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Qarols of Qapada 
 
 ete., ete. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. MACLEOD 
 
 •^Kiafk K-.— < ^m^ 
 
 <?t?arlottetou/p, p. ^. I. 
 
 printed by Jol^p C^oombs, Queer) Street 
 
 1893 
 
Entered according to Act of Parliament, in the year 1893, 
 
 By Elizabeth S. MacLeod, 
 
 In the Office of the Minister of Agriculture. 
 
75-3 
 
 ^0 car 
 
 Wsit H^onourable 
 
 Who, with the more than regal right 
 Of generous heart, and princely hand 
 Hath fostered learning in our land ; 
 
 And set it on the highest height. 
 
 Who faileth not 'fore certain test 
 
 Of faith supreme — true zeal for man ; 
 Who, working out supernal plan, 
 
 Doth serve his God and country best, — 
 
 Eftese darote of Canatia, etc., etc., 
 
 are 
 
 iWost Bespectfullg Inscrifjclr. 
 
 980 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In sending forth these gleanings from the later 
 compositions of my few leisure hours, I take the 
 opportunity of thanking most sincerely those many 
 friends who have so generously subscribed for the 
 work. Not only has their kind appreciation caused 
 me to realize that I am no longer a stranger in a 
 strange land, but also, that I possess the whole-souled 
 sympathy of not a few, in this the country of my 
 adoption. 
 
 Many are the tender memories which unite me to 
 the olden land : a land for ever hallowed as the quiet 
 resting-place of the loved dead, and the once happy 
 home of a love-encircled childhood. Still, I cannot 
 but deplore the many evils existing therein ; more 
 especially that evil of a system which places the 
 greater number at the mercy of the fewer — the de- 
 basing system of extensive landlordism ; a system 
 which may have suited in those former periods when 
 kingdoms and positions were mainly dependent upon 
 force of arms, but for which there can be no plausible 
 apology in this progressive, and pretentiously human 
 izing age ; and if any words of mine shall induce the 
 tyrant-crushed and woe-oppressed of other climes to 
 raise their eyes towards the setting sun, and to seek 
 a home in this Canada, — this God-appointed haven, 
 these words shall not have been penned in vain. 
 
vi Preface. 
 
 I cherish the utmost faith in the future of Canada 
 — faith which leads me to look beyond my little day 
 and view her, with ample resources still developing, 
 with invitations of welcome still extended, a full-grown 
 nation of intelligent, enterprising and generous-souled 
 people, more glorious by far than the world-renowned 
 empires of the past ; a nation unfettered from bigotry 
 of sect, envy of position, and clannishness of clime ; 
 a nation whose belief is in the eternal fatherhood 
 of God, and the universal brotherhood of humanity ; 
 a nation whose every act of every day life is the pure 
 and lofty exponent of a Christly Christianity, and in 
 whose healthy moral atmosphere vice with its attend- 
 ant train of evils cannot exist ; a nation upon which, 
 over all its boundless pasture lands and by its many 
 sounding shores, the sun of Freedom shines, and the 
 honest, earnest worshipper bendeth never a humble 
 knee save to fair Freedom's God. 
 
 E. S. MACLEOD. 
 Charlottetown, Nov. 1893. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 Carols of Canada: 
 
 Canada 3 
 
 The Founding of Montkical ... 5 
 
 The Huntsman 7 
 
 Cape Le Force 9 
 
 Sister St. Thomas 14 
 
 The Message 20 
 
 His Offering 21 
 
 LouiSBURG, 1745 ... . . 22 
 
 The Woods and The Sea . . . 24 
 
 The Gate 26 
 
 The Hiding-place 29 
 
 A Christmas Memory 31 
 
 The Immigrant's Appeal 33 
 
 The Queen's Jubilee 34 
 
 Point Prim 38 
 
 Orwell Bay 39 
 
 Going Abroad 41 
 
 The Student 42 
 
 The Pioneer 46 
 
 The Olden Flag 53 
 
 Idylls of the Year: 
 
 The Old Year and the New ... 57 
 
 Spring ........ 60 
 
 Summer 62 
 
 Autumn 63 
 
 Winter 64 
 
 Easter 65 
 
 Thanksgiving 66 
 
 Christmas Eve 67 
 
 Christmas 70 
 
 The Siege of Quebec 73 
 
 Personal : 
 
 Our Queen 91 
 
 Princess of Wales 92 
 
 Prince George 94 
 
 Gladstone 95 
 
 Sir J. A. Macdonald .... 96 
 
 Hon. A lex. Mackenzie .... 97 
 
 In Memoriam 98 
 
 Bishop MacIntyre 99 
 
 Bishop Brooks 101 
 
 After Many Years 102 
 
Contents. 
 
 Personal -.—Continued. 
 Tennyson 
 Spurgeon 
 Beecher 
 Alleluia . 
 "Three Years" . 
 The Evening Star 
 
 Khymes of Ancient Bome: 
 HoRATius, B. C, 650 
 Pyrrhus. B. C, 280 . 
 Marius, B. C, 86 . 
 Brutus, B. C, 42 
 Marcus Curtius . 
 
 Crawfurd Castle 
 
 Songs of Scotia: 
 
 The Scotch Gathering 
 Skye .... 
 Bonnie Dundee 
 The Heatherbell . 
 Bonnier .... 
 The Doctor's Fee 
 The Vision . 
 Loch Katrine 
 Content .... 
 
 Miscellaneous : 
 
 Columbus 
 
 Time and Eternity 
 
 The Tree .... 
 
 The Shipwreck 
 
 De Profundis . 
 
 Eclipse of the Moon . 
 
 Erin's Address to Freedom 
 
 The Gift .... 
 
 Ever Faithful 
 
 The Hired Boy 
 
 Laurels . . . . 
 
 St. Patrick's Day 
 
 To THE Poet 
 
 To The Ocean 
 
 The Orange 
 
 St. Andrew's Day 
 
 Good Bye and Good Night 
 
 The Rose .... 
 
 Home from School 
 
 To H. M. S. '^ Blake" 
 
 Retrospect 
 Notes 
 
CAROLS OF CANADA. 
 
CANADA. 
 
 Oh Canada ! great Canada ! 
 
 Land of all lands to be ; 
 Farewell to lays of olden clime ! 
 
 We touch the lyre for thee. 
 For thee, Oh gracious, morning land ! 
 
 Through cycles of renown 
 Thy leal of heart, and firm of hand 
 
 Shall guard thy spotless crown. 
 
 Exhaustless, boundless Canada ! 
 
 Thy myriad forests wave ; 
 Thy snow-capped mountains cleave the skies ; 
 
 Thy shores, two oceans lave. 
 Thy sea-wide lakes, thy rivers bold 
 
 Are worlds of crystal sheen ; 
 And vast as empires famed of old 
 
 Thy prairies, rolling green. 
 
 Oh fair and beauteous Canada ! 
 
 Aneath thy sapphire sky, 
 Gay-plumaged warblers wing their flight 
 
 O'er flowers of gorgeous dye, 
 Which own no faint, exotic blush 
 
 Of Care's trim, training hand ; 
 Rich dowered of health, with nature's flush. 
 
 They brig'hten all the land. 
 
Carols of Canada. 
 
 Yet, not thy beauty, Canada, 
 
 Could hold thy people's love ; 
 Yet not thy vastness, nor thy might 
 
 Could soul of nations move. 
 But this, that o'er thy gleaming lakes, 
 
 And through thy waving pines. 
 The glory of a future breaks ; 
 
 The sun of freedom shines. 
 
 Thou may'st not boast, fair Canada ! 
 
 The soft, spice-laden breeze ; 
 Or palm of Ethiopian land. 
 
 Or pearl of Ceylon seas. 
 Yet thine no dread, samiel curse, 
 
 To blight thy emerald plains ; 
 Thine only wholesome air, to nurse 
 
 Pure blood in patriot veins. 
 
 Thou may'st not point, young Canada ! 
 
 To sumptuous mosques of pride ; 
 Or watery highways, where with song, 
 
 The gay gondolas glide. 
 But thine, beneath wide starry dome, 
 
 Along ten thousand streams, 
 O'er many a league of richest loam, 
 
 To animate life dreams. 
 
 Thou opest, regal Canada ! 
 
 Floodgates off either sea ; 
 And tyrant-crushed, and crushed of fate, 
 
 Find peaceful rest in thee. 
 Upon thy generous-yielding sward. 
 
 And round thy teeming coast, ■ 
 
Sieur de Maisonneuve. 
 
 Just labor finds its just award ; 
 Nor heart of hope is lost. 
 
 Oh high-souled ! hopeful Canada ! 
 
 Long may thy banner wave 
 O'er soil where will to work is gold, 
 
 Nor man nor mind is slave. 
 God's grace thee further, lovbd land ! 
 
 Live thou thy high behest ! 
 So shalt thou 'mid the nations stand 
 
 Erect ; through blessing blest. 
 
 SIEUR DE MAISONNEUVE, 
 
 OR 
 
 THE FOUNDING OF MONTREAL. 
 
 Tho' rough be the path thou art destined to tread, 
 
 Let courage and truth be thy stay ; 
 Thy course be straight onward, aye looking ahead. 
 
 Doubt not, neither droop by the way. 
 Who spanned the wide ocean, who narrowed the soil, 
 
 With spirits untrammeled of fear, 
 Have found, through the struggle, the sorrow, the toil, 
 
 Sure help from on high ever near. 
 
 He had ta'en his last look of those terraced hills 
 Where the golden and green intertwine ; 
 
 Where song of the peasant doth sing in the rills, 
 As he gleaneth the fruit of the vine. 
 
6 Carols of Canada. 
 
 He had breathed fond adieux to his own loved land, 
 
 A land of rare science and art ; 
 Where learning's vast treasure to genius lends hand, 
 
 And knowledge ennobleth the heart. 
 
 Aglow with the fire of a heavenly grace. 
 
 He had sailed for the ice drift and snow ; 
 With vigor of purpose had ventured his face 
 
 To yet fiercer, more deadly foe. 
 To the darkening scowl of the dusky crew 
 
 He would radiate beams of love ; 
 Would labor and bide, with his well-chosen few, 
 
 The unction bestowed from above. 
 
 They told him of brothers who perished before ; 
 
 Of the tortures of savage hate ; 
 Vain pleading ! it stirred but his courage the more 
 
 To conquer, or share in their fate. 
 Not his to recall, with a sigh of regret. 
 
 Those voices far over the main ; 
 Where the sun of his brilliant boyhood set, 
 
 On the banks of the royal Seine. 
 
 Not his to feel faint on the thorniest path, 
 
 Or to shrink whate'er might betide : 
 They know not, or heed not humanity's wrath 
 
 Who are vowed to the Crucified. 
 He gazed on the shore, with its dark fringe of pine ; 
 
 To the heavens, with bright disc on the blue ; 
 Then, lightened his vision with rapture divine ; 
 
 The future arose to his view. 
 
The Huntsman. 7 
 
 " I shall go/' said he, " unto Montreal 
 
 Though each tree were an Iroquois ! " 
 And the God of the dauntless hearkened his call, 
 
 The God of the martyred ones saw. 
 Now the great city smiles where the grim forest loomed, 
 
 And the red man boweth the knee ; 
 And the Cross which was trampled in triumph hath 
 bloomed 
 
 From mountain to uttermost sea. 
 
 THE HUNTSMAN. 
 
 ' TwAS in the lone, uncultured wilds 
 
 Of far Assiniboia, 
 Ere commerce took its giant stride 
 
 From east to western sea. 
 From grasp of lordly tyranny 
 
 Came brave and sturdy band ; 
 The sons of sires who framed the old, 
 
 To build the fair, new land. 
 
 The red men tracked the hunter's path 
 
 Through miles of gloomy wood ; 
 And now, with whoop and fiendish yell, 
 
 Before their victim stood. 
 With rifle shot he kept his ground, 
 
 And held the foe at bay ; 
 Yet, what avail his single strength ! 
 
 Ten times his number they. 
 
 He leaped upon a rocky ledge 
 Which overhung the wave ; 
 
Carols of Canada. 
 
 Far kindlier fate than scalping-knife, 
 
 Tlie risk of watery grave. 
 He glanced towards his precious haven 
 
 Upon its patch of green ; 
 He saw his loved ones by the door, 
 
 But — the river rolled between. 
 
 Another saw ; love prompted wit \ 
 
 Upon the grassy floor 
 She laid her babe, then fleetly sought 
 
 The wherry by the shore. 
 With strong, young arm she plied the oar ; 
 
 The waters twirl and toss ; 
 'Tis vain ! beneath that cataract 
 
 No human power may cross. 
 
 List ! through the noisome, seething surge, 
 
 A voice of hope and cheer : 
 " Leap in, and swim adown the stream, 
 
 I'll meet you — never fear ! " 
 The current bears the slight skiff" on, 
 
 The Indians' arrows fly, 
 But the huntsman's form is seen no more 
 
 Against that lurid sky. 
 
 For he hath plunged into the foam 
 
 And, borne upon the tide, 
 Is now beyond all chance of harm. 
 
 His brave wife by his side. 
 Saved by that faith-inspiring Love 
 
 Which glorifies the hearth ; 
 Which amply fills with choice-drawn wealth. 
 
 And crowns the loves of earth. 
 
Cape Le Force. 
 
 CAPE LE FORCE. 
 
 Where frowning bulwarks guard the coast 
 
 Around our sea-girt Isle, 
 Where wildest winters wreak their wrath, 
 
 And sweetest summers smile. 
 
 In holy calm of eventide 
 
 Which crowned the sunbright day, 
 We sat upon a grassy knoll 
 
 That overlooked the bay. 
 
 All glorious the lingering light 
 
 From out the radiant west, 
 As loath to leave a scene so fair, 
 
 Illumined ocean's crest. 
 
 Along the path, with quiet tread, 
 
 There came an aged form 
 Whose sunburnt features told that he 
 
 Had weathered many a storm. 
 
 He'd held command in goodly craft 
 
 On nigh and far off seas ; 
 Had furled the sail on foreign strand, 
 
 And scoured ' fore every breeze. 
 
 Now, 'yond all lure of worldly wealth 
 Through commerce on the foam, 
 
 He anchored where affection set, 
 Within his childhood's home. 
 
lo Cards of Canada. 
 
 Nor tide, nor wind, nor black storm-cloud 
 
 Could bar his passage more, 
 As he waited sailing orders 
 
 For glad Beulah's shore. 
 
 We asked him, as he rested near, 
 
 If he the story knew 
 Of that bleak, lonely cape which stretched 
 
 Upon our right hand view. 
 
 " I can relate/' he said, *' the tale 
 My grandsire told to me : — 
 It happened in the year of grace 
 Seventeen sixty-three. 
 
 " That year the Isle of St. Jean 
 
 Was ceded, this you know, 
 To Britain, in the treaty signed 
 By France, at Fontainebleau. 
 
 " French privateers, which robbed our coast. 
 Were harassed by our men ; 
 McKenzie, with a British sloop 
 Unaided, captured ten. 
 
 " One, fleeter than the rest escaped, 
 Commanded by Le Force ; 
 In dread of foes, or unknown seas, 
 He held a leeward course. 
 
 " But all too fast the gallant ship 
 Bore down towards the bay ; 
 Caught on deceitful shifting sands, 
 A stranded wreck she lay. 
 
Cape Le Force. ii 
 
 ** T\\Q boats made shore, the crew dispersed, 
 One officer remained 
 With his commander, and large share 
 Of ill-won booty gained. 
 
 ** On yonder cape they pitched a tent, 
 And from the vessel's store 
 In haste, with slightest interval, 
 Much precious freight they bore. 
 
 *• But where 'twas hid no mortal knew; 
 Folk say within yon grove, 
 Whose crowding giants dull the day, 
 Exists the treasure-trove. 
 
 ** Be't so or not, to me it seems 
 
 This cursed greed of gold 
 Shuts all the finer feelings out, 
 Deforms life's fairest mould. 
 
 ** Rends rare affection's dearest ties. 
 Transforms the friend to foe ; 
 In battlefield of worldly gain 
 Smites with unsparing blow. 
 
 *' Repels all humanizing love ; 
 In haste to reach its goal. 
 Draws even from gates of paradise 
 The earnest, God-ward soul. 
 
 *' Two daring youths, from hamlet nigh, 
 Through motives curious, went 
 When friendly even lent its shades, 
 Anear the strangers' tent. 
 
12 Carols of Canada. 
 
 " They heard dispute o'er money hoard. 
 Then louder, wrathful tones, 
 Which hotter, higher, waxed until 
 They sunk in low, faint moans. 
 
 *' Next morn three sturdy fishermen 
 Steered out across the wave ; 
 They heeded not the swelling surge, 
 Their hearts were firm and brave. 
 
 " But, Oh ! what vision met their gaze \ 
 Upon that silent shore 
 The Captain of the stranded bark 
 Lay stiffening in his gore. 
 
 *' Far from his loved in La Belle France^ 
 Far from his native plain ; 
 Where longing eyes, and yearning hearts 
 Might long for him in vain. 
 
 " He died not as the soldier dies ; 
 For country and for king ; 
 For him no martial banners wave, 
 No lyre his praise doth sing. 
 
 *' Rough hands, but souls of sympathy, 
 Entombed him where he fell ; 
 While sounding ocean wailed his dirge. 
 And wavelets rang his knell. 
 
 " Now, until ocean yields her dead, 
 Till dries yon river's source, 
 That cape, baptized with his blood, 
 Shall bear the name ' Le Force.' " 
 
Cape Le Force. 
 
 He paused. *' What of the murderer? 
 And what to him befell ? " 
 '' He fled, from that dread hour of guilt 
 No tongue his fate could tell. 
 
 " No legal technicality 
 
 Could paint his black as white, 
 Or color with a golden tinge 
 The blackness of his night. 
 
 "Though richly-garbed, accomplished vice 
 May bide the Final Day ; 
 With brutal, prompt, unstudied crime 
 1 he law brooks no delay. 
 
 " His was no deed of villain art 
 Which slowly works its will, 
 Which wiles its victim to his death, 
 And slays with callous skill. 
 
 " It may be that a Higher Judge 
 Could measure best his crime ; 
 And that, through penitence he found 
 Pardon and peace in time." 
 
 The sun had sunk beneath the wave, 
 The moon had risen on high ; 
 
 And glorified, with silvery beams, 
 The earth, and sea, and sky. 
 
 Light zephyrs thrilled on ocean's chords, 
 Through wavelet's hum and flow ; 
 
 Alas ! that scene surpassing fair. 
 Should sin or sorrow know. 
 
14 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Alas ! that guilt, or causeless woe 
 Should darken nature's smile ; 
 
 As that foul deed, the first to blight 
 With crime Prince Edward Isle. 
 
 SISTER ST. THOMAS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Bright beauty of northern winter! 
 
 The sun, with its tenderest glow, 
 Gilded the haze of the housetops. 
 
 Warm-tinted earth's mantle of snow. 
 
 Flashed forth the crystalline branches, 
 
 Bedazzling of jewelry rare ; 
 Rich set in radiance of splendor, 
 
 Choice pearlets of nature's own wear. 
 
 Dark night with its gloom had faded, 
 Fair morning its halo unfurled ; 
 
 Yet stirred not the solemn silence 
 With the hum of a waking world. 
 
 Unheard was the sound of labor, 
 
 Mute — hushed was the voice of the street 
 Only the tread of passers by, 
 
 VV^ho stayed not their hastening feet. 
 
 Only half whispers, curt replies 
 
 To eager questions, doubtful given ; 
 
 For hearts were awed with sudden fear, 
 For dearest ties of earth were riven. 
 
Sister St. Thomas. 15 
 
 Soft cloudlets afloat on the blue, 
 
 Pure wreaths of the shimmering snow, 
 
 Re-uttered in language sublime, 
 The breathings of- unwonted woe. 
 
 Alas, for the dreaming of life ! 
 
 Though heard not the roll of the drum. 
 Nor witnessed the ensign of war, 
 
 A merciless tyrant had come. 
 
 Strife is no strife ill-divided 
 
 When man fighteth frail brother-man ; 
 But war is a warfare unequal 
 
 When giant force leadeth one van. 
 
 W^hat marvel that mortals shrank back, 
 That science e'en held bated breath ; — 
 
 Over the lights of our dwellings 
 There hovered the angel of death. 
 
 The flags which drooped from the windows, 
 
 And waved in the winterly sun, 
 Signalled fierce battle was raging, 
 
 But told not of victory won. 
 
 They were no flags of our nation. 
 No tri-colored red, white and blue ; 
 
 Heralds of hope, or of freedom, 
 
 Beamed not in their pale, saffron hue. 
 
 II. 
 
 Inside the new oped lazar-house, 
 
 Where sick and dying, plague-struck, lay. 
 
1 6 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Skill sought to baffle foul disease, 
 Yet still the dismal blight made way. 
 
 Sore lack of helpful, nursing hands 
 Was keenly felt within those walls ; 
 
 Since selfish dread had closed the soul 
 To lucre's bribe, or mercy's calls. 
 
 Had closed the soul of all save those 
 Whose life is but to do His will ; 
 
 Who fear not Afric's burning sands, 
 Nor Javan swamp, nor Iceland chili. 
 
 Three Sisters, vowed to charity. 
 Out of the well trained city band ; 
 
 Skilled nurses they, and fit prepared, 
 Came forward as with life in hand. 
 
 When, shame to tell, their proffered aid 
 Was scouted ; reason urgeth why ? 
 
 Search not dim aisles of bigotry, 
 Sift thou thy soul for just reply. 
 
 Oh, narrow bounded prejudice ! 
 
 Hedged round of a christian name. 
 Thou low, dim burning altar light ! 
 
 Unlit of celestial flame. 
 
 Right royal blood in honor's cause, 
 Red stains the patriot battle field ; 
 
 Thou slay'st thy myriads for naught, 
 God in the conscience may not yield. 
 
Sister St. Thomas. 17 
 
 Thou 1 blind and selfish prejudice ; 
 
 Vile, murky source of endless strife ; 
 Know that a world reviving faith 
 
 Doth blossom into fruitful life. 
 
 III. 
 
 Still raged the dreaded pestilence, 
 And still the quiet stars of night 
 
 Beamed down upon the obsequies 
 Of those who perished in the fight. 
 
 'Mid comfort of our peaceful homes, 
 We heard the rattle of the car 
 
 Which bore the vanquished from the scene 
 Of bloodless, but relentless war. 
 
 For them no sacred bell was tolled, 
 Nor rose the chant of plaintive psalm ; 
 
 Yet through deep mists shone guiding light 
 From cruel cross, to blissful palm. 
 
 Within the City Hospital, 
 
 With satchel in her willing hand, 
 
 She waited, as a soldier waits, 
 
 Intent to hear his lord's command. 
 
 She knew that fickle human aid 
 
 When sought at risks is sought in vain ; 
 
 That in no human breast exists 
 Will to encounter death or pain. 
 
1 8* Carols of Canada. 
 
 *• And can'st thou think to go ? " I said, 
 
 " When all thy purposes of good 
 Were balked by callous ignorance, 
 Close-linked with base ingratitude." 
 
 She looked me calmly in the face ; 
 
 A shade, which noted sad surprise 
 Stole o'er her placid countenance, 
 
 And spake from out her gentle eyes. 
 
 Her answer echoes down the years, 
 Illumes the hall in which she sat, 
 Breaks through all cant of class or creed 
 '' Those sick must not suffer for that.''^ 
 
 IV. 
 
 Just then a messenger was hailed ; 
 
 To God and to their mission true, 
 Firm-souled, went out to meet the plague 
 
 She and devoted sisters two. 
 
 Emblazoned in archives of light 
 
 Those titles no worldling may hold ; 
 
 Whilst their star, in our nether sky, 
 Shines forth in a circlet of gold. 
 
 With practised eye, and tender hand. 
 With quiet mien, and noiseless tread, 
 
 They grappled with the dire disease, 
 Or soothed the sufferer's dying bed. 
 
 They listed, with a patient mind. 
 The longings of the exiled one ; 
 
Sister St. Thomas. 19 
 
 Or treasured, for a mother's ear, 
 The last faint accents of her son. 
 
 Yea ! all along that tardy night, 
 
 Black with the bitterness of woe, 
 They toiled in unison with those 
 
 Whose skill and courage foiled the foe. 
 
 Fame proudly vaunts her hero dead ; 
 
 Ambition's tools, in glory's van ; 
 Thrice worthy he of lasting wreath, 
 
 Who lives for God, and dies for man. 
 
 Ah me ! for the silent martyr 
 
 Whose tireless feet so surely trod 
 The pathway leading on and up 
 
 Towards the city of our God. 
 
 The poison draught entered her blood ; 
 
 In brightness of Spring's early day 
 Sister St. Thomas bowed her head, 
 
 And passed from her labors for aye. 
 
 1 know that 'yond the swelling surge, 
 She reached that tideless, tranquil shore, 
 
 Where faith finds anchor nigh its source, 
 And storms of time are heard no more. 
 
 • I know that robed in spotless white, 
 
 Her pure soul on Mount Zion stands ; 
 And yet I see her as she sat 
 
 With satchel in her willing hands. 
 
Carols of Canada. 
 
 Ho, peerless crown \ Ho, fadeless palm ! 
 
 Bright land where ransomed spirits be \ 
 True love to God with love to man, 
 
 Ensures a blessed eternity. 
 
 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 Ye sweet summer birds ! in your flight 
 
 Afar o'er the southern sea, 
 Will ye stoop from your aerified height 
 
 To whisper my lover of me ? 
 
 Again will ye hoist your bright wing 
 
 When ice-fields unloose from our shore ; 
 
 New tunes through the woodlands shall ring ;- 
 Those tones 1 shall I hear never more ? 
 
