mE R* VNI> BARD OF f:ganti.c.: ,s ICHIBALD Mo&lLLOP Collected Verse "THE BLIND BARD OF MEGANTIC” BY ARCHIBALD McKILLOP INTRODUCTION The author of this book of verse, Archibald McKillop, better known as the “ Blind Bard of Megantic ” was born in “ The Big House ” at Loch Ranza, Arran, Scotland, on July 4th, 1824. His father, Archibald McKillop, was then “ Tax Gatherer ” for the Duke of Hamilton. In April, 1829, a large party from Loch Ranza sailed for Canada in the brig Caledonia , under the leadership of Mr. McKillop. The author of these poems was then a lad almost five years of age. The party finally settled in Inverness, Quebec, where for years Archibald McKillop, senior, was the acknowledged leader of the colony. He went to Quebec at the time of the Rebellion of ’37, as captain of a company of volunteers, whom he had gathered himself. After the war he was duly gazetted as colonel. Young Archibald grew up on his father’s farm, trained to hard work, such as the clearing of the heavily-timbered land, and the harvesting of the crops by hand. From his early youth he gave promise of literary ability. His father had been trained in Edinburgh University, and so all his family were brought up to value education. Archibald was sent to school at Lachine, Quebec, and after teaching school for some time, he went with his brother Malcolm to Toronto University. It was while home for the Christmas holidays that he received an injury to one of his eyes that brought on complete blindness in the course of a few years. With dauntless courage he refused to give in to his handicap. For years he was a well-known temperance lecturer through- out Canada. As a political and religious controversialist he was logical and splendidly vigorous. He was a great lover of children. Many who are now bearing the responsi- bilities of life remember with pleasure the kindly, blind gen- tleman who in their childhood days took infinite pains to please and amuse them. V INTRODUCTION His great love for righteousness and clean outdoor life is shown in his poems. He was intensely loyal to his Scottish ancestry, and was a welcome and enthusiastic guest at the meetings of Scottish Societies, many of which honoured him as their Bard. During his latter years he lived among the Scots of Glen- garry. Failing in health he went to visit his nephew, Donald McKillop Solandt, at Kingston, Ontario, where he died in September, 1905. These poems have been arranged for publication by Miss I. L. Henderson, whose novel, “My Canada,” has been so well received. The expense for publication has been borne by Neil McKillop, a nephew of “ The Bard ” and a most ardent admirer of his. The book is presented to the public in memory of a most optimistic, genial gentleman, whose soul never yielded to the handicap of blindness. September, 1913. Winnipeg, Canada. Donald McKillop Solandt. CONTENTS INTRODUCTION iii 1. RHYMES FOR THE TIMES. First Published in 1857. Saint Bartholomew’s Day in Canada 9 The Death of Robert Corrigan - - - - 13 A Song for True Orangemen 26 Kansas : Peace with England : War with Popery - 28 A Visit to Montreal 32 The Farce at Hoboken 35 Transubstantiation versus Common Sense - - - 40 Bedim’ s Visit to America 42 Father M 4 Donald and the Scottish Youth 44 Appeal to the Freemen of America - - 46 The Runaway Slave 51 Letter to F. A. Ross, D.D. 53 The Drunken Bear - 56 Father Bonnie’s Address 59 Peter and Paul 60 A Will Case 63 We Will Publish the Bible 64 Father B. and Barbara Forman 66 Thoughts on Death, Heaven, and Hell - - - 68 The Death of the “ Maine Law ” in Canada - - 71 The Murderess 72 Address to France ------- 73 Address to the Queen 74 Another Song for True Orangemen 75 Conclusion 76 2. TEMPERANCE ODES AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. First published in 1860. The Drunkard’s Child 79 The Good Example 84 The Awful Death 85 The Tavern Keeper 87 The Rum-selling Grocer 89 The Forty-Gallon River 91 The Cold Water Pledge 93 The Feast of Belshazzar 96 v yi CONTENTS PAGE To the Friends of Temperance 98 The Rum -seller Outwitted by Himself - - - 98 Bad Company and Rum 190 The Last of the Family 102 The Youth Admonished 103 A Strange Thing 105 Advice to the Labouring Classes 107 The Two Foes 108 Closing Ode for Temperance Meetings - - - - 110 Liquor at Funerals Ill An Appeal Ill A Tale 113 The Grand Trunk Railway 114 National Ode for Canada 115 The Bible 116 The Old Log Meeting-House 124 Gaelic Prize Poem 128 Translation of Gaelic Prize Poem - - - - 130 3. GENERAL POEMS. I. — On Megantic Megantic More than Forty Years Ago - - - 135 Great Megantic 137 Old Megantic 139 “ One Evening in the Flowery Month ” - - - 143 The Home in the Woods 146 The Ladies at the Fair 148 “ There’s an Opening on a Mountain’s Brow ” - - 150 Thoughts on Megantic, Past, Present, and Future - 158 Three Cheers for Old Megantic Yet - - - - 159 II.-— On Canada Canada’s New Flag 165 Come to Canada 166 Fair Canada 167 Hail ! Bright Colonial Star 169 Ontario’s Brave Defenders 170 Onward, Canada, Onward ! 171 Our Land, the Ophir of Gold 172 Our Northland of Freedom - - - . _ - 174 Our Own, Our Loved Canadian Land - - - - 175 The Land We Live In - 276 The Star of the North - 177 This Canada of Ours - - - _ _ . -178 CONTENTS Vll PAG ft III.— On Various Localities A Tribute to St. Mary’s, Ontario - - - - 18(7 Restigouchc, Famous Charlo, and surrounding Scenery 184 Wallacetown, County of Elgin 185 What a Blind Man Saw in New Brunswick - - - 187 IV.— To Royalty Canada’s Joyous Reception of the Marquis of Lome and the Princess Louise 190 Canada’s Welcome to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales - 192 On the Death of Princess Alice 193 Royal Thanksgiving Hymn 195 The End of the Century 196 The Royal Heroine 197 Thoughts of the Blind 199 To the Marquis of Lome and Princess Louise - - 201 V. — On Queen Victoria’s Jubilee Jubilee Poem 204 The Jubilee 218 The Royal Victoria Jubilee Hospital - 220 VI. — On Scotland and Her People Hallowe’en, Ancient and Modem - 222 New Year’s Greeting 224 Our New Dominion Hallowe’en 227 St. Andrew’s Day 229 St. Andrew, Great and Good 234 The Crofters 236 The Holy Fiddle 237 The Land of Song 241 The Language and Emblems of Scotland - - - 243 The Sailor’s Answer 246 The Scotsman in Canada 248 Thoughts for St. Andrew’s Day 250 Great Niagara Niagara 181 183 VII.— On Temperance Freemen ’ s Song, Ontario Reformer’s Rallying Song, West Elgin Temperance Triumph in Megantic The Castle of Bacchus The Defeat of E. King Dodds 252 253 254 256 259 CONTENTS PAGE The Malt that Lay in the House that Jack Built - 261 The Plebiscite Vote in Ontario, 1894 - 279 The Temperance Triumph in Halton - 280 The Temperance Vote 282 Triumph of Right 283 Beautiful Water 285 VIII.— On Religious Subjects A Christmas Carol ------ . 287 A Home Missionary Hymn 288 Armenia 289 Canadian Christian Endeavour Hymn - - - 291 Christian Endeavour 292 Hope for the Union 293 Psalm Twenty -Third - 295 Thanksgiving Hymn 296 “ The Dead are in the Dreamless Tomb ” - - • 297 The Destruction of Babylon 299 The Glory of the Lamb 300 The Promised Land 301 Union 304 Will You be There, and I ? 307 In Memoriam 308 IX. — Miscellaneous A Letter to a Friend 313 Anderson 314 A Voice from Canada 315 “ Erin Go Bragh ” 317 “ Great Britain”— not “ England ” ... - 319 Grumbling at the Weather 323 Hallowe’en 325 On the Foundering of the Victoria - 326 Song of Peace for Great Britain and the Colonies - 329 The Auction Sale of Slavery 331 The Great Abomination 335 The Indian and the Slave 349 The Lightning Run 35 1 The Madness of War 353 Thoughts for the Times 355 To Alexander H. Wingfield 355 Two Acrostics “ Well May We Boast of Liberty ” - . . 359 COLLECTED VERSE SAINT BARTHOLOMEW’S DAY IN CANADA A Dialogue between a Stranger and a Citizen of Mon- treal in Reference to the Massacre of the 9th June, 1853. STRANGER Hail ! citizen. Why weepest thou ? Thy cause of grief declare. The city seems in trouble now, There’s mourning everywhere. CITIZEN Art thou but a stranger, and yet hast not heard Our source of affliction and sorrow ? Then know that we mourn for relations laid low, In a moment of ire, by a merciless foe, While we the survivors were destin’d to know Disconsolate grief on the morrow. STRANGER Pray tell me then did foemen dare Disturb your quiet repose ? And did the military guards Repel the country’s foes ? Or did some den of infamy Pour forth its lawless hordes Of those who rob and kill, and live By what their guilt affords ? 9 \ 10 COLLECTED VERSE CITIZEN Ah ! stranger, it was not the carnage of war ; No foes were assembled in battle ; Nor was it the fruit of the plunderer’s trade, For Rome has enacted another crusade ’Gainst freedom of speech ; and the dying and dead Fell thick in the midst of the rattle. STRANGER Methinks I read the sequel now : If ROME has been the foe I wonder not that you can tell A tale of bitter woe. CITIZEN The day had been fine, and the morning was bright, With pleasure’s illusions before us ; We thought not of sorrow, but ah ! ere that night Had veiled the bright prospects of earth from our sights Like a dream of the past disappeared our delight, When death and destruction swept o’er us. STRANGER Speak, citizen, for I would know What motives could induce Th’ adherents of the Holy (?) See Such horror to produce. CITIZEN Yes ; since thou desirest, I cannot deny So kind a request from a stranger, Then know that a preacher, Gavazzi his name, Who once was a priest, but had come to proclaim* The errors he left in that system of shame, And we heard him, but dreamt not of danger. STRANGER And was there danger ? why so slow ? Make thy recital brief; My sympathies awake to know If none could give relief. COLLECTED VERSE 11 CITIZEN I said that the lecturer came to proclaim The errors of Romish delusion : But he scarce had commenc-ed, when Ribbonmen arm’d. From hut and from hovel, in multitudes swarm’d And assaulted the place, when the hearers, alarmed, Began to disperse in confusion. STRANGER And was that all ? for I had thought It was some sad affray — That some were killed — but now I hope They all got safe away. CITIZEN Alas ! courteous stranger, they gain-ed the street, But found not the means of retiring ; For there were arranged, in phalanx complete, The troops that were placed to cut off their retreat. And some noted persons were heard to repeat The words that directed the firing. STRANGER But what ! and did they really fire Upon the passing crowd ? Who ever heard of such a thing In British lands allowed ! CITIZEN Oh yes, and their muskets were loaded with ball, The shrieks of the dying were awful ; In that sorrowful moment, the youth and the sire, Successively fell, and were left to expire, By the fiendish assassins controlling the fire, While Popery rendered it lawful. STRANGER Ah ! citizen, what dreadful things Are done in modern times ! And what a vile religion that Which tolerates such crimes ! 12 COLLECTED VERSE CITIZEN But the trial that followed that notable day Should inspire all true freemen with terror. The men were arrested, but stood undismayed : The things that were done and the words that were said, Too plainly evinc’d that they were not afraid, And the whole was considered an error. STRANGER But tell me how could justice fail ? Am I to understand That no one is condemn’d to death For murder , in this land ? CITIZEN Oh yes, noble stranger.— But do you not know That Rome has her judges and juries ? The former invested with power to the full, The latter selected and train’d in her school, And Justice is baffled according to rule, While all that is Popish secure is. STRANGER Oh sir, it makes me sad to think That persecuting Rome Is gaining strength in Canada, While dying out at home. CITIZEN Oh yes : and indeed it must ever be so, Wherever the Rulers befriend them * n 0 ,/? 1 “°v kno T that when Brownson came here, 1 he Catholics thronged unmolested to hear, P eo Pk were strangers to fear. With Infantry placed to defend them. STRANGER But that must be an evil creed, Which conquers by the sword, As Papists and Mahometans Have done with one accord. COLLECTED VERSE 13 CITIZEN These statements are bold, but undoubtedly true, I challenge the Pope to refute us, For the withering blight of his power is discerned Wherever the good of his church is concerned, And Pio may yet give the laurels they earn’d, To those who are eager to shoot us. STRANGER But shall not this apostate Church Account for such events ? Does not the word of God declare Her drunk with blood of saints ? CITIZEN Yes, stranger, it does ; and it also foretells The day of the Lord’s indignation, When Rome and her tyranny shall disappear. The mother of harlots, her downfall is near, And those who exult in her cruelties here Shall share in her great tribulation. HISTORY OF THE AWFUL DEATH OF ROBERT CORRIGAN, Farmer in St. Sylvester, Canada East; who was at- tacked by his Roman Catholic neighbours on the 17th day of October, 1855, and died two days after, with particulars of the Trial of the parties indicted. Mortals attend my song, while I relate The thrilling story of a poor man’s fate, Whose death, accomplished by a lawless band, Has rung through every cottage in the land ; Whose blood still calls for vengeance on the head Of those who wrought his death. His blood was shed In noonday blaze of light, on public ground, And Robert Corrigan — that name shall sound 14 COLLECTED VERSE In other lands than this, wherever Friar Or Priest, or Pope, or Bishop may conspire By open murder, or by fouler tricks, To slaughter and extirpate heretics. Th’ October Sun was shining bright and clear, And Nature seem’d to show no signs of fear ; In beauteous order, pil’d around the sky, The snow-white clouds bespoke no tempest nigh ; The Autumn winds blew softly through the trees ; The withered leaves fell fluttering on the breeze ; In rich effusion plenty flowed around ; The Saint Sylvester hills had just been crowned With harvests rich. The pious were prepared To own with gratitude the gifts they shared, And bless high Heaven. “ The memory of their hearts Arose to Him who every good imparts, Indulgent on the sons of Adam’s race, Unworthy of the least of all his grace. But ah, we said no tempest hovered nigh, — So far indeed as time-bedimm-ed eye Could read the page of future human life, No omen dire appeared of war or strife. But mortal vision lacks prophetic power T’ unroll the burden of one future hour. How oft a day of joy is changed to grief, And nought but trust in God can give relief. Unconscious of impending danger near, As if insured of long existence here, Man clings to life with a tenacious hold, But death arrests him and his blood runs cold : Then yawns the opening grave in all its gloom, And Man, proud man, descends into the tomb. His prospects blasted, his ambition gone, His joys and sorrows with his hour-glass run ; His pomp, his energy, his vigour o’er, His glory faded, and himself no more. How various are the ways in which our race Is “ made to mourn ” ; description fails to trace COLLECTED VERSE The numerous diseases, pains and woes, Which are endured in dissolution’s throes. When all the maladies for which we sigh Are as diversified as those who die. Some pine away upon their beds of ease, The victims sure of treacherous disease. Some die of want, by famine overpowered, In deserts some, by savage beasts devoured ; The rolling seas conceal a mighty host, The drowned inhabitants of Navies lost. And cruel War, that scourge of fated man, Destroyed its millions since the world began ; And war is raging still ; in carnage dire Contending armies muster to expire. Transform-ed to a mass of shapeless gore, Dissolving columns waste away before Destructive engines of infernal shape, Bomb-shells exploding, and the mowing grape. The vast Lancaster , with its fiery bolt, Or those dread implements prepared by Colt, The blazing Sabre, and the whistling Ball, And bloody Bayonet, make their thousands fall. But though the instruments of war appear, By far too numerous to mention here ; Yet there’s another weapon highly prized, By wild Hibernians uncivilized ; But only used by those whose every hope And whole ambition centre in the Pope, Who know no monarch but the “ Man of Sin,” And by their bloody actions seek to win His favour, which he graciously extends In sin-indulgences to all his friends. And if the sword has pierced thro’ many a heart, The stout Shillelah too has had its part In deeds of darkness, done in bloody style, By those who are the dregs of Erin’s isle. The Cannibal, to human feeling lost, Accounts him greatest who has slaughtered most. The savage Heathen, in his battle fields Ferocious and fierce, his war-club wields. 1C COLLECTED VERSE The Indian grasps his bow and scalping-knife* And scarce is known to save a victim's life. Barbarians kill without the least remorse, And savage tribes are to be feared of course. But if the Black in human gore delights, He has his parallels among the Whites. A class of men I never wish to meet. Whose weapons, the shillelah and deceit. It is with some of those I have to deal, While thus describing what is known too well. But oh ! what pen is gifted to portray The awful murder in the blaze of day ! The Cruelty ! the Death ! Oh, how we shrink From such a scene ! It makes us sad to think How man’s base “ inhumanity to man ” Has scourged our race since human woes began. Who has not heard of Cain, he that first Was for a brother’s murder branded, curst. If infamy has marked him for his crime, He has his equals in the roll of time. But though the life destroyer may evade The light of day, and seek the deepest shade. Yet ’tis a truth, without a tinge of doubt, That secret murder must, and will be out. The conscience-smitten wretch enjoys no rest. His life a burden, to himself a pest. A murderer ! Oh epithet of shame ! Humanity recoils at such a name, And He that rescued Noah from the flood Ordained that he who sheds a brother’s blood Himself must die : “ by man his blood be shed,’ r The curse of God upon his guilty head. But what a Hell-born system that which shields A deed so cruel in the open fields, And leaves its perpetrators, all and each, To wield anew their clubs of birch and beech. The Church which guards them as her bosom friends And best adapted to promote her ends, — For are they not prepared as heretofore To re-imbue their hands in human gore ? — The Saint Sylvester hills and fields may flow 17 COLLECTED VERSE Again with blood, and echo mortal woe. To that dark Parish what a boon is given, A vile fraternity, which numbers seven. The ancient Fratricide was doomed to roam, But modern murderers remain at home. Go tell the residents of future peace : Will they not say : Thou vain deluder, cease. What peace can we enjoy who dwell beside The men who beat our neighbour till he died ? Will they not say : We live in constant fear, And only stay because our farms are here. Do we not see a lonely mother’s grief ? The orphans too, demand our kind relief. In them are centred her maternal hopes, And for her little ones she daily copes With all the toils with which this world is rife, And leads in solitude a widow’s life. 0 stranger, hast thou heard her tale of woe ? Or, being unacquainted, wouldst thou know How dreadful was the hour when slaughter’d fell The Husband and the Father ? Many tell The melancholy narrative with tears, To be remembered through the lapse of years. ’Twas on the day we held our Annual Fair : With light and gladsome hearts we hastened there ; Calm was the twilight, and the Morning Sun In all his splendour rose, his race to run ; But scarcely had the source of heat and light Attained the glory of meridian height, Than pent-up wrath, and malice long concealed Out-burst in fury upon Machell’s field. The busy multitude that thronged the place Beheld at once Rome's triumph and disgrace, — Beheld a man clubb’d, butcher’d like a dog, And kick’d and roll’d about as if a log, For lo ! A moral hurricane has burst, And even here the earth with blood is curst ; For Robert Corrigan as we shall see With heart undaunted, and with spirit free, B $ COLLECTED VERSE Of frame athletic, and of powerful mind, Where strict fidelity and truth combined With moral principle, and honest pride, With other two was chosen, to decide The Prizes to be given then and there, And so he entered on his work with care. Meanwhile a band of wicked, Popish knaves — Sworn Ribbonmen, as well as Satan’s slaves — Behind a barn in solemn conclave met. Premeditating murder, and to set At bold defiance laws of God and man, Resolved that they would murder Corrigan. This Corrigan was once a Romanist as they,* But led to see the error of his way, Renounced allegiance to the Church of Rome, Became a Protestant : — for this, his doom Is violent death, for are not Papists taught That murder is a deed with virtue fraught When to defend their Church they vent their wrath. And only Protestants are put to death ? So when this bloody conclave had agreed Upon a champion who should do the deed, The blow once given they should all unite, Complete the murder, and enjoy the sight. The whole disbanding came with one fell sweep On Robert Corrigan, while judging sheep. The chosen wretch who his associates led, Approached his victim, struck him on the head. The man was stunn’d ; he reeled around and fell. His comrades swore their leader did it well, They clos’d around, regardless of his cries ; With clubs they beat him when he tried to rise ; They leaped upon his body, kicked his sides, With horrid oaths, “ We’ll kill him out,” they cried, Exulting over him, the mob rushed in To share the murder and complete the sin. * Set Pamphlet published by R. Middleton, Esq., Quebec*. COLLECTED VERSE 19 Like fiends from Erebus with fiery breath, And mouths wide gaping for the work of death, And furies glancing from each rolling eye, They did their work, and left the man to die. Then came another wretch, with hoary head, To wield his club before the man was dead, Upon the heretic his rage to vent ; Should not this man be canonized a saint ? Shall not some priest attest the holy act, And send the Pope a notice of the fact ? A woman* when she saw he would be slain, Cried “ Murder ! Oh ! my God ! ” but cried in vain. True, there was one whose heart was touched with grief, Who sought to rescue, and to give relief. But single-handed what could Stockin do Against the force of such a lawless crew ? So his humanity was forced to yield, And bruised and wounded he forsook the field. Long live the mem’ry of the one who sought To save a man from death, as well he ought, And in philanthropy so nobly shown, To save a life, had nearly lost his own. Then came a few kind friends who linger’d there, And rais’d the dying man with tender care ; They led him gently to a cottage nigh, And on a couch they laid him down to die. They dressed his wounds, they bathed his fevered head. Like good Samaritans, his dying bed They soothed, and sought to mitigate his pain, By watching day and night ; but all was vain ; His wounds were mortal, and he said he knew Himself that death would speedily ensue. And so it was : two days of anguish past, In dreadful agony he breath’d his last. But ere he died, his fervent prayer arose To Heaven’s great monarch, in behalf of those * Mrs. Woodward. ) COLLECTED VERSE Whose guilty hands were in his blood imbued, For their forgiveness he humbly sued. Here ends the story of this poor man’s wrongs But solemn mockery the scene prolongs ; Our Rulers offer a reward of course : A grand display of military force Is made. The Parish where the deed was done Is for a time by sycophants o’errun. — A puerile host, they nothing did : they feared To make arrests, although the men appeared From day to day each one upon his farm, Securely trusting no one would alarm : And even if they should, they would depend On co-religionists, who would defend Their brethren to the last, defying laws Divine as well as human, for the cause Of Papal Rome, to show the world at large How Pontiff-serving men their friends discharged. Some months elapsed : at last the savage crew, Advised by priestly menials what to do, Came forth to Justice, being well assured Complete impunity would be procured, Jurors and Judges would be all their friends, And base their verdict upon selfish ends. Comrades should swear, and Advocates should plead ; Despite all evidence they should be freed, And sent triumphant over all the land As was old Cain but without his brand, To show to Protestants of every clime, Their slaughter is a virtue, not a crime. Next came the Trial, an outrageous hoax, — A well selected jury in the box, Disbanded once, empannelled all anew, The choice of Rome, to shield the wicked crew, The O’s and Mac’s were represented there, And well instructed for the vile affair. Their minds submissive to their father Priest, Received no evidence but what they wished, COLLECTED VERSE 21 Against the clearest testimony given Did they not lie before the God of Heaven ? And long before the evidence was through Express their sentiments and verdict too ? Two learned worthies overruled the joke To wink at murder, and at sin to mock, To charge the jury what to do and say, And guide their consciences in every way. But men like these, unworthy of my lay, Shall be rewarded at a future day, When God’s eternal wrath and power shall be Revealed on those who set the guilty free. And next in order learned Lawyers stood, To call good evil, and call evil good ; To baffle evidence by lying art. Sheep-face and All-wit nobly played their part, While by their side another priestly tool Ingored the truth, and proved himself a fool, Expended wit, his talents, and his time, In palliation of an awful crime. The wild, half-witted 0. was active there, A certain Doctor too must have his share Of praise ; if praise is due to one who bends To any influence, for private ends. 0 powerful Rome ! thy helping hand extend, Whene’er these gentlemen (?) may yet depend Upon thy suffrages ; when they aspire To seats in Parliament, let Priest and Friar Proclaim their virtues, all their gifts display, And get them thus returned without delay. Such men as they will never fail to vote For all that will thine interests promote. But Brown and Cameron , and all that clan, Oppose and preach against them ail you can ; For they are Protestants, and will of course Contend for equal rights without remorse. Like faithful watchmen from their prospect towers They raise their voice against aggressive powers. Exposing monkish mendicants, who ask 2 COLLECTED VERSE Incorporation Bills, for every mask Which avaricious Prelates can invent, To cloak the endowment of each Popish saint. Such men are rare, but yet a few are found, Who never shrink on Legislative ground. Unlike the poor confession-fettered souls, — The captive minds which Charbonnel controls, Such men are righteous, honest, true and just, They never can or will betray a trust. Ye free electors, when ye make your choice, Sustain such upright men with heart and voice. But Office-seekers should be all sent home, Whose aim is to enrich themselves and Rome. True to the Vatican, and naught beside. A Prelate’s smile their glory and their pride, His frown their death, destruction, and dismay, If they survive at all, ’tis to obey. Rome’s venial sinners are not first expelled, But priestly absolution is withheld Till, with a burden of unpardoned sin, The most inveterate come crouching in : Or if they still resist, as some will do, Then Purgatory blazes in their view : And those who wield the ever-potent keys Extort obedience when and where they please. But should a Drummond vote for common schools Or Cauchons overlook their Missal rules, The keen-eyed Bishop lets his thunders fall, And excommunicates them one and all. Too many deem a Bishop half divine, And sacrifice all conscience at his shrine ; Or if, by careful training, perfect grown, Some never have a conscience of their own, Most servile abjects they beneath the skies, A Bishop’s wants bring tears into their eyes, And be it stated to their lasting shame That many such are Protestants in name. But there are some, our noblest men they are, True as a magnet to the polar star. Unflinching, bold, courageous, they withstand The Horseleech cry of many a vulture band. COLLECTED VERSE 23. The Bishops when they finish their design May send the Pope of Rome their names and mine . But to proceed ; the prisoners were convened. Before the Bar, the witnesses subpoened, The lawyers quibbled, and the Judges played ,* Successive witnesses came undismayed, They told the simple tale, unawed, unmoved, Each one confirming what the other proved. The artless narrative, declared on oath, In brief distinctness, bore the marks of truth. And was in fact so uniform throughout, No honest mind could entertain a doubt That Corrigan had been a murdered man. Yet in the face of all, the verdict ran “ Not Guilty,” no, not guilty, how could one Be chargeable with what they all had done ? The man is dead, but killed by whom, and how ? This, this, and only this, the question now, For though he vanquished fell by brutal force Each one but partly wrought his death of course ; And so must all with innocence be crowned Unless the real murderer be found ! Thus spoke and taught those learned men at large ; Such doctrine is embodied in the charge Unto the jury given ; the lawyers smiled, The Judges winked, the jury was beguiled : The culprits understood the matter well ; And from the thronging mob arose the yell “ Not guilty ; no, not guilty ; bear them out ” — And at the door they raised a general shout, Then spake a mad, loquacious M. P. P. : — “Ye victors, now be generous, be free.” And rushing from the steps, the mob completes The tragedy, escorting through the streets Their worthy friends. The citizens, alarmed, Beheld the mob with flags and banners armed. The savage crew were eloquent in praise Of those who led their brethren through the maze. The Judges, Jury, Advocates, from them 24 COLLECTED VERSE Received applause, and doubtless the esteem Of such ferocious men is worth at least, And equal to the blessing of a priest ; And should be courted in all legal ways To lay the basis of historic praise : For Papal Rome has always highly prized Such services, and oft has canonized The merest scoundrels, men of blood and vice, But for the present time this must suffice. And now ye Ribbonmen, one word to you, All ye who are the Pope’s adherents true ; Whenever ye in earnestness intend To slay a Protestant, or stab a friend, Let more than one in solemn league unite, Then prosecute your project in daylight. Go, stab and kill conjointly, without fear, For Rome has found a way to set you clear. Her lawyers and her learn-ed men express That one is one, but more is something less ; And with this theory she now defends The foulest deeds of her united friends. The tragic scene is over, but we feel A sympathy for wounds we cannot heal, And see in Popery’s increasing power The dark foreboding of an evil hour ; For all her priests anticipate the day When the whole earth shall be their easy prey ; And it is sadly painful to behold Our Legislators lavish out their gold In thoughtless liberality, on those The worst of men, of liberty the foes, Whose only aim is to enslave the free, Implacable as fallen man can be. The vassals of the Pope would banish thought, And fetter intellect ; the doctrines taught By papal Rome encourage evil deeds, At which the heart of every Freeman bleeds; This statement is correct beyond dispute, COLLECTED VERSE 25 A fact which few will venture to refute, For every one that knows the truth believes “That Rome’s a den of murderers and thieves, Who spare no cruelty of fire and sword To slay the poor disciples of the Lord. Unchanged and unrelenting, Rome is still The same to persecute, the same to kill, As in the days of bloody Ferdinand When foul Inquisitors controlled the land ; When superstition held unbounded sway And thirty thousand victims fell a prey. But many demi-popish writers say That Rome is not so cruel in our clay, That she has felt the influence of the times, And long deplored her bigotry and crimes ; That she would all her former bulls retract, And even sign the Toleration Act. All this is moonshine : Rome is still the same, The same in spirit, as unchanged in name. Behold the tiger chained within his cage ! He seems so gentle, and forbears to rage ; But loose his bonds, the doors be opened wide, The savage creature slays on every side. Untamed, and now unchained, he hastes to kill, And thus develops all the tiger still. Just so the Church of Rome her rage restrains, For well she knows the limits of her chains, But could she all her former powers regain, How quickly would her fires be lit again, Her guilty hands in martyrs’ blood imbued And Saint Bartholomews each day renewed : Her sombre Priests would overrun the land, Like spectred gnomes from some infernal band. Against our Institutions, Commerce, Trade, They would enact a horrible crusade, Confiscate lands, their owners immolate, And hourly deeds of horror perpetrate. Our schools and colleges would then be turned To dens of infamy, our teachers burned, 26 COLLECTED VERSE The ministers of God would have to flee, Our Bibles would be burned as well as we,. And Literature, Learning, Science, Art, Before the moral midnight would depart And ignorant intolerance begin, To curse the earth with bigotry and sin. But in conclusion, might we not suggest That public sentiment should be exprest By placing o’er the martyr’s humble tomb, A monument, descriptive of his doom, To show to generations yet to come, Our just abhorrence of the Church of Rome r Nor do we think it would be much amiss To make th’ inscription similar to this : — R eader, whoe’er thou art that passeth here, 0 pause and drop a sympathetic tear. B eneatli the sod which by thy foot is crushed, E ntombed there rests a fellow-creature’s dust, R eminding thee that life is fleeting fast ; T hat there’s “ a time to die,” but none to waste- C ouldst thou desire to hear his tale of grief, 0 list a moment to the story brief, R obust and strong as most of men could be, R emoved from fear of sudden death was he : 1 n evil hour came those to Rome allied, G ave him the wounds of which he shortly died, A nd here he moulders in the silent tomb— N ow go in peace, and be aware of ROME. A SONG FOR TRUE ORANGEMEN Tune — “ Boyne Water ” While here from time to time we meet, We recognise each other, And in fraternity complete, Let brother cling to brother. COLLECTED VERSE Our aim is not to soar to fame, Nor soar to lofty stations, Nor to perpetuate our name To future generations. We meet, but not to foster pride, Nor envious ambition ; And so let every man abide Content with his condition. We glory in our Country’s cause, Maintaining our allegiance, And giving to all righteous laws Our true and prompt obedience. And so against aggressive powers, We shall be found protesting, And Popery shall find that ours Is union everlasting. We fear no Bishop, Pope or Priest, Nor do their Bulls alarm us, Let gratitude pervade each breast, That here they cannot harm us. And knowing what they did in France Before the Revolution, How they revoked the law of Nantes, With cruel persecution. And also what they sought to do In Ireland’s day of slaughter, When God led brave King William through Who nobly crossed Boyne Water. On these and many other acts, Too numerous to mention, But which are undisputed facts, We base our apprehension. So we unitedly repel Their insolent assailing, And in the Lodges where we dwell Are peace and love prevailing. 