" (Dmnia superat Virtue." 
 
 Herbert Fairbairn Gardiner, 
 
 Hamilton, Ontario. 
 
GIFT OF 
 
THIS CANADA OF OURS 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. D. EDQAR, JVt.P. 
 
 TORONTO: 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS, WESLEY BUILDINGS. 
 
 MONTREAL: C. W. COATES. | HALIFAX: S. F. HUESTIS. 
 
 1893- 
 
ENTERED, according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and ninety-three, by J. D. EDGAR, M.P., 
 Toronto, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 * 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1. THIS CANADA OF OURS 5 
 
 2. KESWICK BAY 7 
 
 3. CANADIAN AUTUMN TINTS ...... 11 
 
 4. AROUSE YE, BRAVE CANADIANS . . . . .14 
 
 5. THE SONG SPARROW . . . . . . 16 
 
 6. CANADIAN CAMPING SONG 18 
 
 7. UN CANADIEN ERRANT Translation ... 20 
 
 8. SAGUENAY Translation . . . . . .24 
 
 9. A SUMMER NIGHT Translation .... 26 
 
 10. NUNC EST BIBENDUM Translation. . . . .30 
 
 11. THE GREAT DIVIDE 33 
 
 12. THE WHITE STONE CANOE 34 
 
 13. EUTHANASY . . . . . . . . .56 
 
 14. THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND ..... 57 
 
 15. LIA FAIL 59 
 
 Note 1. THE SONG SPARROW 62 
 
 Note 2. UN CANADIEN ERRANT ..... 62 
 
 Note 3. THE GREAT DIVIDE 63 
 
 Note 4. THE WHITE STONE CANOE 63 
 
 Note 5. LIA FAIL . 64 
 
 381120 
 
THIS CANADA OF OURS. 
 
 A NATIONAL SONG. 
 
 LET other tongues in older lands 
 
 Loud vaunt their claims to glory, 
 And chaunt in triumph of the past, 
 
 Content to live in story. 
 Tho' boasting no baronial halls, 
 
 Nor ivy-crested towers, 
 What past can match thy glorious youth, 
 Fair Canada of ours ? 
 Fair Canada, 
 Dear Canada, 
 This Canada of ours ! 
 
 We love those far-off ocean Isles, 
 Where Britain's monarch reigns ; 
 5 
 
6 THIS CANADA OF OURS. 
 
 We'll ne'er forget the good old blood 
 
 That courses through our veins ; 
 Proud Scotia's fame, old Erin's name, 
 
 And haughty Albion's powers, 
 Eeflect their matchless lustre on 
 This Canada of ours. 
 Fair Canada, 
 Dear Canada, 
 This Canada of ours ! 
 
 May our Dominion flourish then, 
 
 A goodly land and free, 
 Where Celt and Saxon, hand in hand, 
 
 Hold sway from sea to sea ; 
 Strong arms shall guard our cherished homes, 
 
 When darkest danger lowers, 
 And with our life-blood we'll defend 
 This Canada of ours. 
 Fair Canada, 
 Dear Canada, 
 This Canada of ours ! 
 
KESWICK BAY, 
 
 LAKE SIMCOE. 
 
 To 
 
 COME from your briefs and your office, 
 Break loose from those fetters to-day, 
 
 For sweet as the breath of the Summer 
 Are the breezes of Keswick Bay, 
 
 That play o'er its sky-blue water, 
 
 And the changeful greens of its shore, 
 
 As we glide to the dip of the paddle, 
 Or fly to the sweep of the oar. 
 
 7 
 
8 KESWICK BAY. 
 
 From the breezy hill where the pine-trees 
 Are sighing their fragrance away. 
 
 I'll show you the wavelets sparkle, 
 And the dancing zephyrs at play. 
 
 And after the storm-clouds gather, 
 
 That sweep over Oro's hill, 
 I'll show you the waves of shadow 
 
 On the meadows of Innisfil. 
 
 We'll sail to Ke-nah-bec Island, 
 Where the last of the 0-jib-way 
 
 Will tell us the ancient legends 
 Of the Ked man and Keswick Bay ; 
 
 Of the great black-crested serpent 
 
 With eyes of fiery red, 
 That dwelt in the Holland marshes, 
 
 And hid in the river s bed, 
 
 And prowl'd abroad in the darkness, 
 The terror of lake and land, 
 
KESWICK BAY. \ 
 
 Till it came to Ke-nah-bec Island, 
 And perish'd by Esquib's hand. 
 
 When sunset is bursting in splendour, 
 And dyeing the west with its glare, 
 
 And burning the waters with crimson, 
 And flashing red darts through the air, 
 
 We'll bring our good craft to an anchor 
 Near a shore where the white birches shine 
 
 Look out ! or your rod will be broken, 
 A black bass is fast on your line ! 
 
 He plunges and dashes in fury- 
 Let him have all the line he will take, 
 
 Till the landing-net holds him securely 
 A four-pounder king of the lake. 
 
 And after our basket is heavy, 
 
 Sailing back by the light of the moon, 
 
 As we round up our yacht at her moorings 
 We hear the sad call of the loon, 
 
10 KESWICK BAY. 
 
 Like a wail of distress from the water ; 
 
 The night-hawk replies from the hill, 
 And there floats from a far-away thicket 
 
 The plaint of the lone whip-poor-will. 
 
