deeds of shame, 
 
 And crown himself with all a hero's fame. 
 
Till-: SONC. OK TIIK KXILK. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 ,6$ 
 
 Not Liberal and not Conservative 
 
 Alone compels my wrath ; to either party 
 
 My feeble but impartial pen would give 
 A condemnation passionate and hearty ; 
 
 Each sees the wreck the Catholic has made 
 
 In Canada, and each implores his aid. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Each begs support for only selfish ends ; 
 
 , Unfired with love for Britain's Queen they cry, 
 
 And seek to make the Catholics their friends 
 
 For party purposes ; their loyalty 
 Bombastically swearing, each bows down 
 To those inimical to Britain's Crown. 
 
 
 ■i 
 ■ J 
 
 '• i 
 i1 
 
 *Tis hate of bigotry, they glibly shout, 
 
 Impels their tolerance : Oh ! take that word 
 
 And bid the feet of License crush it out ; 
 For License now is undisputed lord. 
 
 Let not the bigot live, — dul nurse the snake 
 
 That brings the Inquisition in its wake ! 
 
 
66 
 
 TUK SONf; OF "UK KXILK. 
 
 LI. 
 
 See where, in old Quebec, its Premier 
 Uplifts the Tricolor, and waves it high. 
 
 While shouts un-English rend the poisoned air 
 To greet the new-born Nationality ; 
 
 And hear Ontario's Minister confess 
 
 His joy for this, a Liberal success ! 
 
 LII. 
 
 And is it bigotry to interfere 
 
 When treason stalks triumphant through the land ? 
 Will none but bigots hear the traitors cheer. 
 
 Nor long to raise aloft the armed han J ? 
 Your ancestors would not account it so ; 
 And English hearts would burn to strike the bJov/. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Tear down that flag! in God's name and the Queen's. 
 
 Will not the Red Cross Banner rouse your zeal ? 
 Tear down that flag ! and let who intervenes 
 
 Bite hard the dust beneath your iron heel. 
 Tear down that flag ! — Oh, Canada ! bow, bow 
 Your shameful head in deep contrition now. 
 
THE SONC; OF THK EXILE. 
 
 67 
 
 LIV. 
 
 What wonder, since your party deeds alone 
 Absorb your thought and wake your energy, 
 
 That insurrection's seeds are widely sown, 
 And voice is given to dark disloyalty ? 
 
 Ye clothe your land in insurrection's dress, 
 
 \nd nurse disloyalty, by callousness. 
 
 ", I 
 
 ■,m 
 
 LV, 
 
 And I, though sojourning a stranger here, 
 Will dare to raise my voice in condemnation. 
 
 When words unwelcome to an English ear 
 Are heard re-echoing without cessation ; 
 
 The while accursed party interests 
 
 Drive patriotic thoughts from out your breasts. 
 
 m 
 
 tens. 
 
 , LVI. 
 
 I marvel not that politicians stand 
 
 In ill repute with honourable men. 
 While, through the length and breadth of this fair land. 
 
 They mark themselves with party's evil stain. 
 And enter in the field of politics 
 For selfish ends attained by shameless tricks. 
 
6S 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE, 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Yet are not politicians in one mould 
 
 All fashioned ; there are honest men and true 
 
 Who serve their country, not for love of gold 
 Or fame, but for the good that they can do. 
 
 Would God that these, and these alone, held sway 
 
 Within your senates, Canada, to-day ! 
 
 Lvni. 
 
 But politics shall occupy my thought 
 No more. I turn with deep relief away 
 
 From that which lack of principle has brought 
 To premature and undeserved decay. 
 
 Perchance, from out the ashes where it lies, 
 
 True statesmanship may, pi cenix-like, arise. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 The sun is setting, and its shining rays 
 Reflect them redly on the river's breast. 
 
 Which now an iridescent gleam displays, 
 Which, like a mighty opal, is possessed 
 
 With ever-changing hues of brilliancy ; 
 
 As sets the sun their light I still can see. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 69 
 
 le 
 
 way 
 
 LX. 
 
 The twilight hour approaches — silent hour • 
 For calm reflection or communion, 
 
 When, in a quiet, unfrequented bower, 
 Fond lovers whisper as they sit alone. 
 
 And I would send a greeting to the one 
 
 Whose heart with mine still beats in unison. 
 
 t 
 
 iM 
 
 II 
 
 m 
 
 My Love, my own Sweetheart, 
 Let sorrow not be thine, 
 
 Though still we live apart, 
 The lamp of Hope must shine. 
 
 
 
 And, shedding on our path 
 The light of trustfulness 
 
 And never-failing faith, 
 'Twill make our sorrow less. 
 
 Let Hope then ever be 
 
 At home within thy breast, 
 
 And know God loveth thee, 
 And knoweth what is best. 
 
.1- 
 
 70 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 I 
 
 He carcth for the trees, 
 For every beast and bird ; 
 
 And thinkest thou thy pleas 
 In Heaven are unheard ? 
 
 Nay, God has heard each prayer, 
 And He will answer thee. 
 
 Trust to His loving care. 
 And live thou patiently. 
 
 And when the looked-for day 
 
 Of happiness and rest 
 Has come, we both shall say : 
 
 " God truly knew the best." 
 
 And fondly to my heart 
 
 I'll press thee, dearest Life ; 
 
 And none us two shall part, 
 For thou wilt be my wife. 
 
 •J,.*;. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 71 
 
 l\\ 
 
 CANTO THE FOURTH. 
 
 Toronto, on its island-girded bay, 
 
 Full well protected from the storms which blow 
 Across the lake, stands proudly, as well may 
 
 The capital of all Ontario. 
 So situate, its properties beguile. 
 Inviting me to pause and rest awhile. 
 
 
 !^ I 
 
 n. 
 
 When young America (then recently 
 An independent nation, full of pride 
 
 Engendered by her new-born dignity). 
 Would sever Canada from England's side, 
 
 She sent an armed fleet across the lake. 
 
 This town to capture and its fort to take. 
 
 r 
 
 >i, sli 
 
 f 
 
I 
 
 72 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 III. 
 
 Six hundred soldiers only guarded then 
 
 The little fort ; but in their veins there flowed 
 
 The blood of proud and valiant Englishmen. 
 And in their hearts a bitter hatred glowed 
 
 Against the nation, whose unjust attack 
 
 But urged them on to drive the invader back. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And, though the force opposing them was nigh 
 Three times the number of their own, yet still 
 
 They fought against their landing valiantly. 
 Contending with a fierce and dogged will. 
 
 But numbers overpowered the gallant band, 
 
 And soon the foe was safe upon the land. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then inch by inch contested they the ground, 
 Determined not to yield to quick defeat ; 
 
 But, bravely though they fought, ere long they found 
 Themselves compelled to beat a slow retreat. 
 
 But, falling back before the enemy. 
 
 They lost not yet the hope of victory. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 73 
 
 vr. 
 
 Meanwhile the enemy advanced within 
 Two hundred yards of where the garrison 
 
 Was quartered. Sudden ceased the battle's din, 
 And he who led the invading army on 
 
 Gave orders for a halt, in expectation 
 
 Of winning now the fort's capitulation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Then, as they halted, sudden a report. 
 
 As of an earthquake, rent the trembling air. 
 
 And, midst the debris of the scattered fort, 
 Two hundred slain Americans lay there. 
 
 The British had retreated, but had fired 
 
 The powder-magazine as they retired. 
 
 J r -J ' 
 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Th' enraged Americans accounted this 
 An act of baseness and of perfidy. 
 
 I know not what the law of slaughter is, 
 But this I know, that they can hardly be 
 
 Renowned for faith and truth to honour's code. 
 
 Whose lives are spent in butchery and blood. 
 5 
 
M 
 
 
 74 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The man's environment perfects the man, 
 And each can choose his own environment. 
 
 And each can either cause to die, or fan 
 To brighter life, the seed or rudiment 
 
 Of good or evil moral tendency 
 
 Acquired, or inbred by heredity. 
 
 X. 
 
 And he who chooses warfare as the life 
 
 Most suited to his predilections, he 
 Who finds his happiness in constant strife, 
 
 Will hardly honour peace and amity. 
 In bloodshed living, gentle virtues all 
 A victim to his martial taste will fall. 
 
 XI. 
 
 In ancient days, when men were more uncouth 
 Than now they are, it might be well, perchance, 
 
 That they should study warfare, for, in sooth, 
 The man who knew not how to poise the lance 
 
 Or wield the mighty battle-axe, was then 
 
 Despised and scorned by all his fellow-men. 
 
 
THK SONC. OF TIIK KXILK. 
 
 75 
 
 XII. 
 
 But now the code of honour should not be 
 
 As crude and rough as in that ancient day. 
 
 The onward march of Christianity 
 
 Should sweep the sword and battle-axe away ; 
 And Love, the creed which Christ our Master taught, 
 
 Should bring the pride of martial skill to nought. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Let man still glory in the strength and might 
 That God has given him. But it were well 
 
 That he should use it not at all to fight 
 
 Against his fellow-men. He still can dwell 
 
 In peace with them, and yet retain the power 
 
 Which is his great and justly-valued dovv r. 
 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I turn me from the thoughts of war, and gaze 
 With pleased eyes upon this little bay. 
 
 So bright a scene, in all my exiled days, 
 I have not looked upon ; and like a ray 
 
 Of light upon my darkened life it seems, 
 
 Reviving hope within me by its beams. 
 