28 COLLECTED VERSE And Roman Catholics shall see That we will not annoy them, But we have rights as well as they, And therefore shall enjoy them. And let them also bear in mind, That we avoid offences, But he a stubborn foe may find Who first the war commences. For we are brave, but never fight, Except to save a brother ; But since our cause is good and right, We will defend each other. KANSAS: PEACE WITH ENGLAND: WAR WITH POPERY Let us, the sons of Liberty, Whose standard is the Eagle, Our freedom claim, in more than name, Let Congress not inveigle. Why should the country be alarmed By all that Franklin Pierce is ? We Northern men the day shall win, Although the South so fierce is. Let wild Missourians go on, And burn from lake to ocean, Intestine war will but prepare The Union for explosion. Foreseeing this, the President, And those with him consulting, Are grieved to find Old England kind, In spite of their insulting. For they have gone in search of war, Provoking other nations, But great John Bull is not a fool, He exercises patience. COLLECTED VERSE And so the South must stand alone, Upon its vile position, Or sink to death, beneath the breath Of Northern Abolition. For Slavery, that curse of man, Is blowing up the Senate ; And woe to those, our freedom’s foes, Who shall be found within it. Alas for Pierce ! Alas for Brooks ! Alas for Caleb Cushing ! Alas for all who slaves enthrall ! En-masse to ruin rushing. The strenuous efforts being made To introduce to Kansas The negro’s toil against free soil, The more their guilt enhances. But we have even in the North Our cotton politicians ; But such may yet enjoy the fate Of Pharaoh’s old magicians. And all good Freemen shall abide Victorious survivors, When all the knaves who own the slaves Go down with their connivers. For we’re determined to be free, In spite of all coercion ; The South shall know that we shall show The prowess of exertion. Why should New England States be made A field for negro trappers ? If slaves escape in any shape, Are we to be kidnappers ? If we obey the law of God, And give them food and raiment ? If we extend a helping hand Without reward or payment ? COLLECTED VERSE No, verily, the South may rage, And use intimidation, And make us laws ; but we will cause Their instant revocation. But if our Southern senators Determine upon fighting, Then welcome war, with fire and tar — The last they much delight in. For we would rather lose our lives Than prove ourselves inhuman ; Much sooner fight for freemen’s rights, Than capture man or woman. For Northern men are not prepared Their consciences to stifle, Though Pierce’s band go hand in hand, And Tories burn and rifle. ’Tis time that Southern men should have A moral reformation : For though they boast of freedom most, They hate Emancipation. But soon the curse of slavery Shall come to desolation : And then shall we indeed be free In more than appellation. PART II But if we must have foreign war To keep the Union steady, Then let us cope against the Pope, His troops are here already. Now let the North and South unite Against the Priests’ aggression ; But give them all the rights that fall To every man’s possession. COLLECTED VERSE But since their aim is to promote Allegiance to a stranger, Let no one think that we will shrink When FREEDOM is in danger. And so we would remind John Hughes, His Priests and their connections, That they may preach, but must not teach Rebellion at Elections. For Rome has ail along put forth Her efforts bold and daring, Her Bishops eye some era nigh For which they are preparing. For it is said that they have hid Beneath each towering steeple, Sufficient stand of arms on hand To arm the priest-led people. And therefore it shall be our part To keep them in subjection ; These noble States are ours, and we Allow no insurrection. For they would fain recall the days Of bygone persecutions, That they might wage destructive rage Against our Institutions. But chief against our Common School* They show their indignation ; And if they could we know what would Be done to Education. For they would have us on a par With Rome and its environs ; Without a school but prisons full, And multitudes in irons. COLLECTED VERSE Not only would the Bishops toll The knell of erudition, But furthermore they would restore The Holy (?) Inquisition : That their Inquisitors might check The freedom of opinion ; That all might die who would deny The right of their dominion. For cruelty and Rome must be Infallibly united ; In all the realms she overwhelms Prosperity is blighted. So let us Freemen have at heart The Union’s preservation ; From mitred Priest or Romish Beast And Popish immigration. And may this land be ever free From war and all invasions ; And Nothing Know of slave or foe In future generations. A VISIT TO MONTREAL Once in my youthful days, I chanced to pay A passing visit to a crowded town ; A Royal Mountain stood in bold array, And gave the city its impending frown. The dwellings, generally neat and clean, Displayed a due regard to taste and health, And rows of merchants’ shops that stood between. Revealed the source of its increasing wealth. But strangers never fail to mark the street, Where Banks and Offices uprear their towers ; The pavement well arranged beneath my feet, I gazed at all attractive points for hours. COLLECTED VERSE But passing westward from the noble square The Witness Office ” rose before my gaze And then I thought of him who labours there To testify against all wicked ways. ^ ir- W ^^ eSS ” *° r stands alone, His Messengers throughout the country wide H ai Se n d i S -* The good hes doin g> and has done, bhall live when he has laid his pen aside. The other Witness may indulge his wrath, Vituperation, Insolence and Gall ; But like the man that came of old from Gath, This great Goliah of the Priests must fall. For sin and error shall not always reign ; Soon shall the long predicted era come, When truth and love shall universal gain Entire ascendancy o’er fallen Rome. But to proceed ; the great Cathedral caught i r e ^ es> as Siting doors it stood ; And full resolved to see the Faithful (?) taught, 1 entered there in solemn, sober mood. Nor did I enter there alone, a band, Yea more, a multitude was pouring in, And each in holy water dipped a hand, And looked as grave as if it cleansed from sin. Then passing up the spacious aisle, I gazed In silent wonder at the dazzling sight. I could not see the use of such a blaze. But soon I learned they called it holy light. I always thought that tapers were designed T illuminate the gloomy hours of night, But Rome with other follies has combined Th absurdity of adding to daylight. *’ ^hou shalt not bow to idol gods the knee,” Spake the Eternal, while His thunders roared. Is this an idol temple ? Can it be That idols are in Christian lands adored ? C 33 84 COLLECTED VERSE Such were the thoughts that rushed upon my mind, While in the so-called Christian house of prayer. How did my inward spirit grieve to find Idolatry in pristine glory there. For round about the lofty walls appeared An host of images and painted saints, And whether God was worshipped or revered, The Virgin was adored at all events. A gilded crucifix upon the Altar stood , And seemed designed to aid devotion s tide , The worshippers in humble attitude Adored the Cross, instead of Him who died. 0 vile apostacy ! when forms and rites Are made to take the place of holy love, And it is thought that sordid gold incites T>Avotion’s flame to rise to heaven above. Such thoughts were interrupted by a bell Which rung, and accurately tolled the time ; Then came a priestly menial to tell Us all to kneel, for standing was a crime. I cast a glance around a seat to find, And shuddered at the thought of such a sin. And with companions of a kindred mind, I found a vacant pew and sat therein. For we were Protestants and could not kneel , For who would bow before an idol shrine ? We knew, we felt, and trust shall ever feel That God alone our Maker is divine. Perhaps they thought us heretics, and were With pious zeal resolved to set us right, But God’s true worshippers can never dare With the idolatries of Rome unite. Next came the Preacher with his shaven crown, He seemed as if prepared to teach by charms : Was he a Spanish monk or Maynooth clown ? Or was he nurtured in old Pio’s arms ? COLLECTED VERSE 85 That he was foreign any one could tell, His tone, his accent, banished every doubt, But he performed his evolutions wel*l, And taught his flock by turning round about. Five simple words, when understood by all, By far exceed ten thousand undefined. So thought the great, the wise apostle Paul ; Apostate Rome has otherwise designed. For where the Powers of Antichrist prevail, They keep the Bible from the labouring class, But they delight to make the million quail Before the nonsense of a Latin Mass. We mused a moment on the various ways In which the nations have been long deceived, The mummeries which Papal Rome displays, And left the place, unedified and grieved. THE FARCE AT HOBOKEN : Kirwan Disturbs the Bones of St. Quietus Ye pious Roman Catholics, Approach with awe ; behold, adore : While Bishop Baily will produce His new discovered relic store ; And bless the day of Holy light, That brings St. Quietus’ bones to sight. ’Tis Sabbath morn ; a balmy breeze Sweeps gently o’er Hoboken’s plains, But on the day of sacred rest, The air is rent with martial strains ; For lo ! a Romish farce is wrought, And God’s commandment set at nought. COLLECTED VERSE The incidental facts are these ; — The simple narrative is brief, — A Romish chapel is in debt, And to the Priests a source of grief. But their ingenious minds are set On plans to liquidate the debt. The Newark Bishop comes along, Chief actor in the great event, And in a brilliant casket bears The precious relics of a saint. The masses hasten to the gaze, And each his quarter-dollar pays. Alas that millions should be led, The willing dupes of priestly guile, To desecrate the day of God, His so-called temple to defile With dead men’s bones, and rites untold — And all for gain in paltry gold. Behold the puny set of bones In grand procession borne along ; Inaugurated midst the pomp Of Holy (?) mass and solemn song ; And then in mystic order laid Among the ranks of holy dead. But who was he ? inquirers ask : Let all such impious thoughts be hushed. Enough to hear the Bishop say It is his genuine, sacred dust. And though he cannot tell you where He lived or died, his bones are there. But when the Bishop’s end is gained, And cash is poured into the box, He’ll smile to find how well he played His part in the successful hoax ; Then blush to think how low he stooped. To have his flock completely duped. COLLECTED VERSE 37 And when the solemn farce is o’er, St. Quietus shall in silence lie, To grace some consecrated niche, No more to meet the public eye, Unless recalled in future days To rule a fete, or “ make a raise.” But should occasion yet require, Another saint shall soon be found, To swell the pile of holy things, (?) And gather devotees around. The tomb resources ever meet The fresh demands of every cheat. For all the Catacombs are full Of bones of each convenient size, And when Tradition finds a name, The Pope and Priest will canonize, And curse the heretic that dares Reject the new-made saint of theirs. But should his home resources fail, Let Bishop Baily quell his fears ; Exhaustless Rome will yet supply The skeletons of bygone years ; For Pio in his stock on hand, Will find a saint for each demand. But though he is infallible, The old decrepit man forgets, And in his eagerness to please, He often labels double sets.* But then of course the holy ones Were all possessed of double bones. * A slight Mistake-Miracle of Multiplication. — In return for the splendid present sent by the Queen of Spain to the Pope, his holiness sent her the skeleton of St. Felix the Martyr. The value of the gift has, however, been somewhat diminished since it has been discovered that Spain has already two veritable skeletons of the same saint ! — Ex- tract from Canada Evangelist . COLLECTED VERSE But Kirwan and his faithless crew, Who dare such fallacy expose, The Bishops doubtless will denounce As Pio’s most malignant foes ; But though the Pope himself should curse, Shall Kirwan be one whit the worse ? The powers of Antichrist may frown, Anathemas, and curses roar, But Rome shall shortly be destroyed, And men shall be deceived no more. Then Truth and Righteousness shall reign O’er Superstition’s wide domain. Hoboken ! may thy nights be clear, And Newark ! luminous thy tombs, That the deceiver may descry The bony treasures he exhumes ; That he may see to ply his spade At his resuscitating trade. But should some learned bishop say That they are sent direct from heaven, Or brought by angel bands from Rome, Implicit credit must be given ; And woe to him who disobeys, Or doubts the truth of what lie says. Who would not scorn the meanest wretch, Who should attempt the same deceit ; And why should mitred charlatans Exult in success so complete ; And with renewed tricks, secure The scanty earnings of the poor ?* * Father Chiniquy, well known in Canada, has accused his Bishop of “ iniquity ” and “ tyranny,” has compared him to “ Judas Iscariot ” and “ the impious Ahab,” and his fellow priests to “ dogs,” and declares him more expert in the art of pocketing money than in his clerical duties. “ Yet Father Chiniquy has taught his people to see God in the Pope, the Pope in the Bishop and priest ; and therefore according to his own principles, he is opposing God.” This is nearly equal to one Pope’s excommunicating another. COLLECTED VERSE 89 Ye Freemen wake to common sense, Assert your liberty ; be free : And with united hearts renounce The high demands of Popery. Now let Americans unite, To bless the world with Bible light. The Pope and Priest may rule and reign, A few more days or years at most, Till in the day of righteous wrath, The mystery of sin be lost. When God to desolation brings The merchandise of holy things. Go read the Revelations, ye Who doubt the guilt of Papal Rome ; And in that sacred volume see The prophecies of wrath to come When Babylon the Great shall fall, And shall be found no more at ail. The Anti-christian Beast may rage, And to his inmost cell retire ; But Power Divine shall fetch him thence. To judge him in His righteous ire ; For though He seems to tarry long, God shall avenge His people’s wrong. Then shall the truths of Holy Writ Be known, and read from shore to shore. And earth rejoice in freedom’s light, When Priests and Relics are no more ; Then truth, and love, and Gospel light Shall chase the gloom of Papal night. COLLECTED VERSE TRANSUBSTANTIATION VERSUS COMMON SENSE A Tale A lady liv’d — no matter where, Provided that my tale be true, Of noble lineage, young and fair, A Protestant, and wealthy too : Betrothed to one whose every hope Of heaven was centred in the Pope. An earnest Lutheran was she, A rigid Romanist was he. At length he brought the parish Priest, Who sought to have her views reform’d ; But she recanted not the least, For she was very well inform’d ; And though the Priest from day to day Was teaching her the better (?) way, Yet common sense with hers prevail’d, And all his elocution fail’d. The lady was no easy prey, Rejecting all the arts employed, She loved the good old Bible way, At which the Priest was much annoyed; At length the wily friar thought To have his victim fairly caught, For he should wield with high command His Transubstantiating hand. The lady gave assent, but said With all benign and due respect, That she herself would find the bread : — Of course the Priest could not object, But ere with mutual consent, The lady to her baking went, They fixed the time, the day, the hour, V hen he was to exert his power. COLLECTED VERSE They met around the holy (?) feast, The elements were all arranged, We bless the bread,’ * rejoined the Priest, “ And it is all divinely changed.” And is it really so ? ” inquired The sceptic lady ; who desired To see the miracle take place, Before she finished Rome’s disgrace. “ Oh yes, it is indeed,” he said, “Be it distinctly understood This wafer is no longer bread, But Jesus Christ, His Body, Blood.* Divinity and Soul complete, Hie corpus meum , take and eat, For Jesus when He blessed the bread, ‘ This is my body,’ plainly said.” The lady answered undismayed, The more convinc’d of the deceit ; “If it be truth that you have said, You need not hesitate to eat ; But for my part I’m much afraid To taste the wafer I have made : For after all your Latin prayer, There’s deadly poison lurking there.” Th’ intended husband quickly saw How Transubstantiation failed ; The whole assembly, struck with awe, Eyed the Confessor while he quailed Beneath that righteous woman’s eye, As pale as if about to die ; But in the midst of all pretence He gave the sway to common sense. * “ And it has always been the faith of the true Church that immedi- ately on the consecration the true body and the true blood of our Lord Jesus Christ are, together with his soul and his divine nature, present under the form of the bread and wine.” — Council of Trent, sixth article. 42 COLLECTED VERSE For he himself did not believe The “ lying wonders ” that he taught, And in his efforts to deceive Was ever mortal better caught ? From sudden death the Popish elf Had wit enough to save himself, But in a foul deceiver’s name He found his infamy and shame. Ye Roman Catholics attend The gracious and the heavenly call, And trust in Christ, the sinner’s friend, Who freely gave Himself for all : The Mass for Sin can not atone, But Jesus Christ, and He alone, The only Sacrifice for Sin, Your love and confidence should win. BEDINI’S VISIT TO AMERICA T here is an ancient Hermit among the Roman hills, H e seems to be determined to conquer human wills, E xpecting no one to oppose, but all to bear his ills. P oor old decrepid creature, how strong is his desire 0 n earth to reign supremely through Bishop, Priest and Friar. P ride, sin, and arrogance in him infallibly complete, E arth’s monarchs he would have to cringe like vassals at his feet. Could the Pontiff of Rome have his wishes fulfill’d The Inquisition would flourish, and Protestants burn, But the cup of iniquity soon will be filled, And the ages of darkness shall never return ; For the blood of the saints has long deluged the earth, The martyrs of Jesus for vengeance do call, The Lord shall arise in the day of His wrath. And doomed to perdition shall Antichrist fall. COLLECTED VERSE 43 Great Babylon, drunk with the blood of the saints, Shall receive the reward of her manifold crimes. The Lord is preparing important events, As we can perceive by the signs of the times, For the world is aware there is trouble in Rome, The day of the Lord, which approaches each hour, We believe to be nigh, for her terrible doom Is as clearly revealed as her progress and power. And now that the Vatican’s getting too small, And the Son of Perdition is trembling with fear He makes an attempt to enslave and enthrall America too ; and be sovereign here. So he sent us a Nuncio named Bedim , Who came in disguise, as a traitor could do, But soon we discovered ’twas he who had skinned Hugo Bcissi alive, so we bade him adieu.* It seems that his Holiness (?) thought that the Union Would acknowledge Bedini and forward his cause. But we let him return to inform Pio Nono We should never submit to canonical laws. He had come with great pomp, but departing in sorrow, Left the Bishops in tears, and the Priests without hope, His unsanctified soul was o’erwhelm-ed with horror When he found we rejected the claims of the Pope. Ashamed of himself, and much more of his mission, And stung to the heart at his failure complete, The world never heard a more doleful confession Than he made to the Pope while he knelt at his feet. It was said that he wept, and ’twas scarcely a wonder That his Catholic (?) soul should be rent with alarms, But his holiness thought the infallible blunder Might yet be corrected by valour of arms. * “ The butcher Bedini was sent out as his representative to America. The blood of Hugo Bassi, and of a host of noble patriots, the slow martyrdom and agonies of many a liberal and high-minded youth, now rotting in the dungeons of Rome, and finally, the late revival of all the terrors of the infamous Inquisition, sufficiently point out Pio Nono as a relentless tyrant .” — Montreal Witness. 44 COLLECTED VERSE So he sent an infallible Bull of instructions To a man in New York and the rest of his clan, Who now faithfully seek to control the Elections And return Popish members wherever they can. ’Tis chiefly by stratagems that he succeeds : Grim hosts of deceivers are ever at hand, And by skilful manoeuvres and treacherous deeds His agents are active in every land. For the Romish Hierarchy knows no allegiance But what is sworn to the Pontiff while kissing his toe, And the masses instructed in passive obedience Will follow the Priesthood wherever they go. These things have too long been regarded as trifles, Till they’ve almost obtained a supremacy here, But now we’ll oppose, without cannon or rifles ; The Know Nothing army will check their career. FATHER MCDONALD AND THE SCOTTISH YOUTH A Tale about Purgatory Fair Scotia rears her mighty hills Where clans were wont to rally In days of yore, when Druid lore Was echoed through each valley. The land where Bruce and Wallace bled, (Were heroes ever bolder ?) The land of brooks and sturdy oaks, And rocks that never moulder. Land of the Thistle and the Lark, And mountains clothed with heather, Land of no slave, but where the brave Unconquered dwell together. Land of our father’s sepulchres — Fond fancy loves t’unravel The great events which memory paints, Where Queens delight to travel. COLLECTED VERSE We might relate a thousand facts Of Scottish resolution, But now we tell no thrilling tale Of bloody persecution. But we relate a story brief, About a Romish friar, How he essayed to cheat a lad, And how he proved a liar. A Scottish youth had gone abroad, To scenes of hardship hurried, Years rolling round, returned, he found His father dead and buried. The priest apprised of his return, He hastened to condole him, And brought the comforts of the church , On purpose to console him. The friar said 4 4 My worthy lad, Your father was anointed With holy oil, but all this while He's sadly disappointed. 44 Your father was a pious man, But we are very sorry To have to say, that such as he Is still in Purgatory. 44 He paid us well, and we have prayed, For we would not deceive him, But yet alas ! another mass Is needed to relieve him. 44 For after all the prayers we’ve said, To have his soul retriev-ed, Tis sad to think, while on the brink His toes are not reliev-ed. 44 And now, my lad, if you have aught, You’d better see about it, If cash be given, he’ll go to heaven, He cannot do without it.” COLLECTED VERSE “ Oh, sir,” replied the youth, while he Did in his heart disdain him, “ If father’s out, without a doubt His toes will not detain him.”* APPEAL TO THE FREEMEN OF AMERICA Tune — “ Caledonia ” Children of the Pilgrim Band, Who came over to this land, Suffering nobly, hand in hand, In a righteous cause. Poor, afflicted and disdained, They the loss of all sustained, While your freedom they obtained, And the world’s applause. Did your fathers come by stealth ? Did they seek for hidden wealth ? Sought they undecaying health As their great reward ? No, the Pilgrim Fathers were Men of holiness and prayer, Forced to seek a refuge, where They might serve the Lord. Much they suffered here below ; Ye their trials fully know, Forced to foreign lands to go, Struggling to be free. Prelates in an evil hour Sought to exercise their power, Nonconformists to devour, With bloody cruelty. * However ridiculous the above may appear, it is certainly not more so than many incidents recorded in “ McGavin’s Protestant.*’ The man’s name was Anthony MacDonald, Priest of the Parish of Small Isles, Scotland. COLLECTED VERSE Then a noble Band, and free, Braved the dangers of the sea, Firmly they resolved to be Spiritual slaves to none. Left the Bishops and their slaves, Crossed the great Atlantic waves, Trusting in the Lord who saves And protects His own. Landed safe on Plymouth Rock, Thus an aged Pilgrim spoke ; ‘‘Now we’re free from every yoke, On a foreign shore ; God the giver of all good, Our defence in dangers stood : He will now provide our food, Him let us adore.” When upon the barren sand Knelt that persecuted band, God was pleas-ed to command His blessing there to rest. They, exiled to foreign parts, Felt the joy His grace imparts : Jesus makes believers’ hearts Joyous though distressed. Did your Fathers thus employ All their efforts to enjoy Freedom , and shall Rome destroy Freedom’s bulwark here ? No. Their sons resolved to Know Nothing , but their freedom. Go Arm in arm to meet the foe, Without thought of fear. Children of such noble sires Wake up ! Wake up ! it requires Courage to oppose the Friars — Freedom’s deadly foes. COLLECTED VERSE Vassals of a foreign power, Seeking whom they may devour, “ Now’s the day, and now’s the hour,”' Their inroads to oppose. Men of energy and might, Peaceful, yet resolved to fight In the cause of truth and right, Firmly take your stand. This the doctrine ye should teach, Equal rights for all, for each : Priests and Bishops ought to preach. Not to rule the land. Go ye forth then to protect The equal rights of every sect, Stand prepared in this respect, For whate’er revolves : While undaunted forth ye go Never persecute a foe, Let the Priests and Bishops know Ye are not the wolves. If you think ’tis too severe Thus to represent them here, Go to Rome where they appear In their colours true : See the oppressive tyranny, See the abject misery, Fruits of Popish villainy Deeds of darkest hue. Go to Erin’s ruined Isle, See the fruits of priestly toil, Death, confusion, and turmoil, Renew-ed every day. Fertile fields in ruin see, Multitudes in beggary, All because that Popery Has unbounded sway. COLLECTED VERSE Turn to Lower Canada Where the Clergy rule the day, See how rigorously they Drain the public purse, To endow each Popish saint Through a yielding Parliament ; They the wealth that God has sent Change into a curse. Ever withering far and wide Are th’ effects of Popish pride, It can never be denied, But ’tis always so ; For there never was a land Where the Priests had sole command But was filled on every hand With misery and woe. If you do not now prevail Over those whom you assail, Days may come when you will quail At their wolfish howl : Your noble institutions then, Which produce such worthy men, Shall be each a Dragon’s den Full of Friars foul. They’ll oppose your Common Schools, They’ll pronounce your teachers fools, And enjoin on all the rules Of the Popish way ; Then will all have to confess, And the Priest will never bless With forgiveness, unless There is cash to pay. Where a kingdom is enslaved To a system so depraved, Ichabod is then engraved On its very soul. D COLLECTED VERSE The fairest land beneath the skies Never can to affluence rise, Wealthy beggars in disguise, Priests devour the whole. Oh ! the sorrows of the day Should this land become their prey Knowledge then would flee away, Days of woe begin. Then would ignorance extend To the land’s remotest end, Modern Tetzels yet may vend Indulgences for sin. Then shall Protestants expire ’Neath the rage of Popish fire, If these bloody men acquire All the power they seek. Nothing else need you expect If your freedom you reject, Fost’ring such a wicked sect, Seem they e’er so meek. Then must all obey the Priest, From the greatest to the least, Giving glory to the Beast, The Beast that was and is. But his reign shall end below, For the Scriptures fully show He shall to perdition go — Then shall trouble cease. Then the church shall be restored, And the people of the Lord Shall exult with one accord In their songs of praise. Superstition s reign shall cease, Many prisoners find release, And the earth be filled with peace In the latter days. COLLECTED VERSE 51 THE RUNAWAY SLAVE A Tale “ Ho ! hunters, here’s a job for you ! A young mulatto lady Has run away ; ye must pursue — So get your horses ready. “ She fled before the break of day And left her all behind her ; I calculate she’s gone that way, Your dogs will surely find her. “ If she should gain the Under Ground , To Canada they’ll send her ; I wonder where she can be found — What trifles did offend her ! “ ’Tis true, I sold her only child, And this has sadly grieved her ; But I was merciful and mild, And thought I had relieved her. “ And when she laid him last to rest, How fondly did she kiss him ; But he was such a little pest I thought she’d never miss him. “ So when the Negro-trader came, His lawful trade pursuing, I thought it neither sin nor shame To do as all are doing. “ For you’re aware we all allow A negro is a chattel, And so we buy and sell him too As Britons do their cattle. 52 COLLECTED VERSE “ But when she found her child was gone She made a deal of bother ; I really never thought till then That she was such a mother. n I never saw such agony, Nor heard such lamentation, But you must bring her back to me — She’s worth my whole plantation. “ And when you overtake the gal , Don’t let the dogs abuse her ; I can afford to pay you well, But can’t afford to lose her.” The hunters brought their horses out To seek the missing booty, Pursued their way with yell and shout. And Congress called it duty. They plung’d their steeds through mire and mud, Determin’d to reclaim her, Their dogs advancing far ahead, They found and overcame her. How long they fought, no tongue can tell, But she was overpower-ed, And there the feeble creature fell By savage dogs devour-ed. And ere their masters come in sight All animation ceases, The dogs in their extreme delight Have torn the slave to pieces ! Ye northern freemen ! wake to wrath At this narration awful, An injured woman bit to death, While the Congress makes it lawful ! COLLECTED VERSE 53 But do ye not regard with awe The words that God hath spoken ? His righteous and His higher law By Congress proudly broken. The wrath of God may yet descend And strike His foes with terror, And show slaveholders in the end Their folly and their error. In the Montreal Gazette of November, 1856, a letter appeared copied from an American paper, written by an Alabama Clergyman, of which the following is an extract : “ God has permitted the anti-slavery men in the North, in Eng- land, in France, and everywhere, so to blind themselves in hypocrisy as to give the southern slaveholder his last perfect triumph over them. For God tells the planter to say to the North, to England, to France, to all who buy cotton, “Ye men of Boston, New York, London, Paris — ye hypocrites — ye brand me as a pirate, a kidnapper, a murderer, a demon, fit only for hell — and yet, ye buy my blood- stained cotton. O ! ye hypocrites ! Ye Boston hypocrites — why don’t you throw the cotton into the sea, as your fathers did the tea. Ye Boston hypocrites — ye say, if we had been born in the days of our fathers we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the slave trade. Wherefore ye be witnesses unto your- selves, that ye are the children of them who in fact, kidnapped, and bought in blood, and sold the slave in America ! For, now ye hypocrites — ye buy the blood-stained cotton in quantities so im- mense, that ye have run up the price of slaves to be more than a thousand dollars, the average, of old and young ! 0 ! ye hypocrites — ye denounce slavery, then ye bid it live, and not die, in that ye buy sugar, rice, tobacco, and above all, cotton ! Ye hypocrites— ye abuse the devil, and then fall down and worship him ! Ye hypocrites — ye New England hypocrites — ye old England hypocrites — ye French hypocrites — ye Uncle Tom’s Cabin hypocrites— ye Beecher hypocrites — ye Rhode Island Consociation hypocrites. O ! your holy twaddle stinks in the nostrils of God, and He com- mands me to lash you with my scorn, and His scorn so long as yo gabble about the sin of slavery, and then bow down to me, and buy and spin cotton — and thus work for me as truly as my slaves 0 ! ye fools and blind— fill ye up the measure of your folly and u 54 COLLECTED VERSE blindness, and shame. And this ye are doing. Ye have, like the French infidels, made reason your goddess, and are exalting her above the Bible. And in your unitarianism and neology and all modes of infidelity, ye are rejecting and crucifying the Son of God. “ Now, my brother, this controlling slave power is a world- wide fact. Its statistics of bales counts by millions. Its tonnage counts by hundreds of thousands. Its manufacture is reckoned by the workshops of America and Europe. Its supporters are numbered by all who must be clothed in the world. This tremendous power has been developed in great measure by the abolition agitation controlled by God. I believe, then, as I have already said — that God intends one of two things. He either intends to destroy the United States by this slave power — or He intends to bless my country and the world by the unfoldings of His wisdom in this matter. I believe He will bless the world in the working out of this slavery. I rejoice, then, in the agitation which has so resulted, and will so terminate, to reveal the Bible, and bless mankind. Your affectionate friend, “ F. A. Ross.” TO F. A. ROSS, D.D., HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA Right Reverend Sir ! what mighty wrath, And wond’rous light to thee is given, That thou canst thus distinctly state The great and wise designs of Heaven ? Astride upon thy “ cotton throne,” Abuse and slander all mankind, And pour a flood of malice forth, To ease thy dark, deluded mind. Preach Slavery, a boon to man, O’er which Eternal Love presides, Let “ Curs’d be Canaan ” be the text, And say thy god “ ordains ” cowhides. Perhaps he does ; you must adore Some Golden Calf, or Moloch elf, Ideal Balaam, or perchance Some “ cotton-Dagon ” like thyself. 55 COLLECTED VERSE But dost thou really think that we Oppose the Bible and the Creed, If we shall not slave-holders be ? What kind of Bible dost thou read ? Or wouldst thou hear a part of ours, Which doth all selfishness condemn ; “ And as ye would that men should do To you, be sure you do to them.” Go, read that passage, Reverend Sir, Thou cruel as the yawning grave : Go square thy conduct by that rule, And at thy peril own a slave. 0 cruel Ross ! dost thou presume To say the poor oppress-ed blacks Are beasts of burden, made by God To bear thy burdens on their backs ? Blasphemous Ross ! how canst thou dare Insult thy Maker to His face, Sustain a most inhuman law, And charge “ decrees ” with thy disgrace ? A Frenchman in a tempest caught, While thunders rolled, and lightnings shone* Addressed his Maker ; “ Cease thy storm, Or I will shoot thee on thy throne.” Jehovah heard the blasphemy, Which rose amid the thunder’s roar, A moment’s pause — another flash — The man was dead ! he spake no more ! Take warning, Ross ! take warning all Ye Bonnies of the southern States, Who glory in your Cotton trade. And charge our God with what He hates* Go on ! enslave thy fellow-man, Go, buy and sell him — bring him low ; Enrich thyself with unpaid toil, And say that God would have it so. w 56 COLLECTED VERSE And deprecate all those who doubt As “ hypocrites ” and “ twaddle stink It was from some Missourian You learned that pretty word, I think. Indignant Ross ! if thou hast been To that dark place where demons dwell In search of fou] and angry words, In truth thou hast succeeded well. Were we to judge thee by thy speech. Or by the foaming of thine ire, we “ 8 uess ” thy thoughts were forged Where human tongues are. set on fire. Do we “ abuse the devil ” when wrongs of slavery we tell ? Now, sir, I always did suspect The Institution was from Hell. Audacious Ross ! resume thy pen, a ^ rov ® sl ^ ves a boon to thee and thine : And wilt thou tell us in thy next Legree ” and “ Gordon ” were divine ? k THE DRUNKEN BEAR ; A TEMPERANCE TALE (Founded on Fact) A. savage Bear of mighty form, A sad voracious glutton, Who oft through hours of’ mighty storm Devour’d his stolen muttoni COLLECTED VERSE For it appears he never thought To do an honest action : Of all the arts which nature taught He only learned Subtraction ; But though this creature had received buch limited instruction, The angry farmers soon perceived That he could teach Reduction. At length one farmer (injured man !) Against his deeds protested, Devising many a curious plan To have the brute arrested. In vain was laid the well-spring’d gun, ^ In vain the poison’d mixtures ; For Bruin thought it best to shun All kinds of dang’rous fixtures. So when much time was spent in vain, Nor trap nor snare could catch him ’ The farmer counsell’d with his men, And they resolv’d to watch him. ’ The farmer said : “ Such doings can No longer be endur-ed : So let us try some better plan To have the thief secur-ed. “ We’U make a ‘ mess ’ of meal and grog Well sweetened with molasses, And place it in a hollow’d log Along the way he passes. “ And you, my lads, will watch all night With muskets ever ready, And when the creature comes in sight Be sure your aim is steady.” COLLECTED VERSE His servants heard his wise advice And hasten’d to obey him, They thought the bear would be so “ nice If they could only slay him. And so they made a clean, new trough To hold the preparation, And then retired a short way off, And all was expectation. For several nights they watch’d in vain Without a sight of Bruin, For Bears avoid designing men Who only seek their ruin. And then ’tis one of nature’s laws (What other laws are stronger ?) That extra watching doth dispose The human frame to hunger. So one cold night the weary men Partook of Bruin’s toddy ; For drunkards ever will maintain That liquor warms the body. They liked the food, but they surpassed The bounds of moderation ; And so they laid them down at last In quiet intoxication. Then Bruin came instinctively, And found the mess delightful ; The sleeping hunters could not see Their own condition frightful. But when the Bear had far-ed well The world grew dark about him, And there the drunken creature fell, And there the farmer found him. For when day-light had fairly shone, Nor hunters had appear-ed, The farmer went, but ’tis unknown How much he felt or fear-ed. COLLECTED VERSE But who can judge of his alarm When on the ground he spied them With Bruin’s dark majestic form Extended close beside them. He seized a gun, dispatched the bear ; His death will end the story ; He roused the men, who rose to share Their portion of the glory. FATHER BONNIE’S ADDRESS TO HIS ASSOCIATE AT THE INAUGURATION OF BUCHANAN (See “ The Result ” ; “ Dred.”) B low ye the “ Trumpet of Liberty,” blow ! U mon is strength, and Buchanan is in C ount ye the price of your “ niggers ” ; ye know H eaven sanctions the trade and it cannot be sin • A nd ye, my brave comrades, be ready for war ’ N ow let us all unto Kansas repair, A nd treat the Free-soilers to feathers and tar : N ew England Fremonters may die of despair. got « tta"iS5. the “ N<>rll “ , " if I could Another B lood-hounds may run four years at least U pon the trail of the oppressed, c owhides in human blood be tann’d, H igh-pressure slave laws hourly plann’d ; A re we not free to do our will ? H ow Father Dickson you be still, A s God did slavery “ ordain,’ * N ay more, kt enjoin,” it must remain. 