 The sunset has melted in silver, 
 The crimsons have faded to grey, 
 
 And softly, in silence and shadow, 
 Night falls on the beautiful bay. 
 
CANADIAN AUTUMN TINTS. 
 
 WE wandered off together, 
 
 We walked in dreamful ease, 
 In mellow autumn weather, 
 
 Past autumn-tinted trees ; 
 The breath of soft September 
 
 Left fragrance in the air, 
 And well do I remember, 
 
 I thought you true as fair. 
 
 The maples' deep carnations, 
 The beeches' silv'ry sheen, 
 
 Hid nature's sad mutations, 
 And I forgot the green : 
 11 
 
12 CANADIAN A UTUMN TINTS. 
 
 Forgot the green of summer, 
 The buds of early spring, 
 
 And gave the latest comer 
 My false heart's offering. 
 
 painted autumn roses ! 
 
 dying autumn leaves ! 
 Your beauty fades and closes, 
 
 That gaudy hue deceives : 
 Like clouds that gather golden 
 
 Around the setting sun, 
 Your glories are beholden 
 
 Just ere the day is done. 
 
 Or, like th' electric flushes 
 That fire Canadian skies, 
 
 Your bright and changeful blushes 
 In gold and crimson rise. 
 
 But health has long departed 
 From all that hectic glare ; 
 
CANADIAN A UTUMN TINTS. 13 
 
 And love sees, broken-hearted, 
 The fate that's pictured there. 
 
 The brush that paints so brightly 
 
 No mortal artist wields ; 
 He touches all things lightly, 
 
 But sweeps the broadest fields. 
 The fairest flowers are chosen 
 
 To wither at his breath ; 
 The hand is cold and frozen 
 
 That paints those hues of death. 
 
 We wandered back together, 
 
 With hearts but ill at ease, 
 In mellow autumn weather, 
 
 Past autumn-tinted trees ; 
 The breath of soft September 
 
 Left fragrance in the air, 
 And well we both remember 
 
 The love that ended there. 
 
AROUSE YE, BRAVE CANADIANS! 
 
 Lines suggested by General Brock's stirring appeal to the people of 
 Upper Canada at the opening of the War of 1812. 
 
 CANADIAN arms are stout and strong, 
 
 Canadian hearts are true ; 
 Your homes were in the forest made, 
 
 Where pine and maple grew. 
 A haughty foe is marching 
 
 Your country to enthral ; 
 Arouse ye, brave Canadians, 
 
 And answer to my call ! 
 14 
 
AROUSE YE, BRAVE CANADIANS. 15 
 
 Let every man who swings an axe, 
 
 Or follows at the plough, 
 Abandon farm and homestead, 
 
 And grasp a rifle now ! 
 We'll trust the God of Battles, 
 
 Although our force be small ; 
 Arouse ye, brave Canadians, 
 
 And answer to my call ! 
 
 Let mothers, though with breaking hearts, 
 
 Give up their gallant sons ; 
 Let maidens bid their lovers go, 
 
 And wives their dearer ones ! 
 Then rally to the frontier, 
 
 And form a living wall ; 
 Arouse ye, brave Canadians, 
 
 And answer to my call ! 
 
THE CANADIAN SONG SPARROW. 
 
 (See Note 1.) 
 
 FKOM the leafy maple ridges. 
 From the thickets of the cedar, 
 From the alders by the river, 
 From the bending willow branches, 
 From the hollows and the hillsides, 
 Through the lone Canadian forest, 
 Comes the melancholy music, 
 Oft repeated, never changing 
 
 "All is vanity vanity vanity.' 
 16 
 
THE CANADIAN SONG SPARROW. 17 
 
 Where the farmer ploughs his furrow, 
 Sowing seed with hope of harvest, 
 In the orchards, white with blossom, 
 In the early fields of clover, 
 Comes the little brown-clad singer, 
 Flitting in and out of bushes, 
 Hiding well behind the fences, 
 Piping forth his song of sadness, 
 
 ' c Poor hu manity manity manity . ' ' 
 
CANADIAN CAMPING SONG. 
 
 A WHITE tent pitched by a glassy lake, 
 
 Well under a shady tree, 
 Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills, 
 
 Is the summer home for me. 
 I fear no blaze of the noontide rays, 
 
 For the woodland glades are mine, 
 The fragrant air, and that perfume rare, 
 
 The odour of forest pine. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 The wild woods, the wild woods, 
 
 The wild woods give me ; 
 The wild woods of Canada, 
 
 The boundless and free ! 
 18 
 
CANADIAN CAMPING SONG. 19 
 
 A cooling plunge at the break of day, 
 
 A paddle, a row, or sail, 
 With always a fish for a mid-day dish, 
 
 And plenty of Adam's ale. 
 With rod or gun, or in hammock swung, 
 
 We glide through the pleasant days ; 
 When darkness fells on our canvas walls, 
 
 We kindle the camp-fire's blaze. 
 
 From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon, 
 
 O'er forests dark and still, 
 Now far, now near, ever sad and clear, 
 
 Comes the plaint of whip-poor-will ; 
 With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff, 
 
 We startle the birds above, 
 Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds, 
 
 To dream of the ones we love. 
 