76 
 
 TIIK SONr. OK TIIK KXILK, 
 
 XV. 
 
 The bay is dotted with a hundred boats, 
 And brightly on the sail of many a skiff 
 
 The evening sun is shining, as it floats 
 Upon the water, shining thus as if 
 
 To tell the little skiff, as on she goes. 
 
 That he will guard her from tempestuous foes. 
 
 ii 
 
 .11 
 
 i 
 
 XVI. 
 
 In every boat I see, a maiden fair 
 Accompanies the rower, and the sound 
 
 Of merriment and laughter on the air 
 Arises, softly echoing around. 
 
 And all seem bright and happy, and have one 
 
 To keep them so — I only sit alone. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 I sit alone as they pass joyous by, 
 
 Nor note my presence ; or, if they should see, 
 Their eyes but rest upon mc absently, 
 
 Then turn away. They all are strange to me. 
 And I to them. More lonely is my mood 
 Here, than in Nature's wildest solitude. 
 
I 
 
 THE SONC. OF^ THE EXILE. 
 
 77 
 
 Will. 
 
 A pang of emulation, so severe 
 
 'Tis almost envy, now possesses me ; 
 And, were I woman, many a bitter tear 
 
 Would course my cheeks. But now I am not free 
 To weep ; my heart, though throbbing in its pain, 
 Uneased and comfortless must yet remain. 
 
 ' 1 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Why stand I thus, and gaze upon this scene, 
 Since gazing but rewakes the pain that slept ? 
 
 I had not thought that I should thus have been 
 So quickly cheated of the strength which kept 
 
 My heart from sorrowing. My pliant thought. 
 
 Suspecting not this subtlety, was caught, 
 
 XX. 
 
 And I was self-deceived, as many more 
 
 Before have been. Man estimates his power 
 
 By what he ivould do ; and but little store 
 
 Can well be placed on this, what time the hour 
 
 Of trial approaches. For 'tis sadly true, 
 
 Man often cannot what he wills to do. 
 
78 
 
 TIIK SONd ()[' TlIK EXILK. 
 
 1 
 
 XXI. 
 
 His strength is not so great as he had thought 
 It would be ; and perchance, the hour of trial 
 
 Has come and gone, and quick defeat has brought, 
 Without his recognition. But denial 
 
 That it has come he dare not now put forth, 
 
 His plain defeat would make it little worth. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And such defeat, unnoted and unseen 
 
 Till it had passed, has been my own to-day ; 
 
 And, with a sense of mortified chagrin, 
 I turn me from the pleasing view away. 
 
 And in the busy city seek to find 
 
 A new diversion to engage my mind. 
 
 xxni. 
 
 
 How pleasing are thy streets and avenues, 
 Toronto ! And what massive buildings rise 
 
 Adorning them ! I cannot now but choose 
 To speak my admiration. Yet it lies 
 
 Beyond my power to praise as others might, 
 
 More rich than I in words, this noble sight. 
 
TiiK s()N(; OK Tin: kxilk. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 79 
 
 One mighty pile stands out pre-eminent 
 Among the rest — thy University, 
 
 So builded that itself will represent 
 Its purpose, and to see it is to be 
 
 Convinced, ere word of mouth so testifies, 
 
 That 'tv/as designed for classic purposes. 
 
 ^1 
 
 < 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The square-built tow'r, the pillared entrance-way, 
 The massive doors, and this encolumned porch. 
 
 Proclaim that here stern Learning holdeth sway, 
 And here the classic Muse illumes her torch. 
 
 And, standing thus, a grand, imposing whole, 
 
 It well may awe my poor untutored soul. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 I wander on along the tree-girt streets. 
 Admiring, by compulsion, all the view. 
 
 So pleasing is each changing sight that greets 
 My eye, as thus I slowly wander through 
 
 The city, that had Fate not bid me roam 
 
 In exile, here I'd gladly make my home, 
 
 ,!«,■ r; 
 
n 
 
 80 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 xxvii. 
 
 Here happy homes surround me, but the sight 
 
 Of happiness is but a mockery 
 To me. My Hfe is like a darkened night, 
 
 And happiness was not prepared for me ; 
 And rankest disappointment, unalloyed 
 With hope, my trustful patience has destroyed. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Toronto, fare thee well ! I cannot .stay 
 Within thy gates. Eternal restlessness 
 
 Possesses me. I must pursue my way, 
 Though other cities will impress me less 
 
 Than thou hast done. My native land apart, 
 
 Thou standest first in this my weary heart. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Niagara's small village quiet lies 
 
 Where flows the river in the open lake. 
 
 The thought of long-past actions sanctifies 
 
 This little spot. For those brave soldiers' sake 
 
 Who gladly gave their lives a snrrifice 
 
 To country, it is hallowed in my ej'es. 
 
THE SONC. OF THE EXILE. 
 
 8i 
 
 xxx. 
 
 Here Britain's sons, and here Canadians 
 Were slaughtered by the ruthless enemy, 
 
 Who swept the country o'er in furtherance 
 Of their unjust desire to gratify 
 
 Their evil wish, to tear from England's hand 
 
 The part still left her in this Western land. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Americans, how sadly should ye mourn 
 The action of your rulers on that day, 
 
 When unrelenting enmity was sworn 
 
 Against your fathers' land. Ye caimot say, 
 
 As six and thirty years before ye said. 
 
 That gross oppression justified your deed. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Nay, ye were youncj, and, in ambition's youth, 
 Ye sought to raise you to a greater state, 
 
 And waited not to think of honour's truth. 
 But rushed to war in hope to alienate 
 
 The fair domain of Canada, which lay, 
 
 Apparently, a not unwilling prey. 
 

 82 
 
 THE SONG OI'^ THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Speak not of Council Orders,* nor essay 
 To prove that these alone provoked the war. 
 
 The orders were rescinded ere the day 
 
 Of fighting broke.-f Not these ye battled for. 
 
 Nor did the Rights of Search :|: enrage ye so 
 
 As to compel your being England's foe. 
 
 * " The Berlin Decree" of Napoleon, issued November i, 1806, 
 declared a blockade of the entire British coast. * * * Great 
 Britain retaliated by the celebrated " Oiders-in-Council," which de- 
 clared all traffic with France contraband, and the vessels prosecuting it, 
 with their cargoes, were seized. These restrictions pressed heavily on 
 the neutrals, especially the United States, which now engrossed much 
 of the carrying trade of the world. — li it/irozd' s History of Canada, 
 p. 301. 
 
 + War was precipitately declared June 18, 1812. * * Almost 
 
 simultaaeously the obnoxious " Orders-in-Council," the chief ostensible 
 cause of the war, were repealed. — Ibid, p. 303. 
 
 X Another cause conspired to fan the war feeling to a flame. Great 
 Britain, pressed by the difficulty of managing her immense fleets, 
 asserted the "right of search" of American vessels for deserters from 
 lier army. The U. S. frigate Chesapeake resisted this right, though 
 sanctioned by international law.- Ibid, p. 302. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE 
 
 83 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Yc wanted more dominion — this alone 
 
 Provoked your action ; and, since every nation 
 
 In Europe in a state of war was thrown, 
 Your action merits not such condemnation 
 
 As otherwise it would. The rage of war 
 
 Is quickly spread to nations near and far. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 But 'tis not mine to speak of that campaign, 
 Whose battles raged from Fort Niagara 
 
 To Queenston Heights and far-famed Lundy's Lane ; 
 Nor yet abated until Chippewa, 
 
 Black Rock, and Buffalo were summoned all 
 
 To war and bloodshed by the bugle call. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Too long I've dwelt on deeds of war, yet one 
 Brave deed remains which must not be untold ; 
 
 One act — by which a gallant fight was won, 
 One act — by which two noble lives were sold. 
 
 This only act recounting, I will ceaee 
 
 To speak of war, and court the nuisc of peace. 
 
 \< .. 
 
84 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 xxxvir. 
 
 On Queenston Heights the battle raged, and far 
 Around was heard its long-continued roar. 
 
 It echoed loudly where Niagara 
 
 Lies nestling on Ontario's green shore. 
 
 It echoed loudly, nor escaped the ear 
 
 Of him whose gallant heart was steeled to fear. 
 
 j 
 
 I rl 
 
 xxxvin. 
 
 The noble Brock paused not when thus he heard 
 The sound of warfare. Turning to his aide, 
 
 He bade him hastily to give the word 
 
 To saddle horse. Then rapidly they made 
 
 Their way across the country to the heig^% 
 
 And soon were in the thickest of the fight. 
 
 xxxix. 
 
 In numbers far unequal to the foe, 
 The British had retired. The battery 
 
 Was taken by the enemy ; though slow. 
 Defeat for Britain seemed a certainty ; 
 
 When Brock arrived upon the battle-field, 
 
 And bade them form again, nor ever \'iekl. 
 
THE SONC; OF THE EXILE. 
 
 85 
 
 XL. 
 
 Himself then leading, onward to the fray 
 
 They charged, restrengthened by his confidence ; 
 
 And soon they saw the enemy give way, 
 Retiring slowly from the eminence. 
 
 The day was theirs, the tide of battle turned. 
 
 But dearly was that day of victory earned ! 
 
 xu. 
 
 The noble Brock would raise his sword no more ; 
 
 No more his cheering word would lead them on. 
 His soul had passed away from scenes of war ; 
 
 His latest battle had been fought and won. 
 And with his spirit, in its upward flight, 
 The soul of young Macdonell passed that night. 
 
 xui. 
 