60 COLLECTED VERSE PETER AND PAUL The following lines were occasioned by a discussion which took place at a Young Men’s Christian Association, as to whether Peter or Paul was the greater Apostle : I don’t expect to make a speech, Much less do I intend to preach ; But to be plainly understood I must pronounce the essay good. On one great point I clearly see The essayist and I agree ; And though the rest should differ wide, We will support it side by side, Because it is our firm belief That Paul has always been the chief, And if there ever was a greater, We hardly think that it was Peter. Paul travelled much from clime to clime. Accomplished more in much less time ; If usefulness will be the test He’ll take the palm from all the rest ; He did more good, and wrote much more T’ instinct the church till time be o’er : Can Peter be compared to such ? He did much good, but not so much. But what’s the use of making speeches ? Just hearken to what Scripture teaches. Come take this Book, and there you’ll see Who laboured most abundantly. ’Twas Peter, was it ? no, ’twas Paul, Who laboured much more than they all. Divinely taught, as all will own, He made the gospel fully known ; Conferring not with flesh and blood, He went commissioned by his God, COLLECTED VERSE The choice of Heaven, sent to proclaim Salvation through Emanuel’s name To each far land and distant shore, Where Christ was never named before. Possessed of a superior mind, He left the others far behind ; Accomplished great and glorious things, And preached the gospel even to kings'; The great philosophers confuted, And in Tyranus’ school disputed ; Confounded Judaizing teachers, And all the circumcision preachers. Instant in preaching and in prayer, The Churches were his daily care ; Appointed Bishops to conduct them, And wrote epistles to instruct them. Aspiring not to worldly fame, To all men all things he became : Philanthropy and zeal combined, Made him the brother of mankind. He sought his fellow-creature’s good, Resisting even unto blood. Unwearied in his Master’s cause, This greatest man that ever was, Enjoyed the brightest smiles of Heaven, Had visions of bright glory given, Caught up by God to Paradise, He saw his Saviour in the skies ; His soul enraptured at the sight Saw visions of eternal light. Yet such an humble mind was his He gloried in infirmities ; “ I °are not what I am,” says he, That Christ s own power may rest on me.” Thus scorning all distress and pain, To live was Christ, to die was gain ; He counted all his gains but loss Compared with Jesus and his cross. But time would fail to tell you all The wonders of the apostle Paul ; COLLECTED VERSE Enough to say that when he died No mortal man his place supplied. The Church of God sustained a loss When fell this champion of the cross ; He was, as some historians say, Beheaded near the Appian way, For bloody Nero rul-ed then, And put to death the best of men. Much like the Popes of modern times, This was a tyrant steeped in crimes, Their prototype at all events, In persecuting of the saints, For which the Catholics display Such aptitude, that one might say That Nero must have given the rules Bv which they guide their training schools, For Priests who (if they had the power) Would all the Protestants devour. Grant them but this, and then you’ll see They will revive th’ Auto-da-fe ; Then would our Legislators learn That they must soon recant or burn. And I am quite surprised to find Our Legislators grown so blind, As to supply with eager hands Their most exorbitant demands, Endowment bills, both great and small, Lands, cash, cathedral bills and all — In short whate’er is lost or gained The Bomish Priesthood is maintained. But lest they force me to confession, I must return from this digression, And say that mortals cannot trace The glories of the heavenly place, Where Jesus reigns supremely high, And wipes all tears from every eye. No eye hath seen, no tongue can tell Of joys that are unspeakable, Which are in heaven reserved for all Who follow Jesus as did Paul. COLLECTED VERSE 63 A WILL CASE Mr' WHli? wh^too'rf ?r° li T n StateS that celebrated case of rf v! ’ Y , took a coloure d woman to Ohio, freed her and bequeathed to her and her children (who were also Ws Si) aU &il 0Pe S^ll " th C r ar0l r.', haS iust been decided bridge U iNeil. The will was set aside Montreal Witness. ™mK , B“ob“™ d iad8 * ** '«»»-. wklte (5ee a similar case, Chap. 8th, Vol. 2 Deed.) ° ! !? er children are orphans, The Will that her late husband gave her Is worthless as vapour, the merest blank paper: We found it our duty to “ shave her” y° In this land of freedom, as in that of Edom, io plunder we deem no transgression. The Arab marauder may lurk in the desert, A robber beyond contradiction, But we do the matter much neater, much better, -By virtue of lawful conviction. Congressional wisdom, as centred in Filmore, Has found out a patent invention, By which all our “ niggers ” are made slaves and beggars Most worthy Buchanan’s attention. gg > N Q, mktt ? r j 10W wealthy the lady in question, one 11 find to her indigent sorrow T 7 we have decided the “ made and provided,” »he s just like a mule in the furrow.” Equal rights, law and order, have lately attain-ed I he zenith of glory in trio, Our soul-driving hunters have baffled Fremonters, And we are at war with Ohio. i 64 COLLECTED VERSE Hurrah for the Union ! Buchanan’s elected, And Brooks with his canes and revolver ; * Bad luck to the Beechers , those marvellous preachers, Who constantly seek to dissolve her. Messrs. Titmarch and Gordon , with Cushing and Jekyl, Such men are our diligent toilers ; The dogs of Missouri may lend them their fury In fully out-rooting free-soilers. But all Father Dicksons are certainly crazy ; Claytonian measures we shield not, We trample their feelings who vote for repealings ; We’ll trample themselves if they yield not. Hurrah ! for the Union ; hurrah ! for Buchanan, Hurrah ! for the system we cherish ! The cowhide shall flourish while cotton we nourish, But poor Mrs. Willis may perish. WE WILL PUBLISH THE BIBLE A Bible Society Hymn How important that all should be found with delight “ Coming up to the help of the Lord,” If union is strength, let us firmly unite In our efforts to publish His Word. And while we assemble in unity so, Let divisions and isms disappear ; And what an encouragement is it to know That none can imprison us here. Let the grateful emotion each spirit inspire, That we do not with Tuscany cope ; We fear not the scoff of the infidel’s ire, We dread not the wrath of the Pope. * Preston S. Brooks has lately been presented with 17 canes, ft revolver, and a cowhide . — Montreal Witness. COLLECTED VERSE To the humble Madai who suffered so much Are Protestant sympathies given, A nd the Scriptures assure us that blessed are such hor theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Our hands should be strong, and our hearts should be brave. While forth with the Bible we go, Ami here are a few of the reasons we have, For uniting our energies so. We will publish the Bible, because it reveals I hat holy ineffable Name, Whose glorious presence immensity fills, For ever and ever the same. We will publish the Bible, it teaches that Man Disobeyed his Creator and fell : From that sorrowful moment the sinner became An heir of destruction and hell. We will publish the Bible, because it declares How Jesus came down to deliver The lost and the perishing, making them heirs Of celestial glory for ever. We will publish the Bible : the Spirit of Truth Is so clearly reveal-ed therein, By whose operations the world is convinced Of righteousness, judgment, and sin. We will publish the Bible : it teaches that any Believer to Jesus may pray ; But the Romanists supplicate advocates many, By their spiritual guides led astray. We will publish the Bible : in spite of the laws Of the man of perdition and sin ; The whole Romish Priesthood reject it because They are clearly denounc-ed therein. We will publish the Bible, though Catholics rage And seek the blest Book to destroy ; The hearts of believers in every age It has filled with unspeakable joy. £ u 66 COLLECTED VERSE We will publish the Bible : the Bible our Creed, And that without comment or note ; We will leave all Tradition to those who may need Such instructions to keep them afloat. We will publish the Bible in every land, We’ll sell it, we’ll give and bestow, That all, in a language which they understand, The words of their Saviour may know. FATHER B. AND BARBARA FORMAN ; OR, “ THE TENDER MERCIES OF THE WICKED ARE CRUEL. ’ ’ — Solomon. A Child Beaten to Death by a Romish Priest for Attending a Protestant Sunday School. — On Saturday evening Councilman Paddock received information that a German child, named Barbara Forman, had just died from the effects of a severe beating received at the hands of her teacher, in the St. Mary’s (Roman Catholic) parish school, who is also a priest. He informed Chief of Police Stedman who having satisfied himself that there was good reason for believing the story true, gave information to Coroner Irwin, and an inquest was held yesterday. After a long and patient investigation, the jury unanimously gave the following verdict:— “ That the deceased came to her death in consequence of whipping and beating received from and by the hands of Frederick Bauer, on or about the 21st of September, a.d. 1856. The said whipping and beating having been done with a stick or other weapon.” — Cleveland Herald . Where Cleveland drinks a placid stream Which through Ohio flows, There lived a person nam-ed B., As many a reader knows. And being thought a learned man, He taught St. Mary’s School, And unto many a wayward child Applied his stout ferule. COLLECTED VERSE 67 But chief among delinquents were, And first to feel the rod, The children who presumed to read The holy word of God. For Father B. resolved to show That they were erring fools, Who sent their children to be taught At ragged Sunday Schools. A certain maiden, mild and fair, A child of tender age, Attending at a Sabbath School, Incurred his priestly rage. ’Tis true she heard of Him who died Us sinners to redeem, But Barbara Forman must not read A Book condemning him. On Monday morn he called her up, Obeying Pio’s creed, And said that she must then and there Do penance for the deed. Come now, Miss Forman, you are doomed To lie upon this chair. He seized a cane, he laid her down, He took her by the hair. “ Take that ! you heretic ! take that ! ” — He struck her with his cane — He sat upon her, kept her down, While writhing with the pain. Her cries were piteous and loud, She begged the wretch to spare, But all her pleading was in vain, The man of sin was there. When Father B.’s instructions were Infallibly complete, In hopes her heresy was cured, He sent her to her seat. COLLECTED VERSE u Poor little Barbara ! she wept ; Convulsively she cried ; Her young companions led her home And that same week she died ! Proud Pio Nono now look down, Behold what Borne has wrought ! Come see what Father B. has done, As by thy doctrines taught. Come, Pio, canonize this man If thou art Holy (?) Pope, But if he gets what he deserves, He’ll play upon a rope. When Herod learned that Jesus came To save our ruined race, At Bethlehem born, he sent and slew The children of the place. But Barbara Forman has been slain In this our modern day Because she loved to hear of Him Whom Herod sought to slay. THOUGHTS ON DEATH, HEAVEN, AND HELL Purgatory a Cheat Behold humanity, in ceaseless column, Drop, one by one, into the silent tomb ; The closing hour of life is always solemn ; Without the Bible it would all be gloom. But there’s a ray, by holy truth supplied, Which sheds immortal light on joys to come j Tis this has cheered our race since Adam died, And it will cheer us till the last be dumb. COLLECTED VERSE Eternal Truth declares that we are dying, That death is cutting off Old Age and Youth, And all the sepulchres around us lying, Confirm our sad experience of that truth. And while my trembling hand the pen is holding, A shade of death is passing o’er my lines, For on a mountain-slope within beholding, A mourning band to dust a friend consigns. Friends and relations weep ; it is no error ; And neighbours sighing, deeply sympathise ; But Faith and Hope disarm the grave of terror, For God hath said, “ The dead in Christ shall rise. All who have trusted in a Savour’s merit, Their spirits wafted to the realms above, A life of endless joy they shall inherit Around the throne of the Eternal Love. No eye hath seen the glories unreveal-ed, The sunless light in which the saints adore, But in the spirit-land there’s naught conceal-ed, Where mortal vision can exist no more. A day of judgment and of wrath impending Awaits the impenitent who die in sin — A place replete with torments never ending, Shall be their portion with the wicked one. Rewards and punishments are represented, The first in glory, and the last in hell ; An intermediate place has been invented. And we allow the cheat succeeded well. A Purgatorial fire in operation Is said to purge all errors unforgiven ; The priest on earth receives a compensation, And dupes believe their friends escape to heaven. 70 COLLECTED VERSE While pontiffs, priests, and bishops are denouncing The doom of heretics on those who doubt, Let us adhere to Bible truth, pronouncing The Purgatorial farce a cheat throughout. And we prefer to rank with “ unbelievers ,” Than fate with those who teach a monstrous lie ; For we esteem them covetous deceivers Who buy and sell the souls of those who die. Ye poor, deluded Catholics, attend ! Go read the Bible for yourselves alone, And learn the love of Christ, the sinner’s friend, How God-man Jesus did for sin atone. And humbly on His finished work relying, Accept Him as your Prophet, Priest, and Head ; Then will you need no Holy Oil when dying, Nor priest to pray for you when you are dead. Behold a dying Saviour, who addresses Th’ expiring malefactor by His side, (Without a word of purging fire or masses,) “ To-day in Paradise thou shalt abide.” How sad to see the French Canadian nation In such complete subjection to the Pope ; To rites and forms they trust their whole salvation, And die bereft of any solid hope. Ye Protestants of every name, endeavour To teach the French the holy word of God, That they may know the truth and live for ever — Their sole reliance on the Saviour’s blood. The doom of priests and pontiffs is recorded, Who make the merchandise of souls a trade, And with confusion they shall be rewarded When they shall fail to find the place they made COLLECTED VERSE 71 THE DEATH OF THE “ MAINE LAW ” IN CANADA. “ A Man’s a Man for a’ that.” — Burns. Ye liquor dealers, lend an ear, Ye publicans, and a’ that ; Pursue your work, devoid of fear, Distil, and sell, and a’ that ; You’ve gained the day, rejoice and shout, Renounce the pledge, and a’ that ; The Maine Law Bill has been cast out By So and So, and a’ that. They pledged their honour to uphold The temperance cause, and a’ that ; But, traitor-like, they went and sold Themselves, and votes, and a’ that. Some better men were laid aside, In humble life, and a’ that ; But So and So, they swelled with pride, Betrayed their trust, and a’ that. And then how wondrous wise they were When asked the cause, and a’ that ; Some said they “ thought it was not fair,” And so opposed, and a’ that. But when the next elections come, Our M.P.P.’s, and a’ that, We’ll let them walk before the drum, To cheat no more, and a’ that. Perhaps they dearly loved their Ale, Their Brandy, Wine, and a’ that, And so jumped in to turn the scale, To favour self and a’ that. Ye liquor-men, with one accord, Express your thanks, and a’ that ; Sond them Champagne for their reward, They’ll serve you yet for a’ that. 72 COLLECTED VERSE THE MURDERESS Far in the distant regions Of sunny Maryland, Where negroes die in legions, With no kind friend at hand, There lived a certain woman — We’ll call her Mrs. G. — Who proved herself inhuman As Southern whites can be. One lovely summer evening, To rest she did repair, A tender infant leaving Beneath a maiden’s care. Awhile she watched it sleeping, And careful vigils kept, But o’er her sorrows weeping, The weary maiden slept. The midnight sounds were dying Beyond the distant hill ; The infant waked up crying, The servant slumber’d still. The mother roused from slumber, She found her sleeping there, She seized a piece of timber, And killed her in her chair. Her head completely shattered, Her brains upon the floor, The murder “ little mattered” The loss they could endure. The mangled corpse was carried Before the rising sun, And secretly was buried, As was “ Aunt Milly’s ” son. COLLECTED VERSE 73 No trial, judge, or jury, Annoyed the guilty one, For could she not assure them The slave was all her own ? And so she slew the woman, None asking “ why ” or “ how , ” By treatment more inhuman Than butchers would a cow. She stood upon the morrow, A murderess confessed, But breathed no word of sorrow, While she her babe caressed. We leave this savage creature To quote the law she pleads ; The laws in every feature We blame for all such deeds. ADDRESS TO FRANCE O Land of Revolutions ! land of France ! Shall we record thy fame in human tears ? Who shall essay a brief historic glance, Or write a prophecy of future years ? 0 land of Guillotines ! thy crimson pall O’ershadows thee with gloom. Bereft of hope A bold usurper from thy throne may fall, And in his turn be helpless as the Pope. Thy bayonets, like a flood of glittering spears, Are clustered round the old enormous pile ; The 4 4 Man of Sin ” has reigned a thousand years, And thou wouldst now perpetuate his guile. O land of Huguenots ! the Pope may toil From sin infallibly to set thee free : But Charles the Ninth's unprecedented guile Shall ever be a stigma upon thee. 74 COLLECTED VERSE 0 land of massacres ! thy guilt so great, Wliat priestly absolution can efface ? Can penance purge the throne where Louis sat r Or St. Bartholomew’s deep stain erase ? No verily ; the Pope himself may bless And send his benediction to thine heirs ; But there’s a God who rules in righteousness, And if He bless not, vain are Latin prayers And though thy infidels deny His Name, And wily Jesuits usurp His power, His Attributes immutably the same, Shall yet be glorious in His vengeful hour. ADDRESS TO THE QUEEN ON THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL God bless Our Gracious Majesty the Queen, And crown her life with happiness and peace, And though the earth around at arms is seen, Bid War, with its impending terrors cease. The Russian Despot thought to conquer all The Earth, and be supreme from sea to sea ; But his mistake is written in his stronghold’s fall ; The tale is linked with glory and with Thee. The Allies wave their banners o’er the spot, With all good faith as yet on every side, But France is faithless ; we should trust her not ; Napoleon may throw the mask aside. For though it suits his purposes to go Forth in connexion with the noblest Fleet, The faithful Ally ” yet may be the foe, And prove the very essence of deceit. COLLECTED VERSE 75 Astounding wonders yet may rise and set ; Is France a Kingdom ? and is he the heir ? The self-made Emperor of Gaul may yet Seek to avenge an uncle’s doom somewhere. The Pope is closely linked with France : alas ! We can but fear results, too blind to see How God will bring His own designs to pass ; But still we pray for England and for Thee. And though the continent should rise to arms, And Gog and Magog should contend for Rome, The Lord preserve Thee safe from all alarms, From foes abroad or treach’rous friends at home. When Britain has subdued despotic Czars, Then shall the nations of the earth be free ; But midst the toil of commerce and the din of wars, The holy and the pious pray for Thee. Victoria ! Thy throne be ever free From “ base usurper,” and from popish knave ; That noble flag unfurled on every sea, Which never casts a shadow o’er a slave. And shouldst Thou deign to read my verses o’er, Poor, artless, and unworthy though they be, No gift or patronage do they implore, But simply happiness to Thine and Thee. ANOTHER SONG FOR TRUE ORANGEMEN We sing no dirge of bloody war, Where man with man is fighting, In which the angry nations are From time to time delighting. Our song is not of fallen Tyre : O’er Babel’s doom we sigh not ; The Sheik and Sultan may expire In sorrow’s bower, we cry not. 76 COLLECTED VERSE The great Mogul may be no more, The Czar to judgment hurried ; We weep for no forgotten shore Where kings and queens are buried. We brood not now o’er China’s doom, Where fire and sword are raging. Sebastopol may sink in gloom, But other war we’re waging ; For we oppose the horn-ed beast, Whose mountain-heads are seven, The Man of Sin, the Antichrist, The foe of earth and heaven. Some make the Pope their god, and so They every homage pay him. But we will never kiss his toe, Nor worship nor obey him ; For in the holy word of God, We have his rise reveal-ed, His Name,* his nature, his abode, All truthfully fulfilled. I C A R I V s 1 100 0 0 1 F I L I I 5 0 0 1 D E I 50 1 1 500 0 1 COLLECTED VERSE 77 But yet remains his fearful doom, The day of wrath and terror, When in one hour his end shall come, For all his sin and error. For popes and priests on earth have reigned In long and dark succession, And their apostacy has gained The climax of transgression. The Pope is not his Holiness, We fear no charge for libel ; He would have all to him confess, He interdicts the Bible. His church is but a dragon’s den, Full of abominations ; Is not all this recorded in The book of Revelations ? For this he hates those truths, and still Endeavours to destroy them ; Instructs his followers to kill Those who are guided by them. So we oppose this evil power, And all for him contending, For self protection, every hour Our energies are blending. And we commemorate the day, The day of wrath and battle, When brave King William led the way Amid the cannon’s rattle. And as King James was forced to flee In such complete confusion, So we expect we soon shall see The end of Rome’s delusion. And now we pray, God speed our right, From all our foes defend us, And while we in his fear unite No evil shall attend us. 78 COLLECTED VERSE We fear no Pope’s anathemas Nor Prelate’s indignation ; Our watchword in our righteous cause, Is, Peace to all creation. CONCLUSION Unto His Holiness (?) the Pope We recommend this volume, He will perceive the truth, we hope, Of every word and column. But should he read with frowning eyes In spite of his conviction, Then let him know that we despise His curse and benediction. Poor man ! we pity one whose doom Is hourly drawing near him, But since he is the Pope of Rome We neither serve nor fear him. God bless Her Majesty the Queen, From Pio’s wiles defend her ; Surround her throne with righteous men Who NEVER WILL SURRENDER. TEMPERANCE ODES THE DRUNKARD’S CHILD 4 ‘ Why weepest thou ? ” I asked a child Whose tears were flowing fast ; * c I do not like to tell,” she said, “ But we have neither wood, nor bread, And cold, and hungry ; I’m afraid That we must starve at last.” 44 Have you a mother ? ” I inquired, “ 0 yes, — but she is sick.” “ Where is your father ? Is he dead ? ” “ 0, no,” reluctantly she said, But yet he never brings us bread, And we are all so weak.” I eyed the hovel, else a house, Where these poor suff’rers dwelt, Great chinks let in the keen cold air, Such utter wretchedness was there, That words can scarcely now declare The sympathy I felt. And while her simple tale she told, In accents weak and mild, She did not ask to be relieved, But yet a trifle she received With gratitude, while I perceived She was a drunkard’s child. 79 u 80 COLLECTED VERSE And as I went my way I thought Of the distiller’s power, And wished the drunkard-makers were Assembled, and condemned to share The miseries that I witnessed there But for a single hour. Who makes the drunkard ? He who dwells In yonder spacious hall, A man of opulence and rank, Who puts his money in the bank ; Twas from his still this poor man drank; lo that we trace his fall. And all the cruelty and wrong, His wife and children bear, The wealthy brewer does not know, .Perhaps he does not often go To wipe a tear, remove a woe, Or make the poor his care. Nor docs the wealthy grocer think Uf families in need ; Enough for him that cash comes in, When out goes brandy, rum and gin ; If drunkards drink, theirs be the sin, He does not guilty plead. So does the grog retailer raise A plea of innocence, While doing on a smaller scale What great professors do wholesale. And so he doles out rum and ale. And takes the drunkard’s pence. He cares not for the house of God And seldom enters there, ut well he knows, the liquor runs -rLn k thr u Ugh * hurch frequenting ones. Then branches off to all the dens Where drunkards curse and swear. COLLECTED VERSE 81 With coaxing words, and winning wiles, And hardened heart, he asks Each one who hastens to his sink, “ Well, friend, what will you have to drink ? I keep the best, for only think, A Christian fills my casks ! ” The publican of honied lips Receives a thousand cheers, And then his victim’s choice is made, And from his scanty earnings paid, Regardless of the children’s bread, And of the mother’s tears. Alas ! how many groups endure Affliction, want and cold, While drunken fathers seek their homes Reeling, and less like men than gnomes, And while they stretch in bedless rooms, The landlord counts his gold. And oft around the tavern bar The Sabbath hours are spent, And oaths and blasphemies arise In wild confusion to the skies, While at his ease the brewer lies At home, self-deemed a saint. So grocers sell, and drunkards drink, Till sense and shame expire ; And every cent they earn they spend, But when delirious horrors end Their days on earth, their souls descend Into the lake of fire. March on, ye Sons of Temperance, Your banners be unfurled ; But ye who sell this maddening drink By gallons, gills, or puncheons, think What will ye say when on the brink Of the Eternal World ? F COLLECTED VERSE How shall ye bear the guilty load Of drunkard-making crime ? Then shall ye curse the glittering gold For which ye measured out and sold The liquor whose effects unfold, Beyond the years of Time. How shall ye meet the ruined souls That ye have sent to dwell In that dark place of fell despair, Where drunkards shall for ever bear The wrath of God, if ye must share With them the flames of hell ? Say, will ye tell the Judge of all The living and the dead, That whisky, brandy, rum and gin, Were needed in that world of sin, That ye were doomed to traffic in To gain your daily bread ? Or will ye plead, as an excuse, That Legislators said, That all who bought a licence might Sell ardent spirits day and night, And so your course must have been right, For it was in your trade. Some brewers and distillers think When they destroy our grain, That they are doing all they can To benefit their fellow-man, Because they have devised a plan To increase the farmer’s gain. And grocers think that they must keep Intoxicating drugs, To make the tea and coffee sell, And thus they every scruple quell, Since others do it, we as well May fill the whisky jugs. COLLECTED VERSE But let this plausible excuse Be brought to honest light, Say, would you sell or lend a knife, To one in haste to take his life, Or else to kill a child or wife, Because another might ? No, no, you say ; then wherefore fill The intoxicating bowl ? Dispensing by your trade accursed A liquid fire to burning thirst — This poison kills the body first, And then destroys the soul. Now is your time, awake, repent, While days and grace are given, Give up your trade, your casks remove, Which act the conscience must approve, And by repentance, faith, and love, Prepare for death and heaven. Or else await the awful words, “ Depart from me,” depart — Your portion is the burning wave Where all the lost for ever rave ; For ye have peopled many a grave, And broken many a heart. For while the law of God requires The love of heart and soul, Pure selfishness is your pursuit, The love of money at the root, Your sinful race must have its fruit In endless death — the goal. T7 84 COLLECTED VERSE III \\> THE GOOD EXAMPLE A Gentleman lives on a snug little farm, Who formerly kept an hotel, And whether the weather was chilly or warm, His bar-room was crowded, and there is no harm In telling what lately befell. One day in the barn he discovered his son, Insensibly stupid with drink, And he thought with himself that the evil begun Should be instantly checked, ere the lad was undone, Nor long did he tarry to think. So back to his dwelling he hastily ran, And said to his terrified wife, 4 4 I’ll out with these barrels, and empty each one, And never a drop will I purchase again, No, never a drop in my life.” *4 44 Why,” answered his wife, 44 what has happened thee now ? Be sure you do nothing in haste, The traffic is evil I freely avow, But as to the liquor, I think you’ll allow, That we can have nothing to waste. 44 You had better dispose of the stock, if you please, And then we’ll demolish the bar, And so without loss, and with conscience at ease, You can work yourself out of the trade by degrees ; This plan would be better by far.” 44 No, no ! not a day will I harbour the foe, Our son has been drunk in the barn, And shall I continue to sell it, and throw Him into temptation ? No, never ! and you This incident also should warn. \ 1 1 85 COLLECTED VERSE “ But I am determined I never will sell — This liquor shall go to the earth ” ; And true to his words he immediately fell To the barrels and kegs, and I think he did well, And one and another went forth. For there’s always a way to a person who wills To do right with deliberate aim, And he that a good resolution fulfils In even destroying his barrels and gills, Will find a reward in the same. And this very instance resulted in good, The son from the danger is saved ; The father is happy and I’ve understood That even the wife has been led to conclude It was well that the barrels were staved. Ye liquor retailers, wherever ye are, Behold an example for you ; Relinquish your trade and demolish your bar, Or something may happen more terrible far ; This tale is undoubtedly true. Remember the Sickle and Sheaf where they drank Whose sequel illustrates the trade, So accurs’d in its fruits, bearing poison so rank ; Your daughters or sons may become just like Frank, And yourself the unfortunate Slade. THE AWFUL DEATH The sun was shining on the eastern hills, The lowly valleys were already shaded, The power of frost had fastened down the rills, And all the flowers that bloomed in spring were faded. I COLLECTED VERSE u 86 The forest trees stood stripped of every leaf, Their branches bending ’neath their burdens hoary, ’Twas winter, when the poor require relief ; — But I’ve to tell a sad and painful story. I need not give the reader place and date, Though many will the incident remember ; The drunkard’s awful death which I may state, Took place so suddenly in cold December. Such was the scene without ; alas ! within — A hurricane of angry words was blowing, A poor unhappy woman might be seen, Careworn and weary bending o’er her sewing. A little girl, a child of three short years, Close to her mother, and the embers creeping, In innocence, beheld her bitter tears Shed o’er an infant in the cradle sleeping. How very sad she must have felt that night, Her sufferings were more than could be spoken ; Her husband, dead to every sense of right, Herself defenceless, and her spirit broken. But who can pen the horror of the scene ? When by her side her little daughter screaming, Her husband seized the axe he had brought in, And high above their heads she saw it gleaming. A Power unseen restrained him in that hour, And they escaped from death, though wounded badly, And self-bereft of reason’s guiding power, The maniac rushed into the darkness madly. He hastened to the tavern — drank, and filled His old black bottle for another potion : 0 ! what a dreadful shriek was that which thrill’d Throughout the railway cars, in rapid motion. COLLECTED VERSE 87 The brakes went down, the train was stopped ; alas ! Too late ! His doom was sealed for ever ; And those who saw that bruised and mangled mass, Can they forget that fearful sight ? No, never ! THE TAVERN KEEPER There is a town whose citizens can boast Its appellation in the Gazetteer, ’Tis famous on a rich and fertile coast, But for security unmentioned here. And in that town there lived a certain man, His name, denomination, I withhold ; But his employment was a common one, He kept a public-house, and liquor sold. One summer eve, some people passing by, About the time when men retiring are, Were startled by a most distressing cry, Proceeding from the well-known tavern bar. “ Oh ! murder ! mercy ! spare me, I implore,” “ Well, pay me for the liquor that you got.” “ 0 ! you were paid a thousand times before, And now I cannot give what I have not.” “ There then, take that, and that, infernal thief,” And kicks and blows repeatedly were given ; You shudder, friends, and look as grave as if He were the greatest scoundrel under heaven. Not he ; he was respectable , and lived On the just gains a lawful trade provides, And I was well informed, as I believed, He was a member of a church besides. i COLLECTED VERSE u 88 Quite philanthropic in his own esteem, He was a gentleman, as people said, But I have other thoughts to think of him So perfectly described in “ Simon Slade.” Was he a human being ? Yes ! but oh ! With every thought humane and feeling drown’d. Grown rich by his profession, spreading woe, And poverty, and wretchedness around. Was he a gentleman ? Yes, he might wear As fine a coat as any lord can boast ; And to his virtues many sots would swear, And say, with great respect, 4 4 Our worthy host.” Was he a citizen ? 0, yes ! indeed, And one that did the town a deal of good, Although he seldom helped the poor in need, By counsel, clothing, fuel, cash or food. How did he benefit his neighbours then ? When never found engaged in works like these ; He brought together many drunken men, Whose crimes and quarrels raised the lawyers’ fees. But while the business prospered in his hands, The fangs of gold were fastening in his soul ; And when attraction raised the price of lands, He seemed desirous to possess the whole. Years rolling round, a court house there was built, And then a gaol, to put offenders in ; And Mr. Smith his own importance felt, And thought his lawful trade involved no sin. Till on the evening introduced at first, The love of money rankled in his brain, And at the prospect of a trifle lost, He beat his victim till the man was slain. COLLECTED VERSE 89 And when secured within the very gaol His influence led the citizens to build, He asked, with a bewildered piteous wail, If Mr. Jamieson could not be healed ! Impossible ! you know the man is dead.” “ Dead ! Is he ? Never ! Oh, it cannot be ! ” His spirit failed ; his self-importance fled, A guilty, blood-stained homicide was he. Arraigned before a circuit court he stood, His guilt was evident, and undenied ; Some thought incarceration was too good — He was condemned, and socially he died. But yet he lives to breathe the bitter sighs That realize imprisonment for life ; And near the scene of all their wedded joys Still lives his poor, and worse than widow’d wife. Let then the free and living learn by this, That liquor selling is with evil rife ; The affluence it gives is transient bliss, And often dearly paid for in this life. THE RUM-SELLING GROCER I asked a certain gentleman Who kept a grocery, and store, “ And how have times, and matters been With you, since I was here before ? ” “ Oh,” said the grocer, “ I can tell My friends that I am doing well.” And while I spied his yellow casks, Three little ragged girls came in ; One had a jug, and two had flasks, Two asked for brandy, one for gin ; The grocer served them — took their pence In self oomplacent innocence. 90 COLLECTED VERSE I r ! 1 But did he think while poring o’er The Holy Book, in Sabbath dress, That he supplied, the day before — To sots, the means of drunkenness ? And did he kneel in prayer to tell His Maker, he was doing well ! If doing well is hoarding gold, To such we may allow the claim, But it is grievous to behold A man that bears the Christian name Retailing rum, with heart to tell The world that he is doing well ! A Christian selling rum ! I thought, Would broken-hearted mothers say. That he was doing well, who taught Their husbands and their sons to stray r While boasting he was doing well, Because he bought a right to sell ! 0, liquor seller, does the law Afford exemption from disgrace ? No motive else, to guide or draw — But love of money all thy days, While men are by thy doing well Exposed to want-— perchance to hell. Go see that poor besotted wretch, With shattered nerves, and garments thin, Go meet that urchin, sent to fetch Thy drink to quench his thirst within ; Return to fill his jug, and tell Thy friends, that thou art doing well ! Thou sayst, the drunkard loves his drink, And thou mayst sell since others will ; Indeed ! perhaps assassins think Since others murder, they may kill ; But few assassins like to tell Their friends, that they are doing well ! COLLECTED VERSE If thou canst justify thy work With consequences all involved, Be thy connection with the church And Christianity dissolved, At once, Eternity will tell If selling rum is doing well ! THE FORTY-GALLON RIVER Ho, ye that think a man may drink With moral good intention, A simple tale I have to tell — To which I crave attention. A cattle show, as all must know, Was held at Leeds, Megantic, And what occurred, as I have heard, Has set some people frantic. A house, that stood beside the road, Was entered (some are cunning) And through a hole King Alcohol Was quickly set a running. The man who bought the cask had thought To make a handsome profit, And so was well prepared to sell — For he had plenty of it. When night came on, the deed was done, Which some have reckoned clever, The cask was pierced, and out there burst A Forty-Gallon River ! Speed on, I say, for run he may, According to his pleasure, Let rum escape, in any shape, If not in liquid measure. 92 COLLECTED VERSE Still on it flowed, along the road, The atmosphere was foggy ; And what a sight, the morning light Revealed, the road was groggy ! And those who came to take a dram, With lips as dry as tinder, Might walk around, to smell the ground, For there was none to hinder. And wheeling round, they raised a sound, A doleful note of terror, And styled the Sons, the guiltiest ones That fill this earth with error. But not a sip could wet the lip, And not a drop was tasted ; And tears to grief bring no relief When shed o’er liquor wasted. So let them weep, in sorrow deep, And mourn their loss unhallow’d ; But I’m inclined to think they’ll find ’Twas better spilt than swallowed. And many stood above the flood, As if they fain would stop it ; ’Twas vain to ask an empty cask, Whose work it was to tap it ! When turned around, a hollow sound Was all its declaration ; The power of sin, that reigned within, Had gone to exhalation. The fumes arose, annoying those Who passed there on the morrow, Some laughed outright, but one poor wight Was almost mad with sorrow. COLLECTED VERSE 93 But though great guns denounce the Sons With insolence of manners, Fidelity, and Purity, And Love, adorn our banners. The men of Leeds, do wondrous deeds — But who are the offenders Who take a stand, with heart and hand, Against the liquor vendors ? Some men will guess, and then express The merest supposition, But those who know, had better shew A proof beyond suspicion. But sure enough the show went off With neither strife nor quarrel ; And for such peace, without police, We thank the empty barrel. THE COLD-WATER PLEDGE (Written for the Havelock Division Sons of Temperance) Tune — “ The Teetotallers are Coming ” Wave the Temperance banner o’er us, There’s a noble work before us — Though the publicans abhor us, And the Cold-Water Pledge. Chorus. “ Better days are coming, We shall triumph by and by.” We’ll go on in combination, Until every man and nation Shall put down intoxication, By the Cold-Water Pledge. COLLECTED VERSE Press we forward, then, resisting Every barrier, and enlisting Young and old, while thus insisting On the Cold-Water Pledge. We will tell the liquor-makers, And the moderate partakers — That they should, as grog-forsakers, Take the Cold-Water Pledge. We will say to all who buy it, And to those who drink and riot, That the wise, the good and quiet, Take the Cold-Water Pledge. What although the Rummies clever Start exclaiming, “ did you ever ” — Strong in union, we will never Break the Cold-Water Pledge. There are prejudices warring — But we fear no petty jarring, Nor the brunt of scandal scarring, For the Cold-Water Pledge. Be it then our pleasant duty, While preserving health and booty, Thus to welcome strength and beauty Round the Cold-Water Pledge. Midst so much of wicked vending, Midst so much of foolish spending, Future hopes are much depending On the Cold-Water Pledge. Forth in union then we sally, Not with drunkenness to dally, But to shout o’er hill and valley, Take the Cold-Water Pledge. COLLECTED VERSE Thus in city, town and village, In the midst of rural tillage, Meet we the destoyer’s pillage, By the Cold-Water Pledge. When our Order’s matchless motto, We the gazing world will shew to, Multitudes will rise and go to Take the Cold-Water Pledge. While our noble ranks are swelling, We are publishing and telling That they should in every dwelling Take the Cold-Water Pledge. Hoping that this congregation Will accept this invitation, And with no more hesitation Take the Cold-Water Pledge. We expect to meet on Monday, Just the evening after Sunday, And we trust that all will one day Take the Cold-Water Pledge. Still maintaining our position, For the Maine Law we’ll petition, Till they give us Prohibition, With the Cold-Water Pledge. We approve of moral suasion, As a means of reformation, But we plead for legislation, And the Cold-Water Pledge. Then there shall be less of madness, More of solid bliss and gladness, When we’re saved from liquor’s badness By the Cold-Water Pledge. 