 Remind him that low in the sky 
 
 Sails the god of the long summer day ; 
 
 That later the glory-glints hie 
 
 From their couch, with its curtains of gray. 
 
 Yet — tell him through nature's vast range. 
 Reaped harvests, ripe forests aflame ; — 
 
 Oh ! tell him, through oceans of change, 
 I'll love him forever, the same. 
 
His Offering. 21 
 
 HIS OFFERING. 
 
 *' Where's mother? " and with eager haste 
 
 He bore Love's offering ; 
 The first, bright flowers which oped their eyes ; 
 
 Sweet heralds of the Spring. 
 
 Those tiny stars which dot with hght 
 
 The young year's tender green ; 
 As silvery tapers gem the doole 
 
 Of evening's sable screen. 
 
 Ho ! worlding of the callous mind ! 
 
 Deem this a trifling thing ? 
 O'er little deeds of loyal love 
 
 Great mother-love doth sing. 
 
 More precious from those chubby hands, 
 Those sweet, wild flowers of Spring, 
 
 Than priceless jewels from the store 
 Of coroneted king. 
 
2 2 Carols of Canada. 
 
 LOUISBURG— 1745. 
 
 '* Unbridled appetite was followed by deadly fever, and before 
 Spring 1200 of Peperell's men filled graves in the conquered soil." 
 
 Brave maiden-love ! bright sister-faith ! 
 
 Of this Columbian land, 
 Why should fair youth, as tidal wreck, 
 
 Drift up on either strand ? 
 Ye mothers ! when your sons set sail 
 
 On life's tempestuous seas. 
 Why pray ye Heaven's propitious calm 
 
 To quell each rising breeze ? 
 
 If haste for fame, or wealth of lore, 
 
 Or thirst for worldly pelf 
 Be set above that priceless boon. 
 
 The power to conquer self. 
 To guard that no insidious foe 
 
 The citadel shall win ; 
 To note, as quick-eared sentinel. 
 
 The first approach of sin. 
 
 The surges tossed in seething foam 
 
 Upon that rock-bound shore ; 
 Yet the brave men of New England 
 
 Down to the leeward bore. 
 The Frenchman's warning gun booms forth. 
 
 The heavy seas resound ; 
 What reck they ! with determined mien 
 
 They tread the solid ground. 
 
 Mere raw recruits and all untrained 
 In stratagem of war, 
 
Louisburg—iy45' 23 
 
 Not Gallia's veterans, skilled in arms, 
 
 Their landing place might bar. 
 Through hardships dire and manifold 
 
 They upward, onward press ; 
 On, till the blossomings of hope 
 
 Are fruited with success. 
 
 And all through proud New England, 
 
 And far across the wave, 
 The name of Massachusetts 
 
 And of her soldier brave 
 Is linked with joy and feasting ; 
 
 While Britain's fair renown 
 Gleams fairer for the added gem, 
 
 Which decks her ancient crown. 
 
 More bright the clear, translucent sky. 
 
 More dense the shadows fall ; 
 More glorious the spirits glow. 
 
 More black the dismal pall ; 
 Oft, through celestial sunlight. 
 
 Breaks forth dull thunder shower ; 
 Oft, over brilliant visionings 
 
 Dark disappointments lower. 
 
 So, in first flush of triumph, 
 
 Crept in an artful foe, 
 W^hose craft and daring overcame 
 
 Without one open blow. 
 More certain than the Gascon shot 
 
 In siege, on field of war ; 
 And deadher than the scalping knife 
 
 Of subtle Indian, far. 
 
24 Carols of Canada. 
 
 And those brave, who never faltered 
 
 Before a human form, 
 Who never shrank from danger's path, 
 
 Or cowered beneath a storm. 
 Fall down before that reaper's hand 
 
 As falls the sun scorched grain ; 
 And Glory's wreath, and Victory's song 
 
 Alike are void and vain. 
 
 THE WOODS AND THE SEA. 
 
 They gathered round with feeling heart. 
 
 From hamlet far and near ; 
 They strove in vain, with kindly words, 
 
 Her stricken soul to cheer. 
 For over the night of anguish 
 
 Dawned never break of day ; 
 That sun which sank in frowning skies 
 
 Left ne'er a softening ray. 
 
 Oh broken heart ! Oh empty life ! 
 Oh sad, low monotone ! 
 " The woods and the sea have ruined me ; 
 Alone ! yea all alone ! " 
 
 She'd left her peaceful, native shores 
 
 And dared the stormy wave 
 With him whose troth was love and truth ; 
 
 The young, the strong and brave. 
 
The Woods and the Sea. 25 
 
 They raised a cabin on the wild, 
 
 In shade of branching tree ; 
 And there the mother reared the child, 
 
 And time passed merrily. 
 
 Toil reaped the gain of comfort sweet ; 
 
 And by the fireside blaze. 
 Glad souls went up in grateful song, 
 
 In voice of joy and praise. 
 Sweet lyrics of the heather land 
 
 The evening hours beguiled ; 
 While age re-lived its youth once more, 
 
 And happy childhood smiled. 
 
 Dark shadows mar the brightest heaven. 
 
 And, sharp as warning bell. 
 Sore tidings of their sailor's death 
 
 Upon that homestead fell. 
 Then, when the winter spread earth's shroud 
 
 Of pure white, glistening snow, 
 Upon those mourners fell apace 
 
 A still more bitter blow. 
 
 All night, amid the biting frost. 
 
 With darkest gloom o'er head, 
 Upon the fir-tree's broken boughs 
 
 Three wanderers made their bed. 
 But, ere the dawn had streaked the sky 
 
 With glorious hues of day, 
 The brightest life e'er blessed a home 
 
 Was stilled in death for aye. 
 
 The seasons cycled ; peaceful years 
 Again verged into woe ; 
 
26 Carols of Canada. 
 
 By fatal stroke of falling tree 
 
 The silvered head lay low. 
 She stood beside the aged form ; 
 
 Her brain seemed all on fire ; — 
 The billows rolled, the forest waved 
 
 O'er fated sons and sire. 
 
 Oh narrow bounds of earthly ill I 
 
 Oh sad and suffering throng ! 
 Oh ye ! who drink the bitter cup ; 
 
 It cannot be for long. 
 The woe-worn frame now resteth well ; 
 
 The soul hath found its own ; 
 Where shades of earth no more may blight, 
 
 In lustre of the Throne. 
 
 No more she sings, in lonely grief 
 Her weary monotone : 
 " The woods and the sea have ruined me ; 
 Alone ! yea, all alone 1 " 
 
 THE GATE. 
 
 THt light of love o'er her features played, 
 
 The silver streaks through her bright hair strayed. 
 
 Her noble mien and her gentle hand 
 Proclaimed her daughter of no mean land. 
 
 Voice and action attested her birth, 
 Better than mere gilt baubles of earth. 
 
The Gate. I'j 
 
 Winter had folded its shroud and fled ; 
 The daisies peeped from their grassy bed. 
 
 The dark mounds rose from their circling green ; 
 Young plants smiled back to the bright'ning sheen. 
 
 No wealth of splendor, yet choice as gold 
 Those gifts from hands of the loved of old. 
 
 Hands which will clasp my hand nevermore 
 Till feet stand firm on the tideless shore. 
 
 Careless young Playful had oped the gate ; 
 Hastening footsteps, that could not wait, 
 
 Had sped where playtime and boyhood meet ; 
 The gate, forgot, swung ope from the street. 
 
 From the highway where the cattle roam. 
 And Arabs find their kindliest home. 
 
 The gate might swing till the twilight hours ; 
 Meantime, alack for the tender flowers I 
 
 n 
 
 Came she, 'mid the many passers by ; 
 Quick of the wit and clear of the eye. 
 
 She, of the high-bred, Christian school. 
 Soul-lit and sunned of the golden rule. 
 
 Questioned she whether ! halted she long ! 
 Qualms of propriety right no wrong. 
 
28 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Yield form and fashion their fitting place ; 
 Yet, cramp not the soul in meaner space. 
 
 Hence to marauders, and riskings of fate, 
 She quietly closed— then latched the gate. 
 
 Trumpet bequests of the miser-mind, 
 Who spreads abroad when he cannot bind. 
 
 Boast ye those deeds which blazon the name. 
 Lofty as adamant heights of Fame. 
 
 Dawning of glory \ the world's great heart 
 Throbs not its truest response to art. 
 
 Nor skill, nor fame, nor glamour of gold ; 
 Only Love's chain doth the world enfold. 
 
 And those who will soar on angel wings. 
 Are the generous even in smaller things. 
 
 Generous when shadows darken fate. 
 To close 'gainst evil a neighbor's gate. 
 
The Hiding Place, 29 
 
 THE HIDING PLACE. 
 
 The low, sweet voice of a summer's sea 
 
 Floats far along the pebbly strand ; 
 Whilst melodies, from greening grove, 
 
 Resound o'er all the pleasant land. 
 The streamlet, freed from icy band, 
 
 Sings gaily on its seaward way ; 
 All nature, in responsive mood. 
 
 Doth chime in Springtide roundelay. 
 
 What notes discordant dare to mar 
 
 Those tender cadenzas of song ? 
 Can those shrill tones be tones of wrath 
 
 On softest zephyrs borne along ? 
 Yea ! over Ocean's peaceful hum 
 
 A woman's wrathful voice soars high ; 
 And through the green-arched forest aisles 
 
 Rings out young childhood's plaintive cry. 
 
 Who Cometh, arrayed in priestly guise. 
 
 Full-charged with embassy divine, 
 Of noble mien, of princely port. 
 
 Of lofty brow and look benign ? 
 The mother stays the uplifted hand ; — 
 
 The culprit turned, and quickly ran 
 And refuge sought, and shelter found 
 
 Beneath cloak of the holy man. 
 
 Calm, clear and firm the warning fell 
 " Forgive ! if thou wouldst be forgiven ; 
 Whose heart doth harbor angry thoughts 
 Can ne'er as penitent be shriven. 
 
30 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Forgive thy son ! this once forgive ! 
 
 His surety 1 shall gladly be ; 
 Or, if justice claimeth punishment, 
 
 Then — visit his crimes on me," 
 
 The years rolled on ; the priestly garb 
 
 Bedecks a princely prelate now ; 
 The saintly voice a blessing speaks 
 
 From underneath a mitred brow. 
 In his rounds of zeal the Bishop seeks 
 
 Once more fair Lennox' sea-girt isle ; 
 When lo ! from out the gathering shades, 
 
 The brilliant lights of welcome smile. 
 
 In centre of a glittering throng 
 
 The reverend Father stately stands ; 
 And, in the name of the Triune God, 
 
 He upraiseth his sacred hands. 
 Whilst, leader in that vast array, 
 
 Whose torches brighten wave and shore, 
 Is he whose faults were answered for ; 
 
 The saved of many years before. 
 
 So we, in our rebel sin-nature, 
 
 Pine under the chastening rod ; 
 And fly with our burden of evil 
 
 From wrath of a just-dealing God, 
 To hide in Christ's sheltering raiment 
 
 Of righteousness, inwove with peace ; 
 To find, in a sinless substitute, 
 
 The sin-fettered soul's release. 
 
A Christmas Memory. 31 
 
 So we, when our Great High Priest shall come, 
 
 Begirt of power, enrobed of state. 
 And the peoples of ten thousand isles 
 
 With eager joy His advent wait, 
 Shall hail, with a heartsong of rapture, 
 
 His step on our sin-furrowed strand ; 
 Shall march, with the grand triumphal throng, 
 
 In the glow of a God-lit land. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS MEMORY. 
 
 Hail Christmas ! beacon ever bright ; 
 
 Athwart the way-worn years ; 
 Full lustred of celestial light, 
 
 Thy white-robed dawn appears. 
 Blest season ! when our much beloved 
 
 Around one altar meet ; 
 When voices from the spirit-land 
 
 Our longing spirits greet. 
 
 In tender memories arise, 
 
 Sunlit, the days of old, 
 When radiant vistas oped the skies 
 
 And streaked earth's grey with gold. 
 Beneath a lofty castle dome 
 
 Three fair young dreamers smile ; 
 And, fraught of love, the light of home, 
 
 The flitting hours beguile. 
 
 They wander by the river side. 
 They rest in woodland bowers ; 
 
32 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Pure joy flows like the rippling tide 
 Through all the sunny hours. 
 
 They climb the purple mountain crest, 
 They list the vesper call ; — 
 
 Ah me ! gay life, then quiet rest ; 
 Earth's shadows ! darksome pall ! 
 
 Yet, lo ! seraphic vision breaks ; — 
 
 That beauteous band I see, 
 Where glory-dawn in gladness wakes ; 
 
 Where all the ransomed be. 
 High-seated in Immanuel's land, 
 
 'Yond shadow of the tomb ; 
 Safe-nurtured 'neath a Father's hand 
 
 Immortal youth doth bloom. 
 
 Oh ! happy, happy hearted ! 
 
 Who tread the golden floor ; 
 Oh ! sinless, early parted ! 
 
 Who live, to die no more. 
 Bright land, where none may sever ! 
 
 Where life is life for aye ; 
 Where, through the long forever, 
 
 No night shall veil the day. 
 
 Within the grand, orchestral throng 
 
 They harp, with crowned brow ; 
 While sadness mingles with our song, 
 
 We at His footstool bow. 
 Hail 'Christmas ! light to weary eyes ! 
 
 Light thou the years along ; 
 Till, all as one in Paradise, 
 
 We sing our Christmas song. 
 
The Immigrant's Appeal, 33 
 
 THE IMMIGRANT'S APPEAL, 
 
 Oh ! ye who suifer ills untold 
 
 Upon the ground you tread ! 
 Whose children pine from want and cold, 
 
 And cry in vain for bread, 
 Fold not your hands o'er cruel fate, 
 
 Nor weep with blinded eyes ; 
 Look onward 1 peace and plenty wait 
 
 Aneath our western skies. 
 
 I left my home in Erin's Isle, 
 
 By Shannon's glittering wave, 
 I bade farewell a mother's smile, 
 
 A youthful husband's grave. 
 Together with my orphan band 
 
 I crossed the raging sea, 
 And sought and found in this bright Jand 
 
 A home for them and me. 
 
 Where riches may not rob the feast 
 
 Won by the hand of toil ; 
 Nor oust the man to feed the beast 
 
 Upon God's fertile soil. 
 Where sterling worth may upright stand, 
 
 Where industry is blessed ; — 
 Yes ! though I love my native land, 
 
 I love this land the best. 
 
 Here Scotia finds her sweet blue bell, 
 
 Here Erin's shamrock blows ; 
 Whilst incense floats o'er hill and dell 
 
 From England's fragrant rose. 
 
34 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Each country finds its own again 
 
 Tenfold, in this great world, 
 Where Freedom's hand, from mount to main. 
 
 Her banner hath unfurled. 
 
 Fair Canada ! all lands above 
 
 In power to conquer wrong ; 
 Thou yieldest love in turn for love, 
 
 Thy strength shall aye be strong. 
 Oh beauteous, peerless, wide domains ! 
 
 Oh ever teeming store 1 
 Though exiled myriads seek thy plains. 
 
 There's room for myriads more. 
 
 Now, where the Rocky summits rise, 
 
 At tender eve's decline, 
 I watch the sun of cloudless skies 
 
 O'er many an acre shine. 
 My heart's best treasures by my side, 
 
 The years may ebb and flow ; 
 Till I shall greet, 'yond storm and tide, 
 
 The loved of long ago. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE. 
 I. 
 
 Ring out, gay notes ! through the brightening blue ; 
 
 Peal forth o'er the shimmering wave ; 
 
 Re-echo in souls of the brave ; 
 Bestir the hearts of the loyal and true. 
 
The Queen's Jubilee. 35 
 
 Waft the sweet strains from the dear Mother-land 
 
 To the dwellers by far off sea ; 
 
 Loud anthem the glad Jubilee 
 From white-robed North unto burnished strand. 
 
 Anthem the years of the peaceful decades 
 
 When learning asserted its sway, 
 
 And poortith revived in its ray ; 
 When science and art illumined our glades. 
 
 Broken that power which the conscience would bind, 
 Base umpire 'twixt God and the soul ; 
 No tyrant free speech doth control ; 
 
 Loosed are the fetters which burdened the mind. 
 
 Rides Progress aloft on triumphal car, 
 Out-coursing the wings of the wind ; 
 To the gorgeous fanes of Ind 
 
 Rich blossoms his path, from the Polar star. 
 
 Philanthrophy opeth her gentle hand ; 
 
 Devotion Heaven's dictate obeys ; 
 
 Dawns clearly Hope's halcyon days ;— 
 Golden their gleam, as Aurora's bright wand. 
 
 Live Commerce, careering the white crested wave, 
 
 Quells baneful suspicion and fear ; 
 
 From high unto lowliest sphere 
 Blendeth in union— our Empire to save. 
 
 J[L 
 
 Now harmony striketh a tender chord 
 
 In the lay true Loyalty sings ; 
 
 For the offering which she brings 
 Is dearer than trophy won by the sword. 
 
36 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Praise for those virtues which never wax old, 
 
 Lustrous gems in a noble life ; 
 
 Praise for the calm amid the strife ; — 
 Serene is the spirit of sterling gold. 
 
 Rolls from our vision the mist of the years, 
 Adown through the dark aisles of time. 
 Life's canvas, with picture sublime, 
 
 In its radiance of beauty, appears. 
 
 Soft falleth the sun of a kindly zone 
 
 On the Abbey, so old and grey ; 
 
 On the tomb of a former day ; 
 Bathing in splendor the image of stone. 
 
 Sparkling in flame on the jewelled brow 
 
 Of the peeress, highborn and fair ; 
 
 Anon on the mouldering chair, 
 Yclad of the royal, pure ermine, now. 
 
 Arrayed in the trappings of princely state, 
 
 Loadstar of a glittering band ; 
 
 Our fair young Lady of the land — 
 She stands — the greatest where all are great. 
 
 Crowned with the crown which her brave fathers bore, 
 
 Largess of honors kiss her feet ; 
 
 Enwraps her with dignity meet 
 Prestige of might, as the birthright of yore. 
 
 High-throned in the love of a nation's heart, 
 Rich treasures of promise, I ween, 
 Cheer the steps of our youthful Queen ; 
 
 Lighten the future, and courage impart. 
 
The Queen's Jubilee. 37 
 
 III. 
 
 Vanished that picture of glorious youth, 
 
 Dark clouds o'er life's midsummer came ; 
 Yet scathless the seasons retain 
 
 The loving trust, and the honor and truth. 
 
 Full oft, o'er the fairest spring morning, 
 
 There falleth a bitter, cold blight; 
 
 Oft shroudeth in darksomest night 
 The ruddiest sun heaven adorning. 
 
 So fell he in full flush of his manhood, 
 So dropt they in life's glowing spring; 
 Yet the anguished soul wakened to sing, 
 
 The tear-bedimmed eyes perceived the All-Good. 
 
 Richer than diamond of Indian mine 
 
 The treasure Victoria owns ; 
 
 Firmest pillar of earthly thrones, 
 True sympathy, — typing the Love Divine. 
 
 Thrice blessed sympathy ! may it surround 
 And cheer her graceful evening's calm ; 
 Till sceptre yields to victor's palm. 
 
 May the faith and hope, and the love abound. 
 
 Voice then the homage of millions as one ; 
 
 Wreathe garlands of amaranth flowers ; 
 
 Nor last be Canada — hers and ours ; — 
 For here doth the blood of true fealty run. 
 
 Thunder it over the wide ocean's sheen ! 
 
 Sing it by peaceful inland sea ; 
 
 " God bless our glorious Jubilee ! 
 God bless and defend our most noble Queen ! " 
 
38 Carols of Canada. 
 
 POINT PRIM. 
 
 Far off from the smoke, and the city's glare, 
 
 To the breath of the clover lea ; 
 From the din and dust to the healthful air, 
 
 And the song of a tranquil sea. 
 Which falls on the ear like a holy psalm 
 
 From a world unkenned of strife ; 
 As the eve glides past in a blissful calm, 
 
 Like the close of a well-spent life. 
 
 Yet sighings of sorrow are heard in the foam 
 
 Which white-wreathes thy border, Point Prim ; 
 As she telleth their fate, who left thee, to roam, 
 
 The eyes of the mother wax dim. 
 Of him who ne'er quilted dread danger's post 
 
 Till engulfed in the treacherous wave ; 
 Or of him who fevered on sultry coast. 
 
 And was launched in the sailor's grave. 
 
 No thrilling oration shall vaunt their praise, 
 
 No flowers bloom over their breast; 
 The surges shall wail through the long, long days, 
 
 Yet disturb not their quiet rest. 
 No kindred shall bind them in narrow bed, 
 
 No marble earth's sympathy crave ; 
 Sea-shells will pillow the wave-shrouded head. 
 
 And winds sigh the dirge of her brave. 
 
 No more by the wood path, through falling leaves. 
 Will she hasten their steps to greet ; 
 
 But yet will she gather her golden sheaves, 
 When time and eternity meet. 
 
Orwell Bay, 39 
 
 No more will they weather the tempest's strain, 
 
 With a lowering sky overhead ; — 
 One haven will shelter her loved again 
 
 When the sea giveth up its dead. 
 
 ORWELL BAY. 
 
 Sweet, pale-faced Queen of silent night ! 
 
 Calm-seated on thy azure throne, 
 Shed forth thy beams of silvery light 
 
 Till nether realms embrace thine own. 
 Till gleaming spire on tree-crowned hill, 
 
 With waving corn on valley land ; 
 Till peaceful flood, and noiseless mill 
 
 Seem burnished of enchanter's wand. 
 
 And you, ye moonbeams ! softly glide 
 
 Along fair Orwell's glittering wave ; 
 And gently rest where all my pride 
 
 Lies buried, in my Mary's grave. 
 Oh Mary ! lovM of my youth ! 
 
 Oh blissful dreams of early day ! 
 When love was life, and troth was truth, 
 
 And hallowed shrine was Orwell Bay. 
 
 Full oft, upon thy banks, of yore. 
 With hearts entwined in love divine, 
 
 While murmuring wavelets kissed thy shore, 
 We watched the radiant day's decline. 
 
 When sorrow fell, when times were hard. 
 Love held its faith, youth hoped the best ; 
 
40 Carols of Canada. 
 
 I bade farewell thy greening sward, 
 And turned me to the glowing West. 
 
 Dull seasons fled, dark shadows lowered, 
 
 My utmost efforts were unmeet ; 
 When sudden, fickle Fortune showered 
 
 Her golden largess at my feet. 
 As needle turneth to the pole, 
 
 So, homeward hied my steps to thee ; 
 But ne'er shall love, or kindred soul, 
 
 Or joys of youth return to me. 
 
 Not all my wealth of hard-won gold 
 
 Could shield from blight that lustrous head 
 Now lying in the churchyard mould ; — 
 
 The church where we had hoped to wed. 
 I list the sweet, clear notes which thrill 
 
 Through wooded uplands o'er thy wave ; 
 The music in my heart is still, 
 
 Still as the stars o'er Mary's grave. 
 
 Oh, gorgeous lamps of living light ! 
 
 Which halo all the arc of blue. 
 Ye emblem to my raptured sight 
 
 The white soul of a life most true. 
 My Mary ! tender guiding star ! 
 
 I bow before the Sovereign sway ; — 
 That higher realm, where nought can mar, 
 
 Is fairer e'en than Orwell Bay. 
 
Going Abroad. 41 
 
 GOING ABROAD. 
 
 Oh fleeting hour ! Oh faltering heart 3 
 
 Oh long and sad farewell ! 
 How bitter long we twain may part 
 
 It is not ours to tell. 
 For many a golden shaft will beam 
 
 Through many a pearly rain, 
 Down forest aisles, o'er mountain stream, 
 
 Ere we can meet again. 
 
 Yet, when on far off ocean's foam, 
 
 Or on some foreign strand. 
 Bright Memory wafts thy spirit home 
 
 Unto thy native land. 
 Bethink thee of those gladsome days 
 
 When carelessly we strayed 
 O'er furrowed sand, or daisied braes, 
 
 While Ocean minstrels played. 
 
 'Neath gleaming skies of cloudless blue ; 
 
 Beyond the tropic's glare. 
 Where bright-eyed birds of rainbow hue 
 
 Float through the perfumed air ; 
 By pictured scenes of former age ; 
 
 In seats of ancient lore, 
 Where poet, painter, sculptor, sage 
 
 Illumined days of yore, 
 
 Recall that grand, familiar sight, 
 
 When heaven seems all ablaze 
 With floods of gold and purple light, — 
 
 Aurora's matchless rays. 
 
42 Cards of Canada. 
 
 And when, from black, dissonant sky 
 
 No stars may vigil keep ; 
 When boisterous seas exult on high 
 
 And o'er the taffrail sweep. 
 
 Bethink thee of those days to be, 
 
 When floods shall swell no more ; 
 Nor loud-voiced surge, nor angry sea 
 
 Shall break upon the shore. 
 Where white-winged storm shall never beat 
 
 Across the verdant plain ; 
 Where severed lives, once more complete, 
 
 E'erlasting life shall gain. 
 
 THE STUDENT. 
 
 The cloudless sun of southern clime 
 Shone full that Christmas Day, 
 
 As the city of the Caesars 
 Held regal holiday. 
 
 For Him whose gracious advent, 
 
 Hailed in seraphic tone. 
 The saved of earth, and saints in Heaven 
 
 In grateful praises own. 
 
 Full loud above the city's hum 
 Pealed forth cathedral chime ; 
 
 While round the loftiest, proudest dome, 
 Wreathed harmony sublime, 
 
The Student 43 
 
 Which thrilled among those ruins vast 
 That long have braved the skies ; 
 
 Proud monument of Pagan hate 
 And Christian sacrifice. 
 