UN CANADIEN ERRANT. 
 
 (See Note 2.) 
 
 UN Canadien errant, , ,. . x 
 
 Hot*.) 
 Banni de ses foyers, 
 
 Parcourait en pleurant 
 Des pays Strangers. 
 
 Un jour, triste et pensif, , . . 
 
 H 01S } 
 
 Assis au bord des flots, 
 
 Au courant fugitif, . . . 
 
 \(ois.) 
 II adressa ces mots ; 
 
 20 
 
A CANADIAN EXILE. 
 
 A TRANSLATION. 
 
 EXILED and wandering 
 From his Canadian home, 
 
 It breaks his bleeding heart 
 In distant lands to roam. 
 
 One day in grief he sate 
 Beside the western wave. 
 
 And to its fleeting flood 
 These solemn words he gave 
 21 
 
22 UN CANADIEN ERRANT. 
 
 " Si tu vois mon pays, 
 
 (bis.} 
 Mon pays malheureux. ' 
 
 " Va, dis a mes amis, , . N 
 
 Hot*.) 
 
 Que je me souviens d eux. 
 
 " jours si pleins d'appas, 
 Vous 6tes disparus .... 
 
 " Et ma patrie, h^las ! 
 
 KOIS.) 
 Je ne la verrai plus ! 
 
 u Non, mais en expirant, 
 
 r( rJ'Z'S' ) 
 
 mon cher Canada ! 
 
 " Mon regard languisant 
 Vers toi se portera. ..." 
 
A CANADIAN EXILE. 23 
 
 " If you see my country, 
 That dear, unhappy land, 
 
 " Tell every loving friend 
 That I would clasp his hand. 
 
 " past days of delight, 
 I think of you in vain, 
 
 " And my best loved country 
 I ne'er shall see again ! 
 
 " But in my dying hour, 
 Wherever I may be, 
 
 " O Canada, my home, 
 
 Mine eyes shall turn to thee ! " 
 
ON THE SAGUENAY. 
 
 "IMPROMPTU." 
 
 From the French of Louis H. Frechette, in l ' Pele-Mele." 
 
 THE forest has spells to enchant me, 
 The mountain has power to enthral : 
 
 Yet the grace of a wayside blossom 
 Can stir my heart deeper than all. 
 
 towering steeps, that are mirrored 
 On Saguenay's darkening breast ! 
 
 grim, rocky heights, sternly frowning, 
 The thunders have smitten your crest ! 
 24 
 
ON THE SAGUENA Y. 25 
 
 sentinels, piercing the cloudland, 
 Stand forth in stupendous array ! 
 
 My brow, by your shadows enshrouded, 
 Is humbled before you to-day. 
 
 But, peaks that are gilded by heaven, 
 Defiant you stand in your pride ! 
 
 From glories too distant above me, 
 I turn to the friend by my side. 
 
A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 NUIT D'fiTfi. 
 
 From the French of Frechette, in Pele Mele. 
 
 WE wandered together, Louise, and you knew 
 That the dreams of my heart were tender and 
 true. 
 
 Silent and calm was the midsummer night, 
 Our dreams grew more dazzling, as faded the 
 
 light. 
 
 What echoes are filling the solitudes vast, 
 
 26 
 
A SUMMER NIGHT. 27 
 
 What sounds are those floating on wings of 
 the blast ? 
 
 The Spirits of Midnight are chaunting the 
 words, 
 
 The wind of the desert is striking the chords. 
 
 The meteors of heaven illumine the sky, 
 
 And the voice of the pine tree is lost in a sigh. 
 
 From nests in the branches, the fond turtle- 
 doves 
 
 Are warbling to heaven their infinite loves. 
 
 We wandered together, Louise, all the way, 
 And surely you knew what my heart had to 
 say. 
 
 The night air was stirring, it rustled the trees, 
 Our foreheads were fanned by the scent-laden 
 
 breeze, 
 Which sprinkled the dew-drops o'er meadow 
 
 and lea, 
 And crept o'er the lakelet, to die in the sea. 
 
28 A SUMMER NIGHT. 
 
 No sleep for our eyelids we roam in delight, 
 And weave in a garland the hours of the 
 
 night. 
 
 joys of the moment ! too fleeting you seem, 
 The soul is in cloudland, the mind in a dream. 
 As the fire of youth kindles, and breaks into 
 
 flame, 
 What harmonies waken, and thrill through my 
 
 frame. 
 
 We wandered together, Louise, all along ; 
 You echoed my heart when it murmured in 
 song. 
 
 Where a cloudlet comes sailing through ether 
 
 serene 
 The moon bursts in glory and silvers the 
 
 scene. 
 
 Though voices of lovers are whispering low, 
 The Angel of Parting commands us to go ; 
 For happiness stays but an hour from its birth, 
 
A SUMMER NIGHT. 29 
 
 And pleasures, so perfect, are not for this 
 
 earth. 
 
 The moments are fleeting, we falter and sigh, 
 Our hearts are both broken, for parting is 
 
 nigh; 
 
 With pledges and kisses we mingle our vows, 
 When breezes of morning are stirring the 
 
 boughs. 
 
 You are gone, my Louise ; will you ever forget 
 The sighs at our parting, the joys when we 
 met? 
 
