CHAPTER VI.

The stern victors, too, are mourning Over their dauntless slain; Full twoscore of death-stilled heroes, Relieved of life’s care and pain, After the battle was over, Lone Wolf and good Pontgravé Were found in the grasp of each other, And were laid in one grave away.

Then in the cut through the Narrows The slain were buried deep, And a requiem mass sung o’er them, And forever there they sleep. The Frenchmen then turned eastward, Over the wide lagoon, By the domes of busy muskrat And affrighted mallard and loon,

And disappeared in the distance, By the eastern shore afar; While a truce for a space is given To exterminating war. But a hundred years of despoiling Ruined the Ojibways, And dwindled away the nation, And miserable grew their days.

Their rights were all unregarded When the dominant white man came; Then the red man grew degenerate, And his sun went down in shame. To-day by the Narrows dreaming, No vestige or relic we trace Of the once proud Indian nation, Save their bones at the Carrying Place.[A]

Uncovered by the storms of centuries, That drift the sands away, White and ghastly they are mouldering Remorselessly to decay. But beyond the northern marshlands, In regions far away, Wander two quaint, lonely relics, Poor Joe and Bill Chippewa.

To-day, where the south winds murmur By Pelee’s lovely shores, I pause in sad meditation, And the mind in fancy soars Backward through time’s dim corridors; Dreamily thoughts will flow To the palmy days of the Ojibways Three hundred years ago.

[A] Indian tradition goes to show that a fierce battle occurred at the Carrying Place between the Ojibways and Voyageurs. Proof of this seems to be furnished in the fact that the “cut” there is full of human bones.

WRECKED.

All along the sea-lines dreary, Dark and threatening the storm arose; And shadows appalling crept o’er us, Disturbed was the ocean’s repose! And madly it leaped upon us, Engulfed in a deadly gloom, As the sea’s tumultuous fury Hurled our ship on to certain doom!

Wrecked on the vastness of ocean, Cast up on an isle remote, Storm-worn by the roll of centuries, By the billows savagely smote-- An interminable expansion Of stern dreariness all around, Indescribable desolation, And a weird solitude profound!

And this forever before me, Wearing my spirit away; God’s hand seems heavy upon me, And I’m very weary to-day. And ever a fair face haunts me, White hands that put coldly away-- Are ye beckoning over the ocean? Is regret in thy bosom to-day?

And through the weirdness of night-time I hear the moaning, incessant roar Of the waves, that ever repeateth, Sobbingly, “Lanore, nevermore!” Thus through my feverish dreaming It evermore seemeth to me That her name forever is murmured By the lonesome voice of the sea.

And thus I’m wearily waiting The rescue, that never comes, Alone on this desolate islet The mariner distantly shuns; Straining my worn eyes out ever O’er the dreary wastes of the sea; But no ship--no ship e’er cometh, And pleading hope dieth in me.

Aye, nothing but sky and ocean, Encircling me everywhere, And the boom and swash of the billows, And the sun’s incessant glare! This only by day and by day, This for the years on years, Alone, in the wilds of the ocean, Worn out with despair and tears.

THE BATTLE OF CHRYSLER’S FARM.

FOUGHT NOVEMBER 11TH, 1813. AMERICAN FORCE, 2,000; BRITISH AND CANADIANS, 800.

With his right resting on the St. Lawrence, His left by a sheltering wood, Morrison deployed his eight hundred And in the clear field firmly stood; Eight hundred firm British and Canadians, Determinedly biding there, With the Red Cross Banner above them, Flaunting proudly in the crisp, cool air.

Well they knew that Boyd was advancing With two thousand to crush their line; But they stood like a wall, and as silent, In that trying, momentous time. Aye, for the moment before the battle Far more dreadfully tries men’s souls Than when thousands are falling about them, And its madd’ning din round them rolls!

Then, too, it was an event momentous For this fair Canada of ours-- So much on the stern issue depended, So much on two desperate hours. Nigh and nigher, wilder and higher, To blaring trump and rolling drum, Covering their front with a skirmish line, On in war’s wild clamor they come!

“Fire not a shot till the word is given! Let the proud foe draw very near; Then, like an avalanche, sweep their blue ranks-- Remain steady, and have no fear!” Thus Morrison cried to his thin red line, Silently awaiting the word; Though the foe had opened with clamorous roar, Not a man in that firm line stirred.