 Rejoicing echoes filled the breeze 
 
 That fanned the martyrs' tombs; 
 Fit requiem 1 they sowed the seed 
 
 Which now triumphant blooms. 
 
 Where Reason held its vaunted sway. 
 Firm-leagued with Godless might, 
 
 Round storied urn, through marbled halls 
 Loud shriek the birds of night. 
 
 Whilst borne along the sounding waves 
 
 Which fleck the furthest shore, 
 That light of life, that perfect faith 
 
 Sealed with the martyrs' gore. 
 
 But, within that regal city, 
 
 On that bright Christmas Day, 
 In hectic flush of fever heat 
 
 A stranger student lay. 
 
 A stranger from a distant land 
 
 Across the western sea, 
 Where peace doth reign, and howe'er poor 
 
 Man feels that he is free. 
 
 Of faith inspired, he'd crossed the foam 
 
 And left his native sod, 
 That he his years might consecrate 
 
 To winning souls for God. 
 
44 Carols of Canada. 
 
 No higher aim was ever sought. 
 No purer soul was shriven ; 
 
 For the whole purpose of his life 
 Unto his Lord was given. 
 
 A noble matron sat beside 
 And soothed his dying bed ; 
 
 One who, with mother^s tenderness, 
 Had wept her early dead. 
 
 Sore, sore it grieved that mother's heart \ 
 When fever's pulse beat high 
 
 And reason reeled, the parchbd lips 
 Gave forth the wailing cry, 
 
 " Oh \ take me to that far-off land 
 Where cool sea-breezes blow ; 
 Where wintry sun doth smiling shine 
 Athwart the pure, white snow. 
 
 •* Oh ! thither wist I to return 
 
 Fraught with my mission high. 
 To bear the standard of the Cross 
 Beneath my native sky. 
 
 " For this my spirit waked to zeal 
 Where soft the sunlight falls ; 
 For this I craved the higher lore 
 Of Propaganda's halls." 
 
 Then " list the strains of music ! 
 
 Now loud, now soft and clear ; — 
 It is the voice of wavelets sweet 
 
 Which greets my listening ear. 
 
The Student. 45 
 
 " Brimful of glee, it seems to me, 
 They ripple o'er the strand, 
 As when they sang the lullaby 
 Of our dear, household band. 
 
 " Mark how the lustrous, Autumn glow 
 Illumes the reddening leaves ; 
 The genial harvest-tide is past, 
 And gathered in, the sheaves. 
 
 " Now there — yes ! through the waning light 
 I see the little stile ; — 
 A few steps more — how dark it grows ! 
 Home in Prince Edward Isle." 
 
 But as, o'er the calm of evening 
 Breathed forth the vesper hymn, 
 
 The visions of fancy faded. 
 
 The clear, blue eyes waxed dim. 
 
 The hectic flush evanished 
 
 Before cold Pallor's hand ; 
 Ended the warfare, hushed the voice — 
 
 Hushed in the silent land. 
 
 And the soul of the fair young dreamer 
 
 Went up with music's swell ; 
 Whilst Victory's paeans grandly soared 
 
 High o'er earth's parting knell. 
 
 And though to his home and kindred 
 
 He Cometh ne'er again, 
 The memory of his bright young life 
 
 The years will aye retain. 
 
46 Carols of Canada. 
 
 And aye, as the festive season falls, 
 
 On fair St. Lawrence Bay, 
 They mourn the student who died in Rome 
 
 On that bright Christmas Day. 
 
 THE PIONEER. 
 
 He sat 'neath the green verandah shade at cool of a 
 
 sun-bright day ; 
 And many a pleasant look he cast to the children at 
 
 their play. 
 
 Though blanched his locks, though stooped his form, 
 
 his heart no frosts might sere, 
 For peacefully the shadows fall, where mind and soul 
 
 are clear. 
 
 At length the noisy mirth is hushed for breathing space 
 
 of rest, 
 And gaily round the loved grandsire the merry group 
 
 hath pressed. 
 
 There's gentle Effie, little Will, big Joe and sturdy Ben, 
 Grandpa's namesake, "who sure will make his mark 
 'mongst mighty men." 
 
 " A story ! " and the spectacles are moved from off 
 
 the face, 
 And carefully and kindly wiped ere slipped into their 
 
 case. 
 
The Pioneer. 47 
 
 "A story! well, it seems to me that all my tales are 
 
 told; 
 Both of these nigh, fast fleeting years, and long, long 
 
 days of old." 
 
 Upwafted from the clover field, in fragrance on the 
 
 wind, 
 Came breathings from a former hour in freshness to the 
 
 mind. 
 
 " Perchance you have not listed how one stroke from 
 woman's hand 
 
 Transformed a forest dense and dim to fair and fruit- 
 ful land. 
 
 " 'Twas in a far back settlement, within a dusky wood, 
 The rude hut of an immigrant on scanty clearance 
 stood. 
 
 "Strong hands had reared the rooftree, and sowed the 
 
 patch of ground, 
 And bleating from the sheepfold broke the solitude 
 
 around. 
 
 "From rim of rudely builded flue the hazy smoke- 
 wreaths curled, 
 
 To wander o'er the mighty vault which guards a sleep- 
 ing world. 
 
 "Out of the widely opened door doth savory flavor 
 
 steal 
 As, from gun of clever marksman, is prepared the 
 
 evening meal. 
 
48 Carols of Canada. 
 
 " Beside the woodpile, which was hauled across last 
 
 winter's snow, 
 Sat the owner of the homestead, but his head was 
 
 bending low. 
 
 " He had flung aside his hatchet and tired and care- 
 oppressed, 
 
 Sat down to muse and vex his mind, while he gave his 
 body rest. 
 
 *' His heart yearned o'er the byegone hours, on Scotia's 
 
 bonny braes, 
 When he chased among the yellow broom, or plucked 
 
 the juicy slaes. 
 
 " He hears the plashing of the wave upon the sea-beat 
 
 shore ; 
 He hears his mother's gentle step, as music on the 
 
 floor. 
 
 " He sees the ivy-mantled church on yonder green 
 
 hill side 
 Where, in his earlier manhood, he claimed his girlish 
 
 bride. 
 
 " But the past is passed forever, and in its place doth 
 
 stand 
 The certain fate of pioneer in our Canadian land. 
 
 "A match 'twixt strength of arm and will, of labor 
 
 tough and keen. 
 Affording slightest intervals for idleness, I ween, 
 
TJie Pioneer. 49 
 
 "And nature in repellant mood; in roughest, homeliest 
 
 guise ; 
 Of frowning features, fit to thwart the purpose from 
 
 the prize. 
 
 " He conjured up his hardships in this new land of the 
 
 West, 
 And reasoned of returning to the land he loved the 
 
 best. 
 
 " But within the cot was wanted fresh fuel for the 
 
 flame; 
 Impatient to the woodstack a trim young matron 
 
 came. 
 
 " She steadied with her nimble foot the log late split 
 in twain ; 
 
 She raised the axe, but action failed ; her stroke de- 
 scends in vain. 
 
 ** It failed, yet failed not ; it had touched one sad, 
 
 desponding heart. 
 And nerved his arm and urged him on to act the 
 
 manlier part. 
 
 ** Shame mantled o'er his sunbrowned cheek, and 
 
 tinged his yet fair brow ; 
 The mists fell from his longing eyes; he faced the real 
 
 now. 
 
 " He looked unto the forest with its miles of birch 
 
 and pine, 
 Its maple, and its tangled growth through which no 
 
 sun might shine. 
 
5p Carols of Canada. 
 
 " He looked unto the forest with its giants great and 
 
 tall; 
 He looked unto the forest but — God ruleth over all. 
 
 "Through years of active industry, through perfect 
 
 trust in Heaven, 
 'Yond all the ups and downs of life complete success 
 
 was given. 
 
 " I, for I was that laggard, by that stroke of woman's 
 
 hand, 
 Was started on the royal road which needs no wizard 
 
 wand. 
 
 " We planned and worked together — my Effie dear 
 
 and I, 
 And quickly o'er our busy life the sunny years 
 
 went by. 
 
 " For denseness of the solemn pine, came cheerful 
 
 apple bloom ; 
 And gleeful shouts of buoyant hearts outrang the sighs 
 
 of gloom. 
 
 " For screeching owl, and croaking frog, came lowing 
 
 of the cows, 
 As the merry bells went jingle, beyond the ample 
 
 mows. 
 
 " Our boys grew up to help us ; our boys — their 
 mother's pride ; 
 
The Pioneer. 51 
 
 And ne'er a cloud came o'er our joys until our first- 
 born died. 
 
 "A village sprung up near the farm ; steam engines 
 
 whistled by ; 
 And the dusky serpent trailed its fumes along our 
 
 placid sky. 
 
 " Then your father brought a fair young wife, our 
 
 waning hours to cheer ; 
 Her face was sweet as daffodil, her voice as song-bird's 
 
 clear. 
 
 *' But one morn there came a message, — Joe ! you 
 
 remember all ; 
 And grandma heard it cheerfully, and answered to the 
 
 call. 
 
 " My love ! who loved me ever, from morn till gloam- 
 ing grey. 
 
 Dear heart ! who never murmured o'er the home of 
 early day. 
 
 " For though she loved the olden land with love that 
 
 knew no change, 
 With fuller life her sympathies found freer, broader 
 
 range, 
 
 " The kind eyes closed, the busy hands were crossed 
 
 on silent breast ; 
 And reverently her mourning sons conveyed her to her 
 
 rest 
 
52 Carols of Canada. 
 
 " Beside her first-born on the hill — and there I hope 
 
 to Ue 
 When the blessed Lord doth summon me to meet her 
 
 in the sky." 
 
 He looked upon the tasseled corn, the richest crop all 
 
 round, 
 Then wistfully he gazed beyond to the now hallowed 
 
 ground 
 
 Where slept his past ; he faintly sighed, then bowed 
 
 his agbd head ; — 
 The children strove to rouse him but — the loved 
 
 grandsire was dead. 
 
 No more he tells of struggle vast, or rest from labour 
 
 won ; 
 He singeth in the psalms of peace 'neath an unsetting 
 
 sun. 
 
 No more he sees with vision dim ; upon that other 
 shore 
 
 The Light of Life hath welcomed him to glory ever- 
 more. 
 
The Olden Flag. 53 
 
 THE OLDEN FLAG. 
 
 Raise high the royal standard ! 
 
 Shame not thy royal birth ; 
 The prestige of thy might sustain, 
 
 Thou noblest of the earth ! 
 Great Canada ! thou fair, free land ! 
 
 A world looks forth to thee ; 
 No alien hand thy hand shall lead ; 
 
 Thou'lt bow no servile knee. 
 
 Then rally round the olden flag ! 
 
 The loved red, white and blue ; 
 Let traitors scheme, or boasters brag, 
 
 To Canada prove true. 
 
 Float on. Oh flag of Empire vast ! 
 
 Long may thy colors wave 
 O'er many a blood-bought heritage ; 
 
 O'er many a hero's grave. 
 The grandeur of thy fame doth light 
 
 The fields our fathers won ; 
 The noblest gift which valiant sire 
 
 Could e'er bequeath his son. 
 
 Droop not, Oh peerless standard ! 
 
 Oh loyal hearts and true ! 
 Forget not ye the olden land 
 
 Though cherishing the new. 
 Forget not hearts and hopes are one, 
 
 From Britain's sea-girt Isles 
 To where, beyond the Rocky steep, 
 
 The broad Pacific smiles. 
 
54 Carols of Canada. 
 
 Wave on, Oh flag of Empire vast ! 
 
 O'er mountain, rock and stream ; 
 Where wholesome fealty rests secure, 
 
 Beneath thy fervent gleam. 
 For, should the tramp of hostile feet 
 
 Arouse our peaceful shore, 
 Britannia's conquering sword would flash 
 
 Through Canada once more. 
 
 Then rally round the olden flag ! 
 
 The loved red, white and blue ; 
 Let traitors scheme, or boasters brag, 
 
 To Canada prove true. 
 
IDYLLS OF THE YEAR, 
 
THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW. 
 
 THE OLD. 
 
 We hailed thy white-robed natal hour, 
 Rejoiced in dawning Spring ; 
 
 Now Autumn fruit, and Summer flower 
 Have passed, and sad we sing 
 
 Thy requiem. Oh vanished year ! 
 
 Thy deeds of shame and wrong, 
 Thy widows' cry, thy orphans' tear 
 
 Well nigh untune my song. 
 
 Thine was the fraud, the private cheat, 
 The mean in purse and thought ; 
 
 Leal worshippers at Mammon's feet. 
 Who sold their Heaven for nought. 
 
 Thine were those souls that slander hatch, 
 
 That tortuous tangles spin ; 
 Who mimic those they fail to match, 
 
 And mock at all, save sin. 
 
 Thine too, those hideous slaughter-fields 
 
 Where, on the sodden plain, 
 As mind in man to brute force yields, 
 
 Lie dead, and deathless slain. 
 
58 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 Yet, through that Power who quelled the storm 
 With mandate " Peace ! be still ! " 
 
 Thy friendships were not all mere form, 
 Thy doings not all ill. 
 
 For earnest hearts, and righteous hands 
 
 In thee have gained a prize. 
 That goal which change and time withstands ; 
 
 Christ-life the world defies. 
 
 Then, blessing Him whose presence flows 
 
 Where vision fails to view ; 
 Through summer's heat, and winter's snows, 
 
 We bid thee, Year, adieu ! 
 
 THE NEW. 
 
 And turn, with heart of hope, to hail 
 
 God's gift, the latest born ; 
 Those promises which never fail 
 
 Make glad our New Year's morn. 
 
 Before His fiat nature bends, 
 
 His verdure clothes the tree ; 
 He grandeur to the mountain lends. 
 
 And sways the surging sea. 
 
 At His command the torrents pour. 
 The spring leaps from the rock ; 
 
 The eaglets from the eyrie soar, 
 Firm earth sustains a shock. 
 
 W^ith power unbounded at His feet 
 All heaven and earth to move ; 
 
TJu Old Year and the Neu>. 59 
 
 Through Calvary's cross, in Him we greet, 
 'Yond justice, pardoning love. 
 
 Though dismal clouds at noontide lower. 
 
 What need to grope our way ; 
 Ahead doth stream, from beacon tower, 
 
 Light to celestial day. 
 
 That Hand which paints the rose's bloom, 
 
 Which hung heaven's canopy, 
 Doth point to where, 'yond present gloom, 
 
 Unblemished landscapes be. 
 
 That Heart, responsive to the cry 
 
 Of man, and bird, and beast ; 
 Bids teeming earth, in prompt reply, 
 
 Spread out perpetual feast. 
 
 Then, sigh not o'er the buried year, 
 
 Nor mourn, in low-set voice ; 
 Young Life sings forth in accents clear ; 
 
 In her sweet joy rejoice. 
 
6o Idylls of the Year, 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 The fiat hath gone forth ; 
 From Winter's nerveless grasp 
 The frozen chains unclasp ; 
 
 King Freedom rules our North. 
 
 From out his long repose 
 Fair Ocean sings again ; 
 Low wail, or sweet refrain 
 
 In every breeze that blows. 
 
 See ! from the listening hills 
 The whitened mantle glides ; 
 Whilst 'gulfed in full spring-tides 
 
 Are lost the murmuring rills. 
 
 Ring out ye woodland notes ! 
 
 Trill through the brightening blue ; 
 
 Loud swell the anthem new, 
 Which nature heavenward floats. 
 
 For zephyr fanned river, 
 For gently swaying trees, 
 Voice, in each passing breeze, 
 
 The praise of life's Great Giver. 
 
 Now firelight's lurid gleam 
 Gives place to greening slope ; 
 Where youth, miraged of hope, 
 
 Sees roseate vistas beam. 
 
 Hails in each star of eve, 
 
 Each lustrous, lengthening day 
 
spring. 6 1 
 
 Of joyous roundelay, 
 A world where none may grieve. 
 
 Blessed morning of the year ! 
 Lone sickness greets the voice 
 Which wakeih to rejoice, 
 
 From high to lowliest sphere. 
 
 The tiller of the soil 
 
 Goes forth in purpose strong ; 
 
 For Spring's exultant song 
 Wreathes round the head of toil. 
 
 Earth ! nurture well the seed ; 
 
 Sun ! gild the swelling grain ; 
 
 Heaven ! sap the thirsty plain ; 
 Till plenty answers need. 
 
 Breathe out, Oh genial Spring ! . 
 
 Thy teachings over all ; 
 
 Till, manna-like, shall fall. 
 Soft peace where tumults ring. 
 
 Then shall the wondrous story 
 On nature's vivid page 
 Gleam, till millennial age 
 
 Doth flood the world with glory. 
 
62 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 SUMMER. 
 
 Hail Summer ! glad Summer ! thou Queen of the 
 
 year ! 
 Hail fragrance and beauty encircling thy sphere ! 
 With song of the oriole, with hum of the bee, 
 We welcome thy coming from far Southern sea. 
 
 Thou tintest the blossom on Winter's cold grave ; 
 Bidd'st Commerce ride forth on the white-crested wave; 
 Thy sweet zephyrs float from the golden-hued west 
 As whisper of angels from realm of the blest. 
 
 The tiniest leaflets which brighten the ground 
 No less than great waters thy praises resound ; 
 As, peeping from wayside, or climbing the bower, 
 They kiss the gay sunlight, or drink in the shower. 
 
 Heaven's choristers warble in gladsome reply. 
 As trees offer incense unto thy blue sky ; 
 Even rough ocean, melting to low, passive strain. 
 Joins earth in harmonious and joyous refrain. 
 
 Ah me ! for the roses of summer all strewn ! 
 Ah me ! for the lives whose brief sunshine has flown ! 
 The clouds often darken at noontide the wave ; 
 The willows oft weep o'er a midsummer's grave. 
 
 Oh ! for that bright land where no shadows e'er fall ; 
 Nor sickness e'er withers, nor sorrows appall ; 
 Where summers of gladness unceasingly roll 
 O'er the sinless home of the sanctified soul. 
 
Autumn. 63 
 
 AUTUMN. 
 
 Robed in thy raiment of splendor, 
 
 Thy trappings of purple and gold ; 
 Brighter than vision of dreamland, 
 
 Thou lightenest mountain and wold. 
 Streameth thy rays o'er the woodland ; 
 
 And the green of the sombre pine, 
 And the crimson of the maple leaf 
 
 Are wreathed in a lustre divine. 
 
 Clothed is fair earth of thy fulness ; 
 
 Enriched is the bloom of the flower ; 
 From verdant to radiant beauty 
 
 Thou shadest the gay trellised bower. 
 Thy smile doth paint the yellow corn ; 
 
 Thou sing'st in rustle of the sheaves ; 
 Thy symphonies of praise ascend 
 
 In twitter of the orchard leaves. 
 
 Calm, mellow skies look kindly down 
 
 On tree-clad hill, on fruitful vale ; 
 Whilst mariners, on far-oiff seas. 
 
 Hoist canvas to the homeward gale. 
 Thy generous hand doth fill the cup 
 
 With choice reward for labor's crown ; 
 Thy teeming fields revoice that hope 
 
 Which blancheth not 'neath Winter's frown. 
 
 For though earth's life-sustaining store 
 Be gathered from her bounteous breast ; 
 
 Though leafage falls on bare, brown floor, 
 Though nature lieth long at rest, 
 
64 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 The snows shall flit at Spring's warm breath, 
 And, after Summer's round of cheer, 
 
 Again shall Autumn lays peal forth ; 
 Again shall mercy crown the year. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Down came the rude winds of the Northland 
 
 Their icy breath crusting the snow, 
 Chilling the mirth of the babbling stream, 
 
 Till it sullenly gurgles below. 
 Freezing the shroud on the lifeless hill, 
 
 Erst-while all aglow in its green ; 
 Mocking the gloom of a low-arched sky 
 
 By pearl-flashing forest between. 
 
 Bitterly keen was that rude, north wind ; 
 
 I sighed with the outgoing year, 
 And yearned for the kindlier, warmer suns 
 
 Which had waned over Autumn's bier. 
 That love which haloed the loved of youth, 
 
 Which kept unscathed its primal hold. 
 Outshone the weal of the passing hour ; 
 
 And harped on nature's minor chord. 
 
 As tenderly, up the aisles of time. 
 
 Through many a winter's snow 
 There trilled the long-missed harmonies ; 
 
 Dear hearts of the long ago ! 
 
Easter 65 
 
 But — Hush ye voices of plaint within ! 
 
 Give ear to the voices without ; 
 Over the snow-piles, down the dull street 
 
 There pealeth a boy's merry shout. 
 
 A tide of youth, with its pleasure freight. 
 
 In sunshine of gladness sweeps past ; 
 And clear on the frosty air rings out 
 
 " Jolly old Winter's come at last." 
 Then wholesome trust in the Ever-Good 
 
 Welled up over carping unrest ; — 
 I chime in the chime of the changing years ; 
 
 They bow to their Ruler's behest. 
 
 EASTER. 
 
 " Fear not !" said the white-robed angel 
 
 Who rolled the stone away ; 
 " Fear not, for your Lord is risen ; 
 
 Come see where Jesus lay." 
 Oh ! joy for the blessed assurance ! 
 
 No sealed, or guarded grave, 
 Could bind in its rocky shroudings 
 
 The Christ who came to save. 
 
 Adown through the circling ages, 
 
 As threads of living gold, 
 The tidings of that hallowed morn 
 
 Have spanned life's dreary world. 
 Have touched, convinced, subdued the soul ; 
 
 Till reason's twilight ray, 
 10 
 
66 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 Till vice, and dolesome ignorance 
 Give place to perfect day. 
 
 That voice which awed the angry wave 
 
 On deep, blue Galilee, 
 Yet calms, and rules with mild control, 
 
 From nigh to further sea. 
 Yet wakes to life the desert land, 
 
 Breaks superstition's hold ; 
 And, wanderers on the myriad paths, 
 
 Doth compass in one fold. 
 
 Ye seraphs ! strike your golden harps, 
 
 Tuned with devotion high ; 
 With echoing paeans sweetly thrill 
 
 The arches of the sky. 
 Whilst we, in noblest measures 
 
 Which earthly voices sing. 
 Yield homage to our risen Lord 
 
 Our glorious Saviour—King. 
 
 THANKSGIVING, 
 
 In Tisri's holier season, 
 
 From City of the Palms 
 To where onycha incense soared 
 
 Amid Hosanna psalms. 
 Waved green from every housetop, 
 
 Gay plumes of laurel tree ; 
 Whilst silver trumpets pealed afar 
 
 The tones of victory. 
 
Christmas Eve. 67 
 
 Since through atoning sacrifice 
 
 Had dawned the spirit's peace ; 
 And through earth's toil a rich reward 
 
 Was reaped, in earth's increase. 
 
 Though ruin marks where Tadmor reigned, 
 
 And Israel roameth far ; 
 No shoals may stem the mercy-tide; 
 
 No power Heaven's largess bar. 
 Then through the great Atonement's dawn. 
 
 Be lit our sin-dimmed eyes ; 
 Till grateful accents pierce the mist, 
 
 Into rejoicing skies. 
 Till garnered fruit, and aftermath ; 
 
 Till Autumn's tender shine 
 With farewell tones of woodland song, 
 
 Reflect the Love Divine. 
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE. 
 I. 
 
 Deep shadows mar the pearly snow ; 
 
 Light flickers on the wall ; 
 While childhood's laugh, as music's flow 
 
 Resoundeth through the hall. 
 
 Now echoes from the years return ; — 
 
 Ring out thou pealing bell ! 
 While thought doth last, or memory burn 
 
 Thou may'st not strike their knell. 
 
68 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 And visions from the earlier days 
 
 Within the mind arise, 
 Illumined by a golden haze ; 
 
 For earth seems near the skies. 
 
 And round our hearth the voices throng 
 Which tender memories bring ; 
 
 Those tones which died in even-song, 
 Those stilled in budding spring. 
 
 Once more we gather, as in one, 
 
 To list the tale oft told ; 
 That legacy from sire to son 
 
 Which waxeth never old. 
 
 11. 
 
 No shrill-toned clarion wakes the night 
 O'er Juda's slumbering plains ; 
 
 No trumpet blast of armed might 
 Sounds forth " Messiah reigns." 
 
 No curious crowd demands a sight ; 
 
 No trophy flameth high ; 
 But seraph hosts, on wings of light, 
 
 Haste through the ebon sky. 
 
 With glad acclaim His name they sing 
 Whose praise all heaven doth fill ; 
 
 At whose command to earth they bring 
 The message of goodwill. 
 
 Oh wonderful ! the angels' Lord 
 In human guise arrayed ; 
 
Christmas Eve. 69 
 
 He, by archangels great adored, 
 Within a manger laid. 
 
 Where sages, guided by the star, 
 
 Kneel by that Holy One ; 
 As, with rich offerings from afar. 
 
 They greet the Virgin's son. 
 
 in. 
 
 All lustred with its halo bright 
 
 That picture still appears ; 
 Unfading in its glorious light. 
 
 Unscathed by lapse of years. 
 
 Oh Day of days ! we welcome thee ; 
 
 Bright beam on history's page ! 
 Thou font of youthful hope and glee ; 
 
 Halt in our pilgrimage. 
 
 Those wreaths of red, and green and white , 
 
 Which round our altars cling. 
 Denote, where faith is moved by sight, 
 
 His offering, Whom we sing. 
 
 The red, the atoning sacrifice ; 
 
 The white, our souls made clean ; 
 Whilst life unending in the skies 
 
 Is typed by evergreen. 
 