NUNC EST BIBENDUM. 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 HORACE, ODE 37, BOOK I. 
 
 Now drink and dance, my comrades, 
 And spread the splendid feast, 
 
 The haughty Queen of Egypt 
 Is fleeing to the East. 
 
 When Caesar led his war-ships, 
 
 Spread far in battle line, 
 A panic fell upon her, 
 
 Half mad with lust and wine. 
 30 
 
NUNC EST BIBENDUM. 31 
 
 She fled before his galleys 
 
 Far from the Italian shore ; 
 The herd of loathsome traitors 
 
 Now threaten Eome no more. 
 
 As swoops the eagle on the dove, 
 
 The hunter on the hare, 
 So Caesar followed swiftly 
 
 To bind her in her lair. 
 
 The daughter of a hundred kings, 
 She spurned the Roman chains, ' 
 
 And sought to spill the fiery blood 
 That swelled her ruby veins. 
 
 She failed ! but in her woman's breast 
 
 Her courage rose serene ; 
 She walked again her father's halls, 
 
 And still was Egypt's queen. 
 
32 NUNC EST BIBENDUM. 
 
 She pictured the proud triumph 
 Beneath the Roman sky, 
 
 And fiercely flamed her passion, 
 And sternly flashed her eye ; 
 
 In her ears the chariots rumbled, 
 In her ears the shoutings rang, 
 
 Then she bared her snowy bosom 
 To the serpent's poisoned fang. 
 
THE GREAT DIVIDE. 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 (See Note 3.) 
 
 Two little rain drops side by side 
 Here at the top of the Great Divide, 
 Ever while falling their love grows warm, 
 Grows as they drift in the arms of the storm. 
 .Restless they float where the wild winds fly, 
 Earthward they gaze from the cloudland high, 
 Aimless no longer they rush below, 
 Twinkling their eyes in the sunset glow, 
 Down to the flowers, the rivers and trees, 
 Into the paths of the summer breeze, 
 Fowing to wander together for aye, 
 Into the fatal divide they stray ; 
 Divided for ever they float along, 
 E&ch sings to the other a parting song, 
 c 33 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE OTTAWAS. 
 
 (See Note 4.) 
 
 DARK and solemn stand the pine trees, 
 And the hemlock casts its shadows, 
 Where the forest spreads unbroken 
 From the Great Lake of the Hurons, 
 To the Lakes of many Islands, 
 To the waters of Muskoka. 
 
 All the voices of the woodland, 
 All the music of the waters, 
 
 34 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 35 
 
 Every whisper of the breezes, 
 Stirred the blood of young Abeka, 
 When he wandered with his Wabose, 
 Through the shadows of that forest, 
 In the fulness of the summer, 
 Breathing words of love and gladness. 
 
 the dreary days of autumn, 
 When he watched her sinking, dying, 
 Flushed with fever like the maple, 
 Shaken like the leaves of aspen. 
 Ere the early snows of winter 
 Spread their mantle o'er the forest, 
 She had passed to the Hereafter. 
 Kindly hands of women bore her 
 To her distant place of burial, 
 Where the tall and stately pine trees 
 Tower above the birch and basswood. 
 
 There Abeka often lingered, 
 Catching echoes from the branches 
 
36 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 Of his sighing and his moaning, 
 
 When the North winds played upon them. 
 
 Through the gloom of frozen forests, 
 When the snow lay on the branches, 
 Bending down the longest branches 
 Of the hemlock and the cedar, 
 All alone Abeka wandered, 
 For his heart was dead within him. 
 Lonely were his midnight watchings, 
 Startled by the night owl's screeching, 
 Or the shrill and dismal music 
 Of the wolfish pack approaching. 
 Sometimes silent hours of moonlight 
 Shed their magic o'er the forest. 
 And the rabbit, the Wabasso 
 Little white one, like the maiden- 
 Leaped along its beaten pathways, 
 Paused, and full of timid wonder, 
 Fixed its two soft eyes upon him. 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 37 
 
 In the lodges of his people, 
 Never had been seen a Pale-Face ; 
 Never yet had come a Black Robe 
 Bearing Cross of mystic meaning. 
 Only vague and blind traditions. 
 Only secrets of magicians, 
 Empty songs and incantations, 
 Taught him of the world of spirits 
 Of the land of the Hereafter. 
 
 Though he well had loved the war-path, 
 And was proud of skill in hunting, 
 Bow and arrows lay neglected, 
 In those heavy days of anguish. 
 But one thought was ever with him, 
 But one wild desire possessed him ; 
 For the old men often told him, 
 That by fasting and by dreaming, 
 By forsaking all his kindred, 
 By forgetting all his prowess, 
 He might find the hidden pathway 
 
38 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 To the land of Souls and Shadows. 
 This one purpose fired his fancy ; 
 Daily fasts and nightly vigils 
 Gave him weird and mystic visions, 
 Filling all his mind with wonder, 
 Hope and wonder, strangely blended. 
 