At last the British the signal receive, And a mighty blow is given; A devastating rush of iron hail Through the foeman’s ranks is driven. And, oh! how that red line volleyed and flamed Cool and steady, they fired low, And crash after crash, in tumultuous din, Fell on the suffering foe!

And for two consuming and fatal hours, They struggled ’mid smoke and flame, Till the earth was strewn with the gallant dead, Where Boyd hurled his thousands in vain. Then ruined and beaten, and punished sore, He fled from defeat away; Victory perched on our banners once more On that ever-remembered day.

Canadian and British valor prevailed, And down through the annals of time Their heroic deeds we commemorate, In hist’ry as jewels to shine. O sunny land of the dear Maple Leaf, In union abiding and free Under the Old Flag of a thousand years, Floating o’er us from sea to sea!

SUMMER TWILIGHT.

I sit at the dear twilight hour Where the lilies and roses sleep, And the thoughts that come unto me Are oh! so calm and so sweet. I list the sound of a footfall I know will come unto me At the golden glow of sunset, When shadows steal o’er the sea,

All restful and soul refreshing As dew to the drooping flower, Inwardly invigorating, Imparting new life and power. And thus, removed from the turmoil Of day, with its din and strife, I listen in calm contentment To the hum of insect life.

The songs I hear in the branches, Just stirred by the wandering breeze, A concert of matchless music, Fill my heart with gladsome ease. The silvery, mystic moonlight Enfoldeth the earth and the sea, And the summer night is throbbing In nature’s full harmony.

O sun, and sea, and shadow! O eve with thy dreamy light! I revel amid thy splendor, Enrapt in a subtle delight! Aleene! I await thy coming, And the clasp of thy gentle hand, To wander in blissful dreaming Near heaven’s own borderland!

CANADIAN HOMES.

Canadian homes! Canadian homes! Ye dot this wide Dominion o’er, From the Atlantic’s ebb and flow To the far, far Pacific’s shore! Nestling by a thousand streams, Crowning a thousand lofty hills, A thousand valleys own thy sway, The patriot e’er with rapture thrills.

A hundred rivers wend their way By fertile plains toward the sea, Bearing rich products of the soil In undisturbed security; And the great chain of inland seas, Teeming with commerce and with trade-- The land is proud of her true sons, And the real progress they have made.

Thy mountains tower to the skies, And free, wild winds roam o’er thy plains; And he who seeks this great, broad land His freedom and a good home gains. Thy mountain sides and wide foothills Yield up rich ores of every name; Exhaustless is thy hidden store, Millions of wealth the seekers gain.

The matchless fisheries on our coasts, Our seas and rivers, lakes and streams, Assure to all a rich reward-- They so plenteously do teem. Our railroads span the continent, A vast expanse from shore to shore; From north to south, from east to west, They stretch this grand Dominion o’er.

A system of canals have we Unequalled--search the world so wide-- Connecting all our waterways By lake and stream to ocean’s side. They come and go, the white-winged ships, Bearing rich burdens to and fro; We have enough, aye and to spare; Our hearts with gratitude do glow.

Our kine are on a thousand hills; Our wheat and corn lands, rich and rare, Yield golden grain abundantly; With the whole world do we compare. The luscious grape here is produced, The vines are purple with its glow; The apple, peach, and pear, and plum, In plenty and perfection grow.

Invigorating our atmosphere-- With skies of the intensest blue-- Producing an indomitable race, With brave, true hearts to dare and do. Here woman is as beautiful As e’er this great wide world hath seen, And in her dear Canadian home She reigns an honored queen.

Our famous schools dot o’er the land, Free as the winds that roam our plains, And ignorance doth flee away; Happily, intelligence reigns. Noble colleges and institutes Throughout this goodly land abound; Within the easy reach of all Is education to be found.

Thus blest, the Canadian lifts his head, And all things dares in manly pride, For man to man, the wide world o’er, He’s equal, proved and tried. Remember it, doubting cynic, History proves his sterling worth, And in arms he is co-equal With the bravest ones of earth.

And in the world’s wide, busy marts, In science, trade, and cultured art, In the front rank he e’er is found, Bearing no menial second part. Contending with the bravest there, He holds the fierce, disputed way-- Persistence and efficiency Are sure to win the sternest day.