 Blest beacon o'er our path below ! 
 
 Thy story, may't extend ; 
 Till in thy pure and perfect glow, 
 
 A heaven and earth shall blend. 
 
70 Idylls of the Year. 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Oh ! fair and buoyant Christmas ! 
 
 Well-spring of childish glee ; 
 Gay jubilance and noisy mirth 
 
 Thrill round thy fairy tree. 
 
 Oh ! roseate flush of Christmas ! 
 
 Bright vistas crown the day, 
 When young hearts wake to tenderness 
 
 Beneath thy genial ray. 
 
 Oh ! cheerful, hopeful Christmas ! 
 
 Rest in the toilsome year ; 
 Thy glory-glimpse illumes the soul ; 
 
 Earth's cloudlets disappear. 
 
 Oh ! sweet and tranquil Christmas ! 
 
 Hours past, and hours to come ; 
 Calm retrospect of vanished joys ; 
 
 Dear prospect of our home. 
 
 Oh ! high and holy Christmas ! 
 
 Unfraught of earthly leaven ; 
 Our spirits chime in angel song, 
 
 And near the nearin"; heaven. 
 
THE SIEQE OF QUEBEC. 
 
^ THE SIEGE OF QUEBEC. 
 
 I. 
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 Thou peerless Qaeen of peerless land ! in nature's 
 
 choicest zone, 
 Thou sitt'st in regal dignity upon thy rocky throne ; 
 The glorious memories of the past thy future glories 
 
 greet, 
 And fadeless laurels wreathe thy brow, as ocean laves 
 
 thy feet. 
 Fair home of faithful, loyal hearts ! shrine of the 
 
 hero-dead ! 
 Whose valor rested not till hid within its gory bed ; 
 Right royal sitt'st thou on thy heights, with Empire's 
 
 flag unfurled. 
 The brightest gem, by sea or plain, of all this newer 
 
 world. 
 
 Thou had'st thy skilful mariners, who crossed an 
 
 unknown sea ; 
 Thou had'st thy famous warriors, thy far-brought 
 
 peasantry 
 Who cleared the tangled forest shades, and in the 
 greenwood wild 
 
74 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Prepared an exile's home to lodge the mother with 
 
 the child. 
 And thou had'st saints, those holy ones who feared 
 
 nor shame nor loss, 
 Who o'er their altars raised aloft the standard of the 
 
 Cross ; 
 Who suffered torture's keenest pangs, whose souls 
 
 were winged on high 
 From bloody knife and cruel flame — such lives may 
 
 never die. 
 
 Softly, Oh winds of the south-land ! 
 
 Float over valley and steep ; 
 Bathe with your incense of perfume 
 
 The spot where the martyrs sleep. 
 
 Tenderly, winds of the ocean ! 
 
 Rippling the streamlet's bright waves. 
 Pause in your flight o'er the mountains ; 
 
 Fan with your freshness their graves. 
 
 And thou ! Oh breeze off the pine-lands ! 
 
 Far over the glorious West 
 Sing forth the grandeur of soul-life 
 
 From groves where the holy rest. 
 
 Where Indian Donacona ruled, there ruled the wise 
 
 Champlain ; 
 Then Commerce, social herald, brought religion in its 
 
 train ; 
 Whilst high above thy loftiest crag and by the stately 
 
 tree 
 There floated proudly on the breeze the gorgeous 
 
 fleur-de-lis. 
 
The Bombardment. 75 
 
 And though no more the vine-clad hills should greet 
 
 the longing eye, 
 Nor streamlets of the sunny South in joyous strains 
 
 flash by ; 
 Though never more the worshippers should kneel in 
 
 ancient fanes, 
 Yet France as dear, yet faith as bright, might blossom 
 
 on those plains. 
 
 Change copes with time ; ills tracked the years ; far 
 
 worse than Indian knife 
 Came gross misrule and greed of gain, with envious 
 
 civil strife ; 
 Grim want, foul rapine filled the land and paved the 
 
 smoother way 
 For foreign foe and outward wrong, for inward sore 
 
 decay. 
 Then followed war with horrors wild, and who a 
 
 sword could wield 
 Was summoned to the deadly fray, whilst women tilled 
 
 the field ; 
 Yet, with a courage native-born within the France of 
 
 yore. 
 Thy sons long held a baffled foe from off Canadian 
 
 shora 
 
 II. 
 
 THE BOMBARDMENT. 
 
 Red glowed the sun of summer morn athwart the 
 
 shining deep, 
 All radiant in its still repose, as child in restful sleep ; 
 
76 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 And as it higher streaked the heavens, and further gilt 
 
 the wave, 
 There dawned a sight that chilled stout hearts within 
 
 those erstwhile brave — 
 A sight which called the soldier forth to guard his 
 
 every post, 
 Which moved the patriot soul to hope, though hope 
 
 was well-nigh lost ; 
 Had fallen Ticonderoga, Niagara lost the day, 
 And now the victor's flag streamed out o'er fair St. 
 
 Lawrence Bay. 
 
 A British squadron, fifty sail, with well-trained soldier 
 
 band, 
 Led on by Wolfe of martial fame, of skilled and 
 
 daring hand. 
 Had anchored on the Orleans coast to watch, if need 
 
 be wait 
 Till golden opportunity should crown the course of 
 
 fate. 
 'Twas not mere common role of arms, to measure 
 
 strength for strength, 
 To storm with shot or fiendish shell, to fight at sabre's 
 
 length ; 
 'Twas to out-plan the well laid scheme, out-match 
 
 with matchless skill 
 The great opposing elements, vast work of zealous 
 
 will. 
 
 So huge the perfect system of well arranged defence, 
 Small marvel if prompt action waived, subdued of 
 
 grave suspense ; 
 The city, perched upon her heights, in solemn far 
 
 retreat. 
 
The Bombardment. 77 
 
 With thousand willing hearts guardant in fealty at 
 
 her feet ; 
 Along the river's northern rim, to Montmorency's 
 
 shore, 
 Redoubt, earthwork and battery defiant aspect bore ; 
 Whilst at each point of access, for miles and miles 
 
 around, 
 Stood youth and age, a patriot guard upon a hallowed 
 
 ground. 
 
 High banks and shallow waters, the warships idle lay; 
 
 Discouraged and perplexed the Chief, held thus so far 
 at bay ; — 
 
 Oh, treacherous shining waters ! those frowning crags 
 that lave, 
 
 Ye folded in your cold embrace eight hundred of the 
 brave. 
 
 The bravest of old England, who, fifty years before 
 
 Unfighting met their destiny at threshold of that door 
 
 Now barred against the invader; much wonder was 
 it then 
 
 Though gravest doubt should dull the mind of Eng- 
 land's mightiest men ? 
 
 Mayhap before their vision loomed those feats of 
 
 former day 
 When British fleet, in Phipp's command, besieged 
 
 that fortress grey ; 
 When messenger with flag of truce, was ushered in 
 
 blindfold 
 Before the noble Frontenac, that veteran leal and bold. 
 No coward blood e'er nursed the life of him, the loyal 
 
 veined, 
 
78 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Proposals for surrender mean, who scornfully disdained; 
 " Go, tell your General," he said, proud flashed his 
 
 wrathful eye, 
 " That surely by my cannon's mouth, shall be my fit 
 
 reply." 
 
 Oft, over dire extremity, a sudden radiance falls ; 
 
 Though sealed those portals, bullet-proof those adam- 
 antine walls, 
 
 Swift, as of lightning's vivid flash, Wolfe's eager eye 
 descried 
 
 A site for prowess to effect, though skill and force 
 defied. 
 
 Where Mount de Levi sits aloft upon the other shore, 
 
 Incessant devastation might bridge the waters o'er ; 
 
 Might bring to woman's, childhood's ears, sore tidings 
 of dismay, 
 
 Might picture scenes would dim the eye, through 
 many a lustrous day. 
 
 Loud booms along the glistening wave the din of shot 
 
 and shell ; 
 The breeze-borne notes resound afar a generous 
 
 people's knell ; 
 The time-worn soldier stands ahgast, religion bends 
 
 the knee, 
 And silence sceptres ruined homes, where mirth 
 
 flowed full and free. 
 Still, firm within thy battlements, upon thy steadfast 
 
 throne, 
 Thou beauteous city of the heights ! defeat thou 
 
 would'st not own ; 
 Abode thy Chieftain by thy side, nor left thy ample 
 
 shield 
 
The Battle. 79 
 
 At tempter's scheme, or skilled device to war on open 
 field. 
 
 Yet courage waned not, yet again were outward posts 
 
 assailed ; 
 But every effort met rebuff, all stratagem had failed ; 
 Who fell not by the Frenchman's arm to perish in 
 
 their gore 
 Were fain to find a sure retreat, from off that hostile 
 
 shore. 
 Sick of chagrin a fever laid the English leader low, 
 Ambition, high resolve retired before a stubborn foe ; 
 Were't not that Townshend's able wit one final scheme 
 
 revealed 
 Perchance the maple leaf might grace fair Gallia's 
 
 ancient shield. 
 
 III. 
 
 ilTHE BATTLE. 
 
 Out over the quiet waters, in sheen of the starry night, 
 
 With sword, and gun, and bayonet, equipped for 
 fervent fight. 
 
 On, on by the towering headlands, in shade of frown- 
 ing steep. 
 
 Ere flickering day-dreams banished sweet dreams of 
 friendly sleep. 
 
 Ere lingering morn had oped its eyes to greet the 
 orient sun, 
 
 They moored beneath a rugged cliff, they scaled it 
 one by one. 
 
8o The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Up over moss-hid precipice, with tangled growth 
 
 o'erhead ; — 
 Well was it he who led the van was of the mountain 
 
 bred. 
 
 Up went the hardy Highlanders, with eye and footing 
 
 clear, 
 As when, in their own mountain land, they chased the 
 
 nimble deer. 
 O'er broken boughs, through network green, the 
 
 bright-hued tartan wends 
 In single file, a living streak with darksome foliage 
 
 blends. 
 When, hark ! midway the sentry's ear had caught the 
 
 muffled sound ; 
 He halted the approaching step ere paced his further 
 
 round. 
 '' Qui viveV^ he queried; quick response dispelled 
 
 all fear of wrong ; 
 " La France" came back assuringly ; he heard and 
 
 passed along. 
 
 Before the darker hues of night gave place to morning 
 
 grey, 
 A force well nigh five thousand strong stood firm in 
 
 war's array. 
 They clomb the heights, they chose the ground upon 
 
 the rearward plain, 
 Prepared to fight for Britain's might, no worthless 
 
 prize to gain. 
 A land of nature's lavish gifts, a store of boundless 
 
 wealth ; 
 Rare land ! where pestilence ne'er stills the bounding 
 
 pulse of health. 
 
The Battle. 8i 
 
 Where, over richly-yielding plains majestic rivers roll ; 
 Where tyranny may forge no chains to bind the free- 
 born soul. 
 
 Though Britain's war-blast sounded forth its warning 
 
 loud and shrill, 
 Though Britain's daring rank and file be-crowned the 
 
 rock bound hill, 
 Montcalm, undaunted of surprise, with soul to honor 
 
 dear, 
 Ne'er faltered in his manly voice, ne'er blanched with 
 
 heart of fear. 
 With prompt and steadiest action he ranged his battle 
 
 plan, 
 Inspiring with his ardent will the will of lesser man. 
 Clear ran along the listening lines the order to 
 
 " Advance," 
 And golden eagles waved aloft, and shouts went up 
 
 for France. 
 
 Alas for prudent reckoning ! sole valor led the way, 
 And hasted on to conflict dire, whose only succor lay 
 In calm, reluctant rallying within their fortress walls. 
 Till compassed of invading tide, till neared the bugle 
 
 calls. 
 Unbroken columns moved ahead ; with firm, free step 
 
 they trod 
 The plain where many a hero's blood would early 
 
 damp the sod. 
 Upon their well matched foe they oped with rain of 
 
 deadly fire ; 
 The British stirred not from their post, but hailed 
 
 their presence nigher. 
 12 
 
82 Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Ho ! courage of the mariner who dares the fiercest 
 
 storm ! 
 Ho ! valor of the warrior who fears no hostile form ! 
 Yet braver he who stands erect nor bows the craven 
 
 head, 
 Though murderous fire is laying low the living with 
 
 the dead. 
 Not theirs to flinch, though comrades fell, theirs only 
 
 to obey ; 
 Their brave young General had said, and who might 
 
 say him nay, 
 As manfully, in face of death, he hasted to and fro ; 
 " Reserve your fire till forty yards divide you from the 
 
 foe." 
 
 See Europe's proudest martial powers with rival flag 
 
 unfurled ; 
 Intent in blood to seal the fate of this fair Western 
 
 world. 
 To plant upon those echoing heights that standard 
 
 which would gleam 
 O'er sea-wide lakes, o'er prairie vast, o'er forest, mount 
 
 and stream. 
 The ancient feuds, the after-curse of many a needless 
 
 fray, 
 The jealousies of race and creed revive their wonted 
 
 sway, 
 Impart a zest to willing minds, a force to vigorous 
 
 hand. 
 And nerve the soldier's arm to fight for king and 
 
 fatherland. 
 
 On came brave Gallia's war-like sons ; shone helm, 
 and sword, and plume ; 
 
The Battle. 83 
 
 On like a mountain cataract which rushes to its doom 
 Of loss amid the foaming surge that sweeps o'er 
 
 ocean bed ; 
 So mote the surge of battle sweep o'er many a noble 
 
 head. 
 No further halt! the voice is raised, the expectant 
 
 order given, 
 When, loud as if a thunder bolt had rent the vaulted 
 
 heaven, 
 Out belched from thousand iron throats a thousand 
 
 tongues of fire ; 
 Out flashed the British musketry as torch for funeral 
 
 pyre. 
 
 The blow long pending, did its work among the 
 
 assailing host ; 
 Who stood the shock, through blinding smoke could 
 
 see that all was lost. 
 Still Montcalm strove, with voice of cheer, due order 
 
 to retain ; 
 His veterans, by a small redoubt, he marshalled once 
 
 again. 
 But vain ! ah vain, his arduous task ! the stronghold 
 
 of Quebec 
 Was doomed to slip from Gallia's hand ; — yet rise 
 
 from out the wreck 
 A queenly city on the wave, a beacon on the sea, 
 Fair monument of Britain's might in Canada the free ! 
 
 Short space the balance wavered — one fierce and final 
 
 blow, 
 And the flower of Europe's chivalry on foreign field 
 
 lay low. 
 
84 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Ere golden beams of noontide spread their glory o'er 
 
 the sky, 
 The plain was sodden, far and near, with streams of 
 
 crimson dye, 
 
 And din of battle slackened, save tread of flying feet — 
 Pursuers hurrying onward to intercept retreat ; 
 Whilst on the field of carnage, of groans and shattered 
 
 spear, 
 The rival Chieftains won their right to grace red 
 
 glory's bier. 
 
 Serene of soul in youth's bright dawn, Wolfe laid him 
 
 down to die ; 
 From strife profound, from mortal pain, peace gently 
 
 closed his eye. 
 Whilst Montcalm, loyal to the core, avowed with 
 
 parting breath 
 His greatest guerdon in defeat, to die a soldier's death. 
 True brotherhood of heroism ! in God's eternal laws. 
 One equal spirit ruled their course, however adverse 
 
 their cause. 
 And high on pedestal of Fame, where victors bear the 
 
 palm, 
 Beside the British General there stands the brave 
 
 Montcalm. 
 
 IV. 
 
 THE SURRENDER. 
 
 Just Spirit ! from the empyrean heights, regard this 
 
 lower clime ! 
 From anthems of eternity, from angel theme sublime 
 
The Surrender. 85 
 
 Look down upon those woe-worn lives, replete of 
 
 misery ! 
 Stretch forth Thine arm 10 stem the tide of mortal 
 
 agony ! 
 The groaning years have waited long to hail the reign 
 
 of peace, 
 Omnipotence give forth Thy word, bid war and tumult 
 
 cease ! 
 Then harmony shall tune its chords ; for plaintive, 
 
 low-voiced song 
 Rejoicings of a ransomed world shall seraph notes 
 
 prolong. 
 
 Since passion waged the bloody deed that slew by 
 
 Eden's gate. 
 The earth hath borne its bitter fruit of envy's cruel 
 
 hate; 
 Even God in man is crushed beneath insatiate thirst 
 
 of gain, 
 A thirst unquenched though streams of blood have 
 
 purpled earth and main. 
 Oh rarely beauteous, blooming world! why should the 
 
 true and brave, 
 Whilst meaner souls usurp thy joys, claim but in thee 
 
 a grave 
 
 Thou, Oh Supreme ! Whose glory lit confusion's 
 
 dreary night, 
 Out cast the chaos of the years, inflood Thy glorious 
 
 light ! 
 
 Power Benign ! Thy influence shed, the brutal 
 
 passions tame ! 
 Let pure and holy altar light, from clear cerulean 
 
 flame. 
 
86 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 Beam into dark and vile recess of evil's inmost heart ! 
 
 Incite the nobler sentiments to act the nobler part ! 
 
 Then war no more shall devastate the work of toil- 
 some hand, 
 
 Nor wailing tones of hunger-pain sigh o'er a fruitful 
 land ; 
 
 Into Oblivion's direst shades shall wrong and woe be 
 hurled, 
 
 And cycles of millennial bliss illume a sinless world. 
 
 Dragged up were the ponderous guns, dragged up the 
 
 slippery hill ; — 
 What task too hard for British hands when backed by 
 
 British will ? 
 Impelled o'er war-worn field of death, of visage 
 
 stained and scarred, 
 Till set against the citadel, a grim, relentless guard. 
 Out echoes through the silent streets the cannon's 
 
 dolesome boom, 
 The famine-struck are fain to feel sure bodings of their 
 
 doom ; — 
 Four lingering days of torture, when exhausted nature 
 
 calls 
 To sheathe the patriot sword and leave the long-loved 
 
 native halls. 
 
 Full tenderly the mellow light of Autumn's tranquil 
 
 hours 
 In splendor decked the forest shades and gilt the 
 
 wayside flowers, 
 Rose-tinted all the fleecy clouds which flecked the arc 
 
 of blue. 
 Reflecting on the sullen wave a brighter, warmer hue. 
 
The Surrender. 87 
 
 Yet, in its placid majesty, from out that sky serene. 
 
 That Autumn sun looked down upon a sad and bitter 
 scene ; 
 
 Starvation's wan and wasted cheek, the crushed soul 
 of the brave. 
 
 The tomb of those who nobly earned a patriot- 
 soldier's grave. 
 
 Lay down thine arms, Oh, hero-heart ! thou shamest 
 
 not thy crest ; 
 They own no coward vassalage who bow at Heaven's 
 
 behest ; 
 Though from the river and the tree there vanisheth 
 
 for aye 
 The ensign which so proudly bore the brunt of many 
 
 a fray. 
 Yet honor bideth with thee still, and though thy fleur- 
 de-lis 
 Is grafted in the English rose, thou bend'st a faithful 
 
 knee 
 At thy faith's shrine ; thy language lives, nor shall thy 
 
 glory fade 
 While snows o'ermantle mountain steep, or zephyrs 
 
 fan the glade. 
 
 Thou, Conqueror ! whose ancient flag floats out on 
 
 every breeze. 
 Whose power is felt, whose might is owned by nigh 
 
 and further seas ; 
 To thee is given a wider scope within this sphere of 
 
 change. 
 To work out mightier designs upon a vaster range, 
 Thwart not thy royal prestige, hold not thy royal hand, 
 
88 The Siege of Quebec. 
 
 But open wider, still more wide, this haven for every 
 
 land; 
 This boundless, fair, Canadian land — land of especial 
 
 grace, 
 Where freedom yieldeth equal rights to every creed 
 
 and race. 
 
 Still, peerless Queen of peerless land ! in nature's 
 
 choicest zone 
 Thou sitt'st in regal dignity upon thy rocky throne ; 
 The glorious memories of the past thy future glories 
 
 greet, 
 And fadeless laurels wreathe thy brow, as ocean laves 
 
 thy feet. 
 Fair home of faithful, loyal hearts ! shrine of the 
 
 mighty dead ! 
 Whose valor rested not till hid within its gory bed ; 
 Right royal sitt'st thou on thy heights, with Empire's 
 
 flag unfurled, 
 The brightest gem by sea or plain of all this Western 
 
 World. 
 
PERSONAL 
 
 13 
 
OUR QUEEN. 
 
 MAY 24TH. 
 
 Loved Queen of Scotia's bonnie braes ! 
 
 Of Erin's, England's homes ; 
 This day thy people speak thy praise 
 
 Where'er the exile roams. 
 
 By gorgeous India's ancient fanes ; 
 
 On Greenland's banks of snow ; 
 Where, o'er Columbia's boundless plains, 
 
 Majestic rivers flow. 
 
 On frozen seas, in balmy air, 
 
 By forest's dusky green 
 Ariseth up to heaven the prayer : — 
 
 " God bless our gracious Queen ! " 
 
 God guide her through the evening light 
 To where no shadows frown ; 
 
 Nor sorrow's pall, nor darksome night 
 Will dim that lustrous crown. 
 
 Let earthly glory sink in night ; 
 
 Life's record, without stain. 
 Shall cast an ever-hallowed light 
 
 Across Victoria's reign. 
 
92 Personal. 
 
 ' Tis not that Britain's martial prow 
 
 In every port appears ; 
 Nor that the flag which streameth now 
 
 Hath waved a thousand years. 
 
 ' Tis not the sceptre, nor the sword, 
 Nor gold, nor precious stone ; 
 
 True sympathy hath knit the cord 
 That binds us to the Throne. 
 
 Thy sires, in siege and battle field 
 Full bravely bore their part ; 
 
 But, without strife to thee doth yield 
 The fortress of the heart. 
 
 Not land from weakling nations rent 
 Shall keep thy memory green ; 
 
 But this — thy lasting monument — 
 She was the peoples^ Queen. 
 
 THE PRINCESS OF WALES 
 1863 — 1892- 
 
 Seems it yestreen since we 
 
 First hailed thee, beautous bride ! 
 Sweet-smiling, by the side 
 
 Of Him, our king to be. 
 
 Cheek of the pink sea-shell ; 
 Eyes of the summer blue, 
 
The Princess of Wales. 93 
 
 Locks of the brown-gold hue ; 
 Voice clear as silver bell. 
 
 The myriads crowd the street ; 
 
 Glad music, nigh and far, 
 
 Outsoundeth earthly jar ; 
 And tenders welecome meet. 
 
 Once more thy form T see, 
 Amid thy family band 
 Save one, on Scottish strand, 
 
 And twain — where seraphs be. 
 
 Nor fled thy winsome grace ; 
 Nor did thy beauty fade, 
 Though sad bereavement's shade 
 
 Hath paled thy peerless face. 
 
 Still sway with gentle hand ; 
 Still live thy lovesome life 
 Fond mother ! faithful wife ! 
 
 First princess of first land. 
 
94 Personal. 
 
 CANADA 
 
 TO 
 
 H. R. H. PRINCE GEORGE. 
 
 MAY 4TH, 1893. 
 
 Time was when tyrants reigned, 
 When law was law for naught ; 
 When man, with mind distraught. 
 
 Knelt with allegiance feigned. 
 
 Now, in these ampler days 
 When dews of peace distil, 
 When all may climb who will, 
 
 Just souls may justly praise. 
 
 Ours was thine earlier sorrow ; 
 
 Ours is thy later joy ; 
 
 No base, unmeet alloy ; 
 No faithless, vague to-morrow. 
 
 But tender, soulful, true ; 
 
 O'er leagues of greening plain. 
 From east to western main, 
 
 'Neath all our brightening blue. 
 
 Knit by love's kindred tie, 
 Heart wafteth unto heart 
 Weal, time nor space may part : 
 
 Best gift from low or high. 
 
Gladstone. 95 
 
 Best gifts, Oh Prince ! be thine 
 In whom our hopes repose ; 
 Thine, and thy EngHsh Rose ; 
 
 Till crowned of crown divine. 
 
 GLADSTONE. 
 
 Vain be the rare genius of sage or of scholar, 
 Philosophy's nursling, or gifted of song ; 
 
 Vain, minds of rich culture, with tones of choice music, 
 If cradled in falsity, nurtured in wrong. 
 
 But cloudless the intellect sunned of fair Freedom \ 
 Full lofty the soul which, with feehngs refined, 
 
 Doth lift up a voice for the weal of the nations ; 
 Ennobhng with sympathy all of his kind. 
 
 Fair Freedom ! thou star in the night of the ages ! 
 
 Thou radiant in fervor ! thou essence divine ! 
 He ! highest in soul-height, doth build up thine altars ; 
 
 While devotees faithful, bend low at thy shrine. 
 
 The far-seeing wisdom of mercy which hailed thee, 
 Hath wooed thee to listen the suppliant's song ; 
 
 Hath wooed and hath won thee through love, lit of 
 reason ; — 
 Heaven's benison laurel the healer of wrong 1 
 
96 Personal. 
 
 SIR JOHN A. MACDONALD. 
 
 BORN IITH JAN., 1815 — DIED 6tH JUNE, 189I, 
 
 Dimmed thy bright eyes, Oh Canada ! 
 
 Bedimmed with the incense of woe ; 
 Hushed thy young joy-peals of laughter ; 
 
 Whose heart beat to thine lieth low. 
 Great heart ! which, in truest devotion, 
 
 Kept faith to its earliest shrine ; 
 Great land ! widely girthed of each ocean ; 
 
 His lifetime of service was thine. 
 