96 COLLECTED VERSE See the tide of human slaughters, Flees before our healing waters, We are happy Sons and Daughters, Round the Cold-Water Pledge. Death, confusion and disorder, Shall evacuate our border, When we banish rum and murder By the Cold-Water Pledge. Every newspaper that read is, Shows how vile the liquor-trade is. It will perish, for the Ladies Take the Cold-Water Pledge. THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR The King was arrayed in the robes of his pride^ And his wives and his concubines sat by his side,. So charmingly gay and so beautiful : His lords in attendance, a thousand were there, And all that assembled his bounty to share Were known to be chosen and dutiful. The Monarch commanded and said “ Let them bring Us the vessels of gold that my father, the King, Took out of Jerusalem’s treasures, In the day that the temple of God was his prey, That I and my lords, wives and concubines may Drink wine in their sanctified measures.” Then the voice of the heathenish king was obey’d. And the vessels of gold on his table were laid, For the use of his wives and his princes : And 0, what a lesson the sequel affords, When drunken with wine in the sight of his lords. The monarch his folly evinces. COLLECTED VERSE Of the red flowing wine they partook, and extolled The idols of wood, stone, silver, and gold — The gods of their own preparation ; And Bacchus had many a worshipper there, Belshazzar the king, and his concubines fair, And the lords of the Chaldean nation. But a part of a hand was sent forth in their sight, And the king and his princes grew pale with affright At the mystical words that were written : Ere the dawn of the morn as the prophet revealed — His terrible doom on the monarch was sealed, In the midst of his drunkenness smitten. The drunkards of Ephraim had warnings of old, And the fate of Belshazzar the king may be told, To shew every drunkard his error. But if all the great lords who get drunk, and carouse Should be slain — there are some in our Parliament House Who have manifold reasons for terror. And what can the people expect from such men, As are known to be drunken again, and again ? Tis true we may pray and petition — But those who are fond of the liquor themselves, May give us our statutes in quartos and twelves, But they’re sure to oppose Prohibition. Yet have we some men in the temperance field Who from the destroyer their country would shield, Of such Cameron is the most noted : We par excellence , style him “ the Temperance Man,” His honours are brightest — deny it who can, And our cause he has greatly promoted. G COLLECTED VERSE 98 TO THE FRIENDS OF TEMPERANCE Let every friend of Temperance Perform a faithful part. That we may be a brotherhood United heart to heart. Should tempters prove successful In causing some to fall ; In efforts to reclaim them, Be earnest, one and all. Then shall the ranks of tipplers, And those who take a glass, So greatly be diminished, That it may come to pass, That every liquor-maker Shall fall into disgrace, And every grog-retailer Shall blush to shew his face. So let us work in unity, For “ Union is our Strength ” ; And God will prosper our desire, To bless the world at length ! THE RUM-SELLER OUTWITTED BY HIMSELF A lecturer once had occasion to tell A story remarkably curious, Concerning a man who determined to sell The liquor that makes people furious. For a great many years he had been in the trade, And would have continued it longer, But in common with others he noticed with dread, That the temperance feeling grew stronger. COLLECTED VERSE 9j And when the authorities ventured to say That whisky and rum were not wanted, He showed unmistakable signs of dismay, For no “ license to sell ” would be granted. At once he determined the village should know That his entertainments were needed, And the rest of the tale is sufficient to shew How wondrously well he succeeded. He surrounded his house with a high board-fence, To prevent any further intrusion, And by way of revenging a public offence He retired into private seclusion. But the friends of the cause would be nothing abashed, Though such walls were much higher and thicker, And the temperance people united with haste To open a house without liquor. And the traveller, coming or going would stare, And ask why the tavern was boarded ; Then turn in to share the superior fare The temperance mansion afforded. As might be expected the rum-seller found That he was completely outwitted, So he hastily levelled his fence to the ground, And his tavern for lodgers refitted. But he learned with regret and undignified shame That his premises lost all attraction ; And he secretly wished there was some one to blame But himself, for the blundering action. Success to the “ Temperance Union Hotel ! ” But shame on all rum-selling sinners ; And why should not travellers, far from the smell Of the bar-room, get excellent dinners ? COLLECTED VERSE BAD COMPANY AND RUM A man who hastens to be rich, A worshipper of gold ; Prepares a house, puts up a sign, Secures a stock of rum and wine ; “ Accommodation,” his design, The rest is quickly told. How deep his guilt whose work ensnares A fellow-creature’s soul ! The drinking usages begin The tide of misery and sin — Which strengthens by indulgence in The fascinating bowl. All ages, ranks, frequent the place, At morn, and eve, and noon ; Amidst the revelry and mirth, The landlord pours his liquor forth ; He is “ the finest man on earth,” His house a “ Grand Saloon ! ” A later hour, and we behold Them in the open street, The voice of quarrelling appalls The citizens — and in their brawls One draws a knife, another falls At his companion’s feet. Amidst the darkness of the hour, A woman screams “ he’s dead ” ; Among the mob assembled round The corpse extended on the ground, No blood-stained murderer is found — The guilty man has fled. / COLLECTED VERSE 101 Who is the murderer ? A man Well skilled in useful art, Well educated — young, and gay, One, who till lately led astray From virtue’s strait and narrow way, Nobly fulfilled his part. In vain the culprit seeks to hide From an avenging God ; Arrested, we behold him stand Before the judges of the land, Found guilty — “ blood is in his hand,” A fellow-creature’s blood. Imprisoned in the common gaol, A short allotted space ; He freely owned his heinous guilt, And while in deep contrition knelt, Expressed the confidence he felt In God’s forgiving grace. At length the appointed morning dawned, The fatal moment, when He died to satisfy the law ; The city seem’d enwrapt in awe, From earthly scenes cut off, he saw No more his fellow-men ! And on the scaffold, just before His voice in death was dumb, His last — his dying counsels were, “ Oh, all ye young, beware ! beware ! Of what has been my fatal snare, Bad company and rum ! ” And this is why this mournful tale I tell, and keep in mind The death, the infamy, and crime. That mars the history of Time, Because I thus would seek in rhyme, The good of human kind. I 102 COLLECTED VERSE Now therefore hear the warning voice Of one upon the brink Of an eternity of bliss Or woe — a world unknown to this — And as ye love your souls, dismiss Bad company and drink. THE LAST OF THE FAMILY The rays of the sun were exceedingly bright As he rolled on his way, like a king in his might, Diffusing his genial heat and light To the verges of creation. The blooming of flowers, and the music of birds, And the evident mirth of flocks and herds, Would baffle the most descriptive words Of mortal calculation. ’Twas morn, and the air serene and calm Floated o’er earth like a sea of balm ; And grateful hearts breathed many a psalm Of praise to the God of Heaven. And many were they in wealth and pride, Who passed by the poor on the other side ; And many were they by sufferings tried, Their heart-strings all but riven. As the king of day went on his race, Some professional men stood face to face, Then went with a slow and solemn pace To a sad and painful duty. Stretched on a pallet, haggard and lean, Penniless, raving, and far from clean, Lay a poor lady, who once had been Renowned for wealth and beauty. Impossible ! what adverse cause, Or foe, outraging all the laws, Could take the wealth of her who was Foremost in rank and honour. COLLECTED VERSE 103 ’Twas rum that did it ; rum depraved, Beguiled, bewildered, and enslaved, Until in vagrancy she raved, Her drunkenness upon her. That was a cold and dreary night, When she was found in a wretched plight, Bedless, breadless, and frozen white, In a vacant habitation. Then the medical men assembled nigh, And one of them said, with a deep drawn sigh, The patient must either submit to die, Or else to amputation. And her limbs were severed one by one ; But the sands of her wretched life had run And she closed her eyes on the light of the sun. And all to mortals meted. To please his friends her husband drank, And one by one their children sank, And she but lived to fill a blank Which her decease completed. For rum their fine estate had been sold, Her husband died and the lady grew old And sought to live by the charity cold Of the world — a besotted sinner : But the last has departed, all of them died ; In the grave of the drunkard they lie side by side, Ensnared in the season of fashion and pride By drinking wine at dinner. THE YOUTH ADMONISHED “ Come take one glass, ’twill do you good, And cannot do you harm ; I take a little when I’m cold As well as when I’m warm.” COLLECTED VERSE “ 0, no, I do not drink at all, And I sincerely think That you had better not indulge In alcoholic drink.” cc 0, nonsense ! I do not believe That liquor makes one ill, See, there’s a man who drinks, and he Is strong and hearty still.” The gentleman thus pointed out, Was startled at the thought That he was such a stumbling-block. Although he knew it not. And conscience-stricken in himself He thus was led to think Of many friends and comrades dead, The sad effects of drink. And turning to the youth, he said “ Come, take a walk with me;” And to the grave-yard then they went, The monuments to see. “ Behold the grave of one I loved,” The moderate drinker said, “ He was my only brother — but He drank — and he is dead. “ See there another ; he was one Of talents bright and rare, But he was fond of company, And rum has been his snare. “ Beneath that broken slab there lies The bravest of the brave, Ah ! who would once have thought that he Should fill a drunkard’s grave. COLLECTED VERSE 105 ‘‘Look at this household-tomb! Five sons, All drunkards, moulder there. Their father drank ; — their mother found No solace in despair. “ One daughter sheds a widow’s tears, In sorrow all alone, Her husband was a maniac, He drank, and he is gone. All these I knew, when I was young — My comrades at the school ; But they are dead, and I am left The only living fool ! Surely these five and twenty graves Should fill thee with alarm ; And wilt thou ever say again That liquor does no harm ! I feel that I am dying fast, But I am now so old, That I can scarcely hope t’escape The fell destroyer’s hold. “ But if I could be young again, How would I spend my breath In loudly warning such as you To shun the cup of death ! ” A STRANGE THING Strange it is that men enlightened, With the truth that saves the world, Should be found so sadly frightened When the temp’rance flag’s unfurled. COLLECTED VERSE Zealously, on such occasions, Doing all the good they can, They would fain convince the nations. Liquor is a boon to man. When we show them the exceeding Evil of the liquor trade, Then they take the Bible, pleading What the ancient writers said. Truly they do execution, Quoting Moses and his laws, With an earnest elocution Worthy of a better cause. Alcohol, we say, is poison, This, they venture to deny, When they meet us criticising Every argument we try. When we point them to the madness. Poverty, disease and crimes, That produce so much of sadness, In our own and other climes. Then we hear such declarations, “It is only the abuse Of the blessing, that occasions All those evils, not the use.” But the use of ardent spirits Causes wretchedness and death ; Scripture texts have certain merits — Hear, then, what the Bible saith : “Woe to him who gives his neighbour Drink ; ” and “ Look not on the wine ; Read and ponder, ye who labour To defend your “ boon divine.” COLLECTED VERSE 107 0 ! intemp’rance is an evil Of the greatest magnitude, But the Maine Law, we believe, will Stay the crime-producing flood. ADVICE TO THE LABOURING CLASSES 0, Labourer, whoe’er thou art, Whate’er thy calling be, Endeavour to perform thy part With honest, earnest, thankful heart, Rejoicing thou art free. Be diligent ; if thou art poor. What thy employment brings Economise ; when small thy store Be sure to purchase nothing more Than necessary things. With shelter, clothing, food, and light, And useful books to read, The sons of toil and labour might, Without much gold or silver bright, Contented be indeed. And if true comfort would be thine, I earnestly advise Thee, not to spend a single coin In buying either rum or wine ; Teetotallers are wise. For almost all the misery, And squalid wretchedness, Which in our daily walks we see Are evidently shown to be The fruits of drunkenness. COLLECTED VERSE But many persons also spend Their gains— it is no joke— In such a way that they ascend In vapour ; yea, their earnings end In worse than useless smoke. How sad it is to think of those With families ill-clad, Who light a fire beneath their nose, Where dollar after dollar goes ; And chewing is as bad. Be wise, ye young, be wise in time, Contract no habit vile, But share in this, or other clime, According to my simple rhyme, The fruits of honest toil. So you will have a mite to aid The cause of Holy Truth, And let your hopes on God be stayed, Who will provide your daily bread In manhood, age, and youth. THE TWO FOES An enemy is in the land, His name — Intoxication , If ’twere not for the temp’rance cause He’d soon destroy the nation. He has a cunning helper, too, His name is Moderation ; And both are constantly engaged In works of desolation. In cities, towns, and villages, They bring to degradation, Unhappy victims, whom they take From every rank and station. COLLECTED VERSE 109 But those who die beneath the grasp, Of foul Intoxication, Are every one of them ensnared At first by Moderation. And many of the noblest men That ever walked creation, By him beguiled have lost their health Their wealth and reputation. He whispers to the sons of men “ Avoid intoxication, But wine can never do you harm If used in moderation.” The unsuspecting taste, and drink, At first with hesitation ; But soon they learn to love the wine And its exhilaration. Thus entered on the downward course, That leads to death eternal, The intemperate are captive led Down to the pit infernal. But we, the friends of Temperance, An army well united, Shall overcome the foes, by whom The brightest hopes are blighted. Then, blessings on the Band of Hope, Good Templars, Sons and Daughters, And all good men, who love the fount Of Temp’ ranee’ healing waters. 110 COLLECTED VERSE CLOSING ODE FOR TEMPERANCE MEETINGS Tune — “ 0, come, come away ” 0, come, come away, Our days are quickly passing And death shall soon our eyelids close, 0, come, come away. Then let us raise our standard high That we may triumph by and by, King Alcohol shall die — 0, come, come away, 0, come, come away, Intemp’rance is destroying Our fellow men in multitudes, 0, come, come away. And while we stem its fearful tide, And faithful to our pledge abide, Our beacon Star will guide ; 0, come, come away. 0, come, come away, Our hearts in union blending, And let us strive for purity ; 0, come, come away. So let each member never cease, From earnest efforts to increase Sobriety and peace ; 0, come, come away. 0, come, come away, ’Tis duty bids us sever ; We part in hope to meet again, 0, come, come away. And may we all be led aright To walk, as in our Maker’s sight, For time is on its flight ; 0, come, come away. COLLECTED VERSE 111 LIQUOR AT FUNERALS A moderate drinker from his cups returning, Mistook his way, and fell into a river ; Alone in death — his brain with fever burning, That gloomy night — his spirit fled for ever. The neighbours, his untimely fate bewailing, And for th’ interment making preparation, According to a custom long prevailing Procured some liquor for the sad occasion. But one objected, and the rest addressing, Said, “ I am grieved to see this drink before us, I cannot ask the Lord to grant his blessing On what has brought this grief and sorrow o’er us. “ If any one can pray o’er the * good creature,’ Go on, and do it with my disapproval ; For while I know the liquor’s damning nature, I cannot pray for aught but its removal.” Then came abuses like a torrent flowing On him, who was in duty so persistent, But he possessed his soul in meekness, knowing That all teetotallers should be consistent. And even to this day, in country places, We find old customs held in veneration ; And liquor used at funerals, disgraces The better judgment of the population. AN APPEAL Whene’er the tempted stray from virtue’s path And seek anew the luxury of death ; Too many raise the hand of feeble scorn, And gladly say, 44 we knew they would return.” 112 COLLECTED VERSE Instead of feeling for a feeble worm, Frail as themselves, and struggling to reform — Yet overcome in dark temptation’s hour, And doomed afresh to feel the demon’s power.. Instead, I say, of sympathy with such Their self-complacent pride would say as much. As this, “ I’m wise, and cowards only sign The pledge of total abstinence from wine. I love my rights, I wish to be a man , And show my independence while I can ; Just free to take it, and to leave it off, And fit to judge when I have had enough. Since liquor is a God-sent gift to man, His creatures ought to use it while they can.” 0, erring mortal ! I am grieved to think, That you are thus, an advocate for drink ; You see the sad effects of drink — you knew Some who were killed by rum, I knew them too p But we are seeking to remove the ban, And you, a Christian , cannot aid the plan ! Yet, rest assured, that life is fleeting fast, And you must give a strict account at last. If influence be yours, and it is spent On the wrong side — though not with ill intent, But from indifference, you stand aloof, Nor give the weak example nor reproof But know that Temperance, like the banyan tree, Shall spread its branches over land and sea ; ’Till every isle and continent shall know The blissful fruits that ’neath its shadows grow. Yes, friends, the happy time will surely come, When earth, delivered from the power of rum, With peace and gladness shall be yet arrayed Though you withhold your influence and aid.. COLLECTED VERSE 113 A TALE Delirium Tremens ! 0 terrible stare, At reptiles and fiends, from the realms of despair! ***** A youth of bright talents, attractive and gay, Beguiled by the wine cup, at first went astray ; But warned of his danger, with praiseworthy haste He solemnly vowed no more liquor to taste : Reformed, and respected, his prospects were bright, And a lovely young lady became his delight. Accomplished and beautiful, wealthy and kind — He loved her with pure elevation of mind : She loved in return — and they spake of the day, When youth’s single blessedness passing away They would enter as one on the journey of life, And comfort each other as husband and wife : The holidays came — ’twas a season of joy, And he glanced at his fair with a soul-speaking eye. His merry companions, with evil design, Combined to beguile him by proffering wine : With firm resolution, by foiling each art He added new strength to his fortified heart. But then came the lady, the one he loved best, And taking his hand, which she tenderly pressed, And blandly she said, “ If you love as I do, Now prove your affection unchanging and true. If your motives are worthy in making me thine, You’ll please me by tasting, just tasting this wine.” She conquered his will, he tasted and drank, His craving returned, and he rapidly sank. He lost self-respect, reputation, and wealth, Deep potions and penury injured his health ; In delirium tremens, suffice it to tell, He perished, exclaiming, “ I’m going to hell.” His once lovely tempter, beheld, and bewailed The hour when the charms of affection prevailed ; That she was the cause of his ruin she felt, And her reason gave way ’neath the load of her guilt. H 114 COLLECTED VERSE THE GRAND TRUNK RAILWAY (Composed on the cars while returning from the Temperance Convention, held at Montreal, September 30th, 1859) A journey on the Grand Express Conveyed the writer, nothing less Than forty miles an hour ; The trees, receding from the sight Like routed armies in affright, Displayed the engine’s power. The fire ahead— the rolling wheels— The pleasure — when a person feels Like riding on a gig ; While dashing on like speed of mmd And leaving all the world behind Without the least fatigue. Should Solomon or Socrates Return to see such roads as these, How wondrous it would seem ; To see our engineering might Annihilating distance quite By all the power of steam. Behind that locomotive-thing To find us safely journeying At such a rapid rate ; To find beneath the rolling sun Th’ Egyptian horses quite outdone, And asses out of date. Bi b 1 1 A railway journey is a thing The wisest and the richest king Was forced to do without ; ■i»H Nor Greek philosopher divined, That fire and flood would be combined, To carry us about. COLLECTED VERSE 115 But let our railway companies Be careful that their employees, Are men who take no wine ; And they shall find their recompense In our increasing confidence, And safety on the line. Throughout the earth such iron bands Uniting kingdoms, countries, lands, Shew man’s progressive powers ; And though our neighbours like to puff Their “ lines ” and “ roads,” yet sure enough They’ve none to equal ours. i That wondrous bridge of matchless fame, Which bears the most illustrious name Of our beloved Queen, Stands like a monument of art, Skill’s triumph shines in every part, Its equal nowhere seen. Our Gracious Queen, Victoria, Thy gentle sway in Canada We hail with gratitude ; And pray the God of heaven to bless Thy reign, majestic patroness Of all that’s great and good. NATIONAL ODE FOR CANADA We sing of the land we have chosen to live in, So famed for its forests, its rivers, and lakes ; United to Britain — and favoured by Heaven, The noblest of Colonies Canada makes. Exemption from war is a national blessing ; No country on earth is more peaceful than ours ; And cities and villages, vastly increasing — Are studded with colleges, churches, and towers. COLLECTED VERSE Our laws and religion give social pleasures, Each home is a castle, each citizen free ; Agriculture and trade are increasing our treasures And proud of our union with Britain are we. Of mineral riches most ample our share is, Our resources have only begun to unfold ; And lo ! we have sent unto London and Paris, Superior copper, and nuggets of gold. But we, the teetotallers, earnestly cherish Fond hopes that the day of our triumph is near ; Let the traffic in all that intoxicates perish, And Temperance insure our prosperity here. And while we enjoy our exalted position, With freedom unknown to tyrannical knaves ; We give to our neighbours all due recognition — But hold no communion with owners of slaves. Our soil is productive, our climate is healthy, Our winters are pleasant, our summers serene ; And while we are happy, and loyal, and wealthy, ^ Our watchword shall ever be “ God save the Queen.” MISCELLANEOUS POEMS THE BIBLE Methinks I behold, in light as of old, Mount Zion exalted on high ; And Israel’s race, with favour and grace, Turning many an anxious eye To the land they delight to consider by right, As well as by promise, their own ; The fertile abode of the servants of God, Where the story of grace was made known COLLECTED VERSE 117 To prophets inspired, who spake and desired, The day of fulfilment to see ; The advent of Him who came to redeem — And suffered for you and for me. The Bible alone is the Book which makes known The way of Salvation to men Nor shall they succeed, who wish to impede The Bible Society’s plan ; For the Book shall go forth, to the ends of the earth, In every language of men, And the nations shall read, and revere, and give heed To the words that are written therein. Each doctrine is pure, and each promise is sure, Its history ancient and true ; It reveals the First Cause of the natural laws, Of Time and Eternity too. A fathomless mine is the Volume Divine And if it were taken away, All Nature would be a mysterious sea Of ignorance, doubt, and dismay. The kingdoms of Time would struggle in crime, Anxiety, passion, and care ; Like a ship on the tide, without rudder to guide, And death would be hopeless despair. No race-running soul could discover the goal, Nor climb to the portal of light ; But void of all hope, the nations would grope In worse than Egyptian night. But the Bible is given a message from Heaven, When truth is impressed on the heart, And the darkness and gloom that encircle the tomb Before its refulgence depart. 8 COLLECTED VERSE So, friends, let us read, and always give heed To Moses, and David, and Paul ; For books without end, have been printed and penned, But this one excelleth them all. And those who despise a Teacher so wise, And leave it to mould on their shelves, Cannot tarnish a line of the Volume Divine, They only can injure themselves. Those who fain would expel the Bible, as well Might assemble to darken the sun ; Or gather to fight with the stars of the night, Or roll all the seas into one. For the truth-telling Book shall withstand the rebuke, Of every infidel tongue ; And it gives to the world, in beauty unfurled, The glory of battle and song. With pleasure I muse, on the lands of the Jews, Where the Patriarch’s pitched their tents ; And the studious mind, reflection may find In many astounding events. And chivalrous deeds, whose valour exceeds The story of warriors now ; How Gideon prayed, and his foes were dismayed, And Jephthah’s deplorable vow. ’Tis pleasant to pore o’er Biblical lore, To find what old heroes have done ; How Jonathan slew the Philistine crew, By the help of his servant alone. We must not forget the shepherd, who met Goliath the great, with a stone ; Nor valorous Jael, with hammer and nail, Who fastened the Captain alone. COLLECTED VERSE What stranger event can history paint, Since wonderful things came to pass, Than the fate of his foes, when Samson arose, To handle the bone of an ass. I hope you intend, your leisure to spend In tracing historical things, From Moses to Saul, Elijah and all The prophets, and judges, and kings. Go back if you choose, with Adam to muse The progress of science to mark ; With Enoch to walk, or with Noah to talk, While busy preparing the ark. The deluge comes next, and some are perplexed, To know if all countries were drowned ; But I must be brief, though I notice with grief, That in drunkenness Noah was found. And he was the first, who indulging his thirst, Set such an example to men ; But I think I may say, that after that day, His name is not mentioned again. We read of the tower, which for pride and for power The descendants of Noah would build, And find all and each disagreeing in speech, As the wisdom of Deity willed. Then follow that race unto every place Where Japheth and Ham have been driven ; See how wicked they are, and given to war, And their cry is ascending to Heaven. But, believer, rejoice ! An Immutable Voice Hath said that the earth shall be stilled, And warfare shall cease, in the advent of peace. When the words of the Lord are fulfilled. 120 COLLECTED VERSE In hope that the end of war is at hand, We return to the children of Shem, Still further to muse, on the fate of the Jews, And predictions relating to them. Selected by God to make his abode Among their divisions and tribes, To Egypt they went, by Providence sent, As Moses so fully describes. Read Exodus through, that you may pursue, The way that deliverance came, How God led the way, in a pillar by day, And by night in a luminous flame. It is worthy of note, that they travelled on foot. Dry-shod, through the midst of the sea ; Then Miriam sangj and the wilderness rang, With the sounds of her minstrelsy. But leaving that shore, with haste we pass o’er The space of the forty years, Till that numberless host, we rejoin on the coast Of the land, where the Jordan appears. The river divides for the warrior tribes And Oh ! what sensations they felt ; When, their journeyings o’er, they set foot on the shore Of the Canaan where Abraham dwelt. Then we follow them round, while trumpeters sound, Till Jericho’s walls are o’erthrown ; For they fought and excelled, and the heathen expelled, Till the land was by conquest their own. See Joshua’s skill, and his faith on the hill, Behold him commanding the sun, To rest on his way, and continue the day, Till the work of their slaughter was done. COLLECTED VERSE 121 So the great orb of light stood still in his might, While the armies of God were at war ; For He who controls the whole earth as it rolls, Is greater and mightier far, Than all the great men, who were valiant then, And his power is for ever the same ; So the people had rest, when the land they possessed And the heathen acknowledged their fame. But Jeshurun grew fat, and his Maker forgat, Ashtaroth and Baalim adored, And foemen from Gath, came and slew them in wrath. And they fell by Assyria’s sword. But when they returned, repented, and mourned For their sin and idolatrous crime ; 'The Lord raised up men to deliver them then, And the country had rest for a time. Then the people grew vain, and desired one to reign Over them, like the heathen around ; And the Lord gave them Saul, so comely and tall, But in him there was wickedness found. So he took him away, as the Chronicles say : “ And he took him away in his wrath ” ; The Philistines slew brave Jonathan too, And “ great was the triumph in Gath.” Then David was king, and his lyrics we sing, Nor poet can equal the strain ; And Solomon rolled in wisdom and gold, And dazzled the world with his reign. The temple he built, and Israel dwelt In security under his sway ; But then we are told, when the monarch was old, That a multitude led him astray. 122 COLLECTED VERSE The Proverbs he wrote all tend to promote The wisdom and morals of men ; And though he did err, yet we safely infer, That when old he repented again. Rehoboam the fool, beginning to rule, The people an embassy sent, But the monarch despised what the elders advised* And the kingdom was instantly rent. But two tribes remained where Solomon reigned, The worship of God to uphold, And the people began, in Bethel and Dan, To worship their idols of gold. And envy and spite, and mutual fight, And pestilence, famine, and woe ; The certain reward of forsaking the Lord, Laid Judah and Israel low. When divisions at length had wasted their strength* The ten tribes were taken away To some foreign place, which I now cannot trace. And there they remain to this day. The Jews, it appears, for seventy years, To the rivers of Babylon were driven ; Their thraldom was long, and their harps were unstrung. But it ended with favour from Heaven. For the Jews were restored to their land, and the Lord Preserved them from every foe ; Rabshakeh was foiled, and Sanballat toiled In fruitless attempts to o’erthrow The work of their hands, but Jehovah’s commands, (Delivered through Cyrus), declared That the temple, and all the circumference wall Of Jerusalem, should be repaired. COLLECTED VERSE 125 But we shorten the tale by drawing a veil Over several hundred years ; And hail the glad light of an era more bright, When the “ Star in the East ” appears. Bright angels proclaim the wonderful name, Emmanuel coming to earth ; The prophets of old His mission foretold, The shepherds rejoiced at His birth. He suffered for us, when He died on the cross, And made an atonement for sin ; In triumph He rose, and conquered His foes, And ascending, “ gave gifts unto men.” And multitudes now with reverence bow To Jesus, Who calms all their fears ; And myriads have gone, to surround the white throne, In the last eighteen hundred years. And many a band, in many a land, Believing, rejoice in His name, Aild look for the hour of His coming with power, When the earth shall dissolve into flame. The prophecies plain, unfulfilled that remain, By some are considered obscure ; But of all on record in the word of the Lord, The fulfilment is certain and sure. And then shall it be that the Heathen shall see The light of the glorious Sun ; When the Jews shall return into Canaan, and mourn For all that their fathers have done To the “ King of the Jews,” and no longer refuse To receive the New Testament too ; And a holier light shall burst on the sight, Alike of the Gentile and Jew. U COLLECTED VERSE Then shall Gog come with haste, and design to lay waste The holy and beautiful land ; But Magog, his foe, shall determine to shew That he hath come forth to withstand The alien host, from the infidel coast, So terrible, cruel, and strong ; Preparing to fight with Megiddo in sight, And the war may bid fair to be long ; But sudden — a crash, like the lightning’s flash, That equals a thought in its flight, Shall fill them with dread, as the Scriptures hath said, It shall come as a thief in the night. Then shall Gog be disarmed, and Magog alarmed, At the sight of that wonderful sign ; And Michael the Prince, shall appear to evince That Jesus is truly Divine. 0 glorious hour of quickening power When the spirit is shed all abroad ; And saints from the tomb shall awaken to bloom Like trees “ in the garden of God ” ! And now, my dear friends, creation attends The coming of Him Who shall reign ; And many are they, who fervently pray, “ Even so, come, Lord Jesus, Amen ! ” THE OLD LOG MEETING-HOUSE (A Scene in Megantic, Canada East) One mild evening, sad and lonely, I pursued a silent walk, While I sought with Nature only, For one transient hour to talk. 125 COLLECTED VERSE Swiftly passing hills and meadows, On, through dark sequestered wood, In the sun’s declining shadows, On a mountain’s brow I stood. From the leafy bowers adjacent, Not a whisper caught my ear, Save the music sweet and pleasant, Of the streamlet murm’ring near. Deep and dark the valley by me — Silence reigned throughout the glen : Not a human creature nigh me Could disturb my musings then. What sensations there passed o’er me, I can feel but ne’er portray ; Our old Meeting-House before me, In decaying ruins lay. Then I thought, in days departed, How we met to worship there, When in accents simple-hearted Rose the strains of praise and prayer. Walls of logs on logs up-piled, Without gallery, or pew, Roofed with bark, and never tiled, While the windows were but two. Rude in form, — of small area, “ Rough and right ” the building stood ; City folks have no idea Of such houses made of wood. There our pastor, frail and aged, Spake the words of holy truth ; There our teacher was engaged In instructing us, the youth. 126 COLLECTED VERSE There we heard of Him Who suffered To redeem our souls from woe : There were fervent prayers offered, That we all to heaven might go. There the news of God’s salvation Rose upon the balmy air ; Now, the place is desolation — Not a voice is echoed there. Doubtless many a building humble Might throughout the land be seen, Where there’s nought but walls that crumble — Where the House of God has been. A new House has been up-reared Nigh at hand, ’tis standing still ; But the old has disappeared From the opening on the hill. Those who’d have them both contrasted Might a great improvement see ; But the one that Time has wasted Has been always dear to me. Thickly stood the bushes round it, Rank and rife the wild weeds grew. And I left it where I found it, There old scenes are always new. Then returning through that valley, Evening shades increased the gloom, And I felt that death was really Laying mankind in the tomb. When with half-suppressed emotion, 0 ! what stillness, whispered I, Quick as thought, on mem’ry’s ocean, All my school days flitted by. COLLECTED VERSE Where,” — I asked with accents broken — “ Where are those who once did share Youthful pleasures ? ” — Scarce I’d spoken, When the mountains echoed, “ Where ? ” Some are living — others missing — Some are dead, I know too well — Many still to friends a blessing ; — But where all are, who can tell ? Serious thoughts were o’er me stealing, While the darkness darker grew ; But how much increased the feeling When our graveyard rose to view. True, the spot is unprotected By the presence of a cross : All such emblems are rejected, But the dead sustain no loss : Neither was the place made holy By a bishop’s mystic nod ; Is not consecration folly While the Earth belongs to God ? Therefore may His children cherish Hopes of resurrection- joys ; None of God’s redeemed shall perish, They are precious in His eyes. Twilight’s rays were growing fainter, And by mild impulses led, I resolved at once to enter Silent converse with the dead. There, two pastors’ graves surveying, Side by side in peace they lie, And they seemed conjointly saying “ Mortal, there’s a time to die.” COLLECTED VERSE There, my neighbours, friends, relations. Wait to hear the judgment sound : Oh ! what solemn meditations May among the tombs be found. As the grass this moment growing, In the next may lose its bloom ; So the form where health is glowing, Soon descends into the tomb. Vain are earthly joys and sorrows — Life is but a passing dream ; While we fondly eye to-morrows, Yesterdays as nothing seem. But the souls whose hopes reposing On the Arm that built the sky, Calmly smile while life is closing — They can triumph while they die : For in Heaven their Father’s home is. Faith descries those mansions fair, Realizing every promise, Grace on earth, and glory there. " NA GAEDHEIL ’S A CHATH ’S’NA GAEDHEIL AN SITH ” (Achievements of the Highland Brigade) ’S e mo run a bhi cantuinn air morachd nan Gael ! Cho treun ann an cath, a’s an cairdeas cho fior ; Cho dileas mar bhraithribh, ’s an aonachd cho laidir, ’S nach d’rugadh an ti sin’ thug buaidh air an Tir. Na saighdearean Gaidhlach a’n eididh ro-aluin, Bha misneachail dana, ’s gun eolas air fiamh ; An claidheamh mor nan dorna ’s a phiob ’deanadh ceold dhoibk Cha b’aithne dhoibh teicheadh, ’s cha d’striochd iad a riainh. COLLECTED VERSE 129 *S cha n’iongnadh nach teicheadh na daoine is treise — ’S gun focal sa Ghaelic, ged tha i cho deas— Mar a deirear le daoine “ retreat ” anns a Bheurle ; Ach ’s focal 44 retreat ” nach bi’feum air am feasd. 0 ’s mor tha ri innseadh le aiteas a’s fiorinn Mu ghaisgaich a bhreacain ’s nam boineidean gorm — Chaidh ceud bliadhna seachead ’s bu ghloirmhor an la ’ud; ’N uair ’thug iead Quebec o na Frangaich le stoirm. Bha Buonaparte Uaibhreach ’s a Fhrangaich robhuadhach — ’S an duil iad ’thoirt sgrios air an talamh gu leir, Aig Waterloo chomhail na Gaedheil an t-ollach — A’s mharbh iad a Fhrangaich, a’s ruaig iad e fein. A s choisinn iad cliu ’bliios cho-mairean r’an duthcha — Ri darach nam beann a’s ri sleibhtean an fhraoich, Siad Gaedheil na h-Alba, aig cogadh mor Alma , ’Chuir saighdearean Russia mar cheo leis a ghaoith. ’S na h-Innsean, teith grianail, bu ghoirt a’s bu chianail An strith a thug saorsa do phrusunaich thruagh ; B’ an-iochd-mhor, ’s bu ghraineil mar chlachd Nina Sahib E fein, mu ’n d’thug, Breatunn ’s na Gaedheil air buaidh. Ach rug iad air Delhi , le cabhaig a’s starum, ’S rinn greim air an Righ ’n uair a b’aill leis dol as — ’S air na daoine gun naire, ’rnhort fir agus mnaibh A ’s naoidheanean maoth, rinn iad dioghaltas gu cas. 4 N uair ’chual Calain Ciampbeil gun robh Lucknow ’an tean- teachd — Ghrad-tharuing e suas iad ri guaillibh a cheiF ; Cha robh cridh anna d’fhailnaich, ’s ann dh’fhalbh iad gu gairdeach — i ’S 44 Tha na Caimpbeilaich ’teachd,” bha a phiob *cuir an l geil. I 130 COLLECTED VERSE A’s chual iad ’s a bhaile, an fuaim mar mhac-talla, Mu ’n d’thainig na Gaedheil an tearnadh ’o’n bhas— Ach ruig iad gu grad iad a’s sbaoradh air fad iad \ ’S na cinnich na miletean bha sinnte air a bhlar. ’N uair dhealraich a mbaduinn le cloinn agus mnaibh, ’S ann dh’fhalbh iad g’ an stuireadh gu ionnad na dion ; Oir tha ’n Gael ro-thruacant, deadh-bheusach a’s uasail, Ro-threun ann an cath, agus ciuin ann an sith. Ciod e a ghne dhaoine ’bha marbheadh nan ceudan, , Cha tuigeadh na h-Innseanaich ’dh andcoin an cridh ; Bh ’iad sgeaduite mar mhnaibh a’s bha ceol tighinn o meadhon, ’S cha robh duine anns na h-Innsean nach ruitheadh iad sios. 0 Albuinn ! Mo dhuthcha ! air son fradharc mo shuilean* Bu trie ’bha mi’ ’n dochas gu’n rachainn thar cuan— Ach dall ’s mar a tha mi, Biodh cliu chlann nan Gael A’ sior dhol am meud, ’s bi’ mo ghairdeachas buan. Mar so, tha mi cantuinn air morachd nan Gael, Cho treun ann an cath, a’s an cairdeas cho fior, — Cho dileas, mar bhraithribh, ’s ’an aonachd cho laidir, ’S nach d rugadh an ti sin ’thug buaidh air an Tir. TRANSLATION OF THE GAELIC POEM I would sing the brave deeds of the sons of the Gael, So mighty in battle— in friendship so true, In union fraternal when foemen assail, So strong that no mortal their land could subdue. For the sons of the Gael so nobly arrayed, Are courageous, bold, — unacquainted with fear ; They draw the claymore when the bagpipes are played, And they yield not — nor flee when the battle is near. * This alludes to the author’s blindness. COLLECTED VERSE 131 No wonder the bravest ne’er fled from a foe, When their Gaelic, (although so expressive and neat), Contains not a word like “ retreat,” but we know That a Highlander never expects to retreat. There is much to be told of the men whose array, Is bonnets of blue and the tartan so bright, Just a century past ’twas a glorious day, When they captured Quebec, and the French put to flight. Proud Bonaparte thought that the French would subdue The whole earth, — as his armies in triumph he led ; The Highlanders met him at great Waterloo, They conquered the French and Napoleon fled. And the fame that they earned, like their country, shall last, Like the heath-covered hills and the forests of oak ; At Alma they swept o’er the heights like the blast, And the Russian warriors vanished like smoke. In hot, sunny India, long and severe Was the strife that brought freedom to poor oppressed ones ; Detestably vile, Nana Sahib’s career, Ere Britain prevailed through the Gael’s brave sons. But the city of Delhi they quickly subdued, And the wicked old king, while escaping was caught, And the heathen so shameless, whose hands were imbrued In the blood of the guiltless, were terribly taught. When the great Colin Campbell, of Lucknow’s sad plight Had heard — he assembled his Highlanders there ; No brave heart grew faint, but they went with delight — And “ The Campbells are coming ” was rung through the air. And long ere the Highlanders reached that dark wall, Their echo-like music was wafted before ; — But quickly they came, and delivered them all, And the heathen by thousands lay stretched in their gore. 132 COLLECTED VERSE With the dawn of the morning, they took young and old, Escorting them safely from danger afar, For the Gael is merciful, gallant, and bold ; He is gentle in peace, and undaunted in war. In perfect amazement the natives enquired What wonderful people the Queen had sent forth ? With soul-stirring music, — like women attired, They would capture and conquer the fleetest on earth. 