 A lofty monument, upon the Height 
 
 Where fell these two, commemorates their deed. 
 There stands it, tow'ring high within the sight 
 
 Of either Land. Thus let it stand, and plead, 
 In silent mournfulness, that further feud 
 Between the Lands shall never be renewed. 
 
:' kl 
 
 it.-' 
 
 ■ ! "i. '! 
 
 
 i'Hl 
 
 86 
 
 TIFF, SONd OF TIIF FXILK. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 For we are brothers still — the bond of blood 
 Unites us closely, and, though each has done 
 
 The other wrong, unselfish deeds and good, 
 
 Which since have been exchanged, should quite atone 
 
 For injuries long past. Then clasp our hand, 
 
 America. As brothers let us stand. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 I wander up the river's bank, m^ thought 
 
 Still dwelling on those troublous times of yore. 
 
 Until my mind by slow degrees is brought 
 To present times and scenes. A distant roar 
 
 At first recalls me from my reverie, 
 
 Then bids me trace my steps less tardily. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 I know not why, yet, as I press my way 
 Towards the world-renowned Falls, I feel 
 
 A thrill of awe, which words may not convey 
 Description of. The feeling may be real 
 
 Or fanciful, but now my trembling soul 
 
 Seems nearer God, and more in His control. 
 
TIIK SONd OF Tlir. KXIT.K. 
 
 «V 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Majestic Falls ! What little words of mine 
 Can paint thy grandeur ? How can I essay 
 
 To picture such unpictured might as thine ? 
 And yet I would not silent pass away, 
 
 And carry with me nothing that recalls 
 
 The grandeur of Niagara's proud Falls. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 On, on, tumultuous waters, ever on 
 Unceasingly ye rush, and blindly leap 
 
 From giddy heights, in volume all unknown, 
 Down, down the jagged /ock-protruding steep, 
 
 And, ever breaking as ye downward go. 
 
 Burst forth in show'rs like iridescent snow. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Here, rolling in unbroken shining green. 
 Your waters smoothly curve them o'er the cliff. 
 
 No sign of foam or bubbling break is seen 
 As in their glassy depth they roll, as if 
 
 While all around is wreck and chaos wild, 
 
 They dare to flow conspicuously mild. 
 
88 
 
 THE SONC. OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 And here again they break while rushing o'er 
 Some rugged rock — a million flecks of spray 
 
 Rise, high projected in the air ; before 
 These fall, or in the sunlight melt away, 
 
 A new-born cloud, in high-aspiring pride. 
 
 Bursts forth, and casts its foam-drops far and wide. 
 
 T>. 
 
 And each new cloud a thing of life appears, 
 And each leaps forth as though its wild intent 
 
 Were solely to out-distance its compeers, 
 
 And rise more high than they. And each seems bent 
 
 On reaching to a height unreached before, 
 
 And tells its purpose in a muffled roar. 
 
 LI. 
 
 While, far below, a rocky destiny 
 
 Awaits the mighty waters. Loud resounds 
 
 The roaring of their falling constantly. 
 
 While from the rocks the foaming mass rebounds ; 
 
 And upward rising, far above the height, 
 
 A mist half hides the waters from my sight. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 89 
 
 I 11 
 
 Lir. 
 
 The evening sun illumes the rising spray, 
 And forms a bow in beauty unsurpassed. 
 
 Above the Falls it bends its glist'ning ray, 
 While in the deep its radiance is cast. 
 
 And, as the mist or fades or thickens, so 
 
 It breaks or forms again the changing bow. 
 
 LHI. 
 
 Above the Falls the rushing rapids rage, 
 In awesome grandeur only less than they. 
 
 Thus have they madly tossed from age to age. 
 And thus have galloped on their heedless way. 
 
 In ceaseless ferment, and in constant change. 
 
 Wide o'er their rocky area they range. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Now foaming whitely, now in rippling waves 
 Unbroken, haste they onward to their fate ; 
 
 Each speeding hurriedly as though it craves 
 An early death. So reckless is the rate 
 
 Which some pursue, that, with a sudden shock, 
 
 They burst in foam-clouds on a hidden rock. 
 
 e 
 
90 THE SONG OF Tlir: KXILK. 
 
 LV. 
 
 Rush on, ye mighty waters, and declare 
 
 To self-conceited man his littleness ; 
 Rush on, and give your music to the air, 
 
 And calm our thoughts and make our sorrows less ; 
 For as a friend by words of sympathy 
 Can soothe us, by your music so can ye. 
 
 LVl. 
 
 For in your music we can hear the voice 
 
 Of Him whose hand hath made both ye and us , 
 
 And we, in deepest gratitude, rejoice. 
 
 And thank Him who has made ye so. And thus, 
 
 While listening to your music-roar to-day, 
 
 I seem to hear the Spirit speak and say : 
 
 Lvn. 
 
 " As constant roll these waters o'er the steep. 
 So ceaselessly thy Father watcheth thee ; 
 
 As day and night they run, and never sleep, 
 So woi keth He throughout eternity ; 
 
 And as their volume's measure is unknown, 
 
 So boundless is His love towards His own. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 91 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " Then fear not, troubled soul, nor seek to know 
 What destiny has been prepared for thee. 
 
 Thou seest these mighty waters onward flow, 
 Conforming thus to all their Lord's decree — 
 
 Then live thou as thy conscience bids thee live, 
 
 And know that God due recompense will give." 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Rush on, ye waters, with your message fraught 
 Of constant love and care of God ; rush on 
 
 Through lake and ocean, until ye have brought 
 Your message to the One whose love has shone 
 
 Through darkness on my life ; and bear from mc 
 
 A message, too, of love and constancy. 
 
 Though far I roam from thee, 
 My fondest Love, my thought 
 
 To theeward constantly 
 
 By love's dear bond is brought. 
 

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92 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Whatever I hear or see, 
 If not thy voice or face, 
 
 Has interest for me 
 For but a little space. 
 
 And, whatso'er befall, 
 It little recks to me, 
 
 If it be not a call. 
 To summon me to thee. 
 
 My widowed spirit cries 
 Aloud for her twin-soul ; 
 
 My heart in sorrow lies, 
 And needs thee to console. 
 
 Thus all my being faints. 
 And for thy presence pants ; 
 
 In sorrowful complaints 
 It mourns our severance. 
 
 Then, dearest one, think not 
 That we shall never be 
 
 United— such a lot 
 Is not for thee and me. 
 
 And when at last we meet, 
 (As is our destiny), 
 
 In commune pure and sweet 
 We'll live eternally. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 93 
 
 CANTO THE FIFTH. 
 
 Around, both far and wide, on every hand 
 
 The prairie all environs me ; I see 
 Nought save a stretch of green and treeless land, 
 
 Conspicuous alone for nudity : 
 A sea of earth, a boundless stretch unspanned 
 Except by Heaven's broad horizon-band. 
 
 II. 
 
 The very vastness of its sameness lends 
 A fascination which it else had not ; 
 
 And here my sense of solitude transcends 
 What I have felt on any other spot : 
 
 Of solitude, yet not of loneliness, 
 
 For God seems present, and His distance less. 
 
94 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 III. 
 
 
 The sea alone of Nature's works can vie 
 With this in sohtude. None else can be 
 
 Compared to it. Here 'neath his Maker's eye 
 The creature seems to stand more openly 
 
 Than elsewhere Here his very solitude 
 
 Makes man appear by God more nearly viewed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet is not here God's awful ness displayed ; 
 
 His kindliness and mercy more appear ; 
 For flow'rs, the precious emblems He has made 
 
 Of graciousness, in plenitude are here. 
 In rich profusion blooming unconfined, 
 They seem to whisper softly : " God is kind." 
 
 % 
 
 Yet break they not the solitude ; nor can 
 The works of Nature break the solitude. 
 
 Man needs the presence of his fellow-man, 
 And ever needs it, whatsoe'er his mood ; 
 
 Except when, in the hour he calls his own. 
 
 He holds communion with his God alone. 
 
Tin: SONG OF THE EXILE 
 
 95 
 
 How vast this solitude ! And yet *tmay be 
 That, ere a decade's course is fully run, 
 
 This prairie, where no being I can see 
 Inhabiting, may be well built upon ; 
 
 And even on this lonely stretch of ground 
 
 Surrounding me, a city may be found. 
 
 VII. 
 
 So rapidly have risen in the past 
 
 The cities in this Western land, that well 
 
 May we expect that not at all less fast 
 
 Shall future cities rise. And here may dwell 
 
 A population, whose increasing rate 
 
 Shall rival cities of an older date. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I once had thought that I would choose to live 
 Upon the prairie-land. My youthful eyes 
 
 Raised here a mighty castle, which should give 
 A home to me and mine. To youth there lies 
 
 A fascination in the great Unknown, 
 
 Which some in old age have not yet outgrown. 
 
96 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thus was I fascinated, and I thought 
 
 A prairie life, untrammeled, free and blest, 
 
 Much happiness to me had surely brought ; 
 And so I longed to roam the mighty West. 
 
 But kindly Fate forbade me then to roam, 
 
 Well knowing that the West was not my home. 
 
 X. 
 
 But now I stand upon the prairie, now 
 
 I see the land which once I longed to see — 
 
 And fain must smile, as I remember how 
 This land seemed once a paradise to me. 
 
 But that was ere my eye had ever seen 
 
 These thousand miles of treeless prairie-green. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Nay, this is not the prairie that I saw 
 
 In youth's mirage ; 'twas fairer far than this. 
 