 . Well mays't thou weep, yet not repine ; 
 
 Rude wert thou, an untutored child, 
 When first his strong, firm hand clasped thine, 
 
 And led thee o'er thy boundless wild, 
 And cleared the mists from thy young eyes, 
 
 As with magician's gifted wand; 
 Till Hope's bright dawn illumed thy skies. 
 
 And glorified this boundless land. 
 
 The mind astute discerned thy force ; 
 
 The springs of plenty watered dearth ; 
 Then rose, from infound, ample source. 
 
 The mightiest structure on this earth : 
 The home where freeborn souls are free ; 
 
 Where, 'neath blue skies, o'er rich green sod 
 No worship bends the humble knee. 
 
 Save homage to fair Freedom's God 
 
 Though sore thy heart, Oh Canada ! 
 
 Grudge not thy Chief his well-earned rest ; 
 
Hon. Alexander MacKenzie. 97 
 
 The veteran who hath braved the strife 
 May fold his arms o'er peaceful breast. 
 
 Droop banners o'er his honored bier ! 
 Strew immortelles of every clime ! 
 
 His larger life, in nobler sphere, 
 Is bounded not with hedge of time. 
 
 HON. ALEX. MACKENZIE. 
 
 BORN 28TH JANY., 1822— DIED 17TH APRIL, 1 892. 
 
 Draw nigh with reverence, Canada ! 
 
 Beyond all strain of mortal toil 
 He lieth, with unstained crest 
 
 Calm-sleeping on his chosen soil. 
 No higher boon may patriot crave 
 
 Than grateful country's honest tear ; 
 Whilst Faith, outreaching 'yond the grave, 
 
 With stainless emblem decks the bier. 
 
 Rare mind ! firm as the granite stone 
 
 From out thy much-loved Scottish hills ; 
 Soul ! clear as sunlight's upper zone 
 
 When smiling o'er Canadian rills. 
 Oh ! well for thee, beloved land 1 
 
 That, ripening to thy golden prime. 
 Stout hearts, and faithful held thine hand 
 
 And led thee on to ampler time. 
 
 Embalm his memory, Canada ! 
 
 Nor taint with ill his honored name 
 
98 Personal. 
 
 Who loved thee dearer than his hfe ; 
 
 Who, serving thee, rejected fame. 
 Not now, through many an after year ; 
 
 In cool, calm retrospect of time, 
 Shall all his sterling worth appear, 
 
 In grandeur fitting and sublime. 
 
 Though stilled the aims of lofty end ; 
 
 Though leaders in the field lie low ; 
 Heaven's purposes shall onward tend. 
 
 As ocean wavelets shoreward flow. 
 Wail not ! he walketh in the light 
 
 His work, imbued with high intent, 
 Doth magnify a country's might. 
 
 And build his fairest monument. 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 Falling ! all noiselessly falling ! 
 
 Dim-golden, and russet and grey ; 
 Leaves of the Autumn soul telling, 
 
 Earth's loveliness passeth away. 
 
 Here the rich strains of rare music, 
 Borne upwards of summer's soft gale, 
 
 Are lost in the sigh of earth's sorrows. 
 Or sunk in bereavement's sad wail. 
 
 There shall dear households long severed 
 Rejoice in the anthem sublime ; 
 
Bishop Maclntyre, 99 
 
 Hosannas of spirits united 
 Shall echo o'er dirges of time. 
 
 Sickness and pain shall evanish ; 
 
 The years, with their sorrow shall cease ; — 
 O'er the glad souls of the ransomed 
 
 Eternity rolleth in peace. 
 
 BISHOP MACINTYRE. 
 
 On Canaan's border land, 
 By Jordan's watery gates, 
 The host of Israel waits \ — 
 
 They mourn the Guiding-Hand. 
 
 With firm, free step he trod 
 On Pisgah's mountain crest ; 
 He laid him down to rest ; 
 
 Alone ! save with his God. 
 
 He sighed no faint farewell ; 
 No murmuring refrains 
 Out-echoed angel strains ; 
 
 Nor tolled dull funeral knell. 
 
 Thus, as in days gone by 
 Great leader ! careful guide ! 
 God called thee hence, aside ; 
 
 We might not see thee die. 
 
lOo Personal. 
 
 Yet we have seen — may see 
 Thy work of nobler life ; 
 The courage through the strife ; 
 
 Deeds testify of thee. 
 
 Rest well ! Oh silvered head ! 
 Voice ever prone to bless, 
 To soothe the soul's distress, 
 
 Peace to thy lowly bed 1 
 
 Though next thy heart, thine own ; 
 Thy sympathies, world wide 
 Flowed, with unstinted tide ; 
 
 Bedewed each mortal zone. 
 
 Rest well ! ye feet which trod 
 That straight and narrow way 
 Illumed of purer ray ; 
 
 Quintessence of our God. 
 
 Soul ! which hath soared afar, 
 Beyond the flight of time ; 
 In calm, congenial clime, 
 
 No ills thy joys may mar. 
 
 Fair spirit ! just and wise ; 
 
 Kind heart of largess love ! 
 
 Christ-life, all creeds above ; 
 Rest thou in kindred skies. 
 
 More glorious eve's bright sun. 
 More dull seems dolesome night 
 So, lost thy glorious light ; 
 
 And yet — Heaven's will be done. 
 
Bishop Brooks. loi 
 
 BISHOP BROOKS. 
 
 THE STUDENTS OF HARVARD AWAITING 
 THE FUNERAL CORTEGE. 
 
 Why, with uncovered head 
 Stand they upon that fleece of snow 
 Mute-stricken, as of sudden woe ? 
 
 Silent they wait the dead. 
 
 Comes there some hero slain 
 Upon the blood-red field of war ? 
 With soldier-guarded funeral car. 
 
 And glittering martial train. 
 
 No gun with sullen roar ; 
 No flaunting emblems from the fight 
 To spread his fame, to tell his might ; 
 
 Who died, to die no more. 
 
 With reverend tread, and slow, 
 All noiselessly the footsteps fall ; 
 As sombre garb, and plume and pall 
 
 Pass o'er the soft, white snow. 
 
 'Mid Love's choice offering 
 Of sweet, rare flowers, whose tender breath 
 Speak brightest life, serenest death. 
 
 He lies, affection's king. 
 
 Triumph of Christian faith 
 O'er spurious sophistries of time ; 
 The sinless walk ; the end sublime, 
 
 No ghastly fears to scathe. 
 
102 Personal. 
 
 Pass on unto thy rest 
 Thou generous heart ! thou rich in lore ! 
 Thou whom all creeds and castes deplore ;- 
 
 God knoweth what is best. 
 
 AFTER MANY YEARS. 
 
 If e'er from holier heights there sped 
 
 One attribute divine, 
 To rest upon a mortal head, — 
 
 That head, dear love ! was thine. 
 
 True worth beyond expression towers ; 
 
 Excess in language mars ; — 
 What artist e'er inspired the flowers, 
 
 Or lighted up the stars ? 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 ANSV^^ER TO " CROSSING THE BAR.' 
 
 Clear-shining, evening star ! 
 We make no moan for thee 
 Who sightest, 'yond the bar, 
 
 Blest immortality ! 
 
Tennyson. 103 
 
 Yet, at thy farewell tone, 
 Thou glorious poet-king ! 
 The tears unbidden spring 
 
 From peoples of each zone. 
 
 So long, from loftier sphere. 
 Thy pure and lustrous rays 
 Have lit earth's sombre ways 
 
 No sky may own thy peer. 
 
 Oh, never-dying song ! 
 
 Oh, princely legacy ! 
 
 Till life shall living be 
 Thou'lt thrill, the years along. 
 
 Mist wreathe, or ocean foam ; 
 The beacon shineth clear, 
 The joy-bells sound anear, 
 
 Beyond the bar is — Home ! 
 
 Clear-shining, evening star ! 
 We make no moan for thee 
 Who sigh test 'yond the bar. 
 
 Blest immortality. 
 
1 04 Personal. 
 
 SPURGEON. 
 
 " NOTHING BUT FAITH." 
 
 Thine was no faith of pulseless form, 
 
 Of actor, acting well his role ; 
 Or deeming, through mere solemn rites, 
 
 To nourish the immortal soul, 
 Nor thine that bare and stunted growth. 
 
 To limits of a sect confined ; 
 Expanding not in broader realm 
 
 Than atmosphere by man defined. 
 
 Nor thine that crude philosophy 
 
 Whose meteor-flash hath oft beguiled 
 The traveller from clear mountain heights, 
 
 To perish on the misty wild. 
 No gloomy cypress wreath for thee ! 
 
 Oh brow unkenned of bigot frown ! 
 Fair coronet of laurel leaves ; 
 
 Meet emblem of thy fadeless crown. 
 
 Bright as the pure, cerulean arch, 
 
 Thy faith all creeds and rites doth span ; 
 And sees, through Love's refining lens, 
 
 The Deity in brother man. 
 With active, humanizing power, 
 
 Uplifts the soul, low sunk in sin ; 
 Till, yielding to its tender touch, 
 
 The chains unbar — God enters in. 
 
Beecher. 105 
 
 BEECHER. 
 
 THE LAST TIME IN PLYMOUTH CHURCH. 
 
 The organ grandly pealed ; 
 
 Still rose the peaceful hymn ; 
 
 The lights, though waxing dim, 
 A beauteous sight revealed. 
 
 From off the busy street 
 Into the sacred pile, 
 Adown the shadowy aisle 
 
 Came little wandering feet. 
 
 Secure from fear of harm, 
 With eager, upturned face, 
 The lone ones rest a space ; 
 
 Joy-filled of music's charm. 
 
 Forgot their hapless fate ; 
 
 Forgot cold, worlding scorn ; 
 
 Unseen the life forlorn ; 
 Seems nigh heaven's golden gate. 
 
 Upriseth from his seat 
 He of a world-wide fame ; 
 He of the lustrous name, 
 
 Those nameless ones to greet. 
 
 The mightiest orb on high 
 
 Doth kiss the meanest flower ; 
 True love, in bounteous shower. 
 
 Doth rift earth's formal sky. 
 15 
 
io6 Personal 
 
 Stoops low the silvered head 
 To kiss the smooth young brow, 
 To seal the sacred vow 
 
 Which life-long fragrance shed. 
 
 And tenderly his arms 
 
 Those boyish forms enfold ; 
 As if, o'er life's drear wold, 
 
 He'd shield from rude alarms. 
 
 Thus pass they from the sight, 
 From out the vaulted door ; — 
 He walks the pearly floor, 
 They grope through dismal night. 
 
 Oh scene surpassing fair ! 
 
 Soul-filling, all sublime; 
 
 Undimmed of dark'ning time, 
 Unlit of earthly glare. 
 
 F'air soul of tenderness ! 
 Unselfish, meek and mild, 
 The waif, the outcast child 
 
 Thou deignest to caress. 
 
 Sweet, humanizing love ! 
 
 Beyond choice gifts of mind, 
 'Yond culture most refined ; 
 
 Bright essence from above ! 
 
 Columbia ! brave young land ! 
 
 Tong is thy scroll of fame ; 
 
 Full many a deathless name 
 Hath led thee by the hand. 
 
Alleluia. lo: 
 
 High on that scroll of fame, 
 Whilst hero echoes ring, 
 Whilst votaries pause to sing, 
 
 Shall glow thy Beecher's name. 
 
 ALLELUIA. 
 
 No more upon Parnassus' hill 
 Thou'lt string thy patriot lyre ; 
 
 To tell those feats which nations thrill, 
 Which youthful spirits fire. 
 
 How, on the blood-red battle field 
 
 Great heroes fall, but never yield ; 
 
 True courage is the only shield 
 Thy whole-souled Briton owns. 
 
 No more thou'lt sing thy graceful lays 
 Of rock, and mount, and stream ; 
 
 Or cause the light from Heaven's pure rays 
 O'er nature's face to beam. 
 
 We heard the rustle of the tree. 
 
 The humming of the busy bee, 
 
 When nature waked to life with thee 
 In joyous harmony. 
 
 But though thy harp is silent now, 
 
 And hearts may mourn thee long ; 
 Where halos crown the victor's brow 
 
 Thou sing'st the angels' song. 
 
 Dust mingles with its kindred dust, 
 
 Soul joins the army of the just ; — 
 
 Their Leader was thy hope and trust 
 
 Through life's long pi'grimage. 
 
1 08 Personal. 
 
 "THREE YEARS." 
 
 Here the pain, and gloom and sorrow, 
 
 Here the household lone and sad ; 
 There the ever-bright to-morrow, 
 
 There the youthful spirit glad. 
 Here the parents vigil keeping 
 
 O'er the beauteous head laid low ; 
 There the eyes which know no weeping 
 
 Shall with rapture ever glow. 
 
 Bright as were the sunny tresses 
 
 Curling o'er the fair, young brow, 
 Richer far the crown that presses 
 
 Round his seraph forehead now. 
 Clear and chaste as crystal seemeth. 
 
 Worthless is it 'side the gem ; 
 So, howe'er earth's beauty gleameth, 
 
 Pales its 'fore Heaven's diadem. 
 
 Nov^, his gracious word believing, 
 
 Who on earth with woe did weep. 
 Mingle trustful joy with grieving 
 
 O'er the loved, who rests in sleep. 
 For, where groups of children gather, 
 
 He hath joined the choir of praise 
 Which, around our Heavenly Father, 
 
 Chants the hymn of deathless days. 
 
TJie Evening Star. 109 
 
 THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 I SIT me down at eventide 
 
 Day's cares receding far, 
 When sweet ! a whisper at my side, 
 
 " Mama, come see my star !" 
 
 "The only one in all the sky 
 
 Away up — Oh, so far ! 
 And yet it shines so beautiful, 
 
 My own, dear, lovely star !" 
 
 Oh ! child of many hopes and fears ; 
 
 Of many an anxious thought ; 
 Oh life ! with parents' prayers and tears. 
 
 So oft from Heaven besought. 
 
 If spared to pass the tender years 
 
 Of infancy and truth ; 
 God keep thee through the slippery path 
 
 Of boyhood, and of youth. 
 
 And guide thee by His own right hand 
 
 In wisdom's pleasant way ; 
 And never in foul vice's snares 
 
 Permit thy feet to stray. 
 
 And when that love which gazeth now 
 
 Into thy sunny eyes 
 Can only come, at God's good will 
 
 In message from the skies. 
 
 Oh ! should the tempter's net be spread, 
 
 Look upward ! do not fear ; 
 From 'yond thy star, a mother's love 
 
 Will shine thy way to cheer. 
 
1 1 o Personal. 
 
 If e'er thou reachest manhood's prime, 
 
 'Mid pleasures of this world 
 Let ever, in truth's sacred cause 
 
 Thy banner be unfurled. 
 
 May all the graces which adorn 
 
 Great minds in thee excel ; 
 May't long be said of thee " he served 
 
 His generation well." 
 
 Thy emblem be yon evening star ; 
 
 Aye steady in its light ; 
 Calm-peering o'er a world of change ; 
 
 Ne'er stooping from its height. 
 
 When darkness deepens all around, 
 
 And rivals fill the field ; 
 Let faith and courage arm thy soul, 
 
 And form thy radiant shield. 
 
 Then, when thy golden hue of morn 
 
 Gives place to sober grey ; 
 And years which never-ending seem 
 
 Have fled like one short day. 
 
 Relying on that Mighty One 
 Who raised the starry frame ; 
 
 Who through life's changes, toils and tears, 
 Abideth still the same. 
 
 Thy feet shall out the swelling flood, 
 
 Step safe upon the strand ; 
 And mayhap then, a mother's love 
 
 Again shall clasp thy hand, 
 And lead thee, 'yond thy shining star. 
 
 Into the deathless land. 
 
RHYMES OF ANCIENT ROflE. 
 
HORATIUS. 
 
 B. C. 650. 
 
 A PLAN of fair devising when battle feuds were rife ; 
 To save by lesser sacrifice, a needless waste of life. 
 Three brothers Curiatii, choice of the Alban band, 
 Against three brothers Horatii, Rome's proffered 
 
 champions, stand ; 
 Should Horatii assert their might, the Alban arms 
 
 would yield, 
 If Curiatii, then should Rome to servile fate be sealed. 
 
 Well fought those manly combatants in sight of either 
 
 host ; 
 The struggle wavered long and keen, high hopes were 
 
 rudely tossed ; 
 But strength, upborne of courage, wanes before time's 
 
 fatal throes, 
 The brave may strive yet striving fall, as fell those rival 
 
 foes 
 Save one, who owed to strategy what prowess might 
 
 not yield, 
 A Horatii stood conqueror on Alba's blood-stained 
 
 field. 
 
 Rome is avowed the victor, the battle-sword is sheathed. 
 And round Horatius' youthful head gay triumph's crown 
 is wreathed : 
 16 
 
114 Rhymes of Ancient Rome. 
 
 'Mid gratulations of the camp, 'mid cheerings of the 
 
 throng 
 The hero who hath slain to save, is proudly borne along, 
 When Hark ! beyond the joyous notes which stir the 
 
 balmy air 
 Upwafteth to his ears the sad reproaches of despair. 
 
 " Oh ! woe for my belovbd ! 
 My love who loved me so ; 
 Oh cruel hand ! Oh evil fate ! 
 Which laid the mighty low. 
 
 " Oh brother ! dearly hast thou earned 
 Thy country's noblest boon ; 
 Thou'st quenched the lustre of my life 
 Ere reached its bright, high noon. 
 
 " Thou comest laden rich with spoils, 
 Thy valor to attest ; 
 One only trophy greets mine eye, 
 His cloak upon thy breast. 
 
 " Go ! list the plaudits of the crowd 
 Whose liberties you save ; 
 One only voice thrills through my soul. 
 That voice from out the grave. 
 
 " For thee shall golden goblets pour, 
 And glorious rosebays twine ; 
 For me — my heart lies low with his 
 Whose heart was wholly mine." 
 
 Oh maiden ! for that prudence which looks beyond the 
 hour ; 
 
Horatius. 115 
 
 Oh for that subtle wisdom which holds the key of 
 
 power ! 
 For calm and callous reasoning, which worketh out its 
 
 plan, 
 Which checketh honest principle, and dupeth craft of 
 
 man. 
 As in these nigher ages, so in those earlier days, 
 Keen wit, cool wisdom e'er dissolve beneath Love's 
 
 fervent rays. 
 
 Is it fatigue of battle ? why pales the warrior now ? 
 Is it chagrin in triumph's hour which clouds that 
 
 martial brow ? 
 Both lend their aid, yet greater far than aught on earth 
 
 beside, 
 The sore and bitter struggle 'twixt love and wounded 
 
 pride ; 
 'Twixt patriot-love and brother-love, the love of life's 
 
 young day ; 
 When sympathy of sisterhood charmed every grief away. 
 
 Horatius paused ; out flashed the swOrd which drank 
 
 her lover's blood ; 
 He plunged it in his sister's heart, he slew her where' 
 
 she stood ; 
 And, as he sheathed the reeking blade which struck the 
 
 dastard blow, 
 " So perish every maid " he said " who wails a Roman 
 
 foe !" 
 Oh cruel fate ! Oh hapless twain ! Oh tragic scenes of 
 
 old! 
 Go ! thank high Heaven these later times are cast in 
 
 Christian mould. 
 
ii6 Rhymes of Ancient Rome. 
 
 PYRRHUS. 
 
 AFTER HIS DEFEAT OF THE ROMAN ARMY. 
 B. C. 280. 
 
 "If these were my soldiers," he said, 
 As he glanced o'er the gory field 
 Where mingled the dying and dead 
 Of foemen who knew not to yield. 
 ** If these were my soldiers, with standard unfurled, 
 I should gather the reins of a vanquished world. 
 
 " Seven times did we charge on the foe ; 
 
 As oft did we order retreat ; 
 Seven times, till the ebb and the flow 
 
 Brought the battle-tide under our feet. 
 Yet, unto destruction their courage held fast, 
 Till destiny weighted the balance at last. 
 
 " A victor ! yet mourning the lost ! 
 
 The flower of my army, my pride, 
 Who led in the conquering host 
 
 Lie mute as the serfs by their side. 
 Oh ! mothers of Epirus, what shall atone ! 
 Must the victor ride back with his laurels— alone ! 
 
 " Unmatched as to numbers we met ; 
 
 Well mated in ardor we fought ; 
 Ah ! never was victory yet 
 
 With bloodier sacrifice bought. 
 Peace be to our dead 'neath Lucanian sods ! 
 Let Valour high-niche them in shrine of the gods ! 
 
Pyrrhus. 117 
 
 " But these ! of Rome's valiant who fell ; 
 Who flinched not, but met every blow 
 With prowess no language may tell ; 
 
 With face ever set to the foe. 
 If these were 7ny soldiers, with standard unfurled, 
 I should reign, the one king of a whole conquered 
 world." 
 
 So is it in life's bitter warfare ; 
 
 When hosts of wrong-doing assail, 
 The bravest in spirit, the truest of soul 
 
 In heat of the battle oft fail. 
 They lack in a leader, they parry each blow, 
 Yet fall in the conflict with face to the foe. 
 
 Legions of evil confronting 
 
 Firm-footed, position maintain ; 
 Look thou to thine able Commander ! 
 
 The foeman shall muster in vain. 
 In phalanx well marshaled, with standard unfurled, 
 Thou shalt combat and conquer a whole sinning 
 world. 
 
ii8 Rhymes of Ancient Rome. 
 
 MARIUS. 
 
 SEATED ON THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 
 B. C. 86. 
 
 What voiceth thy bright waters ? Oh Sea of the 
 
 summer dime ! 
 Thou mirror of life's history ! thou orator sublime ! 
 What sing thy laughing wavelets as they dance along 
 
 thy shore ? 
 What moan thy heaving surges, as they sway with 
 
 sullen roar ? 
 Thou tellest to the breezes soft, which fan thy breast 
 
 of pride, 
 That pomp and glory of a world once nestled by thy 
 
 side ; 
 Thou singest, in the purling wave, quaint rhythms of 
 
 romance, 
 Of witching queens and warriors bold, of siege and 
 
 glistering lance ; 
 Thou wailest, in sad monotone, o'er empires gone for 
 
 aye; 
 Thou smilest in benign repose upon this freer day. 
 
 Alone on the crumbling ruins ! bowed low his aged 
 
 head ; 
 Life's wreck 'mid shattered monuments, sole mourners 
 
 o'er the dead ; 
 Meet emblem of capricious fate, which scorns decrees 
 
 of man ; 
 Meet site for an exile's musing on Treachery's subtle 
 
 plan. 
 
Marius. 119 
 
 Great city of the salt sea wave, on Afric's burnished 
 
 shore ! 
 That gleaming wave which wailed the dirge of those 
 
 it proudly bore 
 To battle in a vain defense, to sleep the sleep profound 
 Within no sculptured sepulchre, beneath no hallowed 
 
 ground. 
 Great Carthage the magnificent ! when Slaughter rung 
 
 thy knell, 
 Even from thy victor's war-strained eyes, unwonted 
 
 tear-drops fell. 
 
 A fugitive sat Marius ; despondent and alone ; 
 Well-nigh forgot of enemies, forsaken of his own. 
 Where now that voice of terror, those eyes of flashing 
 
 light 
 Which awed the Cymbrian jailor, which urged his 
 
 coward flight ? 
 Where now that haughty form and mien which led the 
 
 Roman bands 
 To smite Europa's barbarous hordes back from the 
 
 classic lands ? 
 Mute are the plaudits of the crowd, seared are the 
 
 harvest sheaves ; 
 Quenched the chimera light of flame, which gilt the 
 
 laurel leaves ; 
 Had vanished, as a taunting sprite, those dreams 
 
 ambition nursed ; 
 The very stones on which he sat were of the gods 
 
 accursed. 
 
 Which is the happier? he who strives the higher 
 heights to gain, 
 
120 Rhymes of Ancient Rome. 
 
 Or he who mingles in the crowd that throngs the 
 
 nether plain ? 
 Ask ye Ambition's tortured brain if vulgar hue and cry 
 The craving of the loftier mood doth fully satisfy : 
 Ask of keen Avarice if its hoard e'er soothed a sin- 
 fraught breast, 
 Or purchased peace of mind, or charmed a conscience 
 
 into rest. 
 I wot 'tis safer far to bide in calm 'contentment's vale, 
 And o'er the placid inland seas to peaceful moorings 
 
 sail. 
 Even those whose largess, honest worth doth merit 
 
 just renown 
 What are they save the shining mark for Envy to 
 uncrown. 
 
 Doth muse Oh Marius ! on that hour when blasts of 
 
 martial horn 
 Across thy peasant heritage through haunts of toil 
 
 were borne? 
 When thy young heart throbbed high to join that 
 
 glittering array, 
 Which owned thee chief in valor's van through many 
 
 an after day. 
 Dost storm Numantia's battlements, whence arrows 
 
 showered as rain ? 
 Dost stand in thickest of the fight on crimsoned fields 
 
 of Spain ? 
 Or sittest thou an honored guest, where flows the 
 
 festive tide ? 
 Thy plebeian birth no barrier, by Africanus' side? 
 Dost list that certain prophecy that should his race 
 
 be run, 
 
Marius. 121 
 
 The mantle of his might should fall on thee, great 
 Valor's son? 
 
 Raise up thy head, Oh Marius ! look forth ayond the 
 
 wave ! 
 Yield not to dire despondency ; ills conquer not the 
 
 brave ; 
 Think of thy former exile, then of that glorious hour 
 When suffrage of the multitude invested thee with 
 
 power : 
 When Rome's patricians bent the knee around thy 
 
 self-built throne, 
 And all the wills of every land succumbed unto thine 
 
 own: 
 Though Envy forged the coward chains which dragged 
 
 thy scepter down, 
 It may not wrest from memory thy record of renown ; 
 Arise ! reward of courage waits, the dismal night is 
 
 o'er ; 
 That sun is dawning which will flush thy Civic crown 
 
 once more. 
 
