Part 3
Sore, sore it grieved that mother's heart! When fever's pulse beat high And reason reeled, the parchèd 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.
"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 pæans 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.
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 sunbright 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.
"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 fruitful 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 sleeping world.
"Out of the widely opened door doth savory flavor steal As, from gun of clever marksman, is prepared the evening meal.
"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,
"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 descends 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.
"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; 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 gloaming 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.
"Beside her first-born on the hill--and there I hope to lie 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 agèd 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 evermore.
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.
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.
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.
With power unbounded at His feet All heaven and earth to move;
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.
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 fannèd 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
Of joyous roundelay, A world where none may grieve.
Blessed morning of the year! Lone sickness greets the voice Which waketh 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.
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.
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-off 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,
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!
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,
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 pæans 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.
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.
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.
II.
No shrill-toned clarion wakes the night O'er Juda's slumbering plains; No trumpet blast of armèd 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;
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.
III.
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.
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 nearing heaven.
THE SIEGE OF QUEBEC.
THE SIEGE OF QUEBEC.
I.
PRELUDE.
Thou 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 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
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_.
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 shore.
II.