 For youth's imagination knows^no law, 
 
 And soars to heights of future-coming bliss, 
 
 In lands where gladness reigns eternally. 
 
 Too bright, too beautiful, alas ! to be. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 97 
 
 XII. 
 
 For each his load of pain and woe must bear, 
 And each must feel the weight of Sorrow's hand, 
 
 And each will sometimes bow in deep despair, 
 And 'neath his burden think he cannot stand. 
 
 But strength will come to each in time of need, 
 
 For they whom grief destroys are few indeed. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thus youth's bright visions vanish all away. 
 And nought remains save memory. And we 
 
 Can calmly watch them thus dissolve, and say : — 
 " 'Tis better thus ; 'tis best they should not be." 
 
 For Time has shown us, in his onward flight, 
 
 That all our visions were too grossly bright ; 
 
 XIV. 
 
 That, had the dreams we cherished come to pass, 
 We should not be the men that now we are ; 
 
 That what we saw through youth's bright distance-glass 
 Was but a trinket shining as a star ; 
 
 That selfish pleasure, with its gaudy gleams. 
 
 Alone illumed the brightest of our dreams. 
 
THK SONC. OK THK KXILIC. 
 
 XV. 
 
 And we have learned that 'tis not all to be 
 Self-seeking pleasure-hunters ; higher far 
 
 Are works of kindliness and charity 
 
 Which we can do, whate'er our frailties are. 
 
 And we have learned that pain and sorrow, though 
 
 Unwelcome guests, have each a work to do. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And so we grieve or sorrow not to see 
 
 Our visions melt away like Winter's snow ; 
 
 But rather thank we all our God that He 
 Sent forth the edict that it should be so ; 
 
 And humbly bless, with gratitude sincere. 
 
 The hand that led us to a higher sphere. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Farewell ! thou vast and fertile prairie-land. 
 
 Farewell ! Not long so dreary wilt thou be ; 
 Already man, with ever-busy hand. 
 
 Is cultivating and enriching thee ; 
 And with the wealth of this, thy virgin soil, 
 Thou well rewarde'it him for all his toil. 
 
THE SONd OK THK EXILE. 
 
 99 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 In cloudy height surrounding me, uprear 
 
 The Rocky Mountains their uncounted heads. 
 
 And mountains, mountains only now appear. 
 So thickly clustered that the sun but sheds 
 
 Upon their highest peaks his morning light, 
 
 While all below is hidden from his sight. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Here rise their sky-aspiring pinnacles 
 In barren ruggedness and majesty ; 
 
 While here some verdure-covered height instils 
 An awe less dread by its fertility ; 
 
 And here again, a peak of snowy whiteness 
 
 Relieves the gloom and shadow by its brightness. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Each one a thing of grandeur, each alone 
 Inspiring fearsome wonder in my soul. 
 
 What marvel that my being all is thrown 
 Aghast in awe by this stupendous Whole .-* 
 
 What wonder that I stand in mute amaze, 
 
 Dumfounded by the scene whereon I gaze? 
 
lOO THE SONG OF THE EXH.E. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 My God, how wonderful Thy works appear ! 
 
 How mighty art Thou, and omnipotent ! 
 Before Thee, bending low in reverent fear, 
 
 I humbly bow. My human pride is bent. 
 Thou, Thou art God my awful Maker, I 
 Am helpless in my weak humanity. 
 
 xxn. 
 
 I hear the Psalmist's words again,* and now 
 Their fuller meaning bursts upon my soul ; 
 
 Thou madest all the earth and heaven. Thou 
 Dost hold the mighty seas within control ; 
 
 These lofty heights were form'd by Thy right-hand ; 
 
 Thou formedst all — all bow to Thy command. 
 
 xxm. 
 
 And what is man to Thee ? He well may fall 
 Before Thee worshipping, when thus he sees 
 
 Thy vast creations. Weak indeed and small 
 Doth man appear before such works as these. 
 
 In meek humility I bend my knee 
 
 Before Thee. Lord, why thinkest Thou of me ? 
 
 * Psalm viii. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 lOI 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Yet why should all these wonders, thus arrayed 
 Before me, more command my reverence 
 
 Than man, the greatest creature God has made. 
 And chiefest pledge of His omnipotence ? 
 
 Before the man these wonders fade away. 
 
 As pales the moon before the orb of day. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 For man is given a living, loving soul ; 
 
 Man lives as other works of God live not ; 
 He strives to reach a high and Heav'nly goal — 
 
 Incomparably higher is his lot. 
 God's greatest work, how fitly he should be 
 The one which most adores His majesty. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 But each creation, when it first reveals 
 Itself to man, impresses him anew 
 
 With God's omnipotence, and so he feels 
 New cause for adoration in each view. 
 
 Himself though greatest, these creations each 
 
 Their own great lessons to his spirit teach. 
 
102 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And ye, great mountains, have your lessons, ye 
 Have mighty truths to teach the heart of man 
 
 Of God's omnipotence and majesty, 
 
 Which, if he will to learn from ye, he can. 
 
 But many blindly grope upon their way. 
 
 Refusing all the light of Nature's ray. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 A mountain tarn, with waters still and blue, 
 Here nestles, open to the heavens whence 
 
 It seemingly derives its azure hue. 
 
 Here, has this little tarn pre-eminence, 
 
 For 'mid such mighty works appearing less, 
 
 It must attract us by its littleness. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 'Tis small ; but, like the cloud that servant saw 
 Whose master bade him look for rain, it grows 
 
 To greater bulk ; for hence the streamlets draw 
 Their first supplies ; and each one onward flows, 
 
 With speed increasing, down the mountain side, 
 
 And rolls, a river, in the ocean tide. 
 
 ' 
 
THE SON(] OF THE EXILE. 
 
 103 
 
 XXX. 
 
 So great from little things evolve ; and as 
 Man looks upon this tarn and cannot see 
 
 The mighty river flowing hence, but has 
 To hear report of its immensity ; 
 
 So faith should teach him patiently to wait 
 
 While little things of life lead on to great. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 But I must leave ye now ; I cannot stay, 
 
 Great mountains, in your midst. Regretfully 
 
 Must I be borne upon my Westward way, 
 And leave ye far behind me. Yet, should ye 
 
 No more delight my eye, it cannot be 
 
 That I shall e'er forget your majesty. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 A quiet voice within me whispering. 
 
 Advises me to tarry not, nor spend 
 Unneedful hours in westward travelling ; 
 
 For peace awaits me at my journey's end. 
 Alas ! 'tis but the mountain solitude 
 That thus has calmed and soothed my weary mood. 
 
 I 
 
I04 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 I would it were a voice intuitive 
 
 To say that all my suffering should be 
 
 Now swept away ; that henceforth I should live 
 In peace and quiet happiness ; that she 
 
 Whose love alone can shine upon my life 
 
 With healing light, could be my loving wife. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Ah no ! It cannot be. Such happiness 
 Is not for me. Yet will I haste me on 
 
 As best I may. Kind fortune yet may bless 
 The man on whom her smile has never shone. 
 
 No more I'll linger here, no more delay 
 
 My steps, but haste with speedy gait away. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 With rapid flight I pass the mountains through, 
 Nor pause to rest upon my hurried way 
 
 Till, like a picture, burst upon my view 
 The unsung beauties of Vancouver's Bay. 
 
 Nor here I pause, and, onward speeding fast, 
 
 Victoria appears in view at last. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 lOS 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Here Nature's gifts, all lavishly displayed, 
 Make this a spot most fair and beautiful. 
 
 Utopia's scene could here be fitly laid. 
 
 These wooded heights, these straits so clear and cool, 
 
 The distant mountains — In the poet's eyes 
 
 What, more than this, could be earth's Paradise ? 
 
 xxxvn. 
 
 But beauties physical cannot combine 
 Alone to make an earthly Paradise ; 
 
 But where the lamps of Love most brightly shine. 
 There, there the happiness of Heaven lies, 
 
 And bitter hatred, by its cursed spell, 
 
 Will make a very Paradise a hell. 
 
 xxxvin. 
 
 I wander through the city ; there is nought 
 Of beauty or attractiveness here shown. 
 
 Nature, and Nature only, here has brought 
 Adornment. But that little man has done 
 
 Which bare necessity compelled him do ; 
 
 And nothing tasteful meets my weary view. 
 
io6 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 I 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 I pass the city through, and onward, till 
 A pleasing view awakens me, I stray. 
 
 Here, standing on a high and wooded hill, 
 Imposing is the view that I survey. 
 
 Afar, across the straits, the mountains rise 
 
 In sunlit mightiness before my eyes. 
 
 So near they seem that I could almost be 
 There, at their feet, before the noon of day. 
 
 And yet I know the mountains, seemingly 
 So near, in truth are many miles away. 
 
 The air, so pure and undefiled, brings near 
 
 The view, which else far distant would appear. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Thus is it with our cherished hopes. We see. 
 Not seeming far, a life of happiness 
 
 Before us ; and so close it seems to be, 
 That present grief and trouble pain us less 
 
 Than otherwise they would. More cheerfully 
 
 We bear our trials for their brevity. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 107 
 
 XLII 
 
 But, as the days of pain roll slowly by, 
 And lengthen them to weary months and years, 
 
 And all our hopes of happiness still lie 
 Unfructified, these almost yield to fears ; 
 
 And faith alone will give us strength to bear 
 
 Affliction's heavy scourge without despair. 
 