 17 
 
122 Rhymes of Aticient Rome. 
 
 BRUTUS. 
 
 THE LAST CAMPAIGN. 
 B. C. 42. 
 
 The warrior doffed his heavy helm, 
 
 Unclasped the sheath from off his breast ; 
 He turned aside from sword and lance, 
 Yet sought no couch of needful rest. 
 
 His soul was filled with new, strange dread, 
 Since haunting ghosts of evil done 
 
 Uprose, and banished from his mind 
 All war plans for the rising sun. 
 
 Again the blazing holocaust 
 
 Of patriot Xanthus greets his eyes ; 
 
 Again before his ruthless hand 
 
 The plundered Lycian peasant flies. 
 
 Once more within the Senate House 
 He lists those accents, full and clear, 
 
 Which plead the sacred rights of Rome ; — 
 Brave warrior ! statesman without peer ! 
 
 He sees the quivering sunbeams play 
 Upon the sandal's burnished gold ; 
 
 And light the gorgeous Tyrian dyes 
 
 Which deck that form of princely mould, 
 
 Then stream o'er proud, patrician crest 
 Down to the swaying mass below ; 
 
Brutus. 123 
 
 Whose wills imbibe the speaker's will, 
 
 As well aimed darts from high strung bow. 
 
 Ingrate, he joins the dastard few 
 That round the mighty Caesar stand, 
 
 And stains his weapon to the hilt 
 With noblest blood in Roman land. 
 
 He hears the astonished " Brutus, thou ! " 
 He marks the sad, reproachful eye, 
 
 Ere, wrapped within the toga folds. 
 The lofty head bows down to die. 
 
 No war blast wakes a sleeping world ; 
 
 Deep silence broodeth o'er the camp ; 
 Still, careless as to wanted rest 
 
 Sits Brutus by the flickering lamp. 
 
 Is it a phantom, that giant form. 
 
 Or spirit to human shape lent, 
 Which glideth, with never a warning, 
 
 From shadow land into the tent ? 
 
 Of stature majestic ; erect ; 
 
 Terrific of feature, stern-eyed ; 
 No token, save only a look ; 
 
 Such look as all welcome defied. 
 
 "Thy name," said the awe struck warrior 
 " Thy name and thy purpose unfold ? " 
 His tones wore the mask of fortitude, 
 But the stream from his heart ran cold. 
 
124 Rhymes of Aficient Rome. 
 
 ** My name " — and the dark scowl deepened 
 As the lips of the mystic unsealed ; 
 
 " My name is— thy genius of evil ; — 
 
 We shall meet on Philippics red field ! " 
 
 Hushed were the dire, prophetic tones ; 
 
 The vision vanished as it came ; 
 But, from that hour in Brutus' soul 
 
 Was crushed Ambition's furious flame. 
 
 No more he dreamt to enter Rome 
 In laurel-wreathed triumphal car ; 
 
 With captive monarchs in his train, 
 With spoils and trophies from afar. 
 
 Nor e'er to quaff the festive bowl 
 'Neath purple canopy of state ; 
 
 Whilst bard and sage his feats rehearse, 
 And martial throngs his bidding wait. 
 
 Ah, Caesar ! thou wert well avenged. 
 When on its lowly, greenwood bed, 
 
 Defeated valour stooped to swell 
 The army of ignoble dead. 
 
 Though on those ancient battle-fields, 
 Sapped with the blood of myriad slain, 
 
 The suns of centuries have smiled, 
 And reapers gathered golden grain. 
 
 Though pomp and power of ancient Rome 
 With Roman idols passed away, 
 
 The thirst of power, and greed of gain 
 Live on to mar this later day. 
 
Marcus Curtius. 125 
 
 Still boastful arrogance excels, 
 
 And moneyed ignorance soareth high ; 
 
 Still fashion rules the world of sham ; 
 Still man for man in strife must die. 
 
 Yet, sure as rills from mountain source 
 Through varied channels seaward run ; 
 
 So surely ill will track the course 
 Of him that hath the evil done. 
 
 And conscience seared, lethargic-souled, 
 
 Who deal in evil to the last 
 Must realize, beyond the bourne, 
 
 Deserved doom, and mercy past. 
 
 MARCUS CURTIUS. 
 
 A LEGEND. 
 
 Still, in these balmier days of Rome, 
 
 The mother tells her child 
 That once, within the Forum, oped 
 
 A chasm deep and wild. 
 
 That every heart, with horror chilled, 
 
 Unto the altar hied ; 
 Soothsayers, augurs sought the cause. 
 
 Yet answer was denied. 
 
 At length an ag^d seer proclaimed, 
 " The gods will vengeance wreak, 
 
126 Rhyt?ies of Ancient Rome. 
 
 Till choicest gift, cast in the gulf, 
 Doth penitence bespeak." 
 
 The mother shuddering, clasps her babe 
 More closely to her breast ; 
 
 The warrior who ne'er feared a foe 
 Bends low his mailed crest. 
 
 The heartless miser hugs his gold ; 
 
 Affection claims its own ; 
 Yet, mystery beyond all ken, 
 
 Such gifts might ill atone. 
 
 'Neath blackened sky the wind moans on, 
 Wide yawns the dark abyss ; — 
 
 Oh Heavens ! was ever sore suspense 
 Or terror like to this ! 
 
 Hark ! sweet as angel symphony, 
 " 'Tis found ! the offering's found ! " 
 
 And forward press the eager throng 
 To find due vantage ground. 
 
 What star descendeth through the gloom 
 • To rift dark sorrow's night ? 
 Is't hero from the battle field, 
 Or monarch girt with might ? 
 
 Up rides young Marcus Curtius 
 
 Upon his milk white steed ; 
 No word, but waving of the hand, 
 
 As he dashes on with speed. 
 
Marcus Curtius. 127 
 
 Unto the dreary chasm's mouth ; — 
 
 The frighted charger springs, 
 He rears, he snorts, and foamy flakes 
 
 O'er Curtius' armor flings. 
 
 Fair picture for all spheres and times ! 
 
 Upon death's borderland, 
 One gleam of sunshine for his crown, 
 
 See Rome's self martyr stand ! 
 
 He gently soothed his noble horse ; 
 
 Then, as from silver bell, 
 Upon the wondering multitude. 
 
 His calm, clear accents fell. 
 
 " Romans ! " he said, " not arms, not wealth 
 Heaven claims of you this day ; 
 Nor gifts of wisdom, love or lore, 
 Howe'er so precious they. 
 
 " Hear me, Oh citizens of Rome ! 
 This lesson richly prize ; 
 Best gift and parent of good deeds 
 Is true 5^^-sacrifice. 
 
 *' I off'er to the immortal gods. 
 Who hark my solemn vow, 
 That life which for my country lived ; 
 Which dieth for it now." 
 
 He backed his steed ; threw down his casque ; 
 
 Gazed on the Sacred Height ; 
 Then — forward to the vast abyss 
 
 As soldier to the fight. 
 
128 Rhyines of Ancient Ro?ne. 
 
 With right hand raised above his head, 
 His sword within its sheath, 
 
 He urges on the maddened steed 
 Which bears him to his death. 
 
 One moment, and with mighty bound, 
 
 He plunges to repose ; 
 One dull, sad sound ; but one, and then- 
 
 The yawning gulf doth close. 
 
CRAWFURD CASTLE. 
 
CRAWFURD CASTLE. 
 
 I. 
 
 'YoND many a crimsoned thorn-hedge 
 
 In that sweet English vale 
 Where violet, pink and eglantine 
 
 Waft incense on the gale. 
 
 Where from the wayside hillocks smile 
 
 Gay groups of golden-rod ; 
 And 'neath the shade of branching elm, 
 
 The lithe-limbed bluebells nod. 
 
 Beneath that lofty, grey stone arch ; 
 
 Beneath that sculptured crest ; 
 Betwixt those pillars huge, whereon 
 
 Heraldic lions rest. 
 
132 Crawfurd Castle. 
 
 Up through green woods of stoned fame ; 
 
 Where squire with hawk and hound, 
 And monarch with his glittering train 
 
 Had sought a hunting ground. 
 
 Unto that gently rising slope ; 
 
 There Crawfurd Castle stands, 
 With lordship, far as eye can reach, 
 
 O'er all the County lands. 
 
 But why, in its kingly grandeur 
 
 Of terrace, arch and tower. 
 Stands that fair structure mute and lone 
 
 As hermit in his bower ? 
 
 On this same Crawfurd Castle, nigh fourscore years 
 
 agone, 
 The morning dawned full cheerily, the sun as brightly 
 
 shone, 
 The rooks rehearsed their noisy caw, the lark trilled 
 
 roundelay 
 As if this sorrow-freighted world rejoiced in holiday. 
 
 Anear the Gothic window, through which the orient 
 
 beams 
 Fell in subdued radiance o'er young life's happy 
 
 dreams, 
 Sat one whose noble form and mien, firm step and 
 
 shapely hand 
 
Crawfurd Castle 133 
 
 Proclaimed him born with either right, to serve or to 
 command. 
 
 This day was of his happy life, the happiest, brightest 
 
 far, 
 For a blissful calm had fallen on a bitter family jar ; 
 The Earl had yielded \ on the morn his loved and 
 
 only son 
 With full consent would wed with her whose heart 
 
 had long been won. 
 
 She was no child of fortune the lady of his choice ; 
 A lovely face, a faultless form, a clear and kindly voice 
 Were hers, with wealth of tenderness, and heart of 
 
 honest love, 
 Which prized him for his own true worth all other 
 
 claims above. 
 
 She was no peeress of the realm ; no high born titled 
 
 dame. 
 To lead the dance in glittering halls where myriad 
 
 jewels flame ; 
 To circle in the slippery round of fashion's giddy 
 
 throng ; 
 To charm the audience with a sound whence dwells 
 
 no soul of song. 
 
 Yet, brighter to her lover's eyes those coils of golden 
 
 hair 
 Than coronet of strawberry leaves, o'ertopped with 
 
 pearlets rare; 
 
134 Crawfurd Castle. 
 
 And dearer to her lover's heart those accents sweet 
 
 and low 
 Than choicest melody of art, or studied music's flow. 
 
 So Viscount Edwin sat and dreamed bright dreams of 
 
 after hours 
 When the curate's winsome daughter should reign at 
 
 Crawfurd towers ; 
 And a new, sweet peace stole o'er him as he thought 
 
 of all the scorn 
 With which the Earl had spoken of the maiden lowly 
 
 born. 
 
 How he had pointed to their sires, and reasoned of 
 
 disgrace, 
 While bitter disappointment had paled his noble face ; 
 Then how, relenting for the sake of her long since in 
 
 heaven, 
 He'd ta'en his boy unto his heart, and seeming wrong 
 
 forgiven. 
 
 Then o'er the dreamer's youthful face there stooped a 
 
 passing cloud ; 
 But an angel voice made whisper beyond the satin 
 
 shroud. 
 As a gentle hand pressed tenderly upon the smooth, 
 
 white brow, 
 *' I loved thee. Oh my little one ! — I love and bless 
 
 thee now." 
 
Crawfurd Castle. 135 
 
 II. 
 
 " Dear Cousin Ida ! on this day 1 crave thy special 
 grace ! " 
 
 The red tide surged in angry force ; deep flushed the 
 
 comely face. 
 " I may not wish you well," she said, " it cannot come 
 
 to me 
 That aught could ever bridge the gulf 'twixt such as 
 
 her — and thee." 
 
 Lord Edwin proffered no reply ; she was his child- 
 hood's friend ; 
 
 " Come Fido ! " to his faithful hound, " our cheerful 
 way we'll wend 
 
 Across the park, adown the mead, on to the river's 
 side 
 
 Where, 'neath the jasmine's fragrant shade, the glad 
 hours quickly glide." 
 
 Oh 1 lightly o'er the heart of youth life's scathing 
 
 breezes blow ; 
 To vanish, as 'fore noonday sun, the first, soft flakes 
 
 of snow : 
 And smiles the buoyant hope of youth as smiles the 
 
 tranquil shore 
 When Ocean, having spent his wrath, retreats with 
 
 sullen roar. 
 
 At early morn the nuptial peals rang forth full merrily ; 
 Before the lark sang matin song the village stirred with 
 
 glee; 
 
136 Crawfurd Castle. 
 
 The aged church looked young again, in arch and 
 
 pillar green, 
 As through the quaint, old diamond panes peeped in 
 
 the rising sheen. 
 
 A joyous crowd hath filled the pews ; along the sacred 
 
 walls, 
 Even as a benediction, the orient glory falls ; 
 The choir within the chancel sit, the organ swell 
 
 expands, 
 The clergyman who baptized both will link the lovers' 
 
 hands. 
 
 Why Cometh not the maiden in her crown of orange 
 
 flowers ? 
 Why linger Earl and bridegroom gay amid their 
 
 haughty towers ? — 
 Bring hither cypress garnishing ! nor bay nor orange 
 
 bloom ; 
 For music and for marriage-feast are silence and the 
 
 tomb. 
 
 With song and voice of cheering the barque doth hoist 
 
 her sails, 
 But who shall tell if into port she'll glide with favouring 
 
 gales ; 
 The golden chalice of the years with joy may overflow; 
 Drink whilst ye will the sweetened draught, the end 
 
 ye may not know. 
 
 Upon his couch at morning tide the noble bridegroom 
 lies ; 
 
Crawfurd Castle. 137 
 
 Nor wedding peal will break his rest, nor dawn will 
 
 ope his eyes ; 
 The violets shall bloom and fade, the river sing its 
 
 rhyme, 
 That ear attuned to echoes sweet, is closed to notes 
 
 of time. 
 
 Still robed in richest evening dress, within her tiring- 
 room 
 
 The Lady Ida sitteth, but her soul hath passed to 
 doom ; 
 
 One line to solve the mystery ; one only line, which 
 read : 
 
 " She wiled from me the living ! she cannot part the 
 dead ! " 
 
 Oh ! saddest note in saddening song ! 
 
 The fair, unwedded bride 
 With reason fled, might oft be seen 
 
 Near by the river side. 
 
 Now plaiting wreaths of sweet, wild flowers 
 
 To rhythms light and gay ; 
 Now listening for the manly step 
 
 She hailed in former day. 
 
 Till the Father, in His mercy. 
 
 Sent an angel from above 
 To tend her guileless spirit up 
 
 Into the haven of love. 
 
 19 
 
138 Crawfurd Castle. 
 
 Earl Crawfurd, crushed with shame and woe 
 
 Bent low his stately head ; 
 And, ere the forest leaves were strewn, 
 
 He slumbered with his dead. 
 
 His mansion, with ancestral lands, 
 
 Rich farms and pastures fair ; 
 A vast and goodly heritage. 
 
 Passed to a distant heir. 
 
 So now, in its kingly grandeur 
 
 Of terrace, arch and tower, 
 Stands Crawfurd Castle, mute and lone 
 
 As hermit in his bower. 
 
SONGS OF SCOTIA. 
 
THE SCOTCH GATHERING. 
 
 Hurrah for Scotland's ancient flag ! 
 
 Now floating on the breeze ; 
 Its every wave in vision paints 
 
 A clime beyond the seas. 
 
 And, as that music fills the air 
 
 Which breathes of mountain-steep, 
 
 Our spirits wander back again 
 To where our fathers sleep. 
 
 Again we hear the dashing foam 
 Which plunges down the dell ; 
 
 Or ramble o'er the broomy knowes, 
 Or cull the sweet bluebell. 
 
 Or sit in restful gloaming-tide, 
 'Neath honeysuckle porch, 
 
 And watch the tewhits winging low 
 Beyond the old, grey church. 
 
 As balmy breath of briar and thyme 
 Comes wafted o'er the moor. 
 
 And sheds the gold, laburnum fringe 
 Upon its grassy floor. 
 
142 Sojtgs of Scotia. 
 
 Or linger by the martyrs' grave ; 
 
 Or tread the hallowed sod 
 Where Hope and Valour stoutly fought 
 
 For country and for God. 
 
 The Cora Lynn yet sings the dirge 
 And deeds of Wallace wight ; 
 
 Whilst Bannockburn still echoes forth 
 Who bravely died for right. 
 
 Oh ! beauteous, tender mountain land ! 
 
 Where'er thy children roam, 
 Along their lives the heartstrings thrill 
 
 To tune of " Home ! sweet Home ! " 
 
 Thy halls of learning grace the earth, 
 
 And dignify the name 
 Which side by side hath ever stood 
 
 With^honor, truth and fame. 
 
 Thy sons, who now with strong, right arm 
 The stone and hammer wield. 
 
 Type well the sires who glory gained, 
 Or perished on the field. 
 
 Now, three cheers for our Highland Chief ! 
 
 Three more for the Macneill ! 
 Three for all those who fondly prize 
 
 The land we love sae weel! 
 
 And three cheers for our noble Queen ! 
 
 Who from the Bruce descends ; 
 Whose life, attuned to sympathy, 
 
 A nation's love defends. 
 
''Bonnie Dundee.'' 143 
 
 SKYE. 
 
 Hail to the clime of the mist and the mountain ! 
 
 Of cataract foaming in boisterous glee ; 
 Hail to Cuchullin ! proud-peering through cloudland, 
 
 In red, rocky grandeur, from sea unto sea. 
 Fair isle of the patriot, the sage and the songster ! 
 
 Thou shrine of the deeds of the noble and brave ! 
 Who lived for their kinsmen, who died for their country; 
 
 Whose ashes repose in a far, foreign grave. 
 
 Of spirit undaunted, of intellect bright 
 
 As the glistening lakes in thy bosom which lie ; 
 The archives of learning, the annals of might 
 
 Shall lustre for ever the heroes of Skye. 
 Injustice may scathe thee, deep gloom thee surround, 
 
 Thy night shall yet vanish, bright dawn to restore ; 
 When peace and fair plenty once more shall abound, 
 
 From Macleod's seagirt castle to Armadale's shore. 
 
 "BONNIE DUNDEE." 
 
 Whene'er I hear the well-kent tune 
 My heart gangs ower the sea 
 
 And communes with the loved o' yore 
 In the dear auld countrie. 
 
 Ance mair I run, wi' lichtsome step 
 And spirits fu' o' glee 
 
144 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 Ane o' a joyous, childish group 
 To school, in fair Dundee. 
 
 Ah ! many a year has come and gane 
 Yet, time's long bridge atween 
 
 I overstep, and live the past 
 As if it happed yestreen. 
 
 Though mony a hand is cauld in death, 
 And mony a grave grows green 
 
 O' those that made the Yule-tide bricht 
 And hanselled Hallowe'en. 
 
 But, sometimes from the music creeps 
 A sicht that blurs the sang ; — 
 
 'Twould discord sweetest tones e'er sung, 
 And put the minstrel wrang. 
 
 It is the picture o' a hame 
 
 O' Scotland's peasantry ; 
 In front stands Graeme of Claverhouse 
 
 The braw Viscount Dundee. 
 
 The troopers rein their panting steeds 
 Their General's will to bide ; 
 
 As, clinging to their mother's gown 
 The frightened bairnies hide. 
 
 I hear the haughty " Where is he ?" 
 
 But — Oh, she answers well ! 
 Her faithful heart love fortified, 
 " That same I will na tell." 
 
" Bonnie Dundee'^ 145 
 
 Dark grew his scowl ; as fierce wild beast 
 
 Defrauded of its prey, 
 With thirst of blood insatiate, 
 
 He gave his passions play. 
 
 " Then, woman, thou shalt surely die 
 
 Who darest me to my face !" 
 The husband heard these words of doom 
 
 And left his hiding place. 
 
 Alack, the courtly cavalier ! 
 
 The bonnie, braw Dundee ! 
 What odium of saintly blood 
 
 Must ever cling to thee. 
 
 He stood his human target up, 
 
 He gave the order " Fire ! " 
 Yet, every gun was mute, for ance 
 
 His veterans braved his ire. 
 
 He raised aloft a coward hand 
 
 And shot his victim down ; — 
 But lang in Scotia's heart will live 
 
 The memory o' John Brown. 
 
 The widowed knelt upon the sward, 
 
 Her apron she unbound ; 
 And tenderly, her loved dead 
 
 In reddening shroud she wound; 
 
 '* What think ye o' your husband now ?" 
 
 The murderer demands 
 Of the humble woman, in her woe 
 
 Clasped firm by bairnies' hands. 
 20 
 
146 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 She raised the head upon her lap, 
 She kissed the yet warm brow ; 
 
 '■'I aye thocht muckle d'm" she said 
 " But mair than ever now.^^ 
 
 Oh, woe for Scotland when her king 
 Stept 'twixt her and her God ! 
 
 And baptized in her martyrs' gore 
 Each cave and moorland sod. 
 
 And woe to every servile hand 
 
 O' persecution's slaves ! 
 Who load their weakling souls wi' guilt 
 
 At beck o' deeper knaves. 
 
 Beyond a' creeds and rites o' rule ; 
 
 True faith shall never fail ; 
 As lighthouse built on solid rock 
 
 'Twill weather every gale. 
 
 And though, unto the powers that be 
 
 A loyal lay she'll sing, 
 Auld Scotland's soul will bend to nane 
 
 Save Heaven's own glorious King. 
 
The Heatherbell. 147 
 
 THE HEATHERBELL. 
 
 Old England wreathes her gorgeous rose 
 
 With minstrelsy sublime ; 
 The flower to Highland hearts most dear, 
 
 I fain would praise in rhyme. 
 
 It bloometh not in palace grounds, 
 
 But on the rough hillside ; 
 It boasteth no patrician birth, 
 
 It is a people's pride. 
 
 Where streamlet leaves its rocky bed 
 
 To warble o'er the plain ; 
 Where cataract leaps forth in foam, 
 
 On to the seething main. 
 
 Down-trampled on the serried field 
 Where love from love was riven ; 
 
 Where patriot soul was offered up 
 As incense unto Heaven. 
 
 Where young hearts meet at eventide, 
 
 The old, old tale to tell ; 
 In shady nooks, by purling brooks. 
 
 There blooms the sweet harebell. 
 
 Where cadence of the martyrs' hymn 
 
 Bright seraphim revoiced, 
 As e'en from moorland, fen and cave 
 
 Old Scotia's saints rejoiced. 
 
 Where ruin mocks those hoary towers 
 In which mailed knight held sway ; 
 
148 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 Beside the peaceful cottage door, 
 Type of this better day. 
 
 Bright silvery lochs ! dark frowning crags ! 
 
 Which Scotia's history tell ; 
 Ye impress on my heart of hearts 
 
 The land I love so well. 
 
 And, through the golden glory-glist 
 O'er mount, and rock and fell. 
 
 There smileth up to Memory's eyes 
 The dear, Scotch Heatherbell. 
 
 BONNIER. 
 
 Oh ! bonnie is the tender licht 
 
 Within the lovers' een ; 
 But, bonnier a soul that's bricht, 
 
 A conscience ever clean. 
 And braw the form o' manly youth, 
 
 Wi' bearing firm and free ; 
 Yet, grander far the lip o' truth. 
 
 And heart o' constancy. 
 
 Oh ! radiant gleam the marble halls 
 
 And mausoleums o' pride ; 
 But kindlier the love-licht falls 
 
 Around mine ain fireside. 
 And blithe the merry mavis' sang 
 
 Ower copse, an' clover lea ; 
 Yet, cheerier tones I'll lilt ere lang, 
 
 Through a' eternity. 
 
The Doctor's Fee. 149 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S FEE. 
 
 It was a dazzling equipage 
 
 That drove up to the door ; 
 It was a note with lordly crest 
 
 The liveried footman bore. 
 A note for Doctor Harrington 
 
 From Lady Cecil Grey ; 
 It told of sickness at the Hall 
 
 And begged for no delay. 
 
 The young physician pondered 
 
 If luck his path had found ; 
 Meanwhile the highly-mettled steeds 
 
 Impatient paw the ground. 
 ' 'Tis passing strange her ladyship 
 
 Though odd, should summon me ; " — 
 High hung the omen of success, 
 
 Bright gleamed the golden fee. 
 
 Two miles along the country road, 
 
 Two miles of avenue 
 And, 'yond the lily-bordered lake, 
 
 Fair turrets rise to view. 
 Oh ! common ills of base-born life 
 
 How could ye venture near? 
 Why should your breath, Oh foul disease ! 
 
 Pollute such atmosphere ? 
 
 Deep sadness broodeth o'er the Hall, 
 
 Scent-laden breezes sigh. 
 Though linnets pipe their tuneful song, 
 
 And cushat-doves reply. 
 
150 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 The menials walk with noiseless tread 
 Across the French-tiled floor ; 
 
 And, on its gHttering hinges 
 Swings back the oaken door. 
 
 " Oh doctor ! " quoth the Lady Grey 
 With outstretched jeweled hand, 
 " I am in depths of sore distress 
 But — you will understand. 
 It comforts me, that to my wish 
 
 The answer came so quick ; 
 See ! " and she drew the screen aside ; — 
 *' My favorite cat is sick" 
 
 Well was it that the patient lay 
 
 Within a darkened room ; 
 The sunlight on the doctor's face 
 
 Had sunk in sudden gloom. 
 'Twas but a moment ; skilled, acute 
 
 And witty too, withal, 
 With sober and respectful mien 
 
 He kept his thoughts in thrall. 
 
 What were those thoughts ? upon that couch 
 
 By rarest art compiled, 
 Lay soulless brute, while o'er the wilds 
 
 Strayed many a starving child. 
 But wealth oft nurseth foibles 
 
 To fill its empty day ; 
 And workers cater for its will 
 
 Who hope for handsome pay. 
 