0, my dear native land ! for the sight of mine eyes— How oft’ I had hoped to go over the sea ; But blind as I am, I will always rejoice, When my countrymen famous — more famous will be. And thus I have sung of the sons of the Gael, So mighty in fight, and in friendship so true ; In union fraternal when foemen assail — So brave that no mortal their land could subdue. I.— ON MEGANTIC MEGANTIC MORE THAN FORTY YEARS AGO Old Megantic’s banks and braes, Lovely lakes and balmy bowers ; Where, in childhood’s happy days, We have culled the fairest flowers. See that mountain’s towering head ; See this vale so green and low ; Mountains rise and valleys spread Just as forty years ago. Where the hills of Arran swell High above Loch Ranza’s shore ; Few there are that live to tell Of the friends they saw no more When, from Scotia’s favoured strand Still unstained by conquering foe, Sailed that hopeful, hardy band, More than forty years ago. Here the silvery streamlets pour Down the dewy dell at morn : There the mountain torrent’s roar Laughs the loudest laugh to scorn. Here, when young, I loved to roam, Nature’s mildest charms to know ; Here our fathers found a home More than forty years ago. Dark and dense the wild woods lay. Gaily green, for leagues around ; Here the savage beasts of prey Undisturbed asylum found. 135 136 COLLECTED VERSE Here with pioneering toils Stalwart arms, with many a blow, Felled the woods and burnt the piles, More than forty years ago. Now the ploughman guides his steeds Where the great old woods have been ; See our gardens, orchards, meads, 0, what changes have we seen ! Ordered by unerring Law Seasons come and seasons go ; Gone the rarest sights we saw More than forty years ago. Gone the camps and camping ground, Old log meeting-house and all ; Gone the schools assembled ’round Fires that blazed against the wall. Gone the barns and houses too, Roofed with bark in many a row ; Frames and shingles known to few More than forty years ago. Now we build our palace piles, Some of wood and some of stone, Roofed in strange fantastic styles, Bark forgotten and unknown. Gone, the simple ways of life Early years were wont to know ; Less of law and less of strife, More than forty years ago. Gone the fathers, they are dead, Gone their kind endearing ways ; Worn, the Bibles that they read, Mute, their earnest songs of praise. Gone, a generation gone ! All forgotten lying low, Men whose noblest deeds were done More than forty years ago. 137 COLLECTED VERSE We who live in Canada, Now “ the New Dominion ” styled, Still remember when we saw Inverness a desert wild. And Megantic all around, With the parishes below, But an Indian hunting ground More than forty years ago. I am older, so are you, Growing older day by day ; Surely we are dying too, Ah ! how soon to pass away. But Megantic shall remain, Mountains rise and rivers flow — Who shall then in sweeter strain Sing of forty years ago ? January , 1874. GREAT MEGANTIC In this peaceful “ land of wonders,” far from all th’ alarming thunders That the turning scales of battle pour upon the passing years, Guided by our Heavenly Father, in reunion sweet we gather To recount the great achievements of the early pioneers. From the fairest of the islands in the far unconquered High- lands Came the Scotch who partly settled Inverness in ’twenty-nine ; Then to Halifax so near us some removed, and now they cheer us By their presence and assistance, “ For the Days of Auld Lang Syne.” From their homes in distant regions, if they do not come in legions, Old acquaintances we welcome as by hundreds they appear. 138 COLLECTED VERSE Midst the strains of music swelling ’round us, friends to friends are telling How their fathers and their mothers lived in tents erected here. Weary months on the Atlantic, no one dreamed of “ Great Megantic ” — Of this country grand and lovely they had never heard before ; Captain Miller then commanding, from the Caledonia landing Just imagine how delighted we all were to get on shore. Sick of sailing, tired of tramping, on this very spot encamping, Here they rested, fondly waiting — waiting for their promised lands. Few there are who can remember how in bleak and cold December They went forth to face the forest, with their axes in their hands. Ardent were the hopes they cherished, though their names are all but perished, There were joys as well as sorrows in their chequered path of life ; Friendship was not mere politeness where the chimneys threw such brightness, And the people lived as neighbours without council, tax, or strife. The impressions on the ranges left by great eventful changes Records, annals, and traditions most minutely may recall. Famous homesteads have been shattered, families divided, scattered, And the few “ last leaves ” remaining sered and withered, soon must fall. Look around you for an instant, taking in the mountains distant Or the towering sugar maple growing grandly by your side ; Gratitude may be a duty — then be thankful for the beauty Of the gorgeous carpet Nature spreads before you far and wide. COLLECTED VERSE 139 Who will challenge the opinion that in all the great Dominion There is not a rural region that can make a better show ? North or south of the Equator, are the charms of Nature greater Than among these hills and valleys where such cooling fountains flow ? While the ev’ning shadows lengthen, faith and hope alone can strengthen Pilgrims passing to a brighter and a better home on high ; Let the joys that round you cluster in reunion as you muster Be a foretaste of the blessings of the sweeter “ by and by.” OLD MEGANTIC (Suggested during a sleigh-ride over the hills that overlook Lake Joseph and the valley of the Thames, to the beautiful estate of the late Colonel Charles Campbell, near the village of St. Ferdinand, on the shores of Lake William, Halifax, January, 1879) Have you heard of Old Megantic where the scenes are so romantic That the traveller often lingers on the landscape he admires, Stands to view the winding river while the balmy breezes quiver O’er the vast extending vista where the vision never tires ? There are rough and rugged mountains, there are floods and flowing fountains, There are lovely lakes expanding in the valleys, to be seen, There are peaks that cast their shadows over undulating meadows, But the winter scene is grandest where the woods are ever green. Yes, the winter comes with leisure, bringing much of social pleasure As to visit friends and neighbours in our carioles we go ; 140 COLLECTED VERSE Sires and matrons, lads and lassies, crowding every sleigh that passes, With their fleet and fiery horses dancing, prancing, o’er the snow. In the evening or the morning, going forth and then returning To the humble, happy homesteads where such joy and peace abound, I have heard their cheerful singing, while the merry sleigh- bells ringing Echoed music o’er the mountains and the valleys all around. Spring, delightful spring, and summer bring new joys to every comer, Whether on the lofty hillside or the valleys green and low. As for autumn’s golden colours — every treasure and the dollars Of creation all exhausted could not paint the landscape so. Ye who live in cities only, viewing walls and steeples lonely, Would that ye could stand and witness all the grandeur we behold ! How each passing scene would capture every thought, and you enrapture With the grandest works of nature as they one by one unfold ! In the dark’ning distance yonder there are hills that stood the thunder Of the ages long departed ere this continent was known ; Lofty woods of God’s own planting, sylvan ranges gently slanting Downward to the chain of waters that for centuries has flown. I have stood where crowds assembled, every nerve in tension, trembled As we gazed on rocks impending over gorges far below. Was it weakness, then, or error, thus to stand in breathless terror ? If you think so, just get ready, for to see them you should go. COLLECTED VERSE 141 Passing o’er the shady summit take your sweetest tune and hum it — There are better, nobler songsters in the trees above your head, Nature’s choristers, outrolling music thrilling and consoling, Fit to cheer a weary spirit, from the bowers around you spread. I have found in great profusion, even in the dark seclusion Of the trackless mountain forest, flowers elsewhere never known, And I asked the world to fathom why God made them where I saw them In their beauty and their grandeur, for a garden all His own. Lilies lovely, frail and slender, decked in robes of vernal splendour, Neither taking thought nor toiling for the gorgeous tints they wear, Teach a trust-inspiring lesson : theirs a mission to impress on Every heart that bears a burden that there’s One who hears each prayer. Can there be a single mortal who has entered Reason’s portal Who can stand without emotion in a field of forest flowers, No amazement his, nor pleasure ? Sure his photograph would measure One who is a willing stranger to the bliss of Eden’s bowers. * * * * * There are pleasing meditations o’er the persevering patience, Hardships, toils and great endurance of the worthy pioneers ; As from week to week, together they assembled (for the weather Did not have the power to hinder that it has in later years). Well indeed do I remember how in rough and cold December, While assembled just as duly as in sunny May or June, We enjoyed the social meetings, shared the kindly, friendly greetings, Sang the sweet, melodious Gaelic where no organ was in tune. 142 COLLECTED VERSE But it was not all of pleasure, there were trials, though in measure, That might cast a gloomy shadow o’er the light of any path ; Far be it from my intention to torment you while I mention Mighty giants who defied us, though they never came from Gath. Big and burly bears went prowling through the country, but the howling Of a wolf in all Megantic was a sound unknown to me ; There were many cunning foxes, and their track along the rocks is Just as regular this moment as it was in “ thirty-three.” I have been among the bushes where I heard the rambling rushes Of the gentle little rabbit as it gambolled ’round its lair ; I have heard the squirrels contending up and down the trees, and blending Sounds that never could be written with the echoes in the air. ***** Let the poets sing their ditties over towns and man-made cities, But the wonders of creation in the country never end ; And in famous Old Megantic, where the hills are so gigantic, Like a panoramic picture do the lights and shadows blend. Fix your gaze, or let it wander over leagues of lovely grandeur, Nature’s richest hues extending round the lakes and river Thames : Then become pathetic, tender, and a tribute you will render To this land of peace and plenty, with such famous British names. Stand where’er you will, surrounding you the homesteads are abounding, And the curling smoke ascending from the chimneys every- where ; COLLECTED VERSE 143 Yon can hear the cocks’ shrill crowing, bleating sheep, and cattle lowing, And the woodman’s axe resounding through the summer’s balmy air. Thus the streamlet, rill, and river flowing on may flow for ever Till the sun and moon are darkened and the stars forbear to shine ; From this temple of creation ceaseless songs of adoration Rise to Him whose works are praising power and goodness so divine. With His glorious work before us let us join the blissful chorus That to Heaven has been ascending from the earth in ev’ry age. Love the great Creator, fear Him, walking with and living near Him, And in His eternal kingdom in a nobler song engage. “ ONE EVENING IN THE FLOWERY MONTH ” One evening in the flowery month, The pleasant month of May, In meditative mood I sought In solitude to stray. My path lay through a forest dense, By many a woody dell, With here and there an opening Where happy families dwell. It was a very rocky road, Unworthy of the name, And scarcely passable. Perhaps The people were to blame. 144 COLLECTED VERSE At any rate, the trees were cut Some thirty years ago And stumps and roots allowed to rot ; But stones decay not so. For when the soil was washed away It left the boulders bare, And in their pristine dignity The naked rocks are there ; No drain nor ditch was ever made Along that narrow line, The water flowed where’er it would, As you may well divine. These circumstances may explain, If not account in full, The num’rous stones that filled the road By many a muddy pool — For while the road, for thirty years, Was left to make itself The sons of men were busily Engaged in hoarding pelf. And as I travelled slowly on The scenes began to crowd Upon my mind so rapidly I almost thought aloud. I thought of all the changes which Megantic had gone through, And like a flitting dream the past Was present to my view ; The prospects of Megantic stood Before me in array, It seemed as if a dark’ning cloud Upon the future lay. COLLECTED VERSE 145 But I pursued my lonely way Unto the River Thames — For in our county we can boast A few good British names. Throughout the country may be seen Some very pleasing sights, Some beauteous vales and fertile plains And most romantic heights. It is a land of cooling springs, Of fountains and of rills, And winding streams and waterfalls Are found among the hills. Low swamps abound, where lurking bears Their nightly vigils keep — And issue forth at times to take The fattest of our sheep. But here we have no prowling wolves Molesting us by night, And on our fields or highway sides No rattlesnakes to bite. And when we settled here at first Wild deer were often slain, But we have hunted them until, If any, few remain. And where the native Indian roved There’s not an Indian now, But in his oft-frequented haunts The farmer guides his plow. The woods are changed to fertile fields And man is changing too, Although the shifting scenes of life Bring little strange or new. K 146 COLLECTED VERSE Perhaps the bygone history Of Inverness may seem Too unimportant thus to be Selected for my theme. But incidents of other days, When youthful hopes were strong, Have long been crowding on my mind As subjects for a song. Nor did I think when I began About the rocky road That I should ask the world to read A long Megantic ode — But I admire the river Thames And the adjacent lakes, And write these brief and simple lines Expressly for their sakes. THE HOME IN THE WOODS (’Neath the Shade of the Great Old Maple) When the daylight faded in the west, And a mother’s voice her joy expressed For a home in the woods, they went to rest ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. When the words of the Holy Book were read, And the evening prayer was devoutly said, They thanked high Heaven for a roof o’erhead, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. From the mountain glen and the heathery hill Where the gowans grow by rock and rill, They had come to the west, to toil and till ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. COLLECTED VERSE 147 With the wild Canadian woods to cope, They built their house on a sunny slope ; And their hearts were light with the joys of hope, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple, ’Twas a home of logs all rough and round, But the walls may be seen as firm and sound As the day they were laid on the yielding ground, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. And the days and the nights of the forty years That have chequered life with their hopes and fears, Have proved this world a vale of tears, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. But the darkest hour that ever fell On that old log house is remembered well ; ’Twas the day they lost their lovely Nell, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. She was bright and blithe, she was young and fair, She was good and gentle everywhere ; And her voice was their household music, there ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. But her stay was transient here below, For in early life she was called to go — Like a gathered flower — from a world of woe, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. On a sweet sunny Sabbath morn she died, When the warblers sang on every side, And their music was echoed by the tide, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. She was laid in the low, in the silent tomb, When the spring dispelled stern winter’s gloom, And the flowers appeared in their brightest bloom ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. 148 COLLECTED VERSE In a shady spot in the trackless wood Where a spire or a churchyard never stood, They laid her to rest in the solitude, 'Neath the shade of the great old maple. Now the old are dead, and the young are old, And in summer’s heat and winter’s cold The tale of the home in the woods has been told, ’Neath the shade of the great old maple. But the scenes of time are fleeting fast, And the tree itself disappeared at last, Riven and torn by the lightning blast, Yes, gone is the great old maple ! Pilgrims and strangers from day to day Still clinging to life, we are passing away, For all upon earth is doomed to decay, Like the stump of the great old maple. Fingal, Ontario, April 2 4th, 1878. THE LADIES AT THE FAIR Busy scene at yonder village, Exhibition rich and rare, World of wonders ! Oh, the splendour Of the Ladies at the Fair. Rain all night and half the morning, Still incessant toward noon ; Thronged the thoroughfares with people Coming late and coming soon. Mud that reached to half the wheel-spokes, Dashing, splashing all around ; ’Mongst the horses and the cattle Scores of women on the ground. COLLECTED VERSE 149 Fancy hats with flowers and feathers — Lace and muslin white as snow ; When the rain descends in torrents, Fine equipment for a Show ! Silken dresses long and draggling, (Rustling richly when they’re dry), Sweeping mud through pools of water Cost their wearers many a sigh. Could we censure them for shedding Tears of sorrow and regret, When apparel so expensive Was so miserably wet ? “ Keep at home,” said an apostle Eighteen hundred years ago ; But he might as well have written “ You must all go to the Show.” Mothers, children, daughters, matrons, Show themselves in grand array, As the persevering patrons Of improvement in our day. And we say it to the honour Of the enterprising fair — What they cannot raise they borrow, Even to a lock of hair ! (“ Boys, take charge of these my horses,” Said a farmer to his sons, “ Don’t let those fine ladies near them Lest their tails become chignons.”) Fineries may serve to dazzle, Please or captivate the eyes ; By the fashions we discover Who are foolish, who are wise. 1 150 COLLECTED VERSE Now we recommend the single Still to grasp this hope of life, Let not your ambition dwindle, You may be a barber’s wife ! And should dames and matrons ask us For advice, we would reply : “ Show yourselves on wise occasions, And your fineries when dry.” June 26^, 1875. “ THERE’S AN OPENING ON A MOUNTAIN’S BROW ” There’s an opening on a mountain’s brow Afar from the haunts of men, To that little spot I shall now devote The labours of my pen. Very few were the trees that were ever cut From that little narrow field, It is grown, alas, with brushwood and grass ! And never a crop did it yield. Dost thou inquire why the work was done By the farmers’ hearty toil, If not to build, or clear a field To be made into arable soil ? If thou would ’st know what did transpire Some thirty years ago, From Mem’ry’s leaf I will cull a brief And touching tale of woe. In Eighteen Hundred and Thirty-nine We left our native shore And crossed the seas, to fell the trees Where no white man dwelt before. COLLECTED VERSE 151 And in the burning month of June We come to the river’s side And on that green might our tent be seen Where a little sister died. A tool-chest broken up, they say, Did the coffin boards supply — For there were no mills among the hills, No church nor graveyard nigh. So into the forest the people went And cut down the trees as I said ; And the spot for years was bedewed with tears, For there they buried their dead. My little sister was the first Committed to the ground, But ere a year we had been here The graves increased around. For many aged ones among That emigrating band, Cut down by Death, resigned their breath In this adopted land. If Death is solemn when it comes To those who dwell at ease, Severer far the visits are To tents among the trees. Thus passed away the summer months, And ere th’ approaching fall ; By labour hard they had prepared Log cabins for them all. Except the spots where diligence Had burned the trees in piles, The forest wide on every side Unbroken was for miles. 152 COLLECTED VERSE But soon by persevering toil The openings were enlarged ; Our barns though rude were filled with food, Our cellars overcharged. Thus years rolled on, the young grew up, (What changes Time will make), And all their dead, as I have said, Were buried “ at the lake.” For eighteen years that little spot An influence could wield O’er many a mind ; all felt inclined To guard that lonely field. Then was the fence around the place Repaired with tender care, And cattle rude could not intrude For posts and bars were there. 5 Tis true no ornaments were seen In that obscure abode, No marble shone, nor e’en a stone, But merely posts of wood. No flowers adorned that humble scene But those by Nature given, And all was still upon that hill, Except the breath of Heaven. “ There is no labour in the grave,” No anxious toiling care, Not so the life of living men Involved in worldly care. And the survivors soon became So busy day by day, That they forgot the little spot Where their relations lay. COLLECTED VERSE 153 And wretched desolation o’er The place its banner waves ; Cold winds and air are left to care For sepulchres and graves. The fences fell, the posts decayed, The bars all broken lie, Stray cattle roam from tomb to tomb No person asking, “ why ? ” No gentle, kind, and careful arm Protects “ the dead and gone,” But those who died are laid aside Neglected and alone. And few are they who come to weep Where many a thistle blooms, Not one to mow the weeds that grow Among the humble tombs. 1 lately walked around the place, Dejected and alone ; The posts of wood, that lately stood To mark the graves, were gone. I found some portions, but they fell To pieces in decay, The letters traced were all erased, So weather-worn were they. What noxious weeds are growing here, Above these once-loved ones ! Fast-growing trees wave in the breeze And flourish o’er their bones. Three sisters and a brother sleep In this most dreary place, I think a state more desolate No pen can ever trace. 154 COLLECTED VERSE Sad were my thoughts when I beheld That thrilling scene of woe, “ When I am dead,” I almost said, “ Shall I be buried so ? ” Ah ! who can tell ? For who can look On suns that yet shall rise ? What need I care to find out where This mortal body lies ? Vain are the hours we often spend In scanning days to come ; And I may find sepulture kind A little nearer home. For on a mountain’s gentle slope, Within my daily view, Some graves are found enclosed around, Which I must notice too. There are two marbles in the place, And only two as yet ; Though graves abound throughout the ground. Few monuments are set. And if around the early dead Fat weeds and thistles grow ; That this may share as little care Its present aspects show. Rank are the weeds that choke the spot We should so much respect, Great bushes wave o’er many a grave, And all is gross neglect. But with this want of care and taste — The bushes thick and tall, Fences that break and go to wreck, The open porch and all — COLLECTED VERSE I think the chapel and the ground Are worth preserving yet, For days gone by, which you and I Can hardly soon forget. Here did I stray some time ago With slow and solemn tread, And on this spot some lines I wrote Conversing with the dead. I often for amusement write, And what I write despise ; But now and then I take my pen When deeper sorrows rise. The mind of man, so generous When softened down by grief, The more it feels, the more it yields — Expression gives relief. So has it been with me of late ; Though I am much alone ; I love to write and then recite To make my sorrows known. As man to man the wide world o’er Should sympathy extend, So bear with me in patience, ye Who never lost a friend. For I will not immortalise The valour of the strong, Nor shall I make the wars of men The subject of my song. The pride of emperors and chiefs, The royalty of kings, The wondrous works of art and skill, And Nature’s nobler things. 156 COLLECTED VERSE The beauty of the beautiful, The prowess of the brave — I leave them all to muse awhile Beside another’s grave. Ah ! Well remember I the hour That humble grave was made, Our thoughts were very sad that day, And few the words we said. And then our sympathising friends And neighbours thronged around ; The long and sad procession tracked The hard and frozen ground. Cold was that dark December day, And keen the piercing blast, And cold the heart our trembling hands Committed to the dust. Ay, freely fell the bitter tear, And freely rose the sigh ; To think that one so promising Was called so soon to die. To think that, in the prime of life, He should resign his breath ; To think those lips that preached the Word Of God are closed in death. To think those eyes are dim, that Were so radiant with hope ; To think of her who still survives With earthly cares to cope. And when we think he studied hard, Then, when his toils were o’er, Pass’d from the earth, we mourn his fate, His early death deplore. COLLECTED VERSE 157 But yet our grief is not the grief Of those to whom is given No comforting, consoling, hope Of meeting friends in Heaven. And though the body moulders now Beneath the mountain clod, Faith eyes the ransomed spirit now Before the throne of God. Unfalt’ring faith can also view, Amid dissolving skies, “ The resurrection of the just,” When he shall also rise. What union and communion then The sanctified shall share, Who shall arise, when Jesus comes, To meet him in the air. And certain sweet and tender flowers, That blossomed and decayed In early life, shall bloom again In peerless light arrayed. For all the saints of God shall shine In garments pure and white ; When that which fell in weakness shall Be raised in glory bright. No parting sigh, no grief, no pain, No anguish, toil or care, No sin nor frailty known to earth Can ever enter there. True glory and immortal bliss In full perfection flow Throughout the Paradise of God, Which earth can never know. 158 COLLECTED VERSE Aspiring Faith and cheering Hope Shall be possessed no more, When all the saints, in perfect Love, Eternally adore. THOUGHTS ON MEGANTIC, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE (The following was read at the Good Templars’ temperance picnic, at the village of Inverness, County of Megantic, on July 1st, 1896) Where mountains are green and rise in grandeur ’Mid bowers of azure and blue, I roamed with delight, I loved to wander, The charms of nature to view. By river and lakes enclosed in wildwood, Like mirrors that shone in the day, The evening hours, how oft in childhood We spent in innocent play. As years went by the people were scattered Away from that beautiful shore ; And youthful joys and hopes were shattered By troubles and trials they bore. How many are gone ! How few are living ! May solemnly, truly, be said. But there is a precious hope worth having When youthful pleasures are fled. Tho’ few there are now who meet or gather To talk of their happiest days, ’Tis blessed to know that our heavenly Father Is lovingly guiding our ways. In sunshine and shade, on hills, in valleys, Memorial tokens are seen ; Where monuments rise and mansions tell us How great the changes have been. COLLECTED VERSE The county still claims her sylvan beauties, The lakes are as bright in the sun As they were in the days when their settling duties By the old pioneers were done. Megantic survives the vilest slander That ever appeared in the Mail ; Tho’ thousands believe and share that blunder, Their falsehood and folly must fail. In loyalty true and peace-promoting, The Liberals ever contend For freedom of thought, the right of voting, And victory comes in the end. “ Three cheers ” did we sing for Old Megantic, Again “ Three Cheers ” do we say ; Tho' some may be sad and others are frantic, Great Laurier triumphs to-day. His promise so true, so freely given, Is plebiscite voting by all, When union is strength, approved by Heaven, The castle of Bacchus must fall. Take courage, then, all ye temperance people, The dawn may be near at hand, Let gladness resound from ‘steeple to steeple When Laurier takes the command. THREE CHEERS FOR OLD MEGANTIC YET Three cheers for old Megantic yet, With all her sons so brave, United, true, and loyal men Who fear no tyrant knave. Her daughters, modest, beautiful, The fairest, best on earth ; While aged sires and dames display The power of honest worth. 160 COLLECTED VERSE Of honest worth that never fails To raise a people’s fame, And faithful memory is stored With many a precious name ; The old familiar Gaelic names Of worthy pioneers. Not only men, but women too, Who toiled in early years. By shot and shell let men repel The tyranny of wrong ; The heroes of the axe and hoe Undaunted were and strong. When Inverness was first surveyed, Could Patrick Burke foretell, That such courageous Highlanders Were coming here to dwell ? From famous Arran, in the Clyde, Great Scotia’s island-gem, They came to these Megantic woods So wild and new to them. The country, one vast wilderness, Unbroken lay around ; But soon their homestead-farms transformed The Indian hunting ground. Broad acre after acre spread Before each cottage door, And though the fields were thick with stumps Great were the crops they bore. Then trials came and hardships too, From which the mind recoils, Yet Providence most richly poured A blessing on their toils. COLLECTED VERSE 161 The women and the children, too, And some were very young, Who cleared and planted, raked and reaped, Deserve a nobler song. Let history immortalize The men of olden times ; The tale of three-score years and ten Outgrows the realm of rhyme. All honour to the pioneers On mountain, plain and hill ; Their ashes rest, while we can sing Of old Megantic still. In kingdoms, states and provinces, # Great cities far and wide, Our kindred claim great Canada And share our worthy pride. And while corruption blights the earth And other countries reel, Let all good citizens confess The conscious might they feel. And let us not forget the ties Each loyal subject claims, For in Megantic we can boast The best of British names. For instance, we have Somerset And Halifax and Leeds, And Nelson, too — who can recount That warrior’s mighty deeds ? While Inverness and Ireland are Two townships side by side, Let distant Thetford and Col’raine The other part divide. L COLLECTED VERSE Three cheers for old Megantic yet, With all her noble names ! But who has seen, can e’er forget The valley of the Thames ? ’Tis there the sights are beautiful, ’Tis there the woods are green, ’Tis there the great Lysander Falls And Pleasant Bluff are seen. From Caribou to Becancour Extends the winding stream, With lovely lakes and beauteous bays That in the sunlight gleam. When one in solitude recalls The wonders he has seen, How charming are the sunny heights Of everlasting green ! The great romantic hills of Leeds, The streams unknown to song, The fertile fields and flowery meads That I have loved so long. Lake Joseph is as picturesque As in the days of yore, When cedar-raft and pine canoes We steered from shore to shore. We knew each overhanging tree, Each cosy, shady nook ; The old Scotch Landing to the north, And southward Duncan’s Brook. From east and west on either side, Each bend and bay we marked, And many were the inlets where We landed and embarked. COLLECTED VERSE And that fair spot, the village lot, Is well remembered still, Great thickets now conceal the graves On the adjacent hill. Ye winds, deal gently with the waves That lash and lave the beach, The silent slumbers of the tomb Their murmurs cannot reach. Blow gently, balmy breezes, blow Among the forest flowers, Kind Nature’s dewy teardrops fall Where fragrance fills the bowers. Peace ! verdant valley of the lakes, Long may thy mirrors glow, Reflecting azure skies above, And earthly scenes below. The Rapids and Lake William’s charms No change has e’er destroyed ; How famous were the falls when owned By Clapham and by Lloyd. Though passing Time obliterates The marks of bygone years, Arrayed in Nature’s gayest garb Megantic still appears. Ye poets ! What a noble theme This country and her charms, And Great Megantic, Old and New, So free from war’s alarms. And those who read and ridicule, This brief imperfect sketch, May go and view the other lakes And see how far they stretch. 164 COLLECTED VERSE Then measure the asbestos mines Of Thetford and Col’raine, Take all the iron, copper, gold, From every rock and vein. Pick up the jewels missed or dropped From caskets new and old, And then despairingly exclaim, “ The half has not been told.” Let painters paint the beautiful, Let poets tune the lyre, Let old and young by faith and hope To higher joys aspire. Three cheers for old Megan tic then, And blessings on her soil ; Let Peace and Plenty crown the days Of all who till and toil. Quebec, May 18 th, 1874. II.— ON CANADA CANADA’S NEW FLAG— A SUGGESTION Be ours the whitest, brightest star E’er sketched by skilful mortal, To mark the great Atlantic shore With Canada its portal. ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. The great North Star, the light of yore Of many a would-be freeman, Is still the bright unerring guide Of traveller and seaman. ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. There is a sun that never sets Upon the empire loyal, While nations, great colonial stars, Surround the centre royal. ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. And while the world is rolling on And time is passing quickly, Though lights and shades and hopes and fears Should crowd the future thickly — 165 166 COLLECTED VERSE ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. Whate’er may change from green in spring To golden hues in autumn, The good and wise pursue the lines Of light, that Truth has taught them. ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. 0 Canada, fair Canada ! Whatever else may sever The white star shines, while we exclaim “ The Maple Leaf For Ever.” ’Tis our star, the new star, The true star whose glory In maple dells where freedom dwells Records and tells our story. COME TO CANADA Fair Scotia’s Highland hills are noo A scene o’ desolation, An’ michty men frae moor and glen Are swept by emigration. Come on, come hither, come a’thegither, For Canada will sustain ye ; An’ leave the worthless lords and lairds, Let no a chiel detain ye. Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’thegither, Ye’ll be a’ the welcomer early ; There’s nae a lan’ in all the warl Compares wi’ Canada fairly. COLLECTED VERSE 167 They’ve gi’en your hill to deer, your glens To sheep and cattle grazin’, An' rents and rates on their estates By taxes they are raisin’. Come on, come hither, come a’thegither, For Canada will sustain ye, An’ leave the worthless lords and lairds, Let no a chiel detain ye. Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’thegither, Ye’ll be all the welcomer early ; There’s nae a lan’ in a’ the warl Compares wi’ Canada faifly. Here Freedom, Peace and Plenty reign The whole Dominion over, On this fair shore frae Labrador To distant far Vancouver. Come on, come hither, come a’thegither, For Canada will sustain ye, An’ leave the worthless lords and lairds, Let no a chiel detain ye. Come Ronald, come Donald, come a’thegither. Ye’ll be a’ the welcomer early, There’s nae a lan’ in a’ the warl Compares wi' Canada fairly. FAIR CANADA The millionaires on earth rejoice To count their golden stores, And poets sing the worthy praise Of other sunny shores ; But Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee. The great, the happy land we love, Dominion of the free. While nations go in search of war And others light at home, As from a firm, unshaken rock We eye the distant foam. 168 COLLECTED VERSE 0 Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee, The great, the peaceful land we love, Dominion of the free. The rains of California, The waters of the Nile, The dews of tropic regions Make the face of Nature smile ; But Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee, The great, the fertile land we love, Dominion of the free. Unconquered on the Scottish hills The thistle may be seen, While England’s beauteous rose entwines With Erin’s shamrock green. But Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee, The beaver land, the maple land, Dominion of the free. Let Peace still wave her olive branch While Plenty pours her horn, Let Time bring forth his laurel leaves The kingdoms to adorn. But Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee, The great, the glorious land we love, Dominion of the free. W hen truth and righteousness prevail Religion shall abound, Where God and man defend the right The earth is hallowed ground. 0 Canada, fair Canada, we ever sing of thee, The great, the blessed land we love, Dominion of the free. January 29th, 1878. COLLECTED VERSE 1 HAIL ! BRIGHT COLONIAL STAR Hail ! Bright Colonial Star, Free from alarm of war Be thy blest shore. Most peaceful land on earth, Great realm of wealth and worth, Light up the golden north For evermore. Hark ! Hark ! the Nation’s call— “ One song, a song for all, One sweet refrain. Loud, loud the anthem raise, Great Canada we praise, How bright her golden rays From main to main.” The British Lion’s tones Resound through all the zones To guide the world, Till tyranny shall cease. When knowledge shall increase The great white flag of peace Shall be unfurled. Long, long, this Northern Light, So brilliant and so bright, Has loyal been ; And still the Land of Fame To which our fathers came Rings forth the glad acclaim, “ God Save the Queen.” Maxville, May , 1898. i 170 COLLECTED VERSE ONTARIO’S BRAVE DEFENDERS (Suggested by the monument to those who fell at Ridgeway) No cooler spread the maple shade By great Ontario’s waters, Nor ever marshalled truer men The pride of wives and daughters, Than on the day we lent our ear To news and rumour vendors. To arms ! To arms ! the foe is near, Ontario’s Brave Defenders ! Then forward sped with dauntless tread Our troops, the bugle sounding, To rally by their battle-drums The British flag surrounding. No patriot or volunteer One cherished right surrenders. To arms ! To arms ! The foe is near, Ontario’s Brave Defenders ! By war’s alarms when called to arms Went sternly forth to duty A true, a tried, heroic band, The pride of worth and beauty ; When parting kiss or falling tear Foreboding thought engenders, ’Twas thus we felt when foes were near, Ontario’s Brave Defenders. But never yet can we forget The kind farewells they bade us, Those dear loved ones, who fought and fell By Ridgeway’s lengthened shadows. The trump of war resounding clear — To rout the raid-pretenders They rose to arms, our volunteers, Ontario’s Brave Defenders. COLLECTED VERSE They come, they come, with muffled drum, The victor host returning ; A pall is spread around the dead, The country wrapped in mourning. And lo ! This sculptured stone appears, The gift a nation renders To those departed volunteers, Ontario’s Brave Defenders. And while we weep for those who sleep, And grateful mem’ries cherish, From Canada, true Freedom’s shore, Let all invaders perish ! For nobler far than lords or peers Or knighted court-attenders, Our true, our loyal volunteers, Ontario’s Brave Defenders. And suns may gleam on lake and stream In peaceful calm reposing, All echoes die beyond the hills When daylight’s eye is closing ; — But should the tocsin wake our ears Amid these glowing splendours, To arms will rise our volunteers, Ontario’s Brave Defenders ! ONWARD, CANADA, ONWARD . Onward, Canada, onward ! Fairer, brighter shine Northern Star of Freedom, Great the future thine. Thine the golden mountains. Prairie-plains and hills, Valleys, rivers, fountains, Ocean-lakes and rills. 