 Rising with the sun one morning, 
 Followed by his faithful deer-hound, 
 Over frozen lakes and rivers, 
 Over swamps and over mountains, 
 Guided by the old traditions, 
 With light feet he started Southward. 
 Though the air were thick with snow-flakes, 
 Though the sun and stars were hidden, 
 Yet he never was mistaken, 
 Never took the wrong direction, 
 For the topmost boughs of hemlock 
 Bent before the fierce North-west wind, 
 Pointed with unerring finger, 
 To the South-east always pointed. 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 39 
 
 Snowshoes, made with thongs of deerskin, 
 Tightly stretched on frames of hardwood, 
 Bore him lightly over snowdrifts, 
 Marking all his path behind him ; 
 Till the sunshine, growing stronger, 
 Melted every trace of winter. 
 And he heard the sweet birds singing, 
 Saw the fragrant blossoms bursting, 
 And the tender leaflets shewing 
 Tips of green on all the branches. 
 Now Abeka's footsteps quickened, 
 For he saw a well worn pathway 
 Through a grove of giant pine trees- 
 Just as promised by traditions, 
 Old traditions of his people, 
 Coming from the distant ages, 
 When the souls of the departed 
 Held communion still with mortals. 
 
 Silently he followed onward, 
 Through the melancholy pine trees, 
 
40 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 With their sad and solemn swaying, 
 And their sighing in the South wind. 
 Save the sighing of the pine trees, 
 All was perfect stillness round him. 
 Many times he saw a White Dove 
 Flitting through the deepest shadows, 
 Noiseless as the sailing cloudlet, 
 Shining out against the darkness, 
 Whiter than the snows of winter. 
 
 Soon he found the path ascending, 
 Till he reached a lofty terrace, 
 Near the summit of a mountain. 
 What is this he now encounters ! 
 What strange vision so appals him. ! 
 
 Once before, when wounded, bleeding, 
 Tortured by his cruel foemen, 
 While they sang the death-song o'er him, 
 He had seen the dreadful Paw-guk, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 41 
 
 Waiting for him in the darkness 
 Now again he sees him waiting. 
 
 Clad in robes of blackest sable, 
 At a wigwam's open doorway, 
 Stood a form of giant stature ; 
 Hoary locks in snowy whiteness 
 Floated, cloudlike, down his shoulders ; 
 Fiercely burned his fiery eyeballs, 
 Piercing through Abeka's bosom, 
 Beading every thought within him. 
 
 Fear, at first, had made him speechless, 
 Hope soon filled his heart with boldness, 
 And, in words of power and passion, 
 He began to tell his story. 
 Scarce ten rapid words were spoken, 
 When the other interrupted : 
 
 " Cease your idle talk of these things, 
 " For I know your thoughts and actions, 
 
42 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 " Know your passion and your sorrow ; 
 " I have helped you on this journey, 
 " I am here to bid you welcome. 
 " She, whom you are seeking after, 
 " Bested with me, way worn, weary, 
 " Bested for her journey onward. 
 " Enter now into my wigwam, 
 " I will answer your enquiries, 
 " Give you guidance for the future.'* 
 
 Kindly, then, he led Abeka, 
 Seated him on couch of bearskin, 
 Answered all his eager questions, 
 Told him when his Wabose passed there, 
 How she urgently entreated 
 That she might return to wander 
 Through the forests near Abeka, 
 With the birds to warble to him, 
 With the winds to breathe upon him ; 
 Sometimes, in his dreams to tell him 
 All the love she lavished on him. 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 43 
 
 Sadly had she learned the lessons 
 Of her altered state and nature, 
 Of her future life and duties. 
 But one answer she had offered 
 To all words of hope and promise 
 " Happiness comes not without him, 
 " Joy is only in his presence, 
 " I will wait till he comes for me 
 u Send and tell him I am waiting." 
 
 Then the Master of the Wigwam, 
 Taking pity on her sorrow, 
 Called his messenger, the White Dove, 
 Told her if she found Abeka 
 Bearing equal love for Wabose, 
 From the land of snows to bring him. 
 
 Thus Abeka learned the secret 
 Of those weird and mystic visions, 
 That had filled his mind with wonder- 
 Hope and wonder, strangely blended. 
 
44 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 And he heard, with deep emotion, 
 
 Why the White Dove hovered round him, 
 
 In his fasts and in his vigils, 
 
 Stirred his thoughts, and shaped his fancies, 
 
 Till she led him through the forest, 
 
 Toward the land of Souls and Shadows. 
 
 These things all were told Abeka 
 
 By the Master of the Wigwam. 
 
 Then he took Abeka with him, 
 Out again, and pointing Southward, 
 " Yonder lake," he said, " divides you 
 " From the land of Souls and Shadows. 
 " Standing here you see its borders, 
 " You may view its plains of verdure, 
 " And the sparkling of its waters, 
 " And the purple of its mountains. 
 " But you cannot take your body ; 
 " Leave it with your bow and arrows, 
 " Leave it with your dog and knapsack ; 
 " On returning you shall find them." 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 45 
 
 Quick compliance made Abeka, 
 And upon a couch of bearskin 
 Left his body, still and lifeless, 
 Guarded by his faithful deer-hound. . 
 
 Thrilling with a sense of freedom, 
 Bounding forward like a red deer, 
 Sweeping onward like an eagle, 
 Like an arrow flew Abeka. 
 Forests, rivers, glens and mountains, 
 All were there ; but greater beauty 
 Clothed the face of hill and valley, 
 Brighter blossoms decked the woodland, 
 Birds he saw of rarest plumage, 
 All the beasts had lost their shyness- 
 Timid fawns seemed not to fear him. 
 