 With solemn guise he lent his ear 
 For quite a lengthened space ; 
 
The Doctor's Fee. 151 
 
 Then, with a grave obsequiousness, 
 
 He diagnosed the case. 
 "His stomach is, for sure, deranged ; 
 
 No appetite hath he ; 
 Yet time and care effect a change, 
 
 Wilt thou trust him with me ? " 
 
 A maiden, on a cushion soft. 
 
 The precious tabby bore 
 To the escutcheoned carriage which 
 
 Soon halted as before. 
 And the doctor raised his patient 
 
 And stroked his shiny pate. 
 Then — in the pantry, 'neath a tub. 
 
 Consigned him to his fate. 
 
 Withhold thy censure ! rude this course 
 
 Yet savoring keen insight ; 
 Four days of prison treatment brought 
 
 Luxurious Tabby right. 
 Mote all the victims of excess 
 
 Be held in durance vile 
 A wholesome world would bloom apace, 
 
 And peace and plenty smile. 
 
 The proverb reads "'Tis an ill wind 
 
 That bloweth no one good " 
 And in the sequel of this tale 
 
 Be that fact understood. 
 For the fancies of a weakling 
 
 And over-pampered mind 
 Were ladders by which highest aim 
 
 Could fairer prospect find. 
 
152 So?igs of Scotia. 
 
 Back came dear Tabby to the Hall 
 
 With appetite restored ; 
 Glad to devour the meanest crumb 
 
 He hitherto ignored, 
 To Lady Cecil's wonderment. 
 
 With generous courtesy 
 She poured from out her silken purse 
 
 The shining golden fee, 
 
 She placed it in the doctor's hand. 
 
 " Five hundred pounds a year 
 As my physician you may claim ;" — 
 
 She praised him far and near. 
 He gained the best of patronage 
 
 Through all the country side ; 
 He wooed a baron's daughter fair. 
 
 And won her for his bride. 
 
 No more chagrin, nor vexed delays ; 
 
 No plodding up the hill ; 
 Life's current flowed as peaceful stream 
 
 Which works the well-set mill. 
 The noble Countess and her cat 
 
 Have long since passed away ; 
 But the witty doctor lives and thrives 
 
 In green old age this day. 
 
The Vision. 153 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 I DREAMT that I culled the wild flowers on the moor- 
 land, 
 
 And roamed o'er the hills which my forefathers trod, 
 Ere their life-blood empurpled the fields of Hispania ; 
 
 Ere their souls soared on high to the patriot's God. 
 I saw, to the call of the pibroch, advancing 
 
 O'er mountain, o'er river, o'er blossoming plain, 
 The strength of strong manhood, the youthful in 
 daring ; 
 
 The thousands who went, but who came not again. 
 
 The many moons passed as a breath, in bright dream- 
 land, 
 
 I looked from lone valley to sea-beaten shore ; 
 Two frigates, full-manned with a nation's defenders, 
 
 Britannia's proud ensign defiantly bore. 
 Then up from the shadows came voices long silenced ; 
 
 *' Oh Britain ! thou boast of the free and the brave ; 
 We fought, and we died for thy honor, thy freedom. 
 
 Thou yieldest our offspring no boon but the grave." 
 
 Dark visions rolled off with the mists of the morning ; 
 
 High o'er the green larches white smoke-wreaths 
 had curled ; 
 And the tender sun beaming from out the clear ether, 
 
 Was the hopefuller sun of an opening world. 
 And over wide ocean a warbler came winging, 
 
 Who sang, as he dropped a heathbell by our door, 
 " The shadows are flitting, the day-dawn is breaking. 
 
 The long night of sorrow will darken no more." 
 21 
 
154 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 LOCH KATRINE. 
 
 Loch Katrine's bonnie banks an' braes, 
 
 Though lang I've left them a,' laddie, 
 'Thochts o' them, an' ither days 
 
 Maist break my heart in twa, laddie. 
 Fu' thretty years o' storm an' shine 
 Sin' first we crossed the ocean's brine, 
 Yet closely roond oor hearts entwine 
 The mem'ries o' lang syne, laddie. 
 
 Oh ! mind ye o' the leafy bowers 
 
 Within the sylvan shade, laddie, 
 Where aft we pu'd the wild-wood flowers. 
 
 As warblers stirred the glade, laddie ? 
 Wi' step sae buoyant, firm an' free 
 I hurried tae the trystin' tree ; — 
 Sae sacred then tae Love an' thee ; 
 To love, an' thee, an' me, laddie. 
 
 In school, at sport, in whirlin' dance, 
 Thy rival was nae seen, laddie, 
 
 Nae ither suitor won a glance 
 
 Frae me, the village queen, laddie. 
 
 Then ebon was my glossy hair, 
 
 Thy crown o' curls was gowden fair ; 
 
 Now time — wha rich nor puir will spare- 
 Has bleached oor locks to sna, laddie. 
 
 Nae mair upon auld Scotia's shore 
 Wi' willing feet we'll stray, laddie, 
 
 Nor greet the freens we loved o' yore, 
 The yore sae far away, laddie. 
 
Loch Katrme. 155 
 
 Nae mair we'll see the sunbeams rest 
 Upon Ben Ledi's haughty crest, 
 As, reddening a' the distant west, 
 Sol sinks aneath the wave, laddie. 
 
 Nae mair we'll watch the rushin' tide 
 Sweep ower the yellow sands, laddie, 
 
 But far ayont the ither side 
 
 We'll clasp the lang missed hands, laddie. 
 
 Yes 1 far ayont the mist an' rain, 
 
 An' days of toil, an' nichts o' pain. 
 
 Wide scattered flocks will meet again 
 Nae mair to part for aye, laddie. 
 
 As frost dispels 'fore kindly thaw 
 
 When Spring's saft breezes blow, laddie, 
 
 So gently may we slip awa' 
 
 To joys nae mortals know, laddie. 
 
 For as the sun clears afl" the dew, 
 
 Our withered lives will bloom anew, 
 
 When this fause world shall fade frae view 
 In fairer worlds abune, laddie. 
 
156 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 CONTENT. 
 
 In splendour of an Eastern night, 
 
 Where Luna softly smiles, 
 I've sailed along the shimmering tide 
 
 Which laves the Classic Isles. 
 Or led the dance in courtly hall, 
 
 'iVIid gayest of the throng ; 
 Or listed to rare artistes pour 
 
 Their witchery of song. 
 And 'yond the murky Tiber's wave 
 
 Have strolled 'neath Pincian shade ; 
 As sunlight streamed o'er Saxon fair. 
 
 Or dark-eyed Roman maid. 
 
 In dreamland oft our Highland hills 
 
 Forth from the shadows spring, 
 All radiant in their purple bloom ; 
 
 Meet haunts of forest king. 
 And up the green-arched avenue, 
 
 And o'er the daisied lawn 
 Troop faces bright, and hearts as light 
 
 As step of mountain fawn. 
 And artless voices drown in mirth 
 
 The sighing of the breeze ; — 
 But memory opes, the vision fades ; 
 
 Wail not their fate ; Oh Seas ! 
 
Content. 157 
 
 Though former scenes in Time's rough blast 
 
 Have drifted far away ; 
 And halls wherein our fathers ruled 
 
 Lie mouldering in decay, 
 Though ne'er again, o'er heathery wild, 
 
 I'll see the storm-clouds fly ; 
 Or watch the golden glory creep 
 
 O'er lake, and mount and sky. 
 Though never more, from castle tower 
 
 I'll scan the pebbly shore ; 
 Or hark the lovM brother's lays 
 
 Chime with the plashing oar. 
 
 Yet, where no floweret ever fades, 
 
 Nor weeping wakes the morn ; 
 Where every heart, with sorrow fraught, 
 
 To joy shall be re-born. 
 Within the great orchestral band 
 
 Glad anthems we'll prolong ; 
 Nor sickness shall discord our praise. 
 
 Nor death disturb our song. 
 Nor ocean wide shall e'er divide, 
 
 Nor years nor space will, sever ; 
 In realm of health's immortal bloom 
 
 We'll live in love for ever. 
 
 What though my hope-fraught argosy 
 Ne'er reached a halcyon strand ; 
 
 Though winds and waves have rudely tossed 
 I know the Pilot's hand 
 
158 
 
 Songs of Scotia. 
 
 Will steer me safe 'yond shifting-sands, 
 
 Dense fogs and chilling rime, 
 To anchorage within that haven. 
 
 Beyond the ridge of time. 
 Where crowns of pearl, and harps of gold 
 
 In holy radiance beam ; 
 Where halos from the great White Throne 
 
 Dispel earth's fitful dream. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
COLUMBUS. 
 
 Down in the darkness till earth-crust doth part, 
 
 Is the gold of the unwrought mine ; 
 Deep in recess of the lowliest heart 
 
 Rare diamonds of genius may shine. 
 And as from its earth-bed pure gold is revealed, 
 
 To work out the projects of man, 
 So promptings of genius, unraveled, unsealed, 
 
 .Are but links in eternity's plan. 
 
 Onward, aye on o'er the fathomless brine. 
 
 From the far Castilian land ; 
 'Neath an ardent sun, 'neath a pale moonshine, 
 
 With prow to the halcyon strand. 
 On from the jeers of a skeptical crowd 
 
 To the goal of his long life dream ; 
 On, on from the taunts of the wisdom-proud 
 
 To the summit of vast brain scheme. 
 
 On with the aid of a womanly wit, 
 
 Which served the high-set purpose well ; 
 For the squadron's glittering sails were lit 
 
 Through fair Hispania's Isabel. 
 Who had stooped her head, with its regal crown, 
 
 And soothed with pity's shapely hand, 
 As to grim Suspicion's withering frown 
 
 She raised the sceptre of the land. 
 
: 6 2 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Onward, aye on, though the night shadows lower, 
 
 Though star lamps burn low in the sky ,• 
 Onward through hurricane, cloud-rift and shower; 
 
 Still onward, whate'er may defy. 
 Calming, controlling a mutinous crew, 
 
 The victims of loneness and fear ; 
 Defdy explaining phenomena new 
 
 With voicings of courage and cheer. 
 
 Shifting of compass, strange lights in the sky, 
 
 Strange birds on a wandering wing ; 
 " On, Oh my comrades ! the guerdon is nigh ; 
 
 Fresh life to my pulses doth spring. 
 Trust me, my comrades ! nor wild water-wraith, 
 
 Nor phantom his passage e'er bars 
 Whose rudder is set with a firm-bound faith 
 
 In that Power who created the stars." 
 
 On through the drift-weed; Lo ! tranquil blue seas; 
 
 With breath of a balmier air ; 
 On, hoisting their sails to the landward breeze, 
 
 On,ridding their spirits of care. 
 Light through the darkness ! bright beacons ahead ! 
 
 And the mariner's sails are furled. 
 For the errand of genius hath aptly sped, 
 
 On the rim of a great New World. 
 
 In raiment of splendor the ground he hath trod ; 
 
 He looks from the sky to the main ; 
 He planteth the Cross in the name of his God, 
 
 His standard in token of Spain. 
 And on through the cycles, in Temple of Fame, 
 
 Though nations and systems decay, 
 
Time and Etertiity. 163 
 
 The laurels which lustre Columbus' proud name 
 In freshness shall blossom for aye. 
 
 TIME AND ETERNITY. 
 
 Time ! Ocean of boundless unrest ! 
 
 Upheaving with tumult of life ; 
 While, as foam on the billowy crest, 
 
 Floats he who is first in the strife. 
 First in the van of courage and right, 
 
 Or foremost in daring to wrong ; 
 Time bendeth low to the monarch of might, 
 
 Embalms him in story and song. 
 
 Yet lives there be which the giddy hours 
 
 Tinge lightly, as onward they wing ; 
 Rough winds may scatter Hope's fairest flowers. 
 
 The dreamer awaketh to sing. 
 And sweet seraph tones, borne from on high. 
 
 Enliven the faltering strain ; 
 Till a golden rift streaks the dark sky, 
 
 And sunlight illumines again. 
 
 Eternity ! prospect sublime ! 
 
 Blessed Faith holdeth forth unto view. 
 Where the fleeting illusions of time 
 
 Yield place to the lasting and true, 
 Where the song never dies in a wail, 
 
 Nor sun ever sinks into gloom ; 
 Nor bright life in its splendor doth fail 
 
 'Fore darkness of death and the tomb. 
 
1 64 Miscellaneous. 
 
 When the glare and the ghtter shall wane 
 
 , In glow of the chrysolite sea, 
 For leal hearts that now struggle in vain 
 
 Shall the crown of the victor be. 
 And sorrow-dimmed lives shall relight 
 
 With warmth from an heavenly ray ; 
 And flowerets nipped by an early blight 
 
 Shall re-bloom through an endless day. 
 
 THE TREE. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR ARBOR DAY. 
 
 Thou ! noblest of all nature's growth ! 
 
 Where'er thy foliage falls, 
 Thy beauty, wed to matchless worth 
 
 The willing heart enthralls. 
 
 Erst-while the Jewish exiles hung 
 Their harps thy boughs along 
 
 And poured their wearied spirits forth 
 In strains of plaintive song. 
 
 So yet, 'neath shimmer of thy leaves 
 Roll back the waves of time, 
 
 And exiled souls, in dreams return 
 To far, serener clime. 
 
 Before the German peasant's eyes 
 Thuringian forests bloom ; 
 
 Whilst ilex of the sunny South 
 Lights up Italia's gloom. 
 
The Tree. 165 
 
 The English hail their country's oak, 
 Through which great victories came ; 
 
 Since naval power, in danger's hour 
 Sustained old England's fame. 
 
 The ebon cross of Erin's Isle 
 
 Bedecks her loyal daughters, 
 In every land, on every strand 
 
 Laved by the glittering waters. 
 
 Ah ! sweetly 'mong the rowan-trees 
 
 Ayond the seething brine, 
 The Scotsman hears loved melodies, 
 
 From voices o' langsyne. 
 
 A landmark thou in vale of years ! 
 
 White stone in history ! 
 Loud publisher of private wrongs, 
 
 Or nation's victory. 
 
 'Neath aged oak of Elderslie 
 
 Five centuries tell the tale 
 How, at the name of Scotland's Chief 
 
 Her enemies turned pale. 
 
 An English yew-tree speaks her fate 
 
 Who, by a despot's breath 
 In brilliant beauty graced a throne, 
 
 Then sank in shameful death. 
 
 Trees note the spot where Bonaparte 
 
 Surrendered at Sedan 
 Ambition's sceptre, framed of guilt 
 
 In blood of brother man. 
 
1 6 6 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Whilst ever, through the cycling years, 
 
 Judea's olive tree 
 Proclaims the sin-fought conflict gained 
 
 On dark Gethsemane. 
 
 By soul, that in the greening leaf. 
 
 The Great Designer sees, 
 Sweet whispers from the Living Life 
 
 Are heard among the trees. 
 
 And every changing summer hue 
 Which decks the forest band 
 
 Low bends in homage grateful hearts 
 To Him whose faultless hand 
 
 Doth sap the seed, and sun the stem, 
 And rear the structure high ; 
 
 Till emerald censers incense waft 
 Through fair, cerulean sky. 
 
 Whose artist-touch illumes the doole 
 Of woodland's waning green, 
 
 With flashing streaks of red and gold, 
 Sunlit of glorious sheen. 
 
 So Faith may gaze, with restful eye, 
 
 Across this desert wold ; 
 To find the darksome shades of earth 
 
 Relieved by Heaven's bright gold. 
 
 So Hope may realize that day, 
 
 Beside the crystal river. 
 Where, sheltered by the Tree of Life, 
 
 Pure joys flow on forever. 
 
The SJiipwreck. 167 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK. 
 
 Thou ! glorious, pure, unwavering Light ! 
 
 Let not our light be vain ! 
 Grant us to see, through densest night, 
 
 Earth's direst problems plain ! 
 
 A ship held fast on a treacherous reef 
 
 Lies quivering to and fro ; 
 The wild winds mocking man's relief; 
 
 Upheaving ocean's flow. 
 
 Bright crimson floods the burnished west, 
 
 Red glows the village spire ; 
 And the darkening speck, on seething crest, 
 
 Low sinks in molten fire. 
 
 Ah me ! amid the tangled heap 
 
 Cast forth ere morning chime, 
 The veteran in his unrocked sleep ; 
 
 Fair youth, and manhood's prime. 
 
 What treasure lieth, tightly bound 
 
 Within that sodden vest ? 
 Which rude sea-wave hath not unwound 
 
 From off" the quiet breast. 
 
 " Is't gold or pearls ? grim sailor, speak ! 
 What doth that case conceal ? " 
 But the tear adown the bronzM cheek 
 All silently doth steal. 
 
1 68 Miscellaneous. 
 
 They pass it round with reverend grace; — 
 
 Only a picture fair ; 
 A woman's, and a baby's face, 
 
 And two damp locks of hair. 
 
 'Neath peaceful shades they calmly sleep 
 
 Who fought the angry wave ; 
 Nor maid, nor mother e'er shall weep 
 
 Beside her sailor's grave. 
 
 *For the golden locks will dull to dark, 
 
 The brown will turn to grey ; 
 But the brave who sailed in that gallant bark 
 
 Have bade " Farewell " for aye. 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS. 
 
 I LOOKED abroad ; gloom, only gloom ; 
 
 Weird, solemn, chill and densely drear ; 
 
 Black curtain over nature's bier ; 
 Silence oppressive as of doom. 
 
 ' Oh soul ! " I said, " though morn be bright, 
 Though gorgeous vistas charm life's day, 
 Descends on every earth-trod way 
 
 Cold mortal chill, bereavement's night.'* 
 
 Once more I looked ; transcendent shine ! 
 
 The myriad gates of light unbarred ; 
 
 The glowing heavens serenely starred ; 
 Dull earth transformed to scene divine. 
 
The Eclipse of the Moon. 169 
 
 Then said I, " Soul ! would the mercy beams 
 
 Shed ever such radiant light, 
 
 Hads't thou not known dark sorrow's night 
 Or groped within this world of dreams ? " 
 
 THE ECLIPSE OF THE MOON. 
 
 NOVEMBER I5TH, 1 89 1. 
 
 In her calm, tender, beauty arising 
 
 She smiled as she journeyed on high ; 
 Till the shadows fled far o'er the pineland. 
 
 Till ocean smiled back to the sky. 
 And our souls, in those genial rays basking, 
 
 Which glorified river and shore, 
 Soared high from the loved of the life that is, 
 
 To the loved of the life evermore. 
 
 But lo ! o'er the brightness, and beauty and grace 
 
 Creeps slowly a dismal, black screen ; 
 Now veiled from our eyes is the centre of light, 
 
 Earth's shadows have fallen between. 
 A moment obscure, then a clear shining rim. 
 
 As gleam of the covenant bow ; 
 The veil is withdrawn from fair Luna's bright face. 
 
 And the heavens are again in a glow. 
 
 Thus basketh the soul in that holier light 
 Which beameth from Centre Divine ; 
 
 Thus veiled is the radiance uplifting the life 
 When we kneel at a worldly shrine. 
 
1 7 o Miscellaneous. 
 
 Yet steadfast and clear is that earth-clouded Light 
 
 The penitent, looking on high, 
 Will view the dark curtain to density glide, 
 
 And mercy re-lighten the sky. 
 
 ERIN'S ADDRESS TO FREEDOM. 
 
 vs. LANDLORDISM. 
 
 Thou Freedom ! which in years agone 
 
 Sat gloriously upon our hills ; 
 Through all these verdant valleys shone, 
 
 And sang in all those mountain rills. 
 
 Oh Thou ! for whom my children fought ; 
 
 Their blood upon thine altar stands ; 
 The sacrifice ! was it for nought ? 
 
 Is it for nought these clasp their hands ? 
 
 Their wills were iron — not their lungs ; — 
 They shrank not from the fiercest fight ; 
 
 Their deeds, more than ten thousand tongues, 
 Plead loudly for their offsprings' right. 
 
 Oh ! what to us that golden age 
 
 When Athens reigned, or ancient Rome ; 
 
 We need not grope through history's page 
 To greet the scourge we find at home. 
 
 My leal ones crave no wizard wand 
 With topaz gleams their path to pave ; 
 
 But justice, freedom, fatherland, 
 A hopeful life, and peaceful grave. 
 
Erin's Address to Freedom. 171 
 
 Obedient ever to those laws 
 
 Which jar not with that Higher Will ; 
 
 Thou ! Leader in their righteous cause, 
 With beacon rays their spirits fill. 
 
 Thou mayst not see — for Falsehood veils, 
 And Truth retires when tyrants reign— 
 
 Those scenes 'fore which all nature pales, 
 Nor list the cry of hunger-pain. 
 
 Yet thee we hear in every breeze 
 
 That round the lonely hamlet raves ; 
 Thy mountains echo to thy seas - 
 " Ye sons of freemen be not slaves." 
 
 Before Despair's dim, hollow eye, 
 Starvation's wan and wasted cheek. 
 
 Can soul of man stand idly by ? 
 God of their fathers, aid the weak 1 
 
 Through centuries of direst gloom 
 The Afric prayed thy dawn to see ; 
 
 At length there tolled Oppression's doom 
 Out-rung with notes of jubilee. 
 
 Too long, in Sorrow's dusky shroud 
 Thy glorious mien is hid from view ; 
 
 Now Courage wakes, and calls aloud. 
 
 Come forth ! thou birth-right of the true 1 
 
 And Thou shalt come ! for plaintive song 
 
 In minor tone, on bended knee. 
 Shall rise the power to conquer wrong ; — 
 
 And Erin's Ireland shall be free. 
 
172 Miscellaneous. 
 
 THE GIFT. 
 
 A BASKET of beautiful roses ! 
 
 Snowflakes in a setting of green ; 
 Pure as the pearl that reposes 
 
 On breast of the daintiest queen. 
 Not one, but a wealth of sweet roses ! 
 
 In vases, on table and chair, 
 Small hands, in haste have deposed them ;- 
 
 Sweet incense in soft summer air. 
 
 Long faded. Oh friend ! are the roses ; 
 
 Long faded, and fallen away ; 
 But the fragrance such bounty discloses 
 
 Doth perfume the wintriest day. 
 Fragrant qs breath of thy roses 
 
 Thy life-deeds are wafted above ; — 
 Short season of struggle and triumph ! 
 
 Bright crown of ne'er withering love. 
 
 EVER FAITHFUL. 
 
 Since thy dear love my life hath blessed, 
 Since thy true heart is heart of mine, 
 
 Naught fearing, I shall bide the rest ; 
 Though sunlight dim to taper-shine. 
 
 Though Time's impress hath marked thy brow, 
 And silver-streaked thy sunny hair ; 
 
" Only Our Hired Boy." 173 
 
 As autumn winds, before the snow 
 Of winter, blight the foliage fair, 
 
 Yet shall I love thee till the beam 
 
 Of lingering soul-light homeward hies ; 
 
 Then, where sweet zephyrs fan the stream, 
 Where day's bright glory never dies, 
 
 Sunned of those ever hallowing rays ; 
 
 As endless cycles onward move, 
 With glad triumph we'll join to praise 
 
 The Centre of unfathomed love. 
 
 "ONLY OUR HIRED BOY" 
 
 I. 
 
 God-beams of mercy, gleam through the dull haze ; 
 Sunlight and soften the dark rocky ways ! 
 
 Harmony pealeth o'er mountain and plain ; 
 Alien sin-nature chimes not in refrain. 
 
 That holier season was nigh at hand 
 When the sympathies of the soul expand. 
 
 From the warmth and light of the fireside glow 
 I walked abroad o'er the glistening snow. 
 
 When a black cloud over my pathway set ; 
 It loometh before my memory yet. 
 
174 Miscellaneous. 
 
 No hearse, no mourners, no tolling of bells 
 The one sure fate of humanity tells. 
 
 A rough-fashioned sleigh with its motley load, 
 Glideth quickly over the churchyard road. 
 
 The rude pine coffin is set on a stone ; 
 Hastily earth from its earth-bed is thrown. 
 
 Lowered the dead ; heavy shovels ply fast ; 
 A few brief moments — the vision hath passed. 
 
 Nought of lamenting ; no vestige of woe ; 
 Just a dark heap, a foul blot on the snow. 
 
 Entering the gateway, I reasoned why ? 
 Questioned the scene with a tear-bedimmed eye. 
 
 " Only our hired boy ! " He carelessly turned ; 
 My innermost soul in my bosom burned. 
 
 II. 
 
 " Only your hired bo/! yet nurtured in wealth, 
 Gifted of beauty, and glowing with health. 
 
 " Sunned in the rays of an era sublime, 
 Lulled in the lap of a Christian clime. 
 
 " Suddenly fatherless, suddenly poor ; 
 
 Brave mother-hands keeping want from the door. 
 
 *' Oh ! how the widowed heart clung to that child. 
 Her one bright star on the darkening wild. 
 
''Only Our Hired Boy." 175 
 
 " Welded in sorrow, bereavement and pain ; 
 Time nor eternity severeth twain. 
 
 " Hard for new toilers, though strong be the will ; 
 Weary the way up the steep, rugged hill. 
 
 " Friendship in fortune is hollow at best ; 
 Sunset of splendor, illuming the west, 
 
 "Sinketh unseen 'fore the blackness of night, — 
 Her spirit reached forth to the land of light ; 
 
 " She folded her boy to her aching heart, 
 And you — you promised to do your part. 
 
 '* With a calm, sweet smile on her lips she died, 
 And you drew the child from his mother's side. 
 
 •' Oh ! well for him had he sunk to his rest, 
 Pillowed in peace on that motionless breast. 
 
 " Far better his fate had his young eyes closed, 
 Mantled in shroud where his mother reposed. 
 