172 COLLECTED VERSE Onward, Canada, onward ! British, loyal, free : Guarded by Omnipotence Ours from sea to sea. Our contingents, fearless, Braved the brunt of war ; Our dragoons are peerless, Famous near and far. Optimists may blunder, Pessimists complain, — Evil cannot sunder Love’s Colonial chain. Onward, Canada, onward ! British, loyal, free : Guarded by Omnipotence Ours from sea to sea. Jealousy may hinder, Envy may oppose, Nations well may wonder How an empire grows. Time, with ceaseless tolling Ends a hundred years ; Britain’s power, controlling Half the world, appears. Onward, Canada, onward ! British, loyal, free ; Guarded by Omnipotence Ours from sea to sea. Maxville, December 31$£, 1900. OUR LAND— THE OPHIR OF GOLD We will sing with delight of this beautiful land, ’Tis the country we claim as our own, Of its mountains and lakes, and the plains that expand Far away into regions unknown. COLLECTED VERSE 173 Of its fruits and its flowers and its shady maple bowers, And the scenery, grand to behold, And the great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land — the Ophir of Gold.” Showers in April and May, with the warblers in tune To enliven creation around, And the roses that bloom in the sunny days of June In the greatest profusion abound. For the sounds and the sights in the land of such delights Are as precious this day as of old. And the great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land— the Ophir of Gold.” Then hurrah for the People, the Country, the Day So happy, so grand and so clear ! With the blessings of peace and the pleasures of play Crown “ the First of July ” in each year. Is it boasting to say that on each Dominion Day The great British flag we unfold ? And the great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land — the Ophir of Gold.” In their gayest attire when the thousands go forth To share in the National glee, Let the nations consider this part of the earth As the home of the loyal and free. Let the pessimists creep into corners — let them weep, Let our neighbours declare we are bold, But the great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land — the Ophir of Gold.” Now let all who rejoice in the favour of Heaven Sing a song for the country we prize, For it was not in vain that this land has been given To a nation so great and so wise ; We with Solomon may say on this bright Dominion Day, “ It is pleasant the sun to behold,” And the great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land — the Ophir of Gold.” 174 COLLECTED VERSE Men of war in the front, men of peace in the rear, With no traitor disturber between, While the young and the gay in procession appear Still our anthem is God Save the Queen.” But whatever we do, “it is righteousness true That exalteth a nation,” we're told, So our great North shall for evermore remain “ Our Land — the Ophir of Gold.'' Maxville, July 1st, 1899. OUR NORTHLAND OF FREEDOM Great Northland of Freedom, we sing of thy beauty, Fair Canada, famous for wealth and renown ! Thy patriots loyal their national duty Evince by their zeal for Britannia's crown. How high is the banner, in sunlight unceasing, That marks the achievements of Britain below ! How great are the blessings of knowledge increasing Wherever the Celt and the Saxon may go ! Our share in the Kingdom and Empire — expanding So greatly, so grandly, to regions unknown — Is to help on the work, civilizing, commanding The earth unto peace where our bugles are blown. Let Canada prosper, despising the smallest Of creatures that peep from their inky domains ; Our editor-neighbours and poets the tallest See nothing but snow on our prairies and plains ! Great Northland, the flowery, the golden ! Thy treasures Half dumb with amazement the nations behold ; Unknown to thyself and the world are the measures Which Nature has stretched o’er thy mountains of gold. Great Northland of Beauty, the home "of the loyal! Divinely appointed two oceans between, As true British subjects we honour the royal, So sing we most fervently, “ God Save the Queen.” Maxville, May 22nd , 1899. COLLECTED VERSE 175 OUR OWN, OUR LOVED CANADIAN LAND Great Canada, when gentle Spring Has crowned the earth with fragrant flowers Thy poets, all inspired, may sing : “ How glorious is this land of ours ! 0 how charming, 0 how grand, Our own, our loved Canadian land.” When Summer’s balmy breezes sweet Pervade the shady maple bowers Thy patriots may well repeat : This most delightful land is ours, 0 how charming, 0 how grand, Our own, our loved Canadian land.” When Autumn pours her golden grain Into our granaries and towers Most grateful for the yearly gain We sing : “ This fertile land is ours, 0 how charming, 0 how grand, Our own, our loved Canadian land.” And when the days of winter bring “ The Beautiful ” in welcome showers, Where Friendship greets us, there we ’ sing: “ This land of blooming health is ours. 0 how charming, 0 how grand, Our own, our loved Canadian land.” Great Heaven, protect this happy shore From all invading evil powers, And bless with peace for evermore This loyal British land of ours ! 0 how charming, 0 how grand, Our own, our loved Canadian land. Maxville, April , 1898. / 176 COLLECTED VERSE THE LAND WE LIVE IN 0 Canada, fair Canada, We ever sing of thee, The great and glorious land we love, Dominion of the free. We sing of the land we live in, ’Tis the fairest under the sun, And we raise our thanks to Heaven For the triumphs we have won. We sing of the floods and the fountains And the bonny maple dells ; Of the moors and the glens and the mountains Where many a freeman dwells. We sing of the lovely landscapes By the great Canadian seas, Till our songs, the songs of freedom, Are wafted on the breeze. We sing of the pioneering When the mighty forests fell, Of the chopping and the clearing, And the work we have done so well. We sing of the worth of the wealthy In many a homestead pile ; Of the brave and the young and the healthy, Where the charms of beauty smile. And we sing of the banner o’er us, And the British Lion’s roar, And then we join in the chorus That will ring from shore to shore. COLLECTED VERSE 177 0 Canada, fair Canada, We ever sing of thee, The great and glorious land we love, Dominion of the free. THE STAR OF THE NORTH On Canada’s beautiful strand We battle for freedom and right ; We’ve done it, we’ll do it, we stand Unbroken, a phalanx of might. From ocean to ocean afar This Maple Dominion we claim, And woe to the tyrant or czar Who tarnishes Canada’s fame. Then cheerfully ring the tribute we bring To the Star of the North, ’tis the home of the free. The Maple more beauteous still Shall flourish and bloom as of yore ; While we with a heart and a will Defend it on Canada’s shore, Unsullied by stain or reproach A gem in Britannia’s crown — Invaders who will may encroach But who shall our prowess put down ? Then cheerfully ring the tribute we bring To the Star of the North, ’tis the home of the free. In union for all that is good, The triumph of Honour and Truth ; We stand as our fathers have stood In the days of Britannia’s youth. From every nation the true In bonds of fraternity blend ; Our motto, “ Be right, and pursue The path to the glorious end.” Then cheerfully ring the tribute we bring To the Star of the North, ’tis fche home of the free. M 178 COLLECTED VERSE 0 Canada, Land of the Free ! The home of the loyal and brave ! Thou Land of the great maple tree ! Thou refuge and hope of the slave ! Let science, religion and truth Annihilate error and wrong ; And wisdom teach manhood and youth To join in one national song. Then cheerfully ring the tribute we bring To the Star of the North, ’tis the home of the free. Ottawa, July 22nd, 1875. THIS CANADA OF OURS Oh, what a charming, happy land, This Canada of ours ! While Nature in her gardens grand Adorns the spring with flowers. When summer comes with genial heat And soft refreshing showers, Calm leisure finds a cool retreat In shady maple bowers. Then Autumn reaps the ripen’d fields, And by the will of Heaven Abundance for the Winter yields, Most bountifully given. And when the cheerful Winter comes What social joys abound ! Great wealth, and health, and happy homes, And pleasure all around. C 1 COLLECTED VERSE 179 In crowded schools and college halls And churches through the land Fond friendship, in her welcome calls, With Peace goes hand in hand. And loyal still, as heretofore The glory of our sheen A British light, from shore to shore We pray, “ God Save the Queen.” April , 1898. / III. — ON VARIOUS LOCALITIES A TRIBUTE TO ST. MARY’S, ONTARIO Where beautiful St. Mary’s Lies nestling ’mongst the hills, The pleasing prospect rare is, Its grandeur me enthrills. From flow’ry gardens nigh me The balmy breezes blow ; The classic Thames runs by me With peaceful, gentle flow. What kindly, friendly greetings Have cheered me on its shore ; And 0 ! such temperance meetings I’ve never seen before. Good Affleck, Pierce and Manning, Carswell and Watson too, With famous Ross were planning What temperance men should do. (For here, in Grand Division, The Sons of Temperance met, To work for Prohibition, The law that we must get.) Thou town of peerless beauty ; Ye friends so kind to me ; It is my pleasant duty To sing this eulogy. 180 COLLECTED VERSE 181 Such scenery nowhere is For many leagues around ; And in this fair St. Mary’s Let peace and wealth abound. GREAT NIAGARA (Composed on Table Rock at the earnest request of a friend June 28th, 1876) Art thou the great Niagara ? How awful is thy roar, Whichever way I turn the sound seems louder than before. So very near and yet so far, above, around, below, Like one unending thunder-peal is thy terrific flow. How terrible the turbulence of this tremendous splash ; The sinking, surging, swelling sounds, the soul-subduing crash That makes me feel so very sad, as if appalling fears With giant force had seized my brain and paralyzed my ears. I hear it all, I feel it, as on Table Rock I stand, While by my side a trusty friend still grasps my trembling hand. I hear the mighty dashing of the everlasting spasm W T ith which the stormy Erie pours the floods into the chasm. The deep, deep tones that never change, the spirit-thrilling sound That silences all voices else and echoes far around, The voice of many waters as it falls upon my ear With penetrating power proclaims, “ Omnipotence is here.” They tell me how the sunlight gleams upon the misty pile, How radiant rays of rainbow-tints are visible the while ; I cannot see the grandeur though I feel the showery spray, It seems that on this Table Rock it rains both night and day. 182 COLLECTED VERSE Goat Island like a monarch stands to see the waters riven, And by a firm decree to us the greater part is given ; To us who live in Canada beneath the maple tree, To us who greatly now rejoice to find that slaves are free. The Horseshoe Falls and Table Rock may poets well inspire In Canada to fan the flame of patriotic fire. While others may delight to boast of prairies and of powers, Yet of this mighty cataract the greater part is ours. Let those who view the splendour dwell enraptured on the scene, The yawning gulf, the clouds of mist, the floods of white and green ; How fierce and wild the rolling tide that leaps from yonder rock And shakes the overhanging cliffs as with an earthquake shock ! The boisterous boiling waters and the booming loud and long Are themes for eulogistic thought, in prose as well as song. Have not the feet of voyageurs from many a foreign strand Been planted on this very rock, where I bewildered stand ? And yet in all that strikes the ear, or gay admirers scan, No sight or sound reveals the hour when first this storm began ; And when ten thousand tons have rolled, and twice ten thousand more, The deafening echo never dies along the quivering shore. Rush on, thou might river, rush down deep into the foam ! Thy thunderings shall follow me wherever I may roam, With vivid recollections of thy overwhelming power To occupy my busy thoughts in many a lonely hour. COLLECTED VERSE 183 The evening shades are falling fast and visitors depart, My faithful friend reminds me now that we must also start. Yes, such is life — we come and go, each generation dies, And still these mighty waters fall, and misty mountains rise. To think of seasons yet to come that I shall never see, To think of great Niagara, this vast immensity, Still rushing, rolling, roaring on till time shall be no more ! Lost in the magnitude of thought, I tremble and adore. NIAGARA (Suggested by seeing a picture of the Falls) Roll on, mighty river ! so fearfully dashing ; The mist is obscuring thy gambols below, Thy floods upon floods, everlastingly washing The rocks that were clean generations ago. The man that could see thee without great emotion, Who sees not the power of Jehovah in thee, Must surely possess but a pitiful notion Of all that is grand in the earth or the sea. Goat Island has stood, like a watchman, for ages So calmly majestic, at rest on thy brow ; But where are the poets, and where are the sages, Who spake of thy wonders, Niagara, now ? They have gone to the land where immortals assemble, They have left here behind but a fragment of rhyme ; And crowds of new visitors see thee, and tremble— While thou art unchanged in thy grandeur sublime. 0, say, did Jehovah determine thy wonder Before there was Man to behold or admire ? When did the Indian first quail at thy thunder, Comparing thy wrath to the Great Spirit’s ire ? 184 COLLECTED VERSE In vain do we look for historical data On thy flood-smitten rocks, or thy volumes in air ; Or could we discover thy deep-hidden strata, What mortal could read thy chronology there ? Rush on in thy glory with motion defiant, Regardless of those who are quailing in fear ; Thy voice of great waters, like that of a giant, It thrills through the soul while it falls on the ear. And just as thy torrent that knows no controlling Is sweeping incessantly into the foam, So the tide of humanity, constantly rolling, Is bearing its myriads to their last home. The Scriptures assure us there is no abiding, Experience proves it is solemnly so ; Alas! for the multitudes carelessly gliding, Unsaved and unwarned, to the vortex of woe ! But how much severer the terrible sentence Of those who the message of mercy despise ; Their doom shall be sealed, but too late for repentance, “ Where the fire is not quenched and the worm never dies.” But those who convinced of their sinful condition Have turned to the Lord with their whole heart’s desires, Unto whom is imputed no sin or transgression, These, these shall exult when creation expires. RESTIGOUCHE, FAMOUS CHARLO, AND SURROUND- ING SCENERY In Charlo, famous Charlo, The sky is still as clear, The bay, the shore, the mountains, As grand and bright and near. COLLECTED VERSE Nine years have passed so quicklv, Sad changes there have been, That helping hand— that friendly smile— No longer felt or seen. In Restigouche and Charlo, Where tourists take delight, Some old arm-chairs are vacant, The homesteads still in sight, Two names I fain would mention, The aged, and the young ; Ye friends, there is no parting In that triumphant throng. Look, then, beyond the shadows To that celestial shore, Assured of blest reunion With those who went before. Farewell f ye friends in Charlo And all the country ’round, To me you make New Brunswick Like some enchanted ground, Where loneliness and blindness May be forgotten long : And now once more in parting Accept my grateful song. Charlo, N.B., September 22nd , 1896. WALLACETOWN, COUNTY OF ELGIN On the sunny shores of Erie In the fair and fertile West, Where the villages of Elgin By the Southern Railway rest, 186 COLLECTED VERSE There’s a town, above all others, Where heroic freemen dwell — That which bears the name of Wallace Must inspire the Muse’s spell. There my countrymen and clansmen, Patriotic, brave and true, Cheer the weary wandering stranger By their kindness ever new. Wallacetown must grow and flourish With its fame resounding far While Great Britain owns the lustre Of this North Colonial Star. Where the thistle and the heather Wake a thought, or send a thrill, There my countrymen will gather ’Bound their cherished mem’ries still. Honest, loyal, wise and fearless, Scotsmen engineer the world ; And throughout this great Dominion Is our noble flag unfurled. Here let science and religion Cheer the old and guide the young ; Here let all that’s evil perish, Here a union psalm be sung ; Here be each reform triumphant, Here let all the wicked quail ; And in Wallacetown and Dunwich May the Temperance cause prevail. Till from every home and dwelling All intoxication cease ; Health and wealth, to each a blessing, Fill the land with joy and peace. So let Wallacetown be famous, Famous in the years to come ; Frogtown lost — and gone for ever All the ravages of Rum. Southwold, March 25 Ih, 1876. COLLECTED VERSE 187 WHAT A BLIND MAN SAW IN NEW BRUNSWICK In Charlo, famous Charlo, I breathe the purest air ; The sky, how clear and cloudless, The fields, how fresh and fair. Although but seen in fancy, Enraptured by the spell Twill give me life-long pleasure Of all its charms to tell. The “ Bay of Heat ” before me One vast, bright mirror spread, Full thirty leagues expanding Far as the Gaspe Head. New Brunswick, great New Brunswick, The treasures of the deep, Enriching thy free people, Around thee largely sweep. Engedi and Eglaim Shall be with nets o’erspread ; But here are tons of salmon All frozen for the trade. Then turning to the westward Fair Campbellton appears ; Dalhousie too, so famous For trade in bygone years. Inch Arran by the seaside, The pride of all the bay ; ’Tis there the weak and wealthy For health and pleasure stay. 188 COLLECTED VERSE Ye poets and ye tourists Who wake the tuneful lyre, These everlasting mountains May well your thoughts inspire ! Dalhousie Heights ascending Their matchless beauty trace, Let patriotic freemen Protect the lovely place. Give architects their castles, Let walls and towers be strong — But I will sing of Nature And teach the world my song : How high the hills beyond me, How green the bay before, The beach how bright beside me ! Great Nature, nothing more. The Sugar Loaf how lofty, The Restigouche how grand, That grasps the distant woodlands As with a mighty hand. I fain would sing the praises Of every sunny side, But I return to Charlo Where dear, good friends abide. Two most romantic rivers Pursue their winding way, Till side by side in beauty They glide into the bay. I’ve travelled, sung, and lectured, Recited, heard, and read, But I must say of Charlo, “ The half has not been said.” COLLECTED VERSE The evening shadows lengthen Else might I, wandering on, Pursue this pleasant ramble To Bathurst and St. John. But where the sun shines brightest Dark clouds may intervene; The shades of bygone ages Like spectres may be seen. How sad to see around us, As in the days of yore, Old superstitions mingling With dregs of gipsy lore. But, light and truth prevailing, The world shall see the day When old and grim ideas Shall all have passed away. For holy men are workers With God, as truth declares ; And Christ shall come in glory When Zion he repairs. And when in earth or heaven They join the ransomed throng, The worshippers of David Shall learn a nobler song. Let Education, Science, ^ And Truth go hand in hand To bring the end expected And peace in every land. Farewell, my friends in Charlo, So faithful, true and good, For all your Christian kindness Accept this tribute due. 189 / 1887. IV.— TO ROYALTY CANADA’S JOYOUS RECEPTION OF THE MARQUIS OF LORNE AND PRINCESS LOUISE When the woodlands wide had laid aside Their mantle of green and gold ; When the songsters sang their sweetest lays Ere they fled before the cold, To the verdant vales of the sunny south Where the winter never chills ; When the frosty flakes from a frowning sky Came down on the northern hills ; When the great old leafless maples stood Where the floods and fountains freeze ; When the evergreens in their rich attire Held forth to the bracing breeze ; When the busy beavers built their dams In the rivers of the north ; When the drowsy bears lay down in lairs And wandered no longer forth ; When the nimble squirrel had treasured up Whate’er the nut-tree yields ; When the antlered deer came down to browse On the gleanings of the fields ; When the icy breath of November plays On the mountain stream and lake ; There is joy and mirth by each homestead hearth Of which young and old partake. 190 COLLECTED VERSE For th e gathered fruits of the harvest field, . Well stored with lavish hand, Give us ample proof that the gifts of Heav’n Are showr d on this favoured land Twas thus we raised our hearts to Him Whose blessings are rich and free ; When the nation’s anxious, longing look Was turned to the sounding sea. Then a sudden burst, like an echo, fell Upon every listening ear, And a thousand ringing wires proclaimed The great Sarmartian ” near. They have safely come, the noblest pair that ever crossed the tide,— The Marquis 0 f Lome, a Royal Scot, With a Royal English bride. Cead mile failte ” to him who brings The daughter of the Queen, But a few short days since we said good-bye To the Earl of Dufferin. For we come and go on the tossing tide, On the tide of Time as well ; ^tish Empire spreads her sway Where the kingdoms rose and fell. £? eat . °! d da 8 that braves the breezi -Neath the lurid Indian skies, Is the same that floats from sea to sea Where the New Dominion lies. ’Tis the banner bright, the Union Jack. The glorious flag of the free ! Be its ample folds in peace unfurled, For “ Britannia rules the sea.” 2 COLLECTED VERSE And the brightest gem in her peerless crown Is this Canada of ours, Where the brave and free may well be proud Of the British Lion’s powers. For a joyous day has surely dawned On this fair Colonial strand, When a Princess comes to dwell with us And a Marquis rules the land. And now let us sing “ Long live the Queen, With each Prince and Princess too ; Long live Lord Lome and his Royal Bride, In the work they have come to do ! ” Should the Queen herself be pleased to come On a visit to Rideau Hall, May we live to welcome her, and prove We are loyal, one and all. And long may peace and freedom reign In the light of the British Throne, Till the “ Bears 99 and 44 Eagles ” wake to own That the “ Lion ” rules alone. In the rays of a never-setting sun Every heart and tongue employ ; Let the anthem rise 44 God Save the Queen ! ” And the Empire thrill with joy. Inverness, December , 1878. CANADA’S WELCOME TO H.R.H. THE PRINCE OF WALES Welcome to Canada, visitor Royal ! Prince so illustrious never was seen ; By hundreds of thousands the brave and the loyal Are waiting to welcome the son of our Queen. COLLECTED VERSE 193 Come, then, to the land we have chosen to live in, So famed for its forests, its rivers and lakes ; United to Britain and favoured by Heaven The noblest of colonies Canada makes. Exemption from war is a national blessing — No country on earth is more peaceful than ours ; Our cities and villages, vastly increasing, Are studded with colleges, churches, and towers ; Our laws and religion give innocent pleasures, Each home is a castle, each citizen free ; Agriculture and Commerce are mining our treasures ; And proud of our union with Britain are we. Our soil is productive, our climate is healthy, Our winters are pleasant, our summers serene — And while we are happy and loyal and wealthy Our watchword shall ever be, “ God Save the Queen.” ON THE DEATH OF PRINCESS ALICE, DUCHESS OF HESSE The country is mourning, the great and the noble At home and abroad are in grief and distress ; Tears flow — freely flow — for young Alice Maud Mary, The lovely, the Royal Grand Duchess of Hesse ! Let the words of the wise, and the deeds of the mighty, Instruct and enthnll through the ages of times ; Let the works of the sculptor, the painter, and poet Encircle with splendour the grand and sublime. If the volumes of wisdom the sages have written The treasures of science and knowledge unfold ; If the annals of battle that fame has recorded The names and exploits of their heroes have told ; N 194 COLLECTED VERSE How surpassingly tender and touching the picture Maternal affection presents to the view ! When one so exalted, a princess, a mother, The promptings of love could no longer subdue ! Embracing her child in his sickness and sorrow, Receiving the fatal, the feverish kiss ! Silence, ye Homers and Miltons, your fancies Have never produced such a picture as this ! Go to your pencils, ye artists, emblazon The name of the royal, the loving, the good ; Give to imperdible marble her story, And say of the Princess, “ She did what she could.” Tell of her usefulness, tell of her kindness ; Tell how the suffering speak of her worth ; Tell of her virtue, her humble demeanour ; Tell of her high and illustrious birth. Tell of the Grand Duke. The light has departed From his once happy home, now enveloped in gloom. Words of condolence to one broken-hearted May alleviate grief in the shades of the tomb. Tell of Her Majesty’s painful bereavement ; Tell of her children united in love ; Tell of the banner that waves o’er the nations, Guided and guarded by Heaven above. Heralds of truth ! while instructing the people, Speak of the holy, the good, and the pure. Fleeting is life ; it is only a vapour : Love, the immortal, shall ever endure. Tears for the dead ! To the Royal, the loyal The sympathy show that so deeply we feel. Joy of our hearts ! what a strong consolation, “ Earth hath no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.” Inverness, December , 1878 . ROYAL THANKSGIVING HYMN Our Father, Thou of all good gifts the giver, Thee we adore beneath this hallowed dome. Thou art the King invisible for ever Yet present here. 0 may Thy kingdom come ! Thy will is done on earth as done in Heaven, b or Thou delightest to be gracious here ; Lord Jesus, unto Thee all power is given, Who didst in pity touch the passing bier. The widow’s son restored to life and vigour Bv Nain’s gate beheld the Anointed One ; His weeping mother — sad and lonely figure, With tears of joy received her living son. And lo ! within a royal palace portal A gracious miracle we now confess ; And though no eye hath seen the King Immortal, We praise thy loving kindness none the less. For Thou alone disposest all that’s human. And not a sparrow falls without Thy hand. The Mother, Widow, Queen and Christian Woman Beholds her son restored at Thy command. Like Hezekiah in his sickness pining, Weak, helpless and unconscious as he lay, We saw the Prince upon his couch reclining ; His Consort in her grief retired to pray. And twice ten thousand voices interceding In Jesus’ name before the Throne of Grace ; Our Father, Thou didst hear the Nation’s pleading, Here with a Nation’s thanks we seek Thy face. 19C COLLECTED VERSE 0 Thou Almighty One Who art in Heaven, Thankoflerings of praise to Thee we bring. His Royal Highness bless, to him be given Long life, and grace to be a Christian king. 0 bless the Queen, his Royal Widowed Mother, May she go forth rejoicing on life’s way ; And when in Heaven they recognize each other. Join her good Albert in eternal day. THE END OF THE CENTURY (My last tribute to Queen Victoria) While broader and higher expansively floating, Ten thousand bright emblems are gaily unfurled, The progress of commerce and science promoting Britannia’s banner is guiding the world. An Empire is growing and vastly increasing In power and wealth from the south to the north ; Great Britain is surely in sunlight unceasing Upholding the standard of Truth in the earth. The covenant blessings of Abraham cluster Around the great throne in the Isles of the Sea ; The Lion and the Unicorn sharing the lustre ; Victoria reigns, and the nation is free. Colonial union enjoying, maintaining, The prestige of Canada proudly we claim, The “ Fullness of Nations ” most clearly explaining The greatness that clings to Britannia’s name. The century ended, beginning another In labours of love may the churches increase ; Let Righteousness triumph while brother with brother Endeavours to hasten an era of peace. T7 COLLECTED VERSE 197 Britannia rules, and the wide world all over The marks of her measuring line may be seen. Victoria reigns, let the millions who love her Pray earnestly, fervently, “ God Save the Queen.” THE ROYAL HEROINE I have stood beside the Falls, I have gone to hear the dashing, And my mem’ry still recalls That tremendous thunder crashing In my ears. Pleasure-seekers, what a throng ! Pressing on from ev’ry nation, And the world — in prose and song — Their unbounded admiration Often hears. First to those who see or hear That terrific torrent tumble Comes a momentary fear Lest the quivering rocks should crumble Where they stand ; With a wider view, though brief, Comes a sinking sense of sadness ; Then an outburst of relief With enchanting thrilling gladness, All so grand. But in times of frost and snow When ten thousand gems are lighted By the sun, admirers go Charmed, astonished, and delighted, From the sight. While we pity those who find Cause for neither joy nor pleasure. Persons of exalted mind Know no language fit to measure Their delight. / 198 COLLECTED VERSE In your album write the name Of Louise, the Princess Royal ; For a nobler never came To be welcomed by the loyal. Note the day When, defying frost and cold Where the bravest often scrambles, As the graphic tale is told She the foremost in their rambles Led the way. Rarer courage ne’er was seen : Down beneath the tossing water On she hastened : England’s Queen May be proud of such a daughter, Brave and strong. Yes, for she is truly brave ; And when sages tell the glory Of Niagara’s winter wave Let us hear the thrilling story In a song. While the Marquis and Louise Having seen the mighty splendour In such frosty days as these Free and fearless tribute render To the scene, Patriots ! the theme renew, Tell of the untarnished merits Of the royal and the true, And the virtue she inherits From the Queen. On the ice-clad rocks below, Could her photograph be taken ! Where the yawning waters flow There the Marchioness, unshaken. Knows no fear. COLLECTED VERSE 199 Calmly she approached the scene, Saw the awe-inspiring wonder, Like a Royal heroine Heard the whisp’ring of the thunder, “ God is here ! ” Inverness, January 29 th, 1879. THOUGHTS OF THE BLIND (Suggested by the sickness and recovery of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales and the cowardly attacks on Her Most Gracious Majesty) I love to sing of her that rules the mighty realm of Britain. While emperors and kings and queens, by war’s reverses smitten, Have wandered from their palaces and all their regal splendour, The British people love their Queen ; they love and will defend her From every fool and knavish tool whose malice would destroy her. And was not his a felon’s hand uplifted to annoy her ? But brave John Brown secured the clown— his name shall live in story, My country rings with joy and sings her son’s triumphant glory. Fair Scotia ! thy heather bells, unconquered rocks and waters And Gaelic pure shall long endure to cheer thy sons and daughters. Ye British peers, allay your fears and all your pride surrender ; My native land provides the Queen with one who will defend her. J 200 COLLECTED VERSE Well guarded be the stately tower we call the “ Palace Royal ” ; Securer far the Monarch’s throne when love inspires the loyal. When darkening clouds of grief and gloom around the Queen were falling, Her subjects in ten thousand homes on God were humbly calling In earnest prayer, that He would spare the youthful Prince and save him. And now they raise a peal of praise in thanks to God who gave him As if from Death anew to life. While all around were weeping ; His consort in that solemn hour her prayerful vigils keeping ; His Royal Mother by his side disconsolate in sorrow; Then, lo, a ray dispersed the gloom and brighter dawned the morrow. “ All joy ! all joy ! ” — the news went forth — “ all danger now is over, The God of Heaven be praised, he lives ; he lives and will recover.” A Nation’s joyous ecstasy in such a demonstration Was never seen by king or queen since Adam ruled creation. “ Long live the Queen ! Long live the Prince ! Long live each prince and princess.” Re-echoed and re-echoing, the Nation’s joy evinces. At home, abroad, all ’round the earth, on island, sea and ocean, The grief, the joy, true British hearts have stirred with deep emotion. cr COLLECTED VERSE 201 And here among the drifting snows, that bury half my dwelling, Ev’n I have heard the joyful word the ocean lines are telling. But ah ! how dark and dull the days, how sadly I employ them ! I feel my papers and my books and wish I could enjoy them. Oh ! what a life-long weariness this want of reading only — But let me not forget my theme, tho’ blind and sad and lonely. Victoria, the Great, the Good, is loved by every Briton ; While fallen tyrants meet their fates without a throne to sit on. Great kings and czars may wage their wars, and presidents may bluster ; But our good Queen’s majestic mien outshines their brightest lustre. True greatness never seeks for war, provoking other nations ; And great John Bull is not a fool — he exercises patience. And when the British Lion roars let all the nations quiver ; That war may cease and perfect peace triumphant be for ever. February , 1872. TO THE MARQUIS OF LORNE AND PRINCESS LOUISE (Written when they were expected to visit Canada on their wedding tour) Be thou the brightest spot on earth O Caledonia yet. Thy mountain monuments that rise Unconquered still, to meet the skies, What Scotchman can forget ? 202 COLLECTED VERSE Yea, he may plough the distant main And dig the deepest mine, While marching pioneering forth To teach and civilize the earth, Far as its utmost line; But while he climbs the highest peak Or grasps the farthest pole, The fragrance of thy heathery hills And music of thy bounding rills Enchant his very soul. ’Tis his to engineer the earth In every clime and zone, And sagely prove as well he can The art of benefiting Man By duty nobly done. His heart may be the bravest heart ; And his the brightest face, But while he breathes, or acts, or wills, The memory of his native hills No distance can efface. From frozen North America To burning Hindustan, Turn where you will, you’ll find the Scot ; Be wealth or poverty his lot, A friendly honest man. In Canada the snow lies deep When winter locks the tide ; But where do warmer hearts await Than ours, to welcome one so great, With such a royal bride ? Lord Lome, with fame ancestral crowned By many a noble deed ; With courage true and rare success Has wooed a beautiful Princess And brought her o’er the Tweed. 203 COLLECTED VERSE Ceud Mile Failte,” illustrious one, Though I shall see thee not. Victoria’s greatest son-in-law Does well to visit Canada, Himself a royal Scot. Thrice welcome also, Lady Lome, Fair partner of his fame ; The daughter of the greatest queen That ever reigned o’er living men Has won a Highland name. The Queen might come herself, she sent Her noble sons of yore ; And now we see the Thistle’s pride And Rose’s beauty side by side, As never seen before. From ev’ry nation here we join To trade, and till the soil ; Nor is our loyalty the less While with this welcome we address The heir of great Argyle. We dearly love the British oaks And blooming heather bells, And yet the Thistle and the Rose Might blossom where the Maple grows In our Canadian dells. We long have played “ The Campbells Come,” And may they come for sure ; Such visitors are rarely seen. And let us pray “ God save the Queen,” And long may peace endure. V.— ON QUEEN VICTORIA’S JUBILEE JUBILEE POEM The joy of joys is over, The crushing crowd has gone, Our gracious Queen — we love her — Still on the British throne. Of Britain’s peerless glory And great Victoria’s reign, Proclaim the pleasing story In song and glad refrain. Divines and Christian teachers Throughout the realm this day With all the saints and preachers Devoutly, humbly pray. “ Great King of Kings, bestower Of bliss beyond the sky, 0, save the Queen, and show her The path of life and joy. “ Prolong her days, and give her The fullness of Thy love And with Thy saints for ever A crown of life above.” By Grace she reigned the longest, By Grace she is the best ; By Grace her kingdom strongest By all the world confessed. 204 COLLECTED VERSE While fond anticipation With wistful, hopeful eye Would fain give every nation The better by and by. While earnestly beholding The land to Abraham given Great Britain stands unfolding The great designs of Heaven. And well may she be proudest Of wisdom, wealth, and worth. The Lion, roaring loudest, Can terrorize the earth. Ten thousand men of valour Into the North we trace, To Habor and Gu Halah Thence came the Saxon race. At Port Nan Gall they entered The European coast ; At Galloway they centred, A great, unconquered host. The great Gu Halah nation, Historians declare Beyond all confutation, Grew great and mighty there ; Their dwelling-place extending To regions far unknown, To other nations lending, And borrowing from none. The heirs of Jacob’s blessing As numerous as the sand, The gates of foes possessing May claim the Holy Land. 205 206 COLLECTED VERSE *' Great Britain's future glory” — The theme is grand and great. God's book embossed before me I read, believe, and wait. The saints, like Enoch walking With God, meet and commune ; Together often talking Of what is coming soon. They know that Judah's Lion Shall be exalted high When God shall visit Zion In that sweet by and by ; The greatest of the nations, God’s banished ones, brought home. 0 Reader ! If thou waitest, Pray, pray “ Thy kingdom come.” The millions who attended The Diamond Jubilee Have seen, in beauty blended With righteous Monarchy. The union of the people, The power that rules the realm — By tower and towering steeple Enough to overwhelm, Surpass, eclipse, and silence Whatever mighty Man On continents and islands Achieved since earth began. And foreigners in legions Who came and went away Have brought to distant regions Rich relics of the day, COLLECTED VERSE Mementos of the splendour. The like was never seen, Great nations met to render Their homage to our Queen ; Returning to impress on The world the views they caught But they have heard one lesson That ne’er should have been taught. Of England’s flag ” while singing By gnomes of error driven, What worship were they bringing Before the King of Heaven ? If such mistaken treason Acceptable appears To any one with reason Who reigned for sixty years, Then let them rave and blunder And sign what they compose— A laughing-stock and wonder To friends as well as foes. Misleading simple creatures Who sing without a thought As do misguided preachers By that great Bishop taught. Ye Peers : let me remind you That Huguenots from France Are not one whit behind you, Nor yet the Welsh and Manx. Nor do we hear them boasting With such unhallowed brag, Like idiots, and toasting A phantom of a flag. 208 COLLECTED VERSE Go, take that Bishop, shake him And make him sing his song ; Let sorrow overtake him Until he owns he’s wrong. On England’s flag insisting, Come, let the thing be seen ! The Prince of Wales assisting, Present it to the Queen. Let royal hands unfold it And spread it forth to view, That they who can behold it May be as wise as you. ’Twas Scotland, famous Scotland, The classic land of song, Our dear unconquered Scotland, That made Great Britain strong. Had England been deserving Before King James was crowned Of greatness worth preserving She might be more renowned. By ways and means contracted They brought the union on, And righteous laws enacted To guard the British throne. To break those laws is treason, No Bishop can deny That there’s a time and season When traitors all should die. The British flag shall go where The wealth of nature spreads ; The “ English flag ” is nowhere Except in empty heads. COLLECTED VERSE 209 But great Colonial Nations, With British flags unfurled, At forts and coaling-stations Encircle all the world. Great ships of war that thunder, The men of war who fight, What foe can awe or sunder When Union is their might ? By Scotsmen pioneering In every land and zone Exploring, engineering, A glorious work is done ; The work of civilizing Wherever “ man is vile.” Instructing, Christianizing, Our missionaries toil. On every shore and landing The march of progress stirs, Great Britain’s power expanding, No pent-up kingdom hers. And who shall dare or cow us ? The march of freedom rolls, And British plack and prowess May surely grasp the poles. But there’s a mighty people With Presidents, not Kings, From many a hall and steeple Their Bell of Freedom rings : A mighty nation growing, The people gathering still, A great republic showing Much enterprise and skill. O COLLECTED VERSE Give those beyond the river The British Coat-of-Arms ; Our neighbours, near for ever, The Eagle and her charms. Spread o’er their spangled banner The darts her talons hold, For they delight to scan her On silver and on gold. And though great Talmage preaches About their Dragon name What Revelations teaches Should put the man to shame. From ocean unto ocean We honour every star, Though Britons scout the notion That they the greatest are. Great Senators are ringing The Bell of Liberty, And black and white are singing “ My Country, ’tis of thee.” (For not one single slave is Beneath their sunny skies, Secession crushed, Jeff Davis In dust forgotten lies.) Americans are sending Great missionaries forth, God’s people freely lending Their gold to bless the earth. And every one believing The truth by God revealed Must have the light, perceiving His promises fulfilled. COLLECTED VERSE Great Ephraim and Manasseh True brethren were of yore, The God of Jacob bless them With peace for evermore. “ Waft, waft ye winds the story And you ye waters roll, Till like a sea of glory ” Peace “ spreads from pole to pole ; “ Till o’er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.” Victoria most Gracious, Great Britain’s Queen is she, In Canada how precious Has been her Jubilee ! Historic facts comparing With English nonsense now, If I ’m too bold or daring Just tell me where and how. The Bishops when consulted Who wrote those famous lines Could not have more insulted The Scots, and Scots divines. And daft Munro may babble Until his eyes grow dim, And teach the cockney rabble The chorus of his hymn. Ye bishops and ye preachers, Ye rulers at the helm, Instructors, leaders, teachers, In all the British realm : 212 COLLECTED VERSE Give, give to all the nation, Including Ireland too, One great grand appellation Euphonious and new. A name to stand for ever While rolling ages glide, And thus by wisdom sever Stern truth from English pride. Another chiel offending Against the British Crown ; His fame and talent’s blending With Tennyson’s renown. His patrons eulogizing (His aim is to excel Beyond all criticizing) They think he writes so well. But I would say to Austen The Poet Laureate now, “ Without one grudge I fasten The England on thy brow. “ For thou art loon-like soaring O’er seas of English pride ; The British name ignoring With gulls on every side. “ Why join the Queen’s composers Who rank as learned men ? When death their eyelids closes Their history — what then ? “ Perverters of the nation, Their name what time endures ; Take then this consolation For surely it is yours.” COLLECTED VERSE 0 for some mighty Wallace ! 