 As the sun shines through the water, 
 As the sea gull sails the storm wind, 
 As the moonbeams pierce the forest, 
 So Abeka smoothly glided, 
 
46 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 Like a shadow among shadows, 
 Onward through the trees and branches. 
 
 Thus, for half a day he journeyed, 
 And the landscape grew more varied 
 Eicher in its changing beauty, 
 Fairer than his brightest visions. 
 Then he saw the shining water 
 Of a broad lake spread before him. 
 Bending branches fringed the margin, 
 Casting shadows on the pebbles ; 
 Swans and wild fowl sailed upon it, 
 Eising, falling, with the billows, 
 While, below them, golden fishes 
 Swam and glistened in the sunlight. 
 
 In the distance rose an Island- 
 Clad with verdure all its mountains, 
 Bright with blossom all its valleys. 
 Floating on the crystal waters, 
 A canoe of dazzling whiteness, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 47 
 
 Fashioned out of purest White Stone, 
 Waited, ready for Abeka. 
 Stepping lightly in the centre, 
 Scarcely had he touched a paddle, 
 When he turned and saw beside him 
 His dear Wabose, his long lost one, 
 With her own canoe and paddle, 
 White and shining like the other. 
 
 She restrained his strong emotion 
 By her smiles and warning gestures. 
 Shining from her lovely features 
 Glowed a radiancy of beauty, 
 Pure and gentle as the moonlight, 
 Clear and sparkling as the starlight. 
 By her loving smile he knew her, 
 By her eyes that oft had spoken 
 More than falt'ring tongue could tell him. 
 Then she, pointing towards the Island, 
 Signed to him to hasten thither. 
 Imitating all his motions, 
 
48 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 By his side she paddled onward 
 Out upon the limpid waters. 
 
 Soon the waves rose up before them 
 Curling, dark and fierce, upon them, 
 Threatening both canoes with danger. 
 As the white canoes approached it, 
 Every billow seemed to vanish, 
 Fading as they glided through it, 
 Melting like the mist of morning. 
 For the Master of Life remembered 
 That their lives had both been blameless. 
 He had helped the old and feeble, 
 Many times he shared their burdens, 
 Fed them through the dreary winters, 
 Giving from his corn and venison 
 Fruits of hunting and of labour- 
 She had cared for little children, 
 Tenderly had loved the orphans, 
 Nursed the wounds of stricken warriors, 
 And had often wept and pleaded, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 49 
 
 Begging mercy for the captives 
 
 That they might be spared from torture. 
 
 But the sights of that strange voyage 
 Filled the lovers' hearts with sorrow. 
 Fathoms deep, beneath the water. 
 Strewn upon the sandy reaches, 
 Scattered o'er the rocky ledges, 
 Lay the forms of those who perished 
 On their passage towards the Island. 
 
 All around them in the waters, 
 Old and young were struggling, sinking, 
 Men and maidens without number, 
 Of all nations, tribes and kindreds. 
 Ancient chiefs and famous warriors, 
 Came with shouts of hope and triumph, 
 Dashed their paddles through the surges, 
 Laughing at the foaming billows. 
 Yain were all their fierce exertions, 
 Useless all their foolish shouting ; 
 
50 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 No one listened to their clamour, 
 
 None applauded at their boasting. 
 
 Slowly each canoe was filling, 
 
 Sinking lower, sinking surely, 
 
 Unless hidden hands of Spirits 
 
 Smoothed its pathway through the waters. 
 
 Guardian Spirits these, who follow 
 
 Bach of us from days of childhood, 
 
 Keady always with assistance, 
 
 Anxious always to befriend us. 
 
 But their power to help is measured 
 
 By the love we bear our fellows, 
 
 By the kindness of our actions, 
 
 And our sympathy for sorrow. 
 
 On this passage to the Island 
 There were some canoes of White Stone 
 Bearing only little children- 
 Happy, smiling little children 
 And the waters never harmed them, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 51 
 
 As they glided gently onwards, 
 To the Island of the Blessed. 
 
 Suddenly, as in a moment, 
 After passing through all dangers, 
 On the shore the two companions 
 Found themselves in safety landed. 
 Hand in hand they went together, 
 Over flowery fields they wandered, 
 Through the glades of leaf and blossom, 
 Where the waterfalls made music, 
 Where the streamlet softly murmured, 
 Sending to the birds above it 
 Songs to match their sweetest singing. 
 All the fragrance of the woodland, 
 All the beauties of the forest, 
 All its charms and all its secrets, 
 Filled their hearts with joy unspoken. 
 Cold and famine carne not near them, 
 For the balmy air sustained them, 
 And they quaffed the spicy South wind. 
 
52 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 There, on couch of moss reclining, 
 Long they watched the Souls and Shadows, 
 Thronging past in countless numbers, 
 Turning gentle eyes upon them, 
 Wearing each a smile of gladness, 
 Giving looks of love and welcome. 
 All remembrance of the sorrows, 
 Of the troubles and the sadness 
 In the old life of the mortals, 
 Had been swept from out their mem'ries 
 By the fierce and stormy waters. 
 And no voice of lamentation, 
 And no words of pain or anguish, 
 And no bitter cry of parting, 
 Broke the peaceful stillness round them. 
 