Religious tolerance have we, A people chaste by Christian love; Thousands of church-spires point the way To the celestial courts above. Thus blest, we dwell in freedom’s light, Defenders of our country’s cause, Loving our dear Canadian homes, Respecting and keeping her laws.

These free and fair Canadian homes Acadia’s vales do beautify; Her cities gleam like diadems, Her towers mount upward to the sky. And where New Brunswick lifts her head In vigorous, friendly rivalry, They shine like jewels in a crown, An anchor to our unity.

Prince Edward’s Island by the sea Is safely, sternly girded round, Taught by all nature to be free; Influenced by her voice profound They build, secure in freedom’s light, A fabric safe, enduring, grand, Proud of their dear island home, And of this fair Dominion land.

Our provinces beside the sea Send out their ships to every land; Alert to every enterprise, The world’s esteem they do command. Aye, they are known on every sea; In every clime, and isle remote, The Maple Leaf, our emblem dear, Protectingly o’er them doth float.

Quebec! Quebec! thou dowered queen Of beauty! for thee nature smiles; A vista wide of hill and vale, A river with a thousand isles, Above whose calm, majestic breast Frowns an impregnable citadel, A safeguard to our entrance-gate, Where Wolfe and Montcalm fearless fell.

Historic and heroic days Those stern defiant cliffs have known, The thunder of the battle strife, Wild cheer, defeat, and dying moan. Beautiful and historic stream, Flow on, flow on, toward the sea-- The outlet to our wide domain-- Flow on in calm tranquillity!

Heroes of old ascended thee, Brave men that would not be denied; They pierced the wilds beyond the flood, And death and danger they defied. From Saguenay to Ottawa, Across the blue Laurentian hills, Are homes of the French _habitant_, And love for thee his warm heart thrills.

With habits all so queer and quaint, Their social life we plainly trace; E’er faithful to their usages, A happy and contented race. And they have stood by Britain’s side When war was rife on every hand-- De Salaberry at Chateauguay Dealt a good blow for this fair land.

Ontario speaketh to our heart-- More blest, and more diversified Are the rich blessings of her soil-- We greet her e’er with love and pride. Numerous cities dot her o’er, Hamlets and town by hundreds rise, A vigorous and enduring growth, Throbbing with trade and enterprise.

Pastoral scenes so fair and sweet Meet the glad, enraptured gaze; By verdured hill and lovely vale, And a thousand broad highways, By lake and stream and riverside, The children’s laugh and mothers’ song Float out along the summer air,-- A busy, bright, and happy throng.

O happy homes and loving hearts, By rural scenes, or city’s ways! Pinched not by poverty and wrong, Blest in the fulness of your days! The busy days pass swiftly by, The evening brings good cheer along; Canadian homes are bright and gay, And purified by love and song.

Manitoba bursts on our view, The prairies stretching far away, Where thousands make their happy homes, Blessing the auspicious day They sought and found this “great lone land.” And still they come from every shore, Seeking out free Canadian homes,-- And there is room for millions more.

Here towns are rising everywhere, A vigorous growth on every hand; Industry’s ceaseless, cheerful din Is heard throughout this goodly land. Then, Manitobans, thrice three cheers Ring out! ring out, in swelling tones, A shout for this Dominion wide, And for these new Canadian homes!

The prairie province opes the way To these far vast and fertile plains; The wheatlands of the world lie here-- This Canada to all proclaims. And on and on we wend our way, O’er areas vast our steps are drawn; We flit by hill and lake and stream, Beyond the great Saskatchewan.

We gain Alberta’s grazing lands, Lovely with vales and streams and hills-- And countless kine are herded here. Stretching away to the foothills Are undulations, emerald sweeps Of sunny plains in beauty drest, With mountains towering to view-- This is Canada’s “great wild west.”

We pierce the Rockies in our flight; The steely way is swift and sure, Our land’s necessity and pride, Long as our union shall endure. But on and on we safely glide, By mountains vast and stern and hoary; Our pen but faintly can portray The scenes of panoramic glory.

Here lovely valleys meet the eye, All rife with summer’s winsome gladness; The summits of those gray cold peaks Are wrapt in winter’s sternest sadness, Defying the elements’ rage Through mystic and untold ages. God’s hand hath builded them in might To commemorate His pages.