0 let some Bruce arise ! In Parliament and palace To open British eyes. Ye Scots o’er all creation Protest against this wrong, And teach the British nation A truer, better song. And time shall tell our story And what our work has been, Who stand for Britain’s glory, And pray “ God Save the Queen.” Part II Victoria most Gracious Great Britain’s Queen is she ; To all the world how precious Has been her Jubilee. How sweet the fairest flowers That peep when daylight dawns How beautiful the bowers By England’s lovely lawns ! Old Kensington exposes Foundations firm and strong, Enthroned among the roses ’Tis worthy of a song. 0 Kensington ! so grandly Majestic is thy fame ! Let others praise thee blandly, The loyal love thy name. 214 COLLECTED VERSE Let royal memories cluster ’Round Kensington so gay, ’Twas there the blooming lustre Of childhood passed away. There grew the charming Princess In majesty and grace, Well trained, as truth evinces, To rule the British race. Then came those brighter beamings A mother could explain ; With gracious, conscious gieamings That she was born to reign. ’Twas there mid scenes of gladness The Queen’s first days were spent. Her mother in her sadness Survived the Duke of Kent ; With love maternal, tender, Retiring, meek and mild, She lived for years to render Allegiance to her child ; She knew that God had sent her The British realm to sway. But one cold, dreary winter The Duchess passed away ; The Court was wrapped in mourning r While we were also tried, ’Twas on that same dark morning My own kind mother died. “ A time to die ” the Preacher By inspiration wrote, Man is a mortal creature In palace and in cot. COLLECTED VERSE And when the King’s last illness So sadly closed the scene, Then o’er the nightly stillness Arose “ God Save the Queen.” With firm enunciation A great Archbishop’s voice Has called the British nation To waken and rejoice. In that great Abbey spacious. So ancient and renowned, Victoria most gracious Was gloriously crowned, With Jacob’s pillow under The coronation chair. Above the cannon’s thunder Glad voices rent the air. And though Great Britain’s glory Has spread for sixty years The coronation story So fresh to us appears. And well do we remember In Canada afar How mighty mountains trembled As in the time of war. The loyal joy, resounding Through all colonial spheres. Re-echoing and rebounding Has been for sixty years. But this is a digression From which we must return. The glory of the nation Is what we have to learn. 216 COLLECTED VERSE The Queen in blooming beauty Became a happy bride ; Devotion, love and duty, Prince Albert by her side. Give man his best employment And let his strength be shown ; A woman’s true enjoyment Is caring for her own. The Queen a mother, teaching Her children to excel, Saw her example reaching The wide, wide world as well. As we can feel but faintly When Royalty is tried, We draw the curtain gently When good Prince Albert died. Esteemed ! beloved ! respected ! Prince Albert, now no more, Still lives in fame connected With Crystal Palace lore. The widowed Queen still reigning Has nobly done her part ; The British realm is gaining In wealth and power and art. What power can shield to-morrow From trouble, pain, or care ? Of trial, grief, and sorrow The Queen has had her share : Good Albert gone before her, A Prince and Princess too, God’s love a banner o’er her May she her strength renew ! COLLECTED VERSE In holy blest reunion Upon a tearless shore The saints in sweet communion Are crowned for evermore. There is a world celestial, And “ Not so far away,” Where no dark cloud terrestrial Can dim eternal day. 0 blissful consolation ! 0 joy beyond compare ! The heirs of full salvation Christ shall make perfect there. Victoria most gracious, Great Britain’s Queen is she, To one so blind how precious Has been her Jubilee. Her Majesty still reigning Beholds the vast increase Of Britain’s power, maintaining Prosperity and peace. Her great Trade Wind advances “ Britannia rules the sea,” The British Lion glances Protection to the free. Tell, tell the new, new story. Great Britain’s flag unfurl ; Sing of her future glory, The wheel of progress whirl. Go, tell the listening legions Wherever Britons are, That proud of our allegiance All true Canadians are. 218 COLLECTED VERSE The great, great joy is over, The grand, grand touching scene ; Let all the people love her And pray, “ God Save the Queen.” THE JUBILEE Come, Tennyson, thou sweetest bard that sings. Unfold with me the record of the kings, Sound the roll-call — how few have lived to see A prosperous, peaceful reign and jubilee. Spread out the dingy parchment by the Thames, Explore the sepulchres and mark the names Of those within that venerable pile ; If some were righteous many more were vile, And fain would we ignore what only pains And drop a curtain o’er their dark remains. Turn from the scene to where a brighter shines : Ye poets, bring your richest, choicest lines In praise of her whose gracious presence cheers Our hearts as it has done for fifty years. Shout, shout, ye Britons ! Queen Victoria reigns And rules an empire vast on India’s plains, She reigns where’er the British flag’s unfurled And sways the sceptre over half the world. Long may she live in peace, and reign to prove A nation’s loyalty, devotion, love, Respect, esteem, and praise ; she stands alone The most illustrious star that ever shone On England or on Britain, noblest crowned, Above all kings most worthily renowned Since that first pair of human race went forth From Eden, driven to possess the earth. Victoria the Good, and truly great, What skill of sculptor to perpetuate Thy goodness and thy fame can be prepared ! COLLECTED VERSE To live in marble would be cold reward For excellence and virtue such as thine, And in the sunlight beams that ever shine With richest blessing on the realm behold A monument, not marble, bronze, nor gold But one of love, undying love to thee, Thy subjects raise on this thy jubilee. All round the wide, wide world, on land and flood The millions call thee, “ Mother great and good.” A Christian mother ! All the dazzling charms Of regal splendour, blazing coats-of-arms, And courtly titles vanish and depart Before the name that moves the nation’s heart ; Protecting, shielding, reaching every zone, A Christian mother on the British throne. The joyous, loud refrain creation hears, “ Our Queen has reigned a half a hundred years.” Just fifty years ago a youthful queen In maiden beauty blushing, might be seen With conscious right accepting crown and seal, And pledged to govern for the country’s weal. A wife, a mother as the years rolled on, And then a graceful widow on the throne ; And more than once in sorrow’s trying gloom A mourner weeping by the silent tomb But still sustained by Him who wisely spares The useful life, and sympathy she shares. Established on the throne, while on their course The wheels of Time have sped, Britannia’s force Has been, and still is, felt in every clime, While Learning equal to the course of Time With Knowledge, Art, and Science by her side Has made Trade, Commerce, Skill and Wealth our pric Great colonies dependent like our own, Into a multitude of nations grown, Already great, much greater yet shall be Extending Britain’s power o’er land and sea. We hold the gates in spite of envious foes ! 219 220 COLLECTED VERSE THE ROYAL VICTORIA JUBILEE HOSPITAL Let all who love the singing Of birds among the springing Of flowers, review the fifty years and scan the future too ; Ye loyal and ye dutiful, Admirers of the beautiful, Behold the brightest ornament the city ever knew. I thought of great Mount Royal, The country all so loyal, The kingdom great, the empire vast, the Queen so nobly crowned, The city near that slumbered, Its towers and spires unnumbered, And Canada, the Northern Star, so famous and renowned. The pleasing prospect brightened, The vernal sun enlightened The world, the joyous jubilee with all its splendours came ; While on the grounds extending Around, in beauty blending With strength, appeared an Hospital with great Victoria’s name. The future stood revealing, The curing and the healing, I heard the words of blessing from the suffering poor that fell. The Queen may search creation From nation unto nation, Is there on earth a monument that honours her so well ? Ye miser money fumblers, Ye greedy grudging grumblers, Who never use your wealth for good, but hoard it till you die, COLLECTED VERSE 221 We say, “ God bless the donors, Long live the Queen it honours,” This monument shall stand when you and yours forgotten lie. Let Time’s historic pages In all the coming ages Record the worthy names of those whose princely gift we share ; While Canada, confessing Such wealthy men a blessing, Proclaims their gift the noblest acknowledged anywhere. With Montreal before us We join the joyful chorus, While twice ten thousand voices say the like was never seen. How sweet the thought reflective, How grand the view prospective, When after fifty years we join to sing, “ God Save the Queen.” VI.— ON SCOTLAND AND HER PEOPLE HALLOWE’EN, ANCIENT AND MODERN Genius ! Wandering east and west, North or south as suits thee best, Art thou come to be a guest At our Hallowe’en ? In this new Dominion, where Ilka nation has a share, Scotia’s children strong and fair Haud their Hallowe’en. Met as oft we met before Tell us now in mystic lore A’ they did in days of yore, Haudin’ Hallowe’en. Tell us gin the fairies danced, Gin the wizard’s coursers pranced, Lads an’ lasses how they glanced Ilka Hallowe’en. Tell hoo mony a bonny lass Ate her apple at the glass, Watching for a face to pass, Ilka Hallowe’en. Tell us hoo kail runts were torn, Hoo they measured stakes o’ corn, Hoo the nuts they paired wad burn, Ilka Hallowe’en. Tell us hoo the learns were ta’en An’ arranged on the hearth-stane — Twa wi’ water, ae wi’ nane, Ilka Hallowe’en. 222 COLLECTED VERSE Tell us hoo the wad-be bride Ripped her sleeve beneath the tide, Watching wha wad see it dried, Ilka Hallowe’en. Tell us hoo hempseed was sawn, Hoo the ears o’ corn were drawn, Hoo the clues o’ yarn were thrawn. Ilka Hallowe’en. Tell hoo mony a lass forlorn Gaed her lane into the barn, Flail in hand, to winnow corn, Ilka Hallowe’en. How she’d drop the frail at last, Standin’ tremblin’ and aghast Gin an apparition passed, Ony Hallowe’en. Hoo then thus the eve was spent Auld and young wi’ ae consent To the buttered sowens went, Ilka Hallowe’en. Hoo, when a’ was done an’ said, Weddings planned and matches made, Some gaed hame an’ soon tae bed, Ilka Hallowe’en. Costumes hae been changed an’ tossed, Many usages were lost ; Noo we canna see a ghost Ony Hallowe’en ! Aye, hoo altered are the times — Here we meet in distant climes Where dear Scotia’s music chimes Ilka Hallowe’en. Airs the sweetest well approved, Scottish warriors hairts hae moved ; Gie us what they prized and loved, Ilka Hallowe’en. 223 224 COLLECTED VERSE In this Ian’ o’ maple dells Where true British freedom dwells, Mony frien’s beside oorsels Haud their Hallowe’en. A’ because we ken an’ feel We are Scotia’s children leal, Scottish customs we reveal Ilka Hallowe’en. Genius gentle ! On this shore Bide wi’ us, nor wander more ! Bacchus’ reign for aye be o’er At oor Hallowe’en. To the lan’ o’ mist an’ shade Whaur oor forefaithers are laid, Be oor annual tribute paid, Ilka Hallowe’en. Noo, a telegram indite, Send it ower the ocean quite, Let them ken this verra nicht We haud Hallowe’en. Kindly greetin’ a’ aroun ; Montreal’s a noble town Worthy o’ a royal crown, Ilka Hallowe’en. Harriston, Ontario, November 25th, 1875. NEW YEAR’S GREETING (To the officers and members of the Celtic Society of Montreal) Friends and countrymen assembled in the famous Morrice Hall, Hoping you are well and happy, New Year greetings to you all ! Yours the favoured classic city by the Royal Mountain’s side, COLLECTED VERSE 2 25 Wh6 abide learned scbolars and such worthy Celts 5 a l n chuhthaic tha m Ba ' le grea S hnach ’s an Cnoc Rioghal 0i ' b c“ • bi i g i.-“ n “ cbd “ o8hait *’ » •* * Here the great Dominion rises, richly, grandly all around Part of that old lost Atlantis Christopher Columbus found’ crown, ° UrS ’ bright6St g6m in Britain ’ s Peerless Land of freedom, many races share thy national renown I H Dutch 166 * m S ° Cia C1ICleS ’ English > Irish > French and Fnr l ;n he bold and brave, Who thanks his God that he’s no slave, But will not sign the Pledge, to save A Brother from a drunkard’s grave : — But who opposes the Temperance band Still stretching forth a helping hand, Who take a firm and noble stand To drive this death-flood from the land. 2G9 P^And this|is the Levite stiff and stern, Who knows enough, and will not learn, — Who can no path of duty discern, But passes by with unconcern To follow the Pharisee bold and brave, Who thanks his God that he’s no slave — But will not sign the Pledge, to save A Brother from a drunkard’s grave. 270 And this is the Christian saved from sin, Who hopes eternal life to win, Yet stands aside with tearless eye And sees his fellow-creatures die ! Whose faith and practice this, “ Who cares For Total Abstinence ? Be theirs The sin, who pass the Scripture line Of moderation, drinking wine ! ” No Prohibition is his cry, 271 272 COLLECTED VERSE “ Let every man on earth enjoy The right to choose his Drink and Food — For every creature of God is good ! If drunkards choose to drink and die, I’m not their keeper, no ! not I ; I take a little wine, as Paul Advises Timothy, and all. I drink, but never to excess ; Receiving all with thankfulness.” But well he knows it is the use That leads all sots to the abuse. He calmly views the Dragon’s flood, Destroying souls at home, abroad, And sweeping thousands to the grave — Without one word to warn or save. Partaker of the Nation’s sin He sips his brandy, rum and gin, He hates, abhors intoxication And drinks with pious moderation. A stumbling-block from day to day, To lead the weaker souls astray, A holy man serenely dumb, Though half the world should sink in rum But oh ! his memory shall rot Who knew his duty — but did it not ! For he shall die, and leave this sphere No better for his living here. And so will the Levite, stiff and stern, Who knows enough and will not learn ; Who can no path of duty discern, But passes by with unconcern, To follow the Pharisee, bold and brave, Who thanks his God that he’s no slave, But will not sign the Pledge, to save A Brother from a drunkard’s grave. nT^ n( | ^is is the man at holy shrine. Who loves the clusters of the vine, And says that God with kind design Has made intoxicating wine, And even whisky — a boon divine. Who teaches the Christian saved from sin Who hopes eternal life to win,— Yet stands aside with tearless eve, And sees his fellow-creatures die. 273 And tlrs is the whole of this cursed trade, What the Pharisee, Priest and Levite said. And though the language be not fine, My friends, take this advice of mine — Withstand the man at holy shrine, Who loves the clusters of the vine, And says that God with kind design Has made intoxicating wine, 274 COLLECTED VERSE And even whisky — a boon divine. Who teaches the Christian saved from sin, Who hopes Eternal Life to win, Yet stands aside with tearless eye, And sees his fellow-creatures die. Whose faith and practice this, “ W'ho cares For Total Abstinence ? Be theirs The sin, who pass the Scripture line Of moderation, drinking wine.” No Prohibition! is his cry, “ Let every man on earth enjoy The right to choose his drink and food, For every creature of God is good ! If drunkards choose to drink and die, I’m not their keeper, no ! not I, I take a little wine, as Paul Advises Timothy and all, I drink, but never to excess. Receiving all with thankfulness.’ 1 But well he knows it is the use That leads all sots to the abuse. He calmly views the Dragon’s flood, Destroying souls at home, abroad, And sweeping thousands to the grave — Without one word to warn or save. He hates, abhors intoxication, And drinks with pious moderation ; A stumbling-block from day to day To lead the weaker souls astray, A holy man serenely dumb, Though half the world should sink in rum ; But oh ! his memory shall rot, Who knew his duty-— but did it not ! For he shall die, and leave this sphere, No better for his living here ; And so will the Levite, stiff and stern, Who knows enough, and will not learn, Who can no path of duty discern, But passes by with unconcern To follow the Pharisee, bold and brave, COLLECTED VERSE Who thanks his God that he’s no slave, But will not sign the Pledge, to save A Brother from a drunkard’s grave ; But who opposes the Temperance band, Still stretching forth a helping hand, Who take a firm and noble stand To drive this death flood from the land. Who read God’s Word, and understand ; Do good to all, as His command, And aid the Pastor teaching truth, Admonishing age, and warning youth ; — Raising the standard, speaking for God, When the enemy enters like a flood ; — Strong in the light of the Temperance star, Sounding the trumpet loud and far, Waging an everlasting war Against the man with keg and jar. Who stands behind his tavern bar, And swears how good his liquors are, And slyly keeps his door ajar, Enticing the drunkard, tattered and torn, Whose wife and children weep forlorn, And share this world’s cold, cruel scorn, Who spends his earnings night and morn. According to Government Act and Might, That gives the Brewer a legal right To make and sell, both day and night, The stream that flows from vat and still, On which he spends his wealth and skill On making drink to poison and kill, Flooding the earth with whisky swill, In many a river and many a rill, All made from the malt That lay in the house That Jack built ! 0 Preacher ! Are there souls to save From endless woe beyond the grave ? And art thou set on Zion’s wall, To warn the wicked, one and all ? COLLECTED VERSE Renounce, thyself, the sparkling wine. And then shall thy example shine A burning light to mark the way To life and bliss in endless day. 0 Christian 1 Are thy sins forgiven ? A child of God, an heir of heaven ? Art thou redeemed from every stain, And doth the Holy Spirit reign Within thy heart, an earnest here Of life beyond this mortal sphere ? Eternal life ! 0 blissful thought ! With peace and consolation fraught. 0 Hope ! 0 joy ! At Home above ; Where God is light, and all is love. And is this sweet assurance thine, Partaking of thy brandied wine — Or selling it to those who drink ? 0, young Disciple, pause and think ! What ! if thy Master should appear, And say to thee, “ What dost thou here ? Wouldst thou be found retailing rum To sinners, when the Lord shall come ? If not, then quit the baneful trade, And elsewhere seek thy daily bread ! 0 touch not, taste not, handle not, The beverage that makes the sot ! Ye true Believers, one and all, 0 why not wake at Duty’s call ? 0 why not look around and see A world in sin and misery ? 0 why not wipe the tears that flow, Where drunkards come and drunkards go ! Rise, bid the homes of sorrow feel Your earnest philanthropic zeal. — 0 come and join the Temperance band, To drive this death-flood from the land ! When from the wilderness of sin The Church of God, all pure within, COLLECTED VERSE Returns, Millennial bliss to share, Shall there be liquor-dealers there ? Or Groceries where rum is sold By selfish men for sordid gold ? Ye Pharisees and Levites too, Is there but little hope for you ? A haughty, hardened, selfish race, With little feeling and less grace, Ye watch the Dragon’s flood ; and though Ye drink it not, ye let it flow In streams of whisky, brandy, gin, Rum, wine and ale, through haunts of sin, Where erring men, from day to day Retail it out for sordid pay. Whoe’er destroys the vat and still, The Devil’s servants never will ! Ye friends of Temperance, still endure Firm to the end, the victory’s sure. Union is strength ; be earnest now, And faithful to your pledge and vow. Have we not good and holy men Enlisted in our cause ? and when The Kingdom comes, with power and peace, This trade in Alcohol shall cease : — And man to man, the wide world o’er, Shall brother be, for evermore, And not a grain, however small, Of Malt be found on earth at all, Or in the House that Jack built ! COLLECTED VERSE w 27tf THE PLEBISCITE VOTE IN ONTARIO, 1894 It was 1894, ere the New Year’s Day was o’er, Noble Temperance workers gave a telling vote ; u Prohibition right away,” was the watchword of the day, For the country’s weel they knew it would promote. Joy ! Joy ! Clear the way before us, High, high wave the banner o’er us. From Atlantic’s dashing roar to the far Pacific shore Sound the joyous Temperance triumph evermore. While the people’s voice is heard be the whole Dominion stirred, Deal destruction both to Licence and Saloon ; Full two hundred thousand strong join the great triumphant song, Oh, the better time is surely coming soon ! Joy ! Joy ! Clear the way before us, High, high wave the banner o’er us. From Atlantic’s dashing roar to the far Pacific shore Sound the joyous Temperance triumph evermore. By the tens of thousands dead, by the tears of living shed, We adjure you to secure the boon we seek ! For the rulers can’t refuse if you all your ballots use, They must hearken to the people when they speak. Joy ! Joy ! Clear the way before us, High, high wave the banner o’er us. From Atlantic’s dashing roar to the far Pacific shore Sound the joyous Temperance triumph evermore. 280 COLLECTED VERSE Grateful then to gracious Heaven for the signal victory given We will never cease to work and plead for more : Strong in union, toil and pray for the dawning of the day When the traffic shall be swept from every shore. Joy ! Joy ! Clear the way before us, High, high wave the banner o’er us. From Atlantic’s dashing roar to the far Pacific shore Sound the joyous Temperance triumph evermore. THE TEMPERANCE TRIUMPH IN HALTON 0 the victory won ! ’Twas a glorious day, And the rowdies and roughs were in battle array ; ’Twas a fight for Repeal, but their King ran away And left us to triumph in Halton. Then Hurrah for the county ! the noblest, the best, With its high flowing banner, the brightest confess’d ; For when tried so severely and put to the test, How grand the example of Halton ! For the temperance workers exerted their power And assembled to vote where the battle did lower, For they knew ’twas the day, and they knew ’twas the hour, For a glorious triumph in Halton. September the ninth was exceedingly hot, And the tipplers and topers were all on the spot With their rum-selling friends ; but they failed in their plot To reopen the dram shops in Halton. And the poor silly creature who gave them his name To be used in defence of that system of shame, Has gathered but little of honour or fame From his circular published in Halton. COLLECTED VERSE And the ignorant preacher who granted his aid lo the rum-sellmg party, may well be afraid When a burden of guilt on his conscience is laid By his evil example in Halton. But, alas for the moderate drinkers at home hen they cannot get beer, brandy, whisky, or rum, I they all must get sick, and when speechless and dumb Apply to the doctors in Halton ! When the great whisky ring had agreed on a plan To destroy the Scott Act, and appointed a man Who received his commission, and quickly began His work of destruction in Halton. AU the growers of hops, and of barley, were first On the field ; and prepared, as they said, for the worst. And their champion said there were thousands athirst And longing for whisky in Halton. But although he was Dodds, when he lectured he lied As the people did prove, when the voting was tried • And we tell with delight, and we publish with pride’ The Temperance Triumph in Halton hor the Christian people, men, women, and all, At the camp in their churches, in schoolhouse and hall Met, lectured, and prayed that the traffic should fall And it did, in the county of Halton. When the dealers, the brewers, distillers, and Co., Had declared for Repeal, and the people said, “ No,” I he whisky apostle received such a blow That he fled from the county of Halton. In the darkness of night as he made for the train With a frown on his face and a fire in his brain, He declared to his friends he should never again! Give a cent for their chances in Halton. ° 282 COLLECTED VERSE 0 the victory won ! To the Temperance band All honour is due, for so faithful a stand ; And the fame is resounding through every land Of the vote that was given in Halton. For the preachers and teachers, so faithful and true,, Have taught us what wisdom and union can do, And let every Christian, and patriot too, Thank God for the triumph in Halton. Assured Prohibition is coming ere long Let the counties around us be earnest and strong. And join in our annual thanksgiving song, On the Ninth of September in Halton. Georgetown, Ontario, September 1CM, 1884. THE TEMPERANCE VOTE Free men ! come, record your votes Where the Temperance banner floats, And around our noble standard join us in this holy war. Forward ! forward ! to the front, Bravely bear the battle’s brunt ; Firm and faithful, true and earnest, strong in union as ye True the conflict may be long, For the enemy is strong, And it’s only Prohibition that can lay the tyrant low ; Still united be our powers, Till the victory is ours ; Let us never faint or falter, as in rank we meet the foe. COLLECTED VERSE 283 By our dearest brothers dead, By the tears our sisters shed, By the tragic tales of horror in this Canada we love • By the wrongs of lovely Woman, By the wreck of all that’s human, We have sworn eternal warfare, and our help is from above. Let us strive by earnest prayer, Let us rise to do and dare, Till the battered shrine of Bacchus all in ruins we behold : Till King Alcohol is caught. And his votaries are taught, That the dealer’s only motive is his burning thirst for gold. If our tears are vainly shed, Over “ Sins and sorrows ” spread. ^ W iir C i a ? not a * wa y s con quer, we are doing what we can, While we temperance promote We can agitate and vote, And wherever we can find him, still support the temperance man. TRIUMPH OF RIGHT With our banners floating, Over regions wide, Human weal promoting Firm whate’er betide. We will sing of water Sing who will of rum, And Right shall triumph over wrong Before the end shall come. 284 COLLECTED VERSE While our ranks are swelling Welcome all who join, Till from every dwelling We have banished wine. While we sing of water Sots may sing of rum, But Right shall triumph over wrong Before the end shall come. In the world around us Much there is of wrong, Why should this confound us Though the foe be strong. We will sing of water While they sing of rum, And Right shall triumph over wrong Before the end shall come. 0, ye Legislators Give us righteous laws, We are agitators In a deathless cause. We will sing of water Sing who will of Rum, For Right shall triumph over wrong Before the end shall come. Men, in high position Hearken to our prayer, Give us Prohibition Here, and everywhere. Sound the praise of water Ring the knell of rum, We know that Right shall conquer wrong Before the end can oome. ■■■ COLLECTED VERSE 285 BEAUTIFUL WATER 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As it springs from the flinty vein, It oozes on and trickles down From the mountain to the plain, I have drank it so, and well I know There’s nothing like clear cold water. 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As it comes from the hand of God, So sweet, so pure, and alway sure To be found in the fields abroad ; In silvery streams, it glows and gleams, 0, there’s nothing like clear cold water ! 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As it lies in the well so deep, Or issues forth from the great old Earth, Where the laws of Nature keep Their order true, since Adam knew There was nothing like clear cold water. 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As it flows in the gentle brook, It creeps and curls and sings and purls Through many a flowery nook, With vigour rife, a thing of life, 0, there is nothing like clear cold water ! 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As the crystal fountains play, Come fill your cup and drink it up, For it will your thirst allay ; ’Twill give you health, ’twill give you wealth, 0, there’s nothing like clear cold water. 286 COLLECTED VERSE 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! As it glides in the mighty river, So pure ! so bright ! a flood of light. It flows and flows for ever, A boon designed to bless mankind, 0, there’s nothing like clear cold water 0, the water ! the beautiful water ! ’Tis the drink that God provides ; ’Tis better than ale or brandy pale, It is better than aught besides ; Its worth untold is better than gold, 0, there’s nothing like clear cold water. VIII.— on RELIGIOUS SUBJECTS A CHRISTMAS CAROL With hearts full of love To Jehovah above, Our Father, our God, and the Ancient of Days, We hail the glad morn When the Saviour was born. With angels of glory hosannas we raise, Creation rejoices And heavenly voices Are swelling our song and the chorus of praise. To Jesus the King We cheerfully bring Ascriptions of praise and oblations of love. We own Him divine As we bow at His shrine, And join with the ransomed who worship above ; In glory before Him They bless and adore Him, While peace comes to earth on the wings of a Dove. Our Christmas tree Encircled we see With garlands of beauty, and fragrant with flowers. All gifts that are sweet We lay at the feet Of the King whom the shepherds of Bethlehem's bowers Have worshipped before us. They now in the chorus Of Paradise praise Him, their Saviour and ours. 287 288 COLLECTED VERSE Hallelujahs of joy Our voices employ, From nation to nation the harmony send. Till kindred and tribe All glory ascribe, Dominion and majesty time without end, In blest adoration To Christ our Salvation ; And our songs with the bliss of eternity blend. While seraphim sing To Emanuel King, Let joy and rejoicing re-echo afar The anthem of peace Which never shall cease — “ Goodwill to all nations, wherever they are.” With this in all ages Saints, poets and sages Have hailed the return of the bright Christmas star. A HOME MISSIONARY HYMN From the rugged Rocky Mountains To the sea on either side, On the prairies, by the fountains, Preach the Gospel far and wide ! Speak for Jesus ! God the Father Loved the world and gave His Son : Tell the joyful news and gather All the faithful into one. Toil for Jesus ! ’midst the tillage Of the hardy pioneers, Watch o’er every rising village — They shall reap who sow in tears. Sow the seed beside all waters, Rich the harvest ye shall find ; Tell God’s banished sons and daughters Jesus died for all mankind. COLLECTED VERSE In the streets, the lanes, the byways, Seek the poor — your mission’s there. By the hedges, on the highways. Speak for Jesus everywhere. Sound the tidings of salvation, High Emmanuel’s banner raise, Till each home in this great nation Shall resound with Jesus’ praise. Read for Jesus ; calmly, clearly Be the words of truth expressed. Bid the wandering and the weary Find in Him eternal rest. Sing for Jesus; till the cheerful Happy children know His name, Tell the doubting and the fearful Jesus saves from sin and shame. Trust in Jesus, He will send you Needed grace for every hour ; God will comfort and defend you By His Holy Spirit’s power. Work for Jesus ! Tell the story Of the Cross ; and never cease Till the Kingdom of His glory Fills the land with joy and peace. Speedside, Eramosa, Ontario, November 19 th, 1875. ARMENIA “ “ et £ t 1 he oppressed go free, break every yoke,” 1 feel the words upon the sacred page. Ihe Christian powers may righteous wrath provoke Who could, but will not, quell the Sultan’s rage j T 289 50 COLLECTED VERSE We hear of slaughters, and the blood runs cold, Is poor Armenia thus to be destroyed ? “ Complete extermination,” we are told, The Sultan’s aim, all treaties vain and void. “ Let the oppressed go free, break every yoke,” How easily and plainly understood ; Where can the wicked find excuse or cloak For deluging the earth with human blood ? Ye optimists, with views delusive, vain, Is this the Golden Age on earth begun ? . Look round and see, is this the glorious reign Of truth and righteousness beneath the sun ? Behold a statesman ! More than half adored By optimists who proudly, vainly preach, And say this world grown good may well afford, By arbitration and the power of speech, To cause all war for evermore to cease, To settle all disputes in every clime, And usher in the blessed time of peace — Behold him cringe before the Porte Sublime ! How is the mighty fallen, fallen low ! Confessing weakness, poised on trembling knees, Apologising for the Sultan so, Yet boasting how Britannia rules the seas ; Proclaiming Britain powerless to restrain The fiendish fury of the Turkish power ; So poor Armenia may cry in vain While all surrounding nations cringe and cower. ’Tis merciful to succour those in need, To clothe the naked and relieve their wants, To heal the wounded and the hungry feed, By contributions, gifts, donations, grants. Ye Christian nations, mutely gazing round, Say, have ye all been civilised in vain ? Is there on earth no strong deliverer found The madness of the Prophet to restrain ? COLLECTED VERSE 2 Tossing and toiling on this earthly sphere Are millions of the human race to-day, And tyranny triumphant far and near, The rich exalted and the poor their prey. Among the many rulers of the earth, How few there are who fear the God of Heaven ! They make their laws and send their edicts forth As if the Golden Rule had ne’er been given. “ Let the oppressed go free, break every yoke,” Oh, God, in mercy, stay this cruel wrong ! Hasten the time of which the prophet spoke, Thy martyrs cry, “ How long, oh Lord, how long ! ” Oh God, arise, shake terribly the earth ! Thy power can cause this cruel wrong to cease : From Zion shall Thy righteous law go forth When Jesus reigns, the Shiloh, Prince of Peace. CANADIAN CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOUR HYMN Azr—“ The Maple Leaf ” Great Northern Star, Fair Canada, Bright shine from sea to sea, Blest land of peace and happiness, Our sweet home we sing of thee ; Thy honoured name, enthroned in Fame — A nation’s name for ever, We dearly love, and Heaven will bless Our Christian Endeavour. Chorus. Exalting Christ the crucified, Let us rejoice together, Assured of this, that Heaven will bless Our Christian Endeavour. From shore to shore for evermore, Truth shall triumph and prevail ; Then rally all at duty’s call Every evil to assail ; 292 COLLECTED VERSE A mighty throng in union strong, Come, let us work together, In faith and love, and Heaven will bless Our Christian Endeavour. Chorus — Exalting Christ, etc. Though evil days and wicked ways, Cross our path on every side. Each day and hour the Spirit’s power Is our Comforter and Guide ; He leads the way to realms of day, And endless life for ever, Where God is light, and Heaven will bless Our Christian Endeavour. Chorus — Exalting Christ, etc. Let us reclaim in Jesus’ name, Weary wand’rers to the grave ; And tell them how the Saviour now Lives eternally to save ; For Christ has thus commissioned us — The work is His for ever — The glory His, and Heaven will bless Our Christian Endeavour. Chorus — Exalting Christ, etc. CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOUR (“ Composed for the Christian Endeavour Convention held at Finch on September 25th, 1902, and read by Rev. D. D. Maclennan, Apple Hill, at the opening session ”) While the banner of truth is unfurled For Christ and the Church in the world, A blessing to mankind for ever, Great Canada fair is our field, And faith in our Leader the Shield For workers in Christian Endeavour. COLLECTED VERSE Tiue Christians at home and abroad Are training the children for God, A duty incumbent for ever ; And dark as this world may appear, The ills of our pilgrimage here * Are lightened by Christian Endeavour. In teaching and guiding the young Be diligent, faithful, and strong, Assured of God’s blessing for ever ; And when these Conventions are o’er Receive on a glorified shore A crown for your Christian Endeavour. HOPE FOR THE UNION “ 0, Sacred Truth, thy triumph ceased awhile, And Peace, thy sister, ceased with thee to smile,” When leagued usurpers seized the locks and bars— Led to the action by the great Dunbars When Wright was wrong in marshalling his mates (rhe host that Union so intensely hates) ; With picklock instruments they nightly wrought, As did the zealots, who their axes brought, ° And hammers, when of old with ruthless hand The synagogues of God throughout the land Of Israel were invaded and destroyed. So were those anti-unionists employed Like men who love the darkness more than light And well they served their master in the night • Tore the time-honoured fast’nings from the doors And with their treacherous feet profaned the floors ihey set the watch of wickedness ; and loud Arose the vauntings of the vain and proud, Their noisy jabberings from wall to wall Re-echoing : they sang no psalm at all, ’Twas not for worship they assembled there, Nor was their conference for praise or prayer Or if they sang ’twas not the strains that tell 293 U COLLECTED VERSE Of love and unity where brethren dwell. No holy thought of Union, Peace and Love, Goodwill to men and grace from Heaven above, Inspired the coward crew that sought that night Wherein to show their bigotry and spite. Defying law and order in their glee They kept the Kirk and pulpit under key, As on the sacred day they prowled about To keep the preacher and the people out. Next Sabbath came a zealot to proclaim The pulpit vacant, in the awful name Of some mock Presbytery that never met, And like a hireling marked the place “ To Let.” Alas ! that men who bear the Christian name Should be so lost to every sense of shame As to suppose that conduct such as theirs Does not reveal the Wheat and mark the Tares. For violence and wrong shall not prevail, And deeds unconstitutional must fail Where truth is wanting and where grace is none To prove the cause espoused a righteous one. Nor can a one-man Presbytery, self-made, Declare a pulpit vacant ; though his trade May be to wander from his place and preach To pieces every church within his reach. Rest in your patience, ye whose cause is right ; Justice must triumph; righteousness is might; The day is near when strife shall be no more And Union shall be strength on every shore. “ 0 Sacred Truth, thy triumph ceased awhile,” Yet on the earth shall Peace and Union smile, When envy, bigotry, and wrong shall cease Throughout the kingdom of the Prince of Peace. COLLECTED VERSE 295 PSALM TWENTY-THIRD The Lord, the Good Shepherd of Israel, is mine, My soul shall no indigence know, For He makes me in pastures of verdure recline Where the living still waters do flow. He restoreth my soul unto peace when I stray, For He loveth His sheep to reclaim ; And He makes me to walk in His own righteous way For the sake of His glorious name. Yea, e’en though I walk through the sorrowful vale Where death’s gloomy shadows appear, I will fear naught of evil my heart to assail, For Thou, my Good Shepherd, art near. Thy rod to correct and Thy staff to sustain, Bring strength day by day from above. If joy be my lot, or if sorrow and pain, I will ever confide in Thy love. By Thee in the sight of mine envious foes Before me a table is spread ; The cup of Thy bountiful blessings o’erflows. And with oil Thou anointest mine head. For surely Thy goodness, Thy mercy and truth Shall follow me on through life’s way Until I ascend to Thy mansions above, To dwell in Thy presence for aye. London, Ontario, October 2 9th, 1874. 