 When the actions in the old life 
 Had been cruel, false, and selfish, 
 And the beating of the storm waves 
 Could not wash away their traces 
 From the memories of the Shadows, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 53 
 
 These could never reach the Island, 
 But forlorn, forsaken beings, 
 To and fro they ever drifted, 
 With the currents and the tempests, 
 Till, at last, they sank to silence, 
 In the sleep that is eternal. 
 
 While Abeka mused and pondered 
 On the mystery of his new life, 
 Came a voice of softest cadence, 
 Floating on the gentle breezes, 
 Floating like a cloud in summer. 
 Though the accents thrilled Abeka, 
 And he knew their fullest meaning, 
 Yet the words were not a language 
 Spoken by the Earthly nations. 
 
 All around they felt a Presence, 
 In the shadows It was near them, 
 In the sunlight It was with them, 
 But their eyes could not behold It. 
 
54 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 As the mother stills her infant, 
 By her sweet but wordless singing ; 
 As the wild bird sounds her warning 
 To the timid brood around her, 
 So the Voice that reached Abeka 
 Spoke to him with fullest meaning, 
 " Go," it said, " back to your people, 
 " Since your task is not accomplished. 
 " To your people I will send you, 
 " You shall be a chief among them, 
 " Euling them with love and wisdom. 
 " For great purposes I made you 
 " These my messenger shall show you 
 " When he gives you back your body, 
 " So that you may guide your people, 
 " So that you may lead them with you, 
 " Safely to the Happy Island. 
 " Go, but leave your Wabose with me ; 
 " She shall wait your second coming, 
 " Always young and always faithful, 
 
THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 55 
 
 " Young and fair as when I called her 
 " From the land of snows and forests." 
 
 When, in after years, Abeka 
 Told the story of this journey 
 To the listeners in his Wigwam, 
 Sometimes doubters were among them, 
 Who believed that in his fasting, 
 In his long and weary vigils, 
 He had seen a mystic vision, 
 And had never left his body, 
 Never crossed the stormy water, 
 Never seen again his Wabose. 
 
 But none ever dared to show him 
 That they doubted what he told them : 
 For he faithfully believed it ; 
 And he ruled his people wisely, 
 So that he might take them with him, 
 When he next should cross the water, 
 In the bright canoe of White Stone, 
 To the Island of the Blessed. 
 
EUTHANASY. 
 
 THE weary brain cries out for rest 
 An end to hopes, an end to fears, 
 An end to hours and days and years, 
 
 An end to time itself were best. 
 The soul breathes out her litany 
 
 To sleep in peace, to leave the light, 
 To sink in silent lethargy, 
 
 And glide beyond the gates of night 
 On wings of soft Euthanasy. 
 
 What voices pierce the ether clear ? 
 
 From distant stars they seem to roll, 
 
 The answer of the Over- Soul ; 
 Their music murmurs in the ear 
 
 Like whisperings of eternity. 
 They call us back to Nature's breast, 
 
 To end life's awful mystery, 
 And dream in the eternal rest 
 
 That comes beyond Euthanasy. 
 56 
 
THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 (Written for the Caledonian Society of Toronto.) 
 
 GIVE France her flaunting fleur-de-lis, 
 
 England her damask rose ; 
 Let Ireland love the triple leaf 
 
 That on her greensward blows. 
 
 The land that nurtured Robert Bruce, 
 Where Wallace won his name, 
 
 Must find a sterner emblem flower 
 To symbol Scotland's fame. 
 
 Go, search her rugged mountain sides, 
 Her banks and braes so fair, 
 57 
 
58 THE THISTLE OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 On sunny slope, on lonely moor, 
 Her emblem Flower is there ! 
 
 See ! where it rears its haughty head- 
 True Scot that ne'er will yield 
 
 The Thistle ! with its ruby crown, 
 Stands monarch of the field. 
 
 It spreads those warlike arms about, 
 To guard the land from spoil ; 
 
 What foeman's foot e'er rested long 
 On Caledonia's soil ! 
 
 The banners of the Northern race 
 Oft waved above its spears, 
 
 When Border shout and pibroch note 
 Bang in the Southron ears. 
 
 ! Sons of Scotland ! love it well, 
 Your sires its virtues knew ; 
 
 Be like your Thistle to the end, 
 As staunch, as leal and true ! 
 
LIA FAIL, 
 
 The Scottish Stone of Destiny. 
 
 (See Note 5.) 
 
 WEIED and mystic is the story 
 Shrouded in forgotten lore, 
 
 How the Royal Stone of Scotland 
 Found a place on Scotland's shore. 
 
 No human hands e'er fashioned it, 
 Nor shaped its rugged form ; 
 
 It thundered down the mountain side, 
 Dislodged by Alpine storm. 
 59 
 
60 ' LIA FAIL. 
 
 'Twas pillow for the weary head 
 
 At Bethel on the night 
 When Jacob's raptured vision saw 
 
 The ladder crowned with light. 
 
 A thousand years passed o'er it 
 In many climes and lands 
 
 The throne of savage princes, 
 Who ruled their heathen bands. 
 