Below is verdant leaf and flower, Flora and fauna everywhere; The peaks are wrapt in perpetual snow And lit by the sun’s fierce glare. Below is the sigh of soft winds And the ripple of cooling streams; Aloft is the bitterest air, Where the frost eternally gleams.

The sides of the mountains ever Are great waves of emerald green; While the streams, from summits falling White as snow, are foaming between; The cedar and pine trees ever Tossing aloft their fronded plumes, Where the winds forever whisper Nature’s subtle and mournful runes.

And through and beyond the Selkirks, Down the Fraser we calmly glide-- All hail, fair British Columbia, Thou rich gem by the ocean’s side! Lovely land of mountain and stream, We greet thee with bosom aflame; A crown of laurel awaits thee, We sing of thy greatness and fame.

The fleets of the world come to thee; Thy cities are growing apace; Thou art vigorously gaining, And everywhere we may trace Prosperity and refinement In those far west Canadian homes; The field and the mine contribute, And we hail thee in heartiest tones.

Out o’er a measure of ocean, Of ripple and bright sunny smile, The sea accords us a welcome To Vancouver’s fair sea-girt isle-- Last link in the chain of our union, A bright gem in the Western sea, Imbued with loyal devotion, Prosperous and happy and free.

We breathe the ozone of ocean, Where our mammoth ships sail away To the land of the Celestials, And the Japs, at the break of day. And southward unto Australia, And the distant isles of the sea, Our commerce is fast extending, Reaching out vigorously.

Northward, by Behring and Polar seas, E’er fearlessly our good ships go, Undeterred by storms of the deep, Or perpetual frost and snow; Seeking and finding seal and whale, Faithful hearts that know no fear, Venturing all in the enterprise For their home and loved ones dear.

Returning by our “golden north,” Penetrating the Arctic zone, Bordering on the frozen deep, All so desolate and so lone; Flitting by Great Slave and Bear Lakes, “The fur country,” winning our way By Rupert’s Land, lonesome and strange, Leading downward by Hudson Bay.

Gaining the stormy Atlantic, And wafted, by headland and shore, Past the homes of our brave fishers On e’er desolate Labrador, Thus we have circled the Dominion, A vast and wonderful domain; Exhaustless in her resources, The world shall yet ring with her fame.

Then up in your might, Canadians! No matter what your creed may be, And stand for country and the right, E’er steadfast in our unity. The half a continent is ours, Then let our hearts be all aflame; The field ’s sufficient for us all, Where all may win both wealth and fame.

We love this fair Canadian land, O’erstrewn with mountain, plain and lake; And we would even dare to die For our dear homes and country’s sake. Remember it? Aye, remember-- They burn within our thoughts to-day-- Queenston Heights, famed Lundy’s Lane, Stony Creek, Quebec, Chateauguay.

There, side by side with the regulars, Our fathers faced the invading foe, And swept them from our sacred shores By stern-delivered blow on blow. And should they dare to come again Where the old flag in freedom waves, We’ll meet them firm, unyielding still, And strew these peaceful shores with graves.

Hurrah! hurrah for Canada! For the land that is great and free; “The flag that’s braved a thousand years,” Ever that grand old flag for me. Touch not its daring crimson folds-- It bears no cringing coward stain; No traitor hand shall pull it down, Nor mar its glorious fame.

It floats to-day o’er every sea; In every clime, in every zone, That daring flag defiantly Is to the free wild winds out-thrown. The sun may rise and set again, But not on Britain’s grand domain-- The Empire dots the wide world o’er, And Britain’s heart is all aflame.

Hurrah! hurrah for Canada! And the Empire that rules the sea! In union with the Motherland We are ever safe and free. Thus, moving on from year to year, All time shall sing our brave story-- A united empire rolling on To an immortal glory.

THINK OF ME.

List when the wind in summertime is sighing, And a wealth of verdant bloom is on the lea; Seek the path our feet together used to wander, And think of me.

Watch when the sunset’s tender glow of evening Fades into twilight’s dreamy ecstasy, And thy soul is soothed by nature’s subtle fulness, And think of me.

And when the shadowy arms of night enfoldeth The hills, and darken o’er the throbbing sea; Steal tenderly out beneath the stars’ pale beaming, And think of me.

Go when the autumn leaves are sadly falling, And the melancholy winds appeal to thee, And stillness broods where grass and flowers are dying, And think of me.

And when thy soul to music’s touch is thrilling, And thy voice repeats in tenderest melody The songs we loved when you and I were dreaming, And think of me.