 XLHI. 
 
 Deep disappointment constantly renewed 
 Has weakened us ; but still we hope to gain 
 
 That brighter life. But oh ! if we'd reviewed, 
 At first, that life of long-continued pain, 
 
 We scarce had found the strength to struggle through 
 
 The path o'ershadowed with so dark a hue. 
 
 ^ XLIV. 
 
 But each new day has brought a new-born hope, 
 Each night of rest has strengthened us anew, 
 
 And given us again the power to cope 
 With pain and trial ; and we still pursue 
 
 Our way in faith, and day by day we cherish 
 
 The hope that on that day our pain will perish. 
 
io8 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Thus is it best that we should never know 
 What is to be, but walking in the path 
 
 Appointed, thank our God who made it so ; 
 And daily forward press our way in faith 
 
 Unquestioningly, knowing well that He, 
 
 Who chose that path, is wiser far than we. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Upon the waters now the sun has poured 
 His morning light ; c?ch little ripple gleams 
 
 In joy because the day has been restored, 
 And dances lightly in its welcome beams. 
 
 And gladly, brightly on the wavelets go. 
 
 And musically murmur as they flow. ," 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 And as they flow they breathe upon the air 
 An odour strengthening, which had not been 
 
 Except the sea waves shone and glittered there. 
 No unbrined waters roll these hills between, 
 
 For, by their constant forth and backward motion, 
 
 They tell their kinship to the mighty ocean. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 109 
 
 Roll, roll, great Pacific, roll ! 
 
 T^ thousands of years with their ioys and their fears, 
 Ihy billows cannot control. 
 Still roll. Pacific, roll! 
 
 Toss, toss, great Pacific, toss ! 
 
 For the hunter of seal, whose woe is thy weal. 
 And whose gain is thine only loss. 
 
 Still toss, Pacific, toss! 
 
 Foam, foam, great Pacific, foam ! 
 
 On thy rock-bound coast the wild Indians boast 
 Thy mountains, not thee, their home. 
 
 Still foam. Pacific, foam ! 
 
 Surge, surge, great Pacific, surge ! 
 
 Though the mariners hear, with prophetical fear, 
 In thy surging their deathly dirge. 
 
 Still, surge. Pacific, surge I 
 
 Roar, roar, great Pacific, roar ! 
 
 For the gold-hunter's breast is in wilder unrest 
 Than the billows that lash thy shore. 
 
 Still roar. Pacific, roar ! 
 
 m ■ 
 
no 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Moan, moan, great Pacific, moan ! 
 
 For the Inca of old, with his treasures untold, 
 From Peruvian shores is gone. 
 
 Still moan, Pacific, moan ! 
 
 Wave, wave, mild Pacific, wave ! 
 
 On the light, sandy bar of thine islands afar, 
 !n banana-tree grove is the old tale of love 
 
 Still told by the dusky brave. 
 
 Wave gently, Pacific, wave ! 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 I know not what it was that bade me seek 
 A letter from my Love. She promised not 
 
 To write to me, nor did I ever speak 
 
 Of that sad sorrow which would be my lot 
 
 In wandering alone and friendless here. 
 
 And hearing nought from her so fondly dear. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 But some small quiet voice, scarce listened to, 
 Enforced by its importunate command 
 
 This tardy recognition, sooner due ; 
 
 And having sought a letter, now I stand 
 
 And hold in trembling hands the paper she 
 
 Has held, and written on so daintilv. 
 
 To read her words beneath the public eye 
 Were desecration. I must seek a spot 
 
 Where I alone can commune quietly 
 With her, and where the vulgar gaze is not. 
 
 Then let me seek the free and open air, 
 
 And read my loved one's words of greeting there. 
 
 What writes my Love } Ah Love! thou hast been ill. 
 
 Dread fever laid thee low when I had gone, 
 And I was not beside thee — by his will 
 
 Except for whom thou now had'st been my own. 
 And, though he be thy father, may my curse 
 Rest on him ; and I would I could do worse. 
 
 Ill 
 
 iA 
 
112 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 Lli. 
 
 He, for his selfish pride to cause thee pain ; 
 
 He, for his littleness of mind to lay 
 Thee low in sickness ; God grant he may gain 
 
 His due reward. And may the Lord repay 
 The haughty baronet, in full degree. 
 For all the wrong that he has rendered thee ! 
 
 Lin. 
 
 But now thou art recovered, now thy heart 
 Alone is sick. Ah Love ! thou mournest too, 
 
 No less than I, that we must live apart. 
 'Tis selfish, yet I thus would have thee do ; 
 
 I would not have thee happy while away 
 
 From me, sweetheart, thy love would else decay. 
 
 Lrv. 
 
 And did'st thou think thy father would relent 
 Because thine illness threatened thee ? Ah ! no, 
 
 His stubborn pride would still remain unbent 
 Though thou at Death's dark portal layedst low. 
 
 His pride is greater than his love for thee, 
 
 And greater even than his hate for me. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 113 
 
 LV. 
 
 We may not be united, loved one — Nay, 
 
 What writest thou ? Ah Love ! Love ! is it true ? 
 
 It cannot be that thou art mine to-day. 
 And wast before, the while I never knew. 
 
 Oh God ! my God hear Thou thy servant's cry, 
 
 And let his thankful praise ascend on high. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Mine eyes are dim — Nay, tears ? It cannot be ; 
 
 I am a man, and am not wont to weep. 
 Yet beats my happy heart so joyfully 
 
 The quick revulsion causes me to steep 
 Mine eyes in tears. Though Grief could not compel 
 These tears to flow, Joy bade them, and they fell. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Nay, cease to flow, ye tears, for I must read 
 Those words again so full of promised joy. 
 
 So quickly read I, and such little heed 
 I paid to little words which might alloy. 
 
 Perchance, the whole, that I must read anew, 
 
 Those words, and know my rendering is true. 
 
 1^^ 
 
114 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE 
 
 Ir 
 J: 
 
 hi 
 
 \\ ) 
 
 [I 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 " The latest book you wrote has pleasdd well 
 The populace, and men of high renown 
 
 Upon its certain power for good all dwell ; 
 And this has been so pleasing to the Crown 
 
 That, recognizing your unquestioned right, 
 
 The Queen has now created you a knight. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 " This pleases me, my dearest one, but, oh ! 
 
 What follows gives me higher pleasure far * 
 I quick resolved to let my father know 
 
 That you were now a knight, and, in a prayer, 
 With tearful eyes, I begged him to allow 
 My loved one to return and claim me now. 
 
 LX. 
 
 " When first I spoke he heeded not, but soon 
 His face relaxed, and then, * The boy has won,' 
 
 He said, * a worthy name. Then take thy boon, 
 And tell him I will call him now my son.' 
 
 Then, kissing me, he raised me from my knee, 
 
 And, smiling, bade me write in haste to thee." 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 "5 
 
 LXI. 
 
 And thou art mine, my love — my very own ! 
 
 And none can sever us. I seem not yet 
 To realize that all my pain is gone. 
 
 'Tis hard such heavy sorrow to forget. 
 Ah, Love ! what now can give us grief or pain ? 
 And who shall part us when we meet again ? 
 
 Lxn. 
 
 I donot love the title, and would choose 
 To bear it not ; but this may never be. 
 
 The baronet would doubtless then refuse 
 To let his daughter be a wife to me, 
 
 And loud invectives on my head would pour. 
 
 He loves her, but he loves a title more. 
 
 Lxni. 
 
 But 'tis not mine to judge the baronet, 
 E'en though he shaded all my brighter life ; 
 
 My duty bids me all the past forget. 
 For he has given me a loving wife. 
 
 So be it mine all passions to control, 
 
 And speed me home to greet my soul's twin-soul. 
 
ii6 
 
 THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Then, farewell, Canada ! If I have been 
 O'erladen with a heavy-burdened heart, 
 
 While all thy many beauties I have seen ; 
 And if my sorrow should a vein impart 
 
 Of sadness to my thoughts, or bitterness, 
 
 Oh, think not this can make me love thee less. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Farewell, great Canada ! And oh ! forgive 
 An exiled Englishman if he esteem 
 
 His native country highest, and would live 
 By choice in England. Do not let it seem 
 
 That on thy charms he sets but little store ; 
 
 He loves thee well, but must love England more. 
 
 As boldly on high ye rise to the sky, 
 Great mountains, my message convey, 
 
 And tell to the Heaven the joy that is given 
 To me and to mine to-day. 
 
THE SONG OF THE EXILE. 
 
 117 
 
 Ye tall, waving trees, tell ye to the breeze, 
 
 And bid it to bear away 
 Afar on its wing, the words that I bring : 
 
 •' My love is my own to-day." 
 
 And you, little bird, your voice must be heard ; 
 
 Hum out to the flow'rs my lay. 
 As o'er them you hover, oh ! say that I love her, 
 
 And say she is mine to-c .y. 
 
 And, oh ! pretty flowers, put forth all your powers, 
 
 And tell to the bees that stray 
 Your blossoms among, the words of my song : 
 
 Oh ! tell of my joy to-day. 
 
 And ye, busy bees, give heed to my pleas, 
 
 My loving request obey ; 
 As ye fly to and fro, let your fellows all know 
 
 The joy that is mine to-day. 
 
 Let Nature all see my joy, and for me 
 
 Her many-tongued pow'rs array, 
 And bid them rejoice, and sing v ith one voice, 
 
 Because of my joy to-day. 
 