 Ere the Assyrian hosts were shattered, 
 Sleeping all the sleep of death, 
 
 Smitten in their battle harness, 
 Blasted by the angel's breath ; 
 
 Ere the star of Borne had risen 
 Glorious after many wars, 
 
 Ere she first was led to battle 
 By the wolf-nursed son of Mars ; 
 
 The southern breeze blew softly, 
 And filled the Spanish sail, 
 
LTA FAIL. 61 
 
 That bore to Erin's monarch 
 The mystic Lia Fail. 
 
 Great Fergus seized the trophy, 
 
 And on it, by God's grace, 
 Was crowned in bonnie Scotland 
 
 First prince of Scottish race. 
 
 O'er a long line of heroes- 
 Old Caledonia's kings, 
 
 The sacred Stone of Destiny 
 A mystic glory flings. 
 
 And now the Eoyal City 
 
 On Thames' historic shore 
 Enshrines the throne of Fergus, 
 
 The Lia Fail of yore. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 1. 
 THE CANADIAN SONG SPARROW. 
 
 (Page 16.) 
 
 Every resident in the northern and eastern counties of the 
 Dominion has heard the note of the song sparrow in all the 
 woods and fields through the early days of spring. While his 
 voice is familiar to the ear, very few can boast of having seen 
 him, so carefully does he conceal himself from view. He dwells 
 long upon his first and second notes, and, in metrical phrase, he 
 forms a distinct "spondee." He then rattles off at least three 
 "dactyls" in quick succession. In different localities different 
 words are supplied to his music. Early settlers heard him 
 echoing their despair with ' ' Hard times in Canada, Canada, 
 Canada." Others maintain that he is searching for traces of a 
 dark crime, and unceasingly demands to know "Who killed 
 Kennedy, Kennedy, Kennedy ? " The thrifty farmer detects 
 the words of warning "Come now, sow-the-wheat, sow-the- 
 wheat, sow-the-wheat." The writer has distinctly recognized 
 in the little song the melancholy sentiments indicated in these 
 lines. 
 
 NOTE 2. 
 
 UN CANADIEN ERRANT. 
 
 (Page 20.) 
 
 This well-known song was composed by the late A. Ge'rin- 
 Lajoie shortly after the Rebellion of 1837, when so many 
 
 62 
 
\ \ 99 \ : :.; ; ,-'.'63 
 
 French-Canadians were in exile, "bannis de leurs foyers." 
 Written to an old French air, its simple but touching words 
 have given it an extraordinary popularity in the Province of 
 Quebec. 
 
 NOTE 3. 
 THE GREAT DIVIDE. 
 
 (Page 33.) 
 
 Stephen, a station 011 the Canadian Pacific Railway, marks 
 the summit of the Rocky Mountains. Here all trains are 
 delayed to allow passengers to see the exact spot where the 
 waters of a mountain spring divide, and overflow towards both 
 the east and the west. These divided drops flow in opposite 
 directions and by devious courses, and after descending more 
 than 5,000 feet, they reach the sea levels of the Atlantic or the 
 Pacific. 
 
 NOTE 4. 
 THE WHITE STONE CANOE. 
 
 (Page 3U.) 
 
 The works of Schoolcraft contain many beautiful Indian 
 legends, some of which, Longfellow tells us, he wove into 
 his "Song of Hiawatha." "The White Stone Canoe" is one 
 which he did not so immortalize, though it possesses great 
 interest, and is rich in poetry and curious traditions. He 
 made use of one of its incidents, however, where Chibiabos 
 
 "In the Stone Canoe was carried 
 To the Islands of the Blessed, 
 To the land of Ghosts and Shadows." 
 
 In my treatment of the story I have naturally fallen into the 
 
64; .,'';' ,". .; / NOTES. 
 
 simple metre, which the great American poet adopted as most 
 suitable for Songs of the Forest and Tales of the Wigwam. 
 
 NOTE 5. 
 LIA FAIL, 
 
 The Scottish Stone of Destiny. 
 
 (Page 59.) 
 
 The Lia Fail, or Stone of Destiny, is the subject of many 
 fabulous traditions. Ancient chronicles recount that, after 
 having been Jacob's pillow at Bethel, it was a valued relic in 
 the time 'of Gathelus, a Spanish king, and contemporary of 
 Romulus. This monarch sent it with his son when the latter 
 invaded Ireland. It was for centuries the coronation throne 
 of Irish princes, until it was removed first to lona, where 
 Fergus, son of Ere, was crowned upon it, A.D. 503, and thence 
 to Scone, in 842, by Kenneth II., when the Scots had overcome 
 the Picts. It remained in the Abbey of Scone as the coronation 
 chair of the kings of Scotland, until carried off by Edward I. , in 
 order that nothing might be left to remind the Scots of their 
 former independence. He, however, placed it, with veneration, 
 near the altar in Westminster Abbey, where it may now be 
 seen, forming the support of the coronation chair of the British 
 sovereigns. The mysterious connection which this stone is 
 supposed to have with the destinies of the Scots is celebrated 
 in the well known Latin couplet: 
 
 " Ni fallat fatuni, Scoti quocunque locatum 
 Invenient lapidem, regnare tenentur ibidem." 
 
 It was not unnatural that the accession of the Stuarts to the 
 throne of Great Britain should have been hailed by many as the 
 accomplishment of this singular prophecy. 
 
 
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