Weep when the dreary autumn rain is falling, And sobbing winds are strewing o’er the lea A wealth of golden leaves and pale dead flowers, And think of me.

And when thy day of life is slowly waning Into the mystic light of the eternity, Call back the dreamy years of life’s glad morning, And think of me.

DULAC DES ORMEAUX; OR, THE THERMOPYLÆ OF CANADA.

Destruction menaced fair Mount Royal, And the bravest cheek grew pale When from the shadowy, awesome forest Came the blood-curdling tale That the unsparing, ferocious Iroquois Would encompass them once more; Twelve hundred plumed and painted warriors Would in fury on them pour.

Palisaded around and bastioned, But war-worn and wasted so, With the pale shadow of doom upon them, How shall they foil the dread foe? Often, when life and its cares seem darkest, Doth aid and guidance appear, And the storm and the threatened danger On the horizon disappear.

Thus saved was the lovely Mount Royal By as heroic a deed As e’er blazon’d the page of history; And it came in their sore need. Noble, self-sacrificing des Ormeaux, And sixteen fair youths so brave, Resolved on a desperate rescue, Their homes and country to save.

Aye, resolved though to a man they perish, The rescue should be complete; And prepared for the awful issue-- ’Twas death, but never defeat. Making their wills, and solemn confession, In war’s panoply arrayed They received the holy sacrament, And solemnly knelt and prayed.

And bidding their well-beloved friends farewell, As men who to death march away-- (Aye, and so were they, for all, all were slain In the merciless affray). And stemming the current of swift St. Anne, They fearlessly launch away O’er the sparkling Lake of Two Mountains, Onward, by night and by day.

And by the pass of the Long Sault Rapid, In a redoubt deserted, old-- A mere breastwork of logs and abatis, Covered by moss and mould-- There, with forty Hurons and Algonquins, They took their intrepid stand, And waited the approach of the Iroquois, Who were very near at hand.

The French and their red allies strengthened Their frail post with earth and sod, Leaving twenty loopholes for musketoons; And, commending all to God, They took post, prepared now and watchful Under the All-seeing Eye, To fight heroically for their homes, And, if need, for them to die.

“Hist! hist!” Dulac des Ormeaux whispered, “Make ready the musketoons; Hear the signal hoot of the boding owl, And the cry of lonely loons! ’Tis the stealthy approach of the Iroquois, Signaling their reptile advance; _Mon braves_, let’s teach them what Frenchmen can do For love and glory of France!

“Let them come, let them come, now, very near, Then level the musketoons; Answer thus the hoot of the boding owl, And the cry of the lonely loons! Hand to hand, use the halberd, sword and lance, Make these reptiles bite the grass, And strike as the Spartans did of old, When Leonidas kept the pass!

“See! through the dim and shadowy forests, They like deadly serpents creep-- Mark the cruel light in their devilish eyes, As our frail defence they sweep! Steady, brothers; comrades, aim low and sure, Let every good missile tell! Rain sure on the malignant Iroquois A consuming fire of hell!”

And they opened then with crash and flame, And wild, savage cries of pain Pierced through the roar of the musketoons; Swift again, and yet again, Sure volleys burst, hurling death, dismay, The old gray redoubt around, And the withering fire from that brave band Struck many a red fiend down.

For five long days the Iroquois Swarmed around that frail redoubt, Repulsed again, aye, and yet again. Worn by hunger, thirst and doubt, And want of sleep, the Frenchmen prayed, And fought with valiant might Through long, frightful days of carnage And the horrors of the night.

Iroquois reinforcements now arrived And the Hurons, in dismay At the dreadful, inevitable result, In desertion fled away. For three days longer seven hundred foes Beleaguered that frail redoubt, Defied by the score of dauntless youths, Still barring the red fiends out

By a ceaseless fire of the musketoons; Keeping their post night and day With the unyielding courage of despair, Holding the red scourge at bay. And, reeling in uttermost weariness, Realizing their doom is sealed, They can but die in the unequal strife, But must not--no, must not yield!

The Iroquois, covered by wooden shields, Rushed up to the palisades; Up swift from the river’s concealing banks, And sheltering forest glades. Crouching below the fire of musketoons, They furiously cut away Post after post of the frail palisades That held them so long at bay.