 THE END. 
 
1 
 
 f 
 
 F 
 
 '^1 
 
 ■* 
 
 
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 I. 
 
 
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VISIONS. 
 
 M i 
 
 if'! 
 
1 
 
 1 
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 ''WtB 
 
 : 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 Hi! 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE NEW RESOLVE. 
 
 Last night, as I sat in my study, 
 And thought o'er my lonely life, 
 
 I was seized with a passionate longing 
 To escape from the weary strife • 
 
 To flee {'^r away from my fellows, 
 And far from the city's roar, 
 
 And seek on the boundless prairie 
 A balm for my burning sore— 
 
 The sore of the weary spirit, 
 The burn of the aching heart 
 
 Of him who has known true friendship- 
 Has known it— -but only to part. 
 8 
 
 I 
 
 M 
 
122 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 'I ■ 
 
 And I said in that hour of anguish : 
 " I will fly from the haunts of men, 
 
 And seek, in the bosom of Nature, 
 Relief from my ceaseless pain." 
 
 As lonely I sat, and thus pondered, 
 A voice seemed to speak in my ear ; 
 
 And the sound of that voice was like music. 
 And its accents were mellow and clear : 
 
 " Weary soul, though all men have forsaken, 
 Thy God hath remembered thee still ; 
 
 The sorrow and pain thou hast suffered 
 Are ])art of His infinite will. 
 
 " Sorrow not, though He call thee to suffer ; 
 
 Evade not His righteous decree ; 
 Be faithful, and live uncomplaining 
 
 The life He has ordered for thee ; 
 
 " For God is thine infinite Father, 
 
 His purpose is all for the best. 
 Fight bravely, for after the battle 
 
 He giveth thee comfort and rest." 
 
i if 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 123 
 
 And the sound of that voice was like music, 
 And its accents were mellow and clear ; 
 
 No longer I felt I was lonely, 
 
 For I knew that my Father was near. 
 
 And as I sat silent, and pondered. 
 
 My sorrow all vanished away ; 
 My strength was " renewed like the eagle s 
 
 And I longed for the breaking of day. 
 
 That again I might join in Life's battle. 
 And fight with a strength not my own, 
 
 Till my foes should be vanquished and scattered, 
 My enemies all overthrown. 
 
 For thus would I silence all scoffers, 
 And show them, by deed and by word, 
 
 How strong is the faith of a Christian, 
 How mighty the arm of the Lord. 
 
m 
 
 r 
 
 124 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 n. 
 
 THE HIGHER DUTY. 
 
 I saw the sun. He shone in splendour bright, 
 Casting his radiance over dale and hill ; 
 
 And all creation joyed to see his light : 
 
 He shone, and thus fulfilled his Master's will. 
 
 I 
 
 I saw the moon and stars. They gave their light 
 To guide the sailor o'er the trackless sea, 
 
 To show the traveller his path by night: 
 
 They shone, fulfilling all their Lord's decree. 
 
 I looked to earth, and saw the plants and trees, 
 Each growing fitly to the pattern made. 
 
 And yielding proper flowers and fruits. And these 
 All grew, and thus their Master's will obeyed. 
 
 I looked around, and saw my fellow-men. 
 Created by the same Almighty hand ; 
 
 /» V 
 
 -'« 
 
 r destiny was granted them — 
 
 le the earth, obeying His command. 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 125 
 
 And, as I looked, the vision grew less bright, 
 And only through the darkness could I see 
 
 That, in their power and God-given might. 
 Men ruled, fulfilling half their Lord's decree. 
 
 Here was much chaos and confusion still ; 
 
 And here no perfect concord seemed to be. 
 Each lived as best accorded with his will : 
 
 Men ruled, all heedless of their Lord's decree. 
 
 And, as I looked, deep sorrow filled my heart ; 
 
 " Oh man!" I cried, " in God's own image made, 
 Shall sun, and moon, and trees, all do their part. 
 
 And thou alone fall short and retrograde ? 
 
 " Thou— greatest of ail God's created things ! 
 
 Thou — ruler, by His order, of the earth ! 
 Shake off thy sin, and, on aspiring wings, 
 
 Rise ! and be worthy of thy glorious birth." 
 
 I cried ; and from the darkness forth there came 
 A voice, which said in harsh and mocking tone : 
 
 *•' Dost thou possess so undefiled a name, 
 Art thou, amongst thy fellows, good alone, 
 
126 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 " That thou shouldst vilify thy fellow-men ? 
 
 Thou art not innocent nor free from guile — 
 Thou too art man. Go, nor return again, 
 
 Sinful, thy fellow-sinners to revile." 
 
 It ceased. But, as I turned to join the strife, 
 In milder accents spake that voice again : 
 
 " An humble heart, a pure and useful life — 
 
 And not vain words — will raise thy fellow-men." 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 127 
 
 in. 
 
 II 
 
 THE HIDDEN PURPOSE. 
 
 I was weary and faint with temptation and trial, 
 For the prayers I had made had but met with denial, 
 And the slow-coming doubt, which had once hardly 
 found 
 
 In my heart a mean place, was now strong and pro- 
 found. 
 
 And my soul was in anguish, for suffering keen. 
 And intense disappointment, too often had been 
 New prepared for my portion, till now, as I lay 
 By new sorrow re-stung, all my faith passed away. 
 
 Then a curse on my lips rose, and darkly I swore 
 That the God who had led me should lead me no 
 
 more ; 
 His existence was doubtful, but, if He should be. 
 He had been but a God of vindiction to me. 
 
! 
 
 128 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 So I vowed that henceforward the path that I trod 
 Should be chosen by me, and not ordered by God ; 
 And relief seemed to greet my resolve as I lay, 
 All in sleeplessness, waiting the breaking of day. 
 
 But as quiet I lay, and thought o'er my decision. 
 All my wakefulness passed, and I saw in a vision, 
 By my side standing closely, an Angel of Light, 
 Clothed in shining apparel resplendently bright. 
 
 And I lay there all trembling in fear as I lay. 
 Till with beckoning finger he led me away; 
 Then I rose and went forth in the darkness of night. 
 And, still trembling, I followed that Angel of Light. 
 
 And I followed him on till he paused in his flight 
 Where a Christian lay sleeplessly passing the night ; 
 And I heard him repeat as he lay on his bed, 
 " My paths are divided, Lord, which shall I tread ? " 
 
 And I saw that the one led to glory and fame, 
 While the other fulfilled not his heart-cherished aim ; 
 But the scales of mortality darkened his eye, 
 And the thing I saw plainly he could not descry. 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 129 
 
 Then the Angel breathed o'er him, and h'ght seemed 
 
 to break 
 O'er his soul, and he saw then the path he should take. 
 Then his spirit was eased, and sweet sleep o'er him 
 
 came, 
 For he thought this would lead him to glory and 
 ' fame. 
 
 But I saw that the path he had chosen that day 
 Would lead him from glory and fame far away ; 
 But I saw, too, that, were he not led in this path. 
 The love of the world would have shaken his faith. 
 
 For his pride, swelling high in the glory of gain, 
 Would have led him from God to things sinful and 
 
 vain. 
 But his trouble would lead him to God now for rest ; 
 And I saw that the plan of his Maker was best. 
 
 Then the Angel went forth, and I followed him still, 
 Thus impelled by the force of his Heavenly will. 
 Till he stayed where two lovers stood breathing their 
 
 vows, 
 With the fondness that love and deep passion arouse. 
 
130 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 Then he put forth his hand, and he pointed in wrath ; 
 And the fever-fiend rose with a horrible laugh. 
 But the man felt him not as he poisoned his blood, 
 And the woman saw nought as still smiling she stood 
 
 But I knew that that meeting was surely their last, 
 For the shadow of death on the man was now cast. 
 And my heart could but pity the woman, whose pain 
 I yet knew would redound to her infinite gain. 
 
 For deception and falsity deep in the heart 
 
 Of the man were writ large, and there truth had no 
 
 part; 
 And the pain of her mourning was nought when 
 
 compared 
 With the agony he would have caused her, if spared. 
 
 Quickly onward then hasted the Angel of God, 
 And I still followed close in the steps that he trod ; 
 And I saw, when his flight was arrested again. 
 That we stood where an infant lay tossing in pain. 
 
VISIONS. 
 
 131 
 
 And the mother, with tear-laden eyes,, kneeling there, 
 Sought relief from her trouble in heart-broken prayer, 
 As she cried unto God, in a piteous tone, 
 That He would not deny her the life of her son. 
 
 And the Angel himself breathed a sorrowful sigh. 
 And I thought that a tear glistened bright in his eye, 
 As he stretched forth his hand, and commanded the 
 
 soul 
 Of the child to ascend to its Heavenly goal. 
 
 Then I heard a loud cry of distress on the air, 
 And I saw the lone mother lie grief-stricken there ; 
 And the tears of compassion flowed fast from my eyes, 
 Though I knew that God's action was kindly and wise. 
 
 For disease on the child had imprinted its stain, 
 And his life would have been but a long-endured 
 
 pain, 
 Had his Father not early exerted His might. 
 And thus called the young soul to the Kingdom of 
 
 Light. 
 
132 
 
 VISIONS. 
 
 Then the scene seemed to melt in the darkness away, 
 And again on the couch in my chamber I lay. 
 And the Angel of God by my side again stood ; 
 And he gazed on me sadly and said, " God is good." 
 