296 COLLECTED VERSE THANKSGIVING HYMN Our Father, Thou Almighty Lord of life, of light, of love ; Thy goodness is displayed on earth, Thyself in Heav’n above. Thy servants now before Thy Throne assembled, we adore The Power which year by year doth fill our basket and our store. “ The year is with Thy goodness crowned ” well might the Psalmist say ; The holy men of old confessed the Power we bless this day, For Thou art still unchanged, to us our daily bread is given Direct from Thee as surely as the manna fell from heaven. For each successive season doth revolve by Thy decree, “ Seed-time and harvest,” Thou hast said, “ shall never cease to be.” And when in Spring we humbly crave Thy blessing on our toil Thine own refreshing show’rs descend, to fructify the soil. And then the glorious orb of day doth roll at Thy command, Conveying genial light and heat to each and every land ; And thus in Summer we behold Thy goodness and Thy power, See wondrous light and heat combine with each descending shower. So when the sober Autumn comes in with white and ripened fields With joyful hearts we treasure up whate’er Thy bounty yields. Our barns are witnesses for Thee, they show how good Thou art — And now accept this song of praise from every grateful heart. COLLECTED VERSE 2 97 And when Thy stormy Winter comes and darker days are given We will implicitly confide in Thee, the God of Heaven ’ A*' P T 5® al i r lieved and reluctance shown- ior Thou desirest cheerfulness in giving Thee Thine own. Thou art the God of Providence, how good are all Thy ways I 0 praise 11 * ^ ackn ° wledge Thee > our valleys sing Thy l n fl 1ll hen i Thy cr !? tu ^ s with i°y Thine attributes declare, Shall we alone unthankful be, who most Thy blessings share ? No, we will raise to Thee our song, rejoicing in Thy love • Assured that if we fail on earth we have a home above l i e T T , h ° U .rf St US bel ° W Tby g00dness we ’ n record And give Thee thanks in every thing, through Jesus Christ THE DEAD ARE IN THE DREAMLESS TOMB ” The dead are in the dreamless tomb V\ here dust with dust is sleeping ; The living, in sad loneliness, Their tears of grief are weeping. Since Adam sinned, how many weep ! Since Adam died, how many sleep ! Sin is the cause of every grief That rends a broken spirit. Since Adam fell his children may No deathless life inherit. But all his sons and daughters must Be earth to earth, and dust to dust.” Sad fate of man ! If this were all We knew of Adam’s story, A dark’ning cloud of hopeless gloom Would rest on human glory. But Jesus came, the Promised One And darkness flees before the sun. ’ U 298 COLLECTED VERSE For in the time appointed He Became an infant lowly ; Assumed our nature without sin, For he was pure and holy. And then, by Pilate crucified, The guiltless for the guilty died. A perfect Saviour is the gift That God the Father gave us ; And we all glory do ascribe To Him Who came to save us. We gladly publish all around The blessings of “ the joyful sound.” For Jesus, rising from the dead, The powers of Hell defeated, Became the King of Glory, and The work of grace completed. And, this the surety of our race, Believers shall behold His face. Then, wherefore weep when those who died Have only gone before us ? “ A few more years ” and we shall join In that triumphant chorus : “ All glory, power and blessing be To the Eternal One in Three.” 0 Father, Lord of Heaven and Earth ! We wait Thy sovereign pleasure ; Help us through grace to rise above These sorrows without measure. And then in Thy good time may we Be gathered to our friends and Thee. COLLECTED VERSE 299 THE DESTRUCTION OF BABYLON “Far away where the rivers of Babylon flow, There we sat down in sorrow, deep anguish and woe ; Yea, we thought of Mount Zion, the House of the Lord, And wept for the waste of the conquering sword. And mute on the willows, unused and unstrung, The harps of our fathers in sadness we hung. While the spoilers that wasted the strength of our years Required of us mirth in the midst of our tears. Yea, the heathen tormentors, who captive had led Us away into bondage, exultingly said : Sing the songs of your Zion, the anthems ye raised When the Lord of your fathers ye worshipped and praised.’ Oh, how shall we sing the melodious strains Of the songs of the Lord, in captivity’s chains ; Or mingle their notes with our sighs and our tears To charm and to please the idolaters ears ? Oh, Jerusalem ! Thou the desire of mine heart ! If I e’er forget thee let cunning depart And wisdom and skill from my powerful hand — If I cease to remember our Covenant Land. Oh, love of the old, and hope of the young, My boast, my delight ; let my eloquent tongue Be silent and dumb — yea, let utterance cease — If e’er I forget thee, thou Salem of peace ! “ Remember, 0 Lord, in Jerusalem’s day, The days of destruction, of wrath and dismay, The children of Edom who said in their ire : 6 Rase, rase her foundations and burn her with fire.’ 0 daughter of Babel ! Destruction awaits With terrible vengeance to enter thy gates. 0 happy the man in the light of the sun Who shall render to thee as to us thou hast done ! Yea, happy the victor thy children who takes To dash them to death on thy stones for our sakes.” 300 (< j COLLECTED VERSE Lo ! TMe Persian comes in his power and his pride ; He enteis her streets through the path of the tide. ’Tis night ; and the lamps of the festival shine On the king and his courtiers drunken with wine ; Belshazzar is feasting, his concubines fair, His lords and his captains, a thousand are there ; And the sanctified cups of the Temple they use While they worship all gods but the God of the Jews. Now the monarch turns pale at the hand on the wall ! His vain useless wise men may throng at his call But none can interpret the words of their doom, Nor tell that the hour of destruction is come. But the prophet of Judah, with heavenly lore, Announces their danger, they revel no more. “ Weighed, numbered and wanting,” they stand in amaze While their city is taken, their homes in a blaze. They are slain by the edge of the merciless sword For the sacrilege done to the House of the Lord. THE GLORY OF THE LAMB (Translated from the Gaelic of Peter Grant) Hark ! Zion ascribes in strains the sweetest All glory and praise to the Lamb ; His unchanging love the theme for ever, He saved her from sorrow and shame. Hallelujah for aye resounds in Heaven Around the great throne of the King, And all upon earth the Lamb who follow This anthem exultingly sing : How worthy the Son of God we honour, He suffered the death on the cross, He saw our need and all our sorrow In tender compassion for us. COLLECTED VERSE His stripes, His wounds, our life, the healing Of all our deep sorrow and woe — Go worship the Lamb, ye saints in Heaven, Adore Him, all creatures below ! How wondrously free Thy love to sinners Of Adam’s lost perishing race, Thou earnest to earth to preach the gospel When no one could merit Thy grace. No refuge had we, no God, no ransom, No shield, no shelter from wrath ; By the curse of the law we were onward driven To the fiery ocean of wrath. But Jesus the Lamb redeemed His people And rising from death holds the key,— The joy of His heart is to give salvation To those He for ever makes free. On Calvary s Cross their cup of sorrow He drank, when He died in their stead, Their mightiest foe He wholly vanquished By rising again from the dead. See the conflict of wrath that marred His visage ; The blood and the sweat on His brow ; But fairer than sun or moon in brightness Is the light of His countenance now. Though He lay in the tomb He rose in triumph, Ascended to glory on high, Where He sits as a Lamb enthroned in power, The armies of Paradise nigh.” THE PROMISED LAND How sad to see the Promised Land So long a desolation, A country once so rich and grand Awaiting restoration. X COLLECTED VERSE The very land where Abraham felt The friendly hand of Heaven ; Jerusalem where David dwelt, To whom the throne was given — The glorious throne that shall remain Until the time appointed When He whose right it is shall reign On earth, a king anointed. From Zion shall the law go forth To quell the troubled waters ; A voice shall echo in the North, “ Give back my sons and daughters.” The ships of Tarshish shall be there, Protecting and conveying The sons of Judah everywhere Among their brethren staying. For Israel’s children shall return, Their gold and silver with them ; And they who only read to scorn, That day may live to see them. Oh ! Glorious hour, divinely bright, A glimpse of grace and glory, The holy men of old the light Beheld, and told the story : “ Arise and shine, thy light is come,” Was surely spoken, written, God’s people shall be gathered home, No more afflicted, smitten. The days of mourning ended all With glory on the morrow ; No more oppressors to enthral, All sighing fled and sorrow. V COLLECTED VERSE While every day and every hour The prophecies are clearer, The promised times of peace and power Are surely drawing nearer. When David’s throne, exalted high Amidst colonial nations, Shall make Jerusalem a joy Of many generations. A king shall reign from sea to sea, With hope in full fruition ; His coming suddenly shall be A conqueror on his mission. The waiting, watching Lamb’s shall then In faith and love abiding Exult with joy ; while sinful men Shall seek the rocks for hiding. Alas ! how many Christians say, “ Christ’s coming would not please us ” His omnipresence day by day Is all they want of Jesus. Earthquakes and famines are the signs Of great prophetic changes ; And who can read between the lines The plan that God arranges ? But in the Islands of the Sea The royal British Lion Shall guard the “ Stone of Destiny,’’ Till it returns to Zion. 304 COLLECTED VERSE UNION 0 Union ! Strength in every age ! Whatever foes may rise or rage, Whatever billows swell ; By thee great victories have been won, By thee shall nobler deeds be done W 7 here Christians meet or dwell. 0 glorious Union ! Gift of Heaven ! Thou precious boon to mortals given, What tongue can speak thy worth ! Thy blessings let the nations prize Till one harmonious song shall rise — Truth triumphs in the earth. And in this great Assembly met We hail the glorious day that yet Shall dawn on every shore ; When Christ, the Head, shall be confessed By all His Church, as Prophet, Priest, And King, for evermore. While faithful History proclaims With deathless fame their worthy names Who, from Edina’s towers, Went forth, a self-denying band, In Freedom’s cause to take a stand Beyond the Patrons’ powers. Shall not the same unerring pen Record the names of noble men Whose mission from above Would all the former breaches heal In wisdom, charity and zeal, With union, peace, and love ? COLLECTED VERSE When marshalled by the swelling flood The vast united army stood To hear the great command ; “ Ye chosen tribes of Israel’s race, Triumphant through Jehovah’s grace, Go in, possess the land.” And when to Jordan’s banks they sped. The dark, receding waters fled And left the passage dry Until the favoured people crossed, The heathen saw the mighty host And felt that God was nigh. If faith and union did prevail To make the sons of Anak quail And own Jehovah’s might, Then be like faith and union ours, And grace shall consecrate our powers To stand for Truth and Right. And this is Truth, the Truth of God, Peace offered through atoning blood To Adam’s guilty race ; That they who hear, believe, and live, Might all be one in Christ, and give The glory to His grace. “ Father, I will,” the Saviour said When for His Followers He prayed, “ That these may all be one, Perfect in one, as we are one, That to the world it may be known That Thou hast sent Thy Son.” In Christian union lies the power To combat evil, in the hour Of peril and of strife. Each heart sincere, each conscience pure, They that unto the end endure Shall win the crown of life. COLLECTED VERSE How good and how becoming well When brethren all together dwell In unity and love : And labour in the Master’s cause To guard His oracles and laws, Enlightened from above ! “ Go, preach the word in every land,” Is the Redeemer’s last command, “ To all the world proclaim The story of the cross, till Jews And Gentiles hear the joyful news — Salvation in My name.” Then leaving dreamers to their dreams, And vain philosophers their schemes, Let every Christian join To tell the nations all around That Christ is King, with glory crowned And majesty divine. Oh sacred Union ! Be thy sway Extended at no distant day Truth’s standard to uphold ; That all who love the Lord may see The promised time when there shall be One Shepherd and one fold. Oh heavenly Union ! Be thy praise Resounded in the sweetest lays That fall on mortal ears ! Before the throne of God on high The ransomed saints in Christ enjoy Blest Union’s endless years. COLLECTED VERSE WILL YOU BE THERE, AND I ? We watch and wait for our coming Lord And the sound of the midnight cry ; When Paradise lost shall be restored, Will you be there, and I ? For the restitution of all things Is swiftly coming nigh, When Christ shall be the King of Kings, Will you be there, and I ? In his glory bright when the Lord appears And the vanishing worlds shall fly, His saints shall rejoice ; then dry your tears For you’ll be there, and I. If we trust His word in every strife He will guide us with His eye ; And His promise is sure as eternal life Till you’ll be there, and I. Let the blessed three, Faith, Hope, and Love, Still cheer us when we sigh ; For a rest remains in our home above Till you’ll be there, and I. Oh, to join the great, the ransomed throng, In that “ sweet by and by,” And to sing the full salvation song, When you’ll be there, and I ! Now the bliss, the glory, and the joy Are unknown to mortal eye ; But it shall be a life that can never die, May you be there, and I. 307 308 COLLECTED VERSE IN MEMORIAM (Translation or imitation of the well-known Gaelic poem composed by Mr. D. McLeod on the ministry, life and death of the Rev. Hugh McGregor, for three years pastor of the Presbyterian Church of Kintyre, Aldborough, •Ontario, where he died in 1879 at the age of forty-two, deeply regretted by his congregation, friends and rela- tives, and much respected by all who knew him) Our Kintyre is now a Bochim, We are mourners here to-day, Weeping for a friend departed, Death has taken him away. Friends and strangers, all who knew him, Young and old our sorrow share ; In the silent tomb he slumbers, There is mourning everywhere. Yes, he slumbers, Hugh McGregor ! Good and noble from his youth ; Highly gifted, yet so humble, He was mighty in the Truth, On our Zion’s wall a watchman Faithfully he fed the flock, Wisely guided us, and led us Nearer to the Sheltering Rock. With the hosts of Israel’s warriors, Mighty army of the Saints, Raising high the Gospel Banner O’er the Christian battlements, Righteousness and love and favour Sweetly beaming in his face, We who heard him did behold him Radiant with heavenly grace. COLLECTED VERSE 309 Chief among the chosen thousands Young McGregor met the foe ; Like a standard-bearing warrior Gone to rest, we laid him low, Gone from this, the earthly vineyard, And his Master’s work of love ; Gone to meet the Church triumphant And his full reward above. Beautiful upon the mountains Was the messenger of Grace, Bringing tidings of salvation To a lost and ruined race. A most earnest gospel preacher, Deeply versed in gospel lore, He was faithful as a pastor . . . We shall hear his voice no more ! Now his worthy, gentle widow Almost broken-hearted weeps. Who can wonder at her sorrow Or the vigils that she keeps ? For her kind and loving husband Has been laid beneath the ground ; Not among the hundreds ’round him Could his equal have been found. *Twas in Martintown, Glengarry, (Of the great McGregor clan) Where his Highland parents settled, That his early life began. There, among the brave and noble Scotch, he spent his youthful days ; Friends and neighbours well remember All his kind and winning ways. O the outburst of affliction When the telegram was read, Sent by speed of rushing lightning, “ Thy beloved son is dead.” 310 COLLECTED VERSE Then his mother, frail and aged. Sank in sorrow and distress ; God assist her in her weakness By His all-sustaining grace ! I am aged, life is waning, Soon shall end my earthly race. . . . I shall never see his equal In Kintyre to fill his place. Zion’s Herald, how instructive Thy discourses were to me ! In remembrance everlasting Shall the righteous ever be. Clear and lucid explanations Of the Holy Book were thine. Like the dew that falls on Hermon Did thy Christian graces shine. 0 how precious the example Of thy godly life has been, In a blameless, pure and holy Walk and conversation seen ! Low we bow, for death has taken Shepherd, pastor, husband, friend. Talents, gifts and virtues rarest In thy ministry did blend. Thou didst give the poor and needy Prompt assistance and relief, With a sympathetic kindness, In their penury and grief. Often in the house of mourning Didst thou comfort us and cheer. Speaking peace and consolation When the trying hour was near. Carefully thy texts were chosen And divided morn and night, While the faithful application Filled thy hearers with delight. COLLECTED VERSE In the pulpit, truth expounding With an unction ever new, All denominations loved thee, One so humble, good and true. Who of all our famous preachers Was comparable to thee, Eloquent with Heavenly fervour, Earnest zeal and piety ? Sowing seed beside all waters In the harvest field of grace, Making known a risen Saviour And His glorious righteousness ; One by one from grace to glory The redeemed have gone before, Thou hast joined the ransomed numbers Singing praises evermore. “ Praise to God ! ” as angels sang it, “ Glory in the highest heaven, Peace on earth, good will for ever, Unto us a Child is given ! ” Guided by a star of brightness, Bringing incense, myrrh and gold, Eastern sages came to worship Christ Emmanuel of old. But alas ! how few receive Him Or obey the Gospel call When such preachers stand proclaiming Full redemption from the Fall ; Shiloh, Saviour, King of Israel, Great Messiah, blessed theme, Theme of seraphs, saints and angels, God and man, the Christ supreme ! He who suffered and ascended Into glory lives to reign ; Friends departed are with Jesus, Ours the loss but theirs the gain. 312 COLLECTED VERSE Though I would with power poetic Touch what I have known so well, Of McGregor’s Christian goodness, Yet the half I could not tell. Aldborough, November , 1885. IX.— MISCELLANEOUS A LETTER TO A FRIEND My dear young friend ; the wise have penned Great books that are instructing us, And while we read let us give heed, Their maxims well conducting us. Great Solomon — who quite outshone All kings, and could have smitten them — Preached words of truth for age and youth, In Proverbs he has written them. The wealth of kings, and all such things, He views and treats as vanity ; The pomp of state that must elate Too often brings insanity. Can hoarded wealth give strength or health ? Then why pursue so steadily The glittering gold, so hard to hold And that escapes so readily ? The peace of mind that Christians find Makes all on earth so beautiful ; My dear young friend, to gain that end Be faithful, good and dutiful. Seek first the love of Christ above, Who walked on earth in lowliness ; Faith lights the way to endless day Where all is bliss and holiness. Westminster, October 4 th, 1876. 313 314 COLLECTED VERSE ANDERSON Friends of freedom ! rally, rally ! From each mountain, plain, and valley, From each town and hamlet sally To a glorious fight. Not to wield the sabre blazing — Not the captured cities razing — But to prove with power amazing Truth defending right. Rouse, Canadian freemen, there are Men in power deep sunk in error ; And the land is filled with terror At approaching shame. Shall unfeeling judge and jury Send the guilty to Missouri ? Never ! lest a nation’s fury Burst into a flame. Judge once high in estimation — Jury from a free-born nation — Now a guilty combination, Blind, or bribed, we fear. Self-bereft of understanding, Most unrighteously remanding One escaped to thraldom, branding British freedom here. Northern freemen ! aid us, aid us, Why should slavery degrade us ? Why should foemen thus invade us For the sake of gold ? Speak your minds, ye faithful preachers, Anti-slavery Browns and Beechers, Save, 0 save your fellow-creatures From the tyrant’s hold ! COLLECTED VERSE While the Brantford hound is howling, While an angry judge is growling, And the negro-hunters prowling, Anderson is free ! Home to England, home we’ll send him, Righteousness will there defend him. To the care of Heaven commend him, Passing o’er the sea. A VOICE FROM CANADA (An Appeal to the Freemen of America) Heroes of the A.P.A. Guard your freedom while you may, Vigilant from day to day “ Keep your powder dry.” True Americans awake, Life and liberty’s at stake ; Righteous preparation make For the by and by. Never falter, faint, nor fear Though a crisis may be near, Strength in union well may cheer All the brave and true. Knaves encompass land and sea Seeking to enslave the free, Sworn against the powers that be Whom they would subdue. Is there not a foreign power Watching, waiting, to devour, One whose active agents scour * Every region known ? He who vows he will command Every country, kingdom, land, Playthings in his powerful hand, All their wealth his own. 315 COLLECTED VERSE Know ye not what Rome has done' In the ages past and gone, All the blood she caused to run — Gory streams of death ? ’Tis her boast and glory still That she has the right to kill Every heretic who will Not embrace her faith. In the darkest days that were Inquisition fires did flare, Romish teachers all declare They shall blaze again. Their Octavos and their Twelves,. As expounded by themselves, Teach the doctrine of the elves That they say must reign. Three of these, unclean like frogs, With their treacherous feet in clogs, — Jesuits from the Tetzel bogs — Came on us at night. Entering through a burglar’s hole Our subscription lists they stole, Satan did Himself console At our woeful plight. But of wickedness, the fist Fell but lightly, for the list Stolen was but little missed As we gladly tell. Now the paper’s wider spread, More and more our columns read ; They would crush us, but instead They have served us well. Shall we not the more expose All the plots and plans of those Who are Freedom’s fiery foes, Till in every home w m .■ I I COLLECTED VERSE 317 Men shall read and learn and know How to meet the common foe ? Spies and Abligates may go Back to Papal Rome. “ ERIN GO BRAGH ” To the heart of the Celt who has wandered abroad From the land of his birth, 0 how precious the sod Of that far-distant Island, the Gem of the Sea, Which to him is the dearest, the best, of the three ! ’Tis the Island of Beauty, The Land of the Green — Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. O’er a wide frowning world as he journeys afar With his eye firmly fixed on that emerald star, While his Kathleen he loves and she’s faithful to him He is merry and blythe — for he lives in a dream Of the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. If he works in the West where the railroads are long, If he favours the East with his wit and his song — While rejoicing in peace, or entangled in strife His “ Erin go Bragh ” is the joy of his life. ’Tis the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. Has he wrongs to remember, forget, and forgive, O how precious the maxim to 44 Live and let live.” Be the feud and the faction remembered no more Where the Gospel was preached by St. Patrick of yore, In the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. Y 318 COLLECTED VERSE Down, down with the curtain of Time, let it fall On the annals of battle in Tara’s grim hall. We sing not of ruin, oppression or crime, While recording thy fame on the pages of Time. 0 thou Island of Beauty, thou Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. Now the triumph of truth do we hopefully hail When the holy and pure shall in Erin prevail ; When the Celt and the Saxon, inspir’d from above, Shall live in the friendship and freedom of love, In the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. For an echo of kindness is borne on the blast From Dublin to Galway, from Cork to Belfast ; ’Tis the simple home story, so tender and true, Of their love-lighted cabins and palaces too, In the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. While “ Union is Strength ” petty lions may roar ; For the Lion that rules on Britannia’s shore, While a terror to traitors and envious foes, Shall ever be proud of the Thistle and Rose And the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. On the field of Clontarf let oblivion close Where Sitric the Spoiler met valorous foes, — King Brian Borombe and his heroes are dead, But the Danish invaders for ever have fled From the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. No more by the pike shall the helmet be riven When Hibernians joy in the favour of Heaven ; — The Druids have left us their temples and towers And the Scotii have mingled their language with ours, In the Island of Beauty, the Land of the Green, Where the harp is so sweet and the shamrock is seen. COLLECTED VERSE 319 0 Ireland fair ! Thou Gem of the Sea ! For beauty and verdure the Queen of the Three, Immortal in legend, and famous in song. Wherever thy generous children may throng They will sing of thy beauty, thou Land of the Green, Where their harp is so sweet and their shamrock is seen. “ GREAT BRITAIN ’’—NOT “ ENGLAND ” (Written after hearing a lecture entitled “ England’s Future Glory/’ in which the reverend gentleman (himself an Englishman) entirely ignored the existence of Great Britain and Ireland, persistently using such terms as “ English Crown,” “ Queen of England,” “ English laws,” and “ Englishmen,” as if the Scotch and Irish never existed, and Great Britain’s past, present anu future glory should be accredited to Englishmen only) Of “ England’s future glory ” Great lecturers may tell, And oft repeat the story Since Tel-el-Kebir fell. But while so much is written Of those “ who do and dare ” My theme shall be — Great Britain And Ireland’s worthy share. Her share in all the splendour That marks the victor’s way. For shouting “ No surrender ” The Irish win the day. The union of the islands Maintains the British Crown, The heroes of the Highlands Have gained the world’s renown. 320 COLLECTED VERSE And he who stands to lecture And takes not Ireland in Must pardon the conjecture That someone’s brain is thin. An Englishman may wander From York to Liverpool, If he comes here to blunder He must be sent to school. The British Lion’s roaring Commands the world to peace, But fools, his strength ignoring, Their boasting never cease. “ Of England’s future glory,” “ England, Old England still,” Till he is hoarse and hoary May lecture he who will ; But while our foes are smitten, Though Englishmen should rave, Our theme shall be “ Great Britain,” The kingdom of the brave. What wretched royal speeches Daft Englishmen cajole ! They say that “ England ” stretches Her sway from pole to pole. Abominable treason Is this, and surely wrong — In teaching truth and reason I’ll give the world my song. What though John Bull should bellow With England on his shield ? Until the Rose turns yellow The Thistle ne’er shall yield. COLLECTED VERSE “ Am Foghannan mor ” for ever Unconquered power maintains ; The Shamrock green shall never Be crushed on Erin’s plains. In all colonial regions The Union Jack is seen, The joy of British legions Who pray “ God save the Queen.” But men with vision hazy Are found on Britain’s shore ; The thoughtless, proud, and crazy Her name and power ignore. The crowd of cockney creatures From Chancellor to clown, The bishops and their preachers, Shout “ England’s ” great renown ; Though editors, in vanity, Are filling every sheet With proofs of their insanity And ignorance complete. And foreign peoples, learning The nonsense they proclaim, Are far from yet discerning Great Britain as a name. Within their sanctums lonely Such sentences they meet ; “ The English Navy,” only, But never, “ British Fleet.” Her Majesty is blameless In this respect, I know ; But impudent and shameless The English boasters blow. 322 COLLECTED VERSE By lords and peers attended She reads but what they write, And should not be offended When truth is brought to light. Must we submit in terror To what would truth eclipse ? And shall I wink at error That falls from royal lips ? Is Canada conducted By perfect men this day ? No schoolboy well instructed Would “ English market ” say. The British market, nation, Queen, Army, Navy, too, Are terms the whole creation Must own correct and true. The British flag shall go where Great victories are won, The English flag is nowhere, Beneath the rolling sun. The Union Jack ! In one sense The greatest flag e’er seen, The “ English flag ” is nonsense^ And so is “ England’s Queen.” Victoria, Most Gracious, Great Britain’s Queen is she, To patriots how precious Her Diamond Jubilee. From David’s throne, the royal Descent let History tell ; In Canada ye loyal The British anthem swell ! COLLECTED VERSE 323 Ye Scottish heroes, rally Around the British throne From hamlet, hill and valley, And make your valour known ! Ye Irish, in your ardour Be loyal, brave and true, To guard the British border So much depends on you ! In all that civilizes The “ Hearts of Oak ” may join Great Britain’s enterprises To earth’s remotest line. All round the earth rejoicing Are loving subjects seen, One British nation voicing The prayer, “ God Save the Queen.” GRUMBLING AT THE WEATHER Do you fret because the weather isn’t fair, When it rains — when it rains, And the water soaks through leather here and there, When it rains — when it rains ? Can you change the seasons sent By your murmuring complaint ? You had better be content When it rains. Do you fret because the weather is so cold, When it snows — when it snows, And the world looks altogether grim and old, When it snows — when it snows ? 324 COLLECTED VERSE Can your puny powerless arm Make the chilly day be warm By enchantment or by charm, When it snows ? Do you shudder in the breeze overhead When it blows — when it blows ; And you see the fallen trees around you spread When it blows — when it blows ? You had better let them lie ; For you cannot, if you try, Change the wind — no more can I — When it blows. When the scorching sunbeams beat, does it seem All is wrong — all is wrong ? When you languish in the heat, do you deem All is wrong — all is wrong ? Why in Jonah’s angry mood ? All is working for your good, Why despondingly conclude All is wrong ? There are blessings for the many everywhere, All is right — all is right. Why should you, or I, or any, then despair ? All is right — all is right. Travelling through a world of light — Though the path be dark as night — Guided by a higher sight All is right. ’Midst the raining and the snows on the ground All is right — all is right. ’Midst the burning and the blowing all around All is right — all is right. One is waiting to redeem, Put your confidence in Him ; Life is but a passing dream : All is right. COLLECTED VERSE HALLOWE’EN Friends ! for Hallowe’en a song, Let your poet grant it ; Patriotic, short or long, Caledonians want it. Be the metre blank or rhyme ; Never mind the mountains, Do not spend the precious time Finding floods and fountains. Sing not of great Maple trees Nor of bowers most charming, Give no chorus for the bees Round the roses swarming. Though the summer leaves you’ve seen Bright as gold in autumn, Do not tell us when or where Dropping, you have caught them. Witness yonder leafless tree — Time is quickly fleeting ; Far and wide, from sea to sea, Friends their friends are greeting. Life is earnest, find a friend Faithful, then and clannish, Steadfast, constant to the end, All suspicion banish. Hallowe’en is coming fast, ’Twill be soon upon us ; All the saints on earth at last, Surely none to stun us. 326 COLLECTED VERSE ’Tis the living, prowling round, Silly, wicked tricksters — Not the buried under ground, Move our gates and fixtures. Time it is to give their tricks One eternal ending Where such friendly races mix, Peace and union blending. Scotsmen may delight to sing Heathery hills and fountains ; Richer far the chimes that ring Round our golden mountains. Free Dominion ! Famed land ! Traitor tread thee never ; ’Tis our own from strand to strand, Canada for ever ! Maxville, October 28th, 1899. ON THE FOUNDERING OF THE “VICTORIA r (When nearly two hundred lives were lost in the Thames London, Ontario, May 24th, 1881) Who slew all these ; who has laid them so low ? From the thousands around us in sorrow and woe The cry is ascending. From whence came the blow l Who slew all these, who slew them ? Who slew all these ? Was it ravaging war That hurled forth the dead from his thundering car y Gory and ghastly in death, as they are ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? 327 COLLECTED VERSE Who slew all these ? Did the pestilence sweep O'er the great Forest City to lull to sleep— In but one short hour to awake and weep ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? Who slew all these ? Was it famine that spread, Strewing the beach with the dying and dead ? Now, as of old, may it truly be said, Who slew all these, who slew them ? No famine was there, no pestilence, war, Nor any one thing of the evils that are. Yet who will not say it was sadder by far ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? The babe and the mother, the father, the child, The youth in his strength and the maiden so mild, The poor and the wealthy together are piled. Who slew all these, who slew them ? Tears ! Tears for the dead, if our sorrow you share ! See the brave and the beautiful, noble and fair, In their lifeless embrace — for true lovers they were. Who slew all these, who slew them ? There were ransomed souls in that hour that rose To the pearly gates that will never close From the river that now so calmly flows. Who slew all these, who slew them ? Oh ! the once happy homes now in silence — bereft Of their occupants all ; not one living soul left To join the sad wail, on the right and the left. Who slew all these, who slew them ? Desolation and terror ! The world stands in awe At this greatest calamity Canada saw. Some are talking of juries and proving by law Who slew all these, who slew them ? 328 COLLECTED VERSE Say, was it the man who constructed the craft, That built it of pine — a mere shell of a raft — Frail, flimsy, and leaking both fore and aft ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? Was it the officer chief in command Who, viewing the thousands that stood on the land, Knew not what tonnage his vessel could stand ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? Or was it the Company greedy for gain ? We are earnestly asking, but asking in vain ; Such queries will never restore the slain. Who slew all these, who slew them ? The mourners, by sorrow or sympathy led, Are tolling the bells and interring the dead. Oh ! the words that are spoken, the tears that are shed Who slew all these, who slew them ? There is grief, there is wrath, at this terrible wrong, 4 They have murdered an innocent, helpless throng ! ” If it’s murder in prose what is it in song ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? Victoria — that name when emblazoned on high, Or in print, shall bring sadness to many an eye, W hen we think of the loved ones enshrouded that lie. Who slew all these, who slew them ? When the years rolling on shall return with the morn Of the day when our gracious monarch was born, Shall we meet to rejoice, or assemble to mourn ? Who slew all these, who slew them ? All is vanity here, but God is our might ; 44 Shall not the judge of all living do right ? ” Save us, 0 God, from so awful a sight ! Who slew all these, who slew them ? COLLECTED VERSE 329 In the midst of our grief be our comforter still, Give us, 0 give us to bow to Thy will : Teach our authorities, “ Thou shalt not kill.” Who slew all these, who slew them ? Great Father of Mercy, thy love, it would seem, Has saved my poor life by a terrible dream, Or I might have also been lost in the stream. Who slew all these, who slew them ? Unable the terrible cause to unmask, I have finished my sorrowful, sorrowful, task ; God bless the sad warning to all who may ask, “ Who slew all these, who slew them ? ” SONG OF PEACE FOR GREAT BRITAIN AND THE COLONIES What if war among the nations, Fierce with fury fanned, Scatters wide its desolations Over sea and land ? Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. Let the turks and tyrants rally ’Round their cannon rows ; Over mountain, plain, and valley March to meet their foes. Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. 330 COLLECTED VERSE Be the kingdoms— broken, scattered Found no more at all ! Be foundations razed, and battered Down each towering wall ! Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. Should the swelling tide of error Rise to overwhelm, Persecution fill with terror Every land and realm, Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. Freemen, friends of law and order, True to duty’s call, Guards around the British border, Loyal