Firing through the loops on their pent-up foes, Tearing a breach in the walls, They swarm within with ferocious joy; But many a red fiend falls By desperate sweep of the Frenchmen’s steel, Deliv’ring lightning blows; Asking no quarter, and receiving none, From cruel, insatiate foes.

Thus selling their lives in a noble cause, Not one of the French are spared; But hundreds of unsparing Iroquois Their gory death-bed shared. Thus checked was the advance of the Iroquois And Canada was saved By as heroic an act of devotion As war’s annals ever gave.

And the defence of the Long Sault passage Shall nevermore fade away; All time shall honor the heroic defence-- Canada’s Thermopylæ! Pause, Canadians! pause by this spot-- Seek the Long Sault’s rapid flow-- Call back the famed scene enacted here Two hundred long years ago.

GOLDEN HAIR.

A head of golden hair, With many a silken fold; A face as beautiful as e’er Was wrought in human mould; An eye as blue as ever Italia’s skies can be, That shone as stars of heaven In soul-lit purity;

A form that tranced the vision; A matchless, perfect grace Of a life all pure and God-like Lighting the sweet, fair face; A voice as low and silv’ry As flutes at eventime, Or trill of harps Æolian, Tender and so divine;

A head of golden hair, Haunting my soul alway, In the silent hours of dreamland, Or blaze of noontide day. Yet vain are all thy dreamings, O heart! A year ago We laid that head so golden Under the daisies low.

THE CONVICT.

Frenzied by the destroying curse of drink, In fury uncontrolled I struck him down; The insult was bitter, and I went mad--insane-- And with one fell blow slew him, and fled the town. In a moment I was sobered, and realized The awful deed my savage hand had done, And a dreadful terror on my senses fell; Before arrest, stern punishment had begun.

Oh! the horror of that moment when I realized That I my fellow man, once friend, had slain; That I was lost forever and for evermore, And my brow burned deep by the damning brand of Cain. “Lost! lost!” I cried in agony to heaven. Demoniac laughter on my pained ear fell-- The answer to my prayer came not from heaven; It seemed to rise from lurid voids of hell.

Pursued, arrested, and for life condemned-- Caged as a wild beast behind bolts and bars-- The iron door closed out the world so fair, The panoply of heaven, sun, moon, and stars; Closed out home, mother, father, sister, brother, And one that was so fair, and loved me so; Broken are their hearts, because I was so dear In the sinless happy days of long ago.

Once only was I lured by the red wine, And joined the revel in the maddening bowl. ’Twas fatal! In that appalling direful hour Lost was all the world, and ruined was my soul; Forgotten was my mother’s warning, and I saw not the pit made for unwary feet, But past the portal and the dividing line, My awful ruin was complete.

Stunned, and almost crazed by agony And remorse, I wept such bitter burning tears As come from those, all lost to earth and heaven, Who, hopeless, brood o’er past and following years. I prayed with awful fervency to heaven To forgive and heal my weary, broken heart, Appealing for the lowliest place in paradise, That I might with the angels bear some humble part.

I know not, but sometimes it seems to me A pitying God will my fell deed forgive; Will lift the grievous burden from my weary soul, And let the suffering, forsaken sinner live. And thus I wait behind the bars and iron door, In gloomy corridor or stifling cell, Suffering the nameless horrors of the damned In this relentless, dreary, earthly hell.

THE BATTLE OF LACOLLE MILLS.

FOUGHT MARCH 30TH, 1814. AMERICAN FORCE, 4,000; BRITISH AND CANADIAN, 340.

Ten miles inland they ventured To the “Stone Mills” at Lacolle; Four thousand rough invaders, Our country to control. Canadians e’er rally quickly When dangers thicken round, And to duty’s call immediate Give no uncertain sound.

The call was swiftly given, And the “Stone Mills” occupied, Loopholed and greatly strengthened, And the enemy defied. Of stern British and Canadians The little force formed round; Resolved at every hazard To hold their vantage ground.

The foe moved up on every side, And made their grand attack; The old walls blazed in fierce return, And drove the proud foe back. Three guns were now brought forward The mill to batter down; The “Old Stone Mill,” the good old mill, In defiance still did frown.

The gunners fell beside their guns, So hot, so fierce the fire The British poured upon them To prevent them drawing nigher. For two long hours the cannonade Stormed at the old mill walls-- The good old mill, the brave old mill, That totters not nor falls.