 Then I saw him no more, but with morn I awoke 
 And remembered the words that the Angel had 
 
 spoke ; 
 And the scenes of the vision, repictured again, 
 Passed before me, and brought me a balm for my pain. 
 
 For I knew that my God had not called me in vain 
 To temptation and trial, and I would not complain; 
 But with gladness I went forth anew to the strife, 
 Knowing now that my Father was guiding my life. 
 
had 
 
 1 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ^^':i 
 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE SERPENT. 
 
 Canada, the time approaches, 
 
 if\nd is even now at hand, 
 Wh in thou must declare what ruler 
 
 Thine allegiance shall command. 
 
 In thy midst there creeps a Serpent — 
 Deadliest of all thy foes — 
 
 Gliding in among thy councils. 
 Spreading venom where she goes. 
 
 Like the fatal boa-constrictor 
 Ch. ri ii;7p those who soon must die, 
 
 She can sc tran:'fix her victim 
 By the glitter of her eye, 
 
 That the greatest of thy statesmen 
 Dares not question her decree, 
 
 But .. meek humiliation 
 Bo^v^ to her, abjuring thee. 
 
 i'!, 
 
 :». 
 
 I' 
 

 136 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 I . 
 
 Rise, Canadia IS ! and boldly 
 
 Thrust the. Serpent from your land ; 
 And should any strive to help her, 
 
 Crush them with your martial hr.nd. 
 
 Rise unanimous, and ft ? ^^'^1 
 In your country's cause fight ; 
 
 Better bloodshed than surrender 
 To the wily Serpent's might. 
 
 Hurl from power the men who basely 
 Truckle to the Serpent's will ; 
 
 Cast them out and call on others — 
 Truer men — their place to fill. 
 
 I 
 
 Men whose chiefest aim shall be to 
 Fight for Canada and home — 
 
 Men who will not bow before the 
 Dictates of the Church of Rome. 
 
 Canada, the time approaches, 
 
 And is even now at hand — 
 Wilt thou choose that Rome or England 
 
 Thine allegiance shall command ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 ^7 
 
 PRO DEO ET PATRIA. 
 
 Silent yet fiercely the battle is raging ; 
 
 Blood is not flowing, but poison is spread ; 
 Freedom and slavery madly are waging 
 
 A war that will last till its cause shall be dead. 
 
 Canada, thine is the field of the battle, 
 Nor would the conflict be long or severe, 
 
 Were not thy statesmen, " like dumb, driven cattle," 
 Led by emolument, daunted by fear. 
 
 Slowly advances the Jesuit faction. 
 Crafty and subtle the means they employ. 
 
 Protestants fight, but uncertain their action- 
 Party dissensions their power destroy. 
 
 Love of their country still loudly professing. 
 
 On to the conflict ^/^.a^^^ they go. 
 Firmest allegiance to Britain confessing, 
 
 Still ^w««//^^ they fight with her foe. 
 9 
 
 !•,: 
 
!M 
 
 138 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Canada, these are the men who defend thee — 
 These the brave soldiers who fight in thy name 
 
 Fierce is the struggle, but soon will the end be ; 
 And Leo shall lead thee to glory and fame ! 
 
 ;ii 
 
 ill 
 
 in 
 'V > 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 139 
 
 DESPONDENCY. 
 
 A Response to " Courage," by Celia Thaxter, 
 
 You have said that there is not a fear 
 Or a doubt that oppresses your soul, 
 
 That your faith is so strong 
 
 That it bears you along, 
 Ever holding you in its control. 
 
 'Tis a comfort to know there is one 
 Whose allegiance cannot be denied, 
 
 But I fain would enquire, 
 
 (For your faith is far high'r 
 Than is mine) : Have you ever been tried ? 
 
 fl| 
 
 Have you sought to aspire to a life 
 Higher far than the one that is past ? 
 Have you laboured through years. 
 By your hopes crushing fears. 
 But to meet disappointment at last ? 
 
 I 
 
i- 
 
 140 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Have the friends who should love you the best, 
 In your absence forgotten that love, 
 
 And refused to impart 
 
 To your grief-stricken heart 
 All the solace their kindness would prove ? 
 
 Has the world misconstrued your intents, 
 And endeavoured to sully your fame ? ^ 
 
 Has the venomous tongue 
 
 With its calumny stung 
 Your proud heart, and dishonoured your name ? 
 
 I desire not to "chide" you nor "vex," 
 
 But I ask you to answer me now ; 
 Did the torturing pain 1 
 
 Of a love that is vain : V » 
 
 Ever furrow your heart like a plough ? 
 
 i! 
 
 Have you loved with so fervent a love 
 That, when failure and hopelessness came, 
 All the tormeii^s of hell 
 In your breast seemed to dwell. 
 Scorching courage and faith in their flame ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 141 
 
 One of these may have fall'n to your lot ; 
 What if all were apportioned to me ? 
 
 Could I then " lift my head," 
 
 Nor a single tear shed ?— 
 Has such faith been allotted to thee ? 
 
 I have sought to be true to my God, 
 I have sought to be faithful as you ; 
 
 But such " tumult and strife " 
 
 Have embittered my life 
 That I am not so faultlessly true. 
 
142 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 TO L. W. 
 
 When the path of my life 
 Lay through trouble and strife, 
 
 And temptation encompassed me round, 
 As a light in the shade , 
 
 Thou wast sent to mine aid ; 
 
 And a harbour of refuge was found. 
 
 I beheld in thine eye. 
 As a beam from on high, 
 
 The ray of compassion revealed ; 
 And I turned in relief 
 From the Valley of Grief ; 
 
 I turned to be strengthened and healed. 
 
 In the words that you breathed 
 All my sorrow was sheathed. 
 
 And peace, like a dove, settled down. 
 And the calm of your presence, 
 Like mercy's pure essence. 
 
 Recaptured the faith that had flown. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 143 
 
 Since then, if perplexed, 
 If harassed or vexed. 
 
 If tempted, afflicted or tried, 
 I have sought thee to cheer, 
 Thou hast ever been near 
 
 To comfort, to soothe and to guide. 
 
 Thus a thrill of affection 
 Must greet the reflection 
 
 That thou hast considered my needs ; 
 And my heart can but move 
 With a reverent love 
 
 As I ponder thy merciful deeds. 
 
 Though feeble and weak 
 Are the words that I speak. 
 
 Such gratitude wells in my soul. 
 That I dare not express 
 What I fain would confess. 
 
 Lest my pen should escape my control. 
 
144 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Yet these measures restrained 
 Will have surely attained 
 
 The purpose that caused them to be, 
 If of all that I feel 
 They should chance to reveal 
 
 But a hint, in a whisper, to thee. 
 
 i: 
 
 I 
 
MISCELLANFOUS. 
 
 '45 
 
 YOU WRONG ME, KATE. 
 
 You wrong me, Kate, you wrong me 
 
 In harbouring the thought 
 That he who loves so fondly 
 
 Would injure thee in aught. 
 The pang that I must feel, Kate, 
 
 When dark suspicion lurks 
 Within thy breast, is real, Kate, 
 And mischievously works. 
 
 The tone with doubt inflected. 
 The calm, reproachful look. 
 The name of one suspected 
 
 In light arraignment spoke ; 
 These, these enforce the heart-ache. 
 
 And instigate the strife. 
 And these, in chiefest part, take 
 The joy from out my life. 
 
146 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 I-.. 
 
 For bright within my soul, dear, 
 
 On Love's unsullied throne, 
 With absolute control, dear, 
 
 Thou reignest Queen alone. 
 With reverence I chose thee, 
 
 With pride I placed thee there ; 
 And none did e'er oppose thee, 
 
 And none shall ever dare. 
 
 All womankind shall merit 
 
 A just regard from me, 
 And all the sex inherit 
 
 A claim to courtesy ; 
 But none has ever claimed me 
 
 Her vassal, slave or thrall, 
 For Kate, my heart has named thee 
 
 The sceptred Queen of all. 
 
 Then trust me, Kate, oh ! trust me, 
 
 In absence, far or near, 
 And judge me not unjustly. 
 
 But hold my promise dear. 
 Will not my word content thee ? 
 
 I cannot give thee more : 
 Oh Kate, my Kate, repent thee. 
 
 And love me as before ! 
 
 s 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 14; 
 
 FLOSSIE. 
 
 I know a maiden, scarce thirteen, 
 A sweet and gentle maid, 
 
 With dignified and graceful mien, 
 And manner calm and staid. 
 
 But I've seen her, when none but her parents 
 are nigh. 
 
 When her spirits are flowing exuberantly. 
 With her feet tossing high, while her arms in 
 accordance, 
 
 Are wildly upraised in the Fling or the Sword- 
 dance. 
 
 I know a maid whose hazel eye 
 
 Outshines the light gazelle's. 
 And hid beneath its brilliancy, 
 
 A pensive shadow dwells. 
 
 But I've seen it illumed with a mischievous light 
 Which the sparkles displayed in the meteor's 
 flight 
 
 Cannot meet,as her laughter reverberates round. 
 And merrily echo responds to the sound. 
 
148 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 I know a maid whose accents mild, 
 
 And words of sober sense, 
 Declare her woman more than child, 
 Yet mark her innocence. 
 
 But I've heard her repeating the quip or the 
 
 joke, 
 While merriment shone in her eyes as she 
 
 spoke, 
 As, with skill that is seldom excelled on the 
 
 stage, 
 She worthily mimicked the actor or sage. 
 
 
 I know a maid, a loving maid. 
 