 III. 
 
 " You took him home. ^ Ah what record of shame ! 
 To the falsity of a home in name. 
 
 '• Oh stony heart ! hard as his frozen bed ; 
 
 Cold as the snow-drifts which sweep o'er his head. 
 
 " Your baby secure, in infancy blessed ; 
 Warm-cradled as bird in the parent nest. 
 
176 Miscellaneous, 
 
 " Your elder boys safe as lambs in the fold ; 
 That mother's loved one left out in the cold. 
 
 " Chilled by the coldest of winter's cold days ; 
 Fevered by heat of the sun's hottest rays. 
 
 " Lodged in an outhouse, exposed to the sky ; 
 Beasts underneath in a shelter all dry. 
 
 " Rest for the horses, but work for the slave ; — 
 Tyrant ! thy betters were death and the grave. 
 
 " Sick —yes ! he told you with faltering breath ; 
 Lazy you termed it, you beat him in death. 
 
 " Bridge you the river he crossed to atone ? 
 Drown you with orgies the orphan's sad moan ? 
 
 " Nay ! for those wailings will ring in your ear ; 
 Haunt your night visions, and follow your bier. 
 
 •' Whilst that mighty Power which hath mother-love 
 
 given 
 Will surely unite what asunder is riven. 
 
 " And fill with choice music the one silent tone. 
 By yielding to mother-love all of its own." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Ponder life's teachings ; con each of them well ; 
 Man, made in God's image, should earth be a hell ? 
 
 Where were the justice if earth were our all ! 
 Where, if life's Hmits were girt of the pall ! 
 
''Only Our Hired Boy'' 177 
 
 God of the fatherless ! heard'st Thou that cry ! 
 Wail of the orphan-soul piercing the sky. 
 
 Yes ! Thou didst hear it ; that bitter cold night 
 When the ground was crisp with its coat of white. 
 
 Thou sentest Thy angels to bear him away 
 From his storm-beaten garb of fragile clay. 
 
 Tired-out, aching limbs ! weary frozen feet ! 
 Ceaseless, toilsome toil ! rest — Ah sweet ! how sweet ! 
 
 No mourner knelt down by that lowly bed ; 
 No kindly hand pillowed that dying head. 
 
 Nought, save the starlights of loftier space 
 Beamed tenderly over that still, pale face. 
 
 What matter ! the billows may rage and foam, 
 The heaven-bound soul will reach its home. 
 
 What matter ! the sorrows of earth are o'er ; 
 He hath landed safe on love's native shore. 
 
 Where glory-lit mansions resound with joy ; 
 For the mother who lost, hath found her boy. 
 
 And glad Hallelujahs bright seraphim sing ; 
 For the once hired boy is a crownM king. 
 
 24 
 
178 Miscellaneous. 
 
 LAURELS. 
 
 Wreaths for the warrior brave ! 
 He conquered in the fight, 
 Bright day chased sable night, 
 
 Wave banners ! proudly wave ! 
 
 Laurels for statesman bold ! 
 Men wake from callous sleep, 
 As tones, in pathos deep, 
 
 A people^s wrongs unfold. 
 
 Sweet flowers with poesy chime ; — 
 Gay-deck those poet lays 
 Which incense care-worn ways, 
 
 Raise souls to heights sublime. 
 
 Rare flowers of spotless hue 
 For heralds of the cross, 
 Who fear nor shame nor loss, 
 
 But type the Christ-life true. 
 
 Richest of nature's gems 
 Within His courts we bring ; 
 Ours, and all nature's King ; 
 
 King of heaven's diadems. 
 
 Chaplets for brow of toil ! 
 
 Rough hands, but heart all rich. 
 Who fitly fills his niche 
 
 On God's life-giving soil. 
 
 Flowers for the suffering throng ! 
 Oh meek ! long-during band ! 
 
Sf. Patrick's Day. 179 
 
 High in the painless land 
 Sad plaint will rise to song. 
 
 White-wreathe we infant tombs ! 
 
 Where breathes no chilling blast, 
 
 Where skies ne'er over cast, 
 Hope's full fruition blooms. 
 
 Be-crown the aged heads 
 
 With sprays of evergreen ! 
 
 Earth waneth, heaven serene 
 Undying lustre sheds. 
 
 Bright-fringe, Oh fragrant flowers ! 
 
 Life's ever-changeful day ; 
 
 Till shadow's flit for aye, 
 In amaranthine bowers. 
 
 ST. PATRICK'S DAY. 
 
 The standard of Erin ! unfurl it on high ! 
 
 To greet the bright day which her children hold 
 dear ; 
 Gay joybells of gladness ring out to the sky ! 
 
 Ring out for the Patron, the Saint, and the Seer. 
 
 Whose blessed advent woke from the dole of the grave 
 The nation long shrouded in paganish gloom ; 
 
 As with tidings of Him who suffered to save, 
 He pointed to life beyond death and the tomb. 
 
 This day the exile retraceth wide ocean, 
 To rest for a space in his far native land ; 
 
i8o Miscellaneous. 
 
 Whilst minstrel-soul, tuned to deepest devotion, 
 Doth chime in the music which beats on that strand. 
 
 Though tuneless the harp that rich melody poured 
 On the whispering zephyrs which fan thy clear 
 streams, 
 
 And voiceless the halls where thy orators soared, 
 In fancy full flushed with ne'er realized dreams. 
 
 Though silence reigns drear o'er Killarney's sweet 
 lakes, 
 
 And dark cloudlets brood over loved Arranmore ; 
 Though wave of Loch Neagh in murmuring breaks 
 
 And dashes in foam on a desolate shore, 
 
 Yet, Erin ! thy glory, long prisoned in night. 
 Will rise to shine forth in effulgence again ; 
 
 And Hope's rich fruition will bask in the light 
 Of splendor illuming each mountain and plain. 
 
 Thy shamrock may droop by thy clear sparkling foun- 
 tains, 
 
 It bloometh anew o'er this far western wave ; 
 The spirit which rose 'mid the wild Kerry mountains 
 
 Yet lives in the soul of thy loyal and brave. 
 
 Not by untoward plots, or feats of the sword. 
 
 Shall thy stainless honor and truth be maintained ; 
 
 By purpose of right, and with help of the Lord 
 
 Shall the fondest wish of thy leal hearts be gained. 
 
 Then mourn not the ages of sorrow and wrong, 
 But aye keep thy future of blessing in view ; 
 
 Sad weeping shall merge into triumph's glad song } — 
 To God, to thy sires, and to Erin prove true. 
 
To The Poet. i8i 
 
 TO THE POET. 
 
 Ho, poet of the soul refined ! 
 The muse within that soul enshrined, 
 Think'st thou to mould unto thy mind 
 Base, common clay ? 
 
 Within the church — most holy place — 
 Endowed of Heaven's especial grace, 
 The weeds of evil grow apace. 
 
 Why not without ? 
 
 II. 
 
 And yet — tis passing sad that rhyme, 
 Most fitting garb for theme sublime, 
 Should trumpet, in high sounding chime. 
 The thoughts of wrong. 
 
 With eagle flights all may not soar, 
 Nor bask in fields of richest lore, 
 Yet, poesy a balm should pour 
 
 O'er worldly woes, 
 
 III. 
 
 Earth's glamour fails, it cannot mar 
 The calm, pure radiance of the star ; 
 Discordant music floats afar 
 
 From real song. 
 
1 8 2 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Essence divine ! leal hearts will sing 
 Though baser souls mean offerings bring ; 
 True anthems o'er the false shall ring 
 Eternally. 
 
 TO THE OCEAN. 
 
 Mirror of might and of splendor ! 
 
 Type of immensity ! 
 Smiling in face of the upper blue ; 
 
 Beautiful ! crystal Sea ! 
 Yet, under thy brilliant beaming, 
 
 As chills at the heart of love 
 When a smile o'er-gilds the placid face, 
 
 Cold under-currents move. 
 
 Over thy glistering waters, 
 
 Out of the purple haze, 
 Thrilleth the chords of memory 
 
 With touch of other days. 
 Once more, by thy rim, bright Ocean ! 
 
 A youthful, happy band 
 We course along the yellow sands 
 
 Afar, in fair Scotland. 
 
 Once more we plash our childish feet 
 
 Amid thy shining waves ; 
 Or shelter from the sudden gust 
 
 Within thy border caves. 
 Ho ! voices of the summer sea ! 
 
 Ho ! voices sweet and low ! 
 
"/ gaue him an Orange'^ 183 
 
 Ye mournful chant their requiem, 
 Those days of long ago. 
 
 He sailed upon thy whitened crest, 
 
 The choicest of our band ; 
 Thy seething surges wail his dirge 
 
 On far New Holland strand. 
 That other sleeps — we know not where, 
 
 Who early braved thy tide ; — 
 Sing wavelets ! we shall meet at length 
 
 Upon that further side. 
 
 Yes, mighty Ocean ! all thy storms 
 
 Shall lull to perfect peace ; 
 And all thy weary monotones, 
 
 With rhythms sad shall cease. 
 So now, we stand upon thy brink ; 
 
 Whilst 'yond thy sparkling foam, 
 We hear sweet voices calling us 
 
 To our eternal home. 
 
 **I GAVE HIM AN ORANGE." 
 
 FROM DR. CONROY'S EVIDENCE. 
 
 Beside the lowly couch of pain. 
 They watched the flickering breath ; 
 
 They knew that mortal skill was vain 
 To stem the tide of death. 
 
 For ruthless hands, and heart impure, 
 Though unprovoked by strife, 
 
1 84 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Had aimed the missive all too sure 
 Which dulled the warm young life. 
 
 When skill had failed, love took its place ; 
 
 The little gift was given ; 
 One moment's brightness lit the face, 
 
 And life from death seemed riven. 
 
 Oh ! deep within each mother's soul 
 
 This deed of love shall tell ; 
 While He who made the wounded whole, 
 
 Such acts He noteth well. 
 
 Yea, Who the reins of right doth hold 
 'Yond tortuous frauds of time, 
 
 Sees brazen vice, ungilt by gold. 
 And poverty no crime. 
 
 He shall adjudge in righteousness, 
 And sickness, woe and dearth, 
 
 With mammon fall ; and Heaven's own bliss 
 Outweigh the wrongs of earth. 
 
 ST. ANDREWS'S DAY. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR THE CALEDONIAN CLUB. 
 
 Another year hath passed away 1 
 
 Once more, a joyous band, 
 We hail with mirth thy Natal Day, 
 
 Saint of the Heather Land. 
 
St. Andrew's Day, 185 
 
 For, though we love our Island home, 
 
 Our " home upon the wave," 
 In Fancy's flights those shores we roam 
 
 Which Scotia's waters lave. 
 
 True Scottish hearts, in every clime, 
 
 This day lift up their voice ; 
 And Memory's joy-bells sweetly chime. 
 
 And wearied souls rejoice. 
 
 As gorgeously, to longing eyes, 
 
 Comes forth, in glory bright, 
 Those mountains which the nearing skies 
 
 O'er-flood with purple light. 
 
 Again we climb Ben Ledi's steep, 
 
 Or skim Loch Lomond's tide ; 
 Or muse where sunbeams softly creep 
 
 Through haunts of bye-gone pride. 
 
 Again we tread the Solway shore. 
 
 Or banks of bonnie Dee ; 
 Or watch the Forth's proud waters pour 
 
 Into the Northern Sea. 
 
 Or gaze upon that tragic field 
 
 Which ancient minstrel sang ; 
 Where warrior died upon his shield 
 
 As shouts of battle rang. 
 
 Or hark through Bothwell's ivied towers 
 
 Soft winds sonatas play ; 
 W^hilst Clutha, sparkling 'yond the bowers 
 
 Lights youth's long, golden day. 
 
1 86 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Fair land ! beyond all other lands 
 The theme of tale and song ; 
 
 The present and the past clasp hands 
 Thy glory to prolong. 
 
 Disgrace be his, and lasting shame 
 Who heeds not Heaven's just laws ; 
 
 And, traitor to the Scottish name 
 Who owns not freedom's cause. 
 
 But hallowed be their memory 
 Who kept thy honor bright ; 
 
 Thy great of every century, 
 Even down to Wallace wight. 
 
 Now drink we to the heath-clad hills 
 Beloved of bard and sage ; 
 
 The silvery lochs, the rippling rills, 
 The blood-bought heritage ! 
 
 And drink we too, with heart of grace, 
 
 Victoria the Good ! 
 Our queenly queen of Stuart race, 
 
 That reigned in Holyrood. 
 
 All honor to our Highland Chief ! 
 
 White-wreathed of glory's crown ; 
 Who dignifieth honors brief 
 
 His sun shall ne'er go down. 
 
Good-bye and Good-night. 187 
 
 And last we honor each and all 
 
 Of Celt, or Saxon blood ; 
 Whose acts attest, in hut or hall 
 
 God's type of brotherhood. 
 
 GOOD-BYE AND GOOD-NIGHT. 
 
 Good-bye ! it quivers through the years, 
 
 Low -breathing of despair ; 
 The sunniest flower of life it sears, 
 
 And dulls the summer air. 
 
 It echoes through the falling leaves, 
 Through ocean's ebb and flow ; 
 
 In Spring's soft gales, in Autumn sheaves ; 
 Sore parting, bitter woe. 
 
 It speaketh through the vacant chair 
 
 To every yearning heart ; 
 Howe'er so noble, gifted, fair. 
 
 Earth-born on earth must part. 
 
 Good-night ! Oh eyes long used to weep ! 
 
 Faith spans the mist of years ; 
 High o'er life's toil, death's darksome sleep, 
 
 Hearven's fair, sweet dawn appears. 
 
 Refulgent with its glorious rays. 
 
 O'er earth, o'er ocean's foam ; 
 Where'er the weary wanderer strays, 
 
 To light the spirit home. 
 
1 88 Miscellaneous. 
 
 Home to the painless, sinless land, 
 
 The never darkening sky ; 
 Where hearts ne'er break with clasp of hand ; 
 
 Where friends ne'er say Good-bye. 
 
 THE ROSE. 
 
 She passed as a ray of sunshine 
 
 O'er the dark, piazza floor ; 
 And the gloaming turned to noonday 
 
 As she neared the open door, 
 And in her white and dainty hands 
 
 A precious gift she bore. 
 
 Thou baby rose ! from parent stem 
 
 Far traveller from my heart's first shrine ; 
 
 Sweet breathings of the olden days 
 Speak from each tiny leaf of thine ; 
 
 Thou ! velvet-clad in robes of state ; 
 Rich-crimsoned of the Hand Divine. 
 
 Sweet art thou as the dreams of youth 
 Or dew-drops glist 'neath orient ray ; 
 
 Still, smiling in thy fair, young bloom 
 Thou'rt frail and perishing as they ; 
 
 Yet, aftermath of glory-light 
 
 Doth rise o'er darkness and decay. 
 
Home from School. 189 
 
 HOME FROM SCHOOL. 
 
 Oh ! sweet the whispers of the Spring 
 
 Which stir the greening leaves ; 
 And sweet the melodies which ring 
 
 Through Autumn's golden sheaves. 
 Oh ! sweet the prattle of the rill 
 
 As, in its youthful pride, 
 It danceth down the smiling hill 
 
 To join the foaming tide. 
 
 But, sweeter far than nature's chime 
 
 Unto a mother's ear ; 
 More tender than the river's rhyme 
 
 Those tones she longs to hear. 
 Those notes unset to music's rule ; 
 
 Those high-strung notes of joy. 
 Which herald coming home from school ; 
 
 The coming of her boy. 
 
 Oh ! beauteous are the rainbow hues 
 
 Which deck the oriole's wing ; 
 And sparkhng bright the pearly dews 
 
 Which 'round fair morning cling. 
 Oh ! lovely are the flowers which wreathe 
 
 Heaven's hope o'er earth's dark wold ; 
 And grander far than aught beneath, 
 
 Those orbs of gleaming gold. 
 
 But, unto mother-love aye true, 
 
 More bright than amber sky 
 That boyish form against the blue. 
 
 With ensign cap swung high. 
 
1 90 Miscellaneous. 
 
 The beauty of that fair young face 
 Outshines heaven's clearest star ; 
 
 Nor ills of tinie will blur its grace, 
 Nor fate impress one scar. 
 
 The waning year is nigh its round, 
 
 The air is crisp and cool ; 
 Though footsteps linger, love, unbound, 
 
 Doth greet my boys from school. 
 I feel the shadows lengthening, 
 
 The twilight sHpping fast ; 
 Yet, through the good God strengthening, 
 
 Dark night is soon o'erpast. 
 
 Methinks, even in that holier land, 
 
 I'll cross the pearly floor, 
 And by the blessed angel stand 
 
 Who guards the hallowed door. 
 And, while seraphic voices soar, 
 
 Amid supremest joys, 
 From earth's hard school, I'll list once more 
 
 To welcome home my boys. 
 
To B. M. S. Blake. 191 
 
 TO 
 
 H. M. S. BLAKE. 
 
 Hail to Britannia's noble ship ! 
 
 Whose pendant, streaming high 
 Doth shadow forth a nation's might 
 
 Athwart our placid sky. 
 
 Thou comest not in pomp of power, 
 
 Nor din of battle's roar ; 
 Thy cannon wake no trembling hearts 
 
 Upon our peaceful shore. 
 
 Hail to Britannia's sailor sons ! 
 
 Great sons of greatest fleet ! 
 We tender ye a welcome true 
 
 Unto fair Abegweit. 
 
 Our happy hearths, our blooming fields 
 
 We owe to such as you ; 
 For Nelson, Howard, Frobisher 
 
 Were of the " boys in blue." 
 
 Long live our noble Admiral ! 
 
 May his noble deeds afford 
 That crown which lustres poortith's brow, 
 
 And graceth prince or lord. 
 
 May bonds of sympathy unite 
 
 Great Neptune's greatest sons 
 With lowliest tar, within whose veins 
 
 The blood of fealty runs. 
 
192 Miscellaneous, 
 
 And ne'er forget, on whiche'er sea 
 The tide of time sweeps past, 
 
 Fort La Joie prays you, 'yond all storm 
 Safe anchorage at last. , 
 
 RETROSPECT. 
 
 Sir Ronald leaned back in his easy chair ; 
 He gazed abroad on the prospect fair. 
 
 On the soft, white carpet of new-fallen snow ; 
 On the ermined branch with its gems aglow. 
 
 Snow white those locks of the threescore and ten ; 
 Yet, smooth is that brow as of younger men. 
 
 He beareth his years with a right good will, 
 And life floweth on as a placid rill. 
 
 For though evening's sun is well nigh set 
 His heart holds the dawn of the morning yet. 
 
 From memory's treasures of years gone by 
 He portrayed scenes for the mental eye. 
 
 Wondrous experience by land and by sea ; 
 Fain would I tell as he told it to me. 
 
Retrospect. 193 
 
 II. 
 
 •' Drifting of smoke wreath, darting of flame ; 
 
 The fire-fiend is working his way ; 
 And the ghastly glare o'er the gates of dawn, 
 
 Streaks far on the opening day. 
 The stairway has fallen, the rafters yield. 
 
 The flooring is creaking o'erhead ; 
 Yet the stout stone wall as a sentry stands,. 
 
 Though the surges of battle outspread. 
 
 " But lo ! from the casement, wide open thrown, 
 
 By loving hands carefully bound, 
 A basket live-freighted is hastily launched 
 
 Through flashes of flame to the ground. 
 Kindled is courage, strong effort revives, 
 
 Grim death and destruction are braved ; — 
 What matter the crash of that falling roof ! 
 
 Dear life, in its lustre is saved." 
 
 III. 
 
 " Deep murmurs from out of the frowning skies ; 
 
 A rising and swelling of seas ; 
 The sailor quick-furleth the outspread sail, 
 
 For a hurricane toppeth the breeze. 
 No shapelier craft from a British port 
 
 Ever ventured the heaving tide ; 
 Her firm knit hull, and her rigging taut 
 
 Were the mariner's honest pride. 
 
 29 
 
194 Miscellaneous. 
 
 " But what recketh Ocean for pride of man ! 
 
 The storm-wraith wails loudly on high ; 
 Till battered and torn is the gallant bark 
 
 In her wrestle 'gainst ocean and sky. 
 Yet she conquers, she rideth the seething foam ; 
 
 And, as bird from prison bars free, 
 She spreadeth her sail 'yond the storm-cloud's rim 
 
 And skimmeth a tranquil sea." 
 
 IV. 
 
 *' A young mother sat on a vessel's deck, 
 
 A flaxen haired babe on her knee ; 
 And her thoughts went back to the mountain land, 
 
 And she sighed for her ain countrie. 
 But the light of love, with the hope of youth 
 
 In the true woman's heart burns clear ; 
 Oh ! what unto her is the loneliest wild 
 
 When the arm which she leans on is near ! 
 
 " One glance to the stalwart form by her side, 
 
 Her spirit returns to its rest ; 
 And gaily she dreameth of happier days 
 
 In the new land, the glorious West. 
 She raiseth the babe ; Oh well for her peace ! 
 
 Where had nestled the darling head, 
 A fierce, flying ball from the Gascon grazed, 
 
 Ere it plunged in its ocean bed." 
 
Retrospect, 195 
 
 " Name it not chance ; No ! in earliest youth 
 
 'Twixt the fire, 'twixt the foe and the flood, 
 Who feedeth the ravens, Who telleth the stars 
 
 In the pathway of danger stood. 
 And, aye and anon, on the journey up hill, 
 
 White milestones have pointed the way 
 Through the tangled maze, o'er the rocky steep, 
 
 To the ridge of an endless day. 
 
 *• Now peaceful in shades of the gloaming I rest, 
 
 Unawed of the murkier night ; 
 Calm-souled I await for the upward call, 
 
 And the glow of the nearing light. 
 The river's sad moanings I may not hear ; 
 
 High over the murmuring foam 
 Floateth rich music. Ah ! sweet to mine ear 
 
 Those angel tones welcoming home." 
 
 VI. 
 
 Intently I listened, but scant my reply ; 
 Sorrow and gladness o'er-misted the eye. 
 
 Gladness for light of a long, lustrous day ; 
 Sorrow for sunshine fast fleeting away. 
 
 More dense than the doole of a starless night 
 The gloom of. a. soul which knoweth no light. 
 
196 Miscella neous. 
 
 Down-coursing as cataract o'er the steep hill 
 That will which opposeth the Higher Will. 
 
 Unbeauteous is age when it crusts itself round, 
 Or buries itself in a selfish mound. 
 
 But blessM be those who in soul-growth expand 
 'Neath the milder beams from the glory-land. 
 
 Yea blessM they be ! when the river is passed, 
 They shall enter the gate with the palms at last. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 ** Skilled Nurses." Page i6. — When the epidemic of small-pox 
 visited Charlottetown in the year 1885, three nuns from 
 the City Hospital volunteered their professional services. 
 The generous offer was at first refused, but afterwards 
 gladly accepted. Sister St. Thomas never recovered from 
 the effects of her labours in the improvised Hospital ; she 
 died in Montreal the following Spring. 
 
 '•Whose skill and courage." Page 19. — Dr. Richard Johnson, 
 Health Officer, distinguished himself by unremitting de- 
 votion to his arduous duties ; and also, along with Dr. 
 Warburton, attended all cases in the city ; while Dr. J. 
 T. Jenkins, with his son. Dr. S. R. Jenkins, were in 
 constant attendance at the Hospital. Notable also were 
 Mayor H. Beer, and clergymen Carruthers, O'Meara 
 and Maclntyre. 
 
 " The Hiding-place." Page 29. — Incidents in the career of the 
 much beloved and widely lamented Bishop Maclntyre. 
 
 "In Memoriam." Page 98. — In memory of the pious and 
 charitable Mrs. M. M. T. Hodgson, daughter of the late 
 Hon. J. Brecken, and wife of the Hon. Edward J. 
 Hodgson, Master of the Rolls of P. E. Island, Canada ; 
 who died on the 19th October, 1889. 
 
 "The heroes of Skye." Page 143.— During the Peninsular war 
 the small island of Skye sent out, to fight the battles of 
 Great Britain, no fewer than ten thousand men, many of 
 whom arose to highest positions in the army. 
 
198 Notes. 
 
 *• Two frigates." Page 153. — When the descendants of many 
 of those brave soldiers lately rebelled against landlord 
 tyranny, warships were despatched to Skye, to intimidate 
 the oppressed. 
 
 *' Bonnie, braw Dundee." Page 145. — Graeme of Claverhouse, 
 created for his military services. Viscount Dundee ; noted 
 as an able General, but held in detestation as the cruel 
 persecutor of the Scotch Covenanters. 
 
 •'The Macneill." Page 142.— Archd. MacNeill, Esq., long the 
 President, and ever an ardent supporter of the Caledo- 
 nian Club. 
 
 "The spirit which rose." Page 180.— Daniel O'Connell, the 
 Irish Liberator. 
 
 '• Who dignifieth, etc." Page 186.— Hon. Senator A. A. Mac- 
 donald, for some time Member of the Legislative Council, 
 and one of the delegates to the Quebec Conference anent 
 Confederation. Elevated to the position of Lieutenant- 
 Governor of Prince Edward Island, 1884; since, in 1891, 
 appointed to the Senatorship. For the last fifteen years 
 the honoured Chief of the Caledonian Club. 
 
 "H. iM. S. Blake." Page 191.— H. M. S. Blake, Admiral 
 Sir John Hopkins, anchored in Charlottetown Harbour, 
 1 8th August, 1893. 
 
 "Abegweit." Page 191. — Home on the Wave — Indian name 
 for P. E. Island. 
 
 " Port La Joie." Page 192. — Former name of Charlottetown. 
 
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