“Ho, Voltigeurs, and brave regulars! Form quickly side by side, And charge the foe’s battering guns,” The gallant Handcock cried. And they swept across the open Up to the cannon’s side-- Those grand soldiers’ hearts were burning, As an army they defied.

Swiftly through the infantry’s fire, Up to the cannon’s flame, So fearlessly they struggled, Charged and charged again. Those gallant men could do no more, And they fell back fighting still, Gaining once again the safety Of the sheltering mill.

The fire was now redoubled, The old mill blazed and roared; A deadly hail from all the loops Upon the foe was poured. ’Twas all too hot for Wilkinson At Lacolle Mills that day, And he turned about in utter rout And swiftly fled away.

Heroic Handcock! heroic men! Thy mem’ry shall not die-- Canadians, join with me to-day, And shout it to the sky! Weave, then, a fadeless laurel wreath For those who nobly gave E’en life for British liberty, And this fair land to save.

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY MAIDEN.

O radiant maiden! thou art so fair, With thy azure eyes and thy golden hair; The bloom of the lily and rose on thy face, Thy sunny smile and thy exquisite grace, The joyous light of thy innocent eyes, Deep wells of the soul and clear as the skies; And pure as the snow the sheen on thy brow-- O mayst thou e’er be as stainless as now. Thy voice is as soft as the summer wind, Thrilling, pathetic, a music divine; And wonderful is thy power to-day, And thy influence and thy gentle sway. The world does homage to-day at thy feet, A captive at will to slavery sweet.

Man battles amain the vast wide world o’er; He delves in the mines for their precious store; For the gems of the sea, searches far and wide, Through the rage of the storm and the rushing tide. Aye, in every clime, and in every zone, He struggles with might for thee and home; Stepping bravely to battle to win thy smiles, Fearlessly leading where the foremost files Charge to the battery’s flash and thunder-- A hero for thee, to the world a wonder. With the battle o’er, the victory won, And hope beaming brightly to cheer him on; With riches and honors and fame replete, He seeks but to lay them down at thy feet, E’er trusting and honoring thee, his pride, Asking only the bliss to be at thy side.

There are to-day many wandering feet, Reckless, despairing, and ruined complete; Driven from the light of thy witching eyes, They are drifting away ’neath sunless skies. Oh, nineteenth century maiden, fair! With thy azure eyes and thy golden hair, Of thy subtle power beware, beware! Drive not unheeding to ruin, despair, Hearts that are noble, unselfish, and true, That would all things dare, even death, for you. Let all thy ways be e’er kindly and good; Thus crowning thy pure gentle womanhood With graciousness, love, and truth most wise, Guiding men e’er safely toward the skies.

MUSIC.

Celestial concord of divinest sounds, Music has solaced all the years, Smoothed the rough road for worn and tired feet, And lulled the grievous pain, too deep for tears. All my days it’s been a comfort unto me, A subtle influence, chastening all life, Lifting up despairing hope and trust once more, Guiding past the hidden shoals of sin and strife.

As a boy, I heard it flooding all the fields,-- Nature’s songs appealing ever unto me-- Bird lays, and the soothing winds that steal away, And the deep, eternal murmur of the sea. I hear it in the harmony of the night, When stars glow in the unfathomable deep, And when the foliage and the nodding flowers, Alike with all the world, are wrapt in sleep.

I hear it in the patter of the summer rain That freshens all and cools the thirsty ground; And in the thunder’s reverberating roar I hear a harmony majestic and profound. I hear it in the tiniest rivulet That winds its laughing way by mead and lea, Kissing the feet of sunny emerald hills, And the glide of mighty rivers to the sea.

O voices! voices! singing, ever singing In joyful, tender notes from day to day; I hear the songs I love forever ringing-- Their echo and re-echo never dies away. A thousand instruments seem ever playing-- Stringed instruments, reeds, lutes of sweetest tone-- Martial bands, and trumpets swelling ever, Stir the hero, and the king upon his throne!

Play on! play on! all instruments of music, Join all your voices in the ecstasy of song, And the deep harmony of nature blending Will elevate and purify the world’s vast throng. If I should march to battle, play for me The strains that lift the shrinking, doubting soul; And when I cross the dark and fatal current, Sing, and the Lethean waters shall not o’er me roll.

WATERLOO.