 Whose quiet, gentle ways. 
 In look, in voice, in act displayed, 
 Must bring her love and praise. 
 
 But I know that when nimbly she's tripping 
 
 the dance, 
 When her eyes sparkle bright with a mischiev- 
 ous glance, 
 When her sallies of innocent wit shall outpour. 
 She will capture the hearts that were callou s 
 before. . 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 149 
 
 the 
 she 
 the 
 
 TO ETHEL. 
 
 So you think you will be a Scotch lassie ; 
 
 The braw Hieland lad in a kilt 
 Has taken your fancy, dear, has he ? 
 
 And you, too, would be clad in a "tilt." 
 
 Well, not one will gainsay you nor blame you, 
 
 For your wishes are ever fulfilt ; 
 And how proudly your father will claim you. 
 
 When arrayed in a tartan and ^* tilt " ! 
 
 And your mother will certainly further 
 The hopes that her Ethel has built ; 
 
 You have only to ask to ensure their ' 
 Fulfilment concerning the " tilt." 
 
 And I-(Oh ! I know I don't count, dear, 
 And for speaking acknowledge my guilt, 
 
 For my wishes to nothing amount, dear,) ' 
 I would rather you hadn't a " tilt." 
 
 I: 
 
ISO 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 For although thou wilt take us by storm, dear, 
 Looking sweet, as thou certainly wilt, 
 
 Yet, you know, it is very bad form, dear, 
 And not English to wish for a " tilt." 
 
 And I thought, (but of course was mistaken. 
 For my hopes lie around me all spilt). 
 
 That my Ethel would never awaken » 
 
 To sigh for a Hielander's " tilt." 
 
 None the less will I try to be glad then. 
 Nor let courtesy play me the jilt ; 
 
 Though I know that my heart will be sad when 
 Little Ethel is wearing her " tilt." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 151 
 
 DEAR LITTLE ETHEL. 
 
 Dear little Ethel, 
 
 Child that I love, 
 Come, as an angel, 
 
 Down from above. 
 
 n 
 
 Golden-rayed tresses, 
 Shining and bright. 
 
 Inviting caresses, 
 Mirroring light. 
 
 Eyes blue and tender. 
 Beaming with joy. 
 
 Who would offend her ? 
 Who would annoy ? 
 
 Ripple thy laughter ! 
 
 Bubble thy glee ! 
 Loud will the rafter 
 
 Echo to thee. 
 
151? 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 
 Clinging to mother, 
 
 Set on her knee ; 
 She has no other 
 
 Dearer than thee. 
 
 Slave thou hast bound her ; 
 
 Nestles thine arm, 
 Tvvming around her, 
 
 Telling thy charm. 
 
 Innocent speeches 
 
 Silencing strife ; 
 Hallowed each is : 
 
 Pearls of a life. 
 
 Come, come and kiss me. 
 Child of my heart. 
 
 Oh I I would miss thee 
 Were we to part. 
 
 God in His mercy 
 Shelter my dove, 
 
 Dear little Ethel, 
 Child that I love. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 153 
 
 TO D. R. P. 
 
 (Inimitationof A. Lindsay Gordon.) 
 Well, Douglas, I'm sorry you've got to be homing 
 Though I grant it's unwise to continue your roaming 
 But the evening's to spare ere you drop me astern, 
 So come up to my room and indulge in a yarn. 
 
 Here's tobacco in plenty-" Gold Flake," very good • 
 No « Birdseye," or « Honeydew," that's understood ' 
 But this isn't bad, though a stranger to you- 
 (Here is Dick : Bring up ginger and whiskey for two). 
 
 And now take a seat, there are two, as you see, 
 The red rocker for you and the other for me. 
 Don't demur, for no guests will arrive, I am sure • 
 If they do, why there's room on the bed or the floor. 
 
 So you're going to England again. Well, your visit 
 Has nigh made me homesick-no miracle, is it > 
 I was born there, and there I was nurtured and bred 
 And I love the old land. (There's a match overhead)! 
 
154 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 It is four years ago, more than that, since I started 
 Away from my home. Well, I'm not chicken-hearted, 
 But your accent, your manner, the things you have 
 
 said, 
 Have just taken me back to the life I once led. 
 
 And it seems there's a canker that Time will not heal, 
 Though I certainly thought that I never should feel 
 Its soreness again. I had settled down here, 
 Thinking happiness mme, till your lordship drew near. 
 
 And now, with your talk of the land of my birth, 
 All those sad recollections you rudely unearth. 
 Don't apologise, man, for I'm glad it is so. 
 There's a joy in the grief that I wouldn't forego. 
 
 There's a joy in remembering all that has been. 
 And recalling the pleasures that once I have seen ; 
 And if bitterness follows, I'm ready to suffer. 
 For this morsel is sweet though the next may be 
 tougher. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 155 
 
 Let the fool in his folly anticipate sorrow, 
 I, for one, will refuse to take thought for the morrow. 
 There is joy in our life if we will but enjoy it ; 
 But the most of us do what we can to destroy it. 
 
 For we fume and we worry and fret ourselves thin 
 By regret for what might be or what might have been ; 
 And the blessings of life we incessantly miss 
 By ignoring entirely the pleasure that is. 
 
 You have taught me a lesson ; though little you 
 
 thought 
 Or intended to do it, the lesson is taught. 
 By your actions, not words, have I learned to be wise. 
 To embrace every joy, every sorrow despise. 
 
 Did I say that I t/iou^/a there was happiness here ? 
 I was wrong, for I know it ; 'tis perfectly clear. 
 If you'll listen a bit, take your pipe up again 
 And continue your smoke, I will try to explain. 
 
156 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To begin with, the land I've adopted as mine 
 Has a place in my heart, a peculiar shrine. 
 And my love for the country is true and sincere ; 
 If I can't live in England I wish to live here. 
 
 Then, I freely confess, if my way has been hard. 
 And my path somewhat rough, still I have my reward. 
 Let my rung on life's ladder be low as it may, 
 I have fought single-handed each step of the way. 
 
 It is well to have fortune, mayhap it is well 
 
 In the tents of the noble and titled to dwell ; 
 
 But the man who has builded his home with his hand 
 
 Is the happiest man in the happiest land. 
 
 li 
 
 Let milord and milady inherit their wealth, 
 
 I am legatee only of vigor and health ; 
 
 Every cent that I own has been earned by the sweat 
 
 Of my brow, and I'm proud to acknowledge it yet. 
 
 There's a happiness here every other beyond. 
 Except one : to be bound in the mystical bond 
 Which is woven with throbs of the heart that is true, 
 And the glances of eyes of a love-lightened hue. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 157 
 
 And, perchance, even I may have tasted the bliss 
 That is found in the warmth of the soul-inspired kiss ; 
 And it may have been mine — But I travel too fast 
 It is time that the cobbler returned to his last. 
 
 But your silence has been philosophic and deep, 
 And I hope you've enjoyed — why, the man is asleep ! 
 Only closing your eyes ? Well, perhaps that will do 
 To tell the marines, but it's grossly untrue. 
 
 I was speaking of England ? Undoubtedly so, 
 So I was, but it's just twenty minutes ago. 
 I've been talking since then in a serious strain. 
 And perhaps 'tis as well that I've spoken in vain. 
 
 Don't apologise. What, is it time for your train ? 
 Well, Douglas, then here's to our meeting again 
 And meanwhile, old man, don't forget the pedantic 
 And long-winded fellow across the Atlantic. 
 
 Irue, 
 
158 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 'Tis Christmas day ; the bells ring out 
 The joyous tidings far and near, 
 And children hail with gladsome shout 
 The merry sound of Christmas cheer. 
 
 'Tis Christmas day, the children's day, 
 When He was born a little child, 
 To take Creation's sin away, 
 And purify the Truth defiled. 
 
 He taught the world to walk by faith, 
 And, lest their feet should go astray. 
 He trod Himself the faithful path, 
 And showed His followers the way. 
 
 He taught a Hope to all oppressed 
 By Sorrow's weight or Sin's remorse ; 
 Himself the contrite sinner blessed, 
 To give His words a greater force. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Oh f ye who tread in Trial's way, 
 Nor scarce can murmuring resist,' 
 Kemember, on His natal day, 
 The faithful suffering of Christ. 
 
 And ye, whose thoughts in memory trace 
 A darkened life of wrongful deeds, 
 Look up and see His kindly face, ' 
 Who now for your allegiance pleads. 
 
 Oh ! Christians, to your name be true, 
 Cast all your faithlessness away. 
 
 And let your hope be born anew 
 On this, your Saviour's natal day. 
 
 '59 
 
i6o 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 ■11 ii 
 
 il 
 
 
 : 
 
 A SERENADE. 
 
 From afar, in the dead of night, 
 By the moon's dim, uncertain h'ght, 
 To salute thee with loving rite, 
 I come, sweetheart, I come. 
 
 Oh ! refuse not to hear my lay ; 
 From the depths of my soul I pray. 
 Let my accents my love betray 
 To thee, sweetheart, to thee. 
 
 As I sing in the shade below. 
 As the words of my greeting flow, 
 I am thrilled with the fervent glow 
 Of love, sweetheart, of love. 
 
 I have come from the silent moor, 
 In the still of the midnight hour ; 
 I have come by my passion's power 
 For thee, sweetheart, for thee. 
 
 Then awake from thy slumbers light ; 
 Ere he speed on his homeward flight. 
 Bid thy lover a last good-night. 
 
 Good-night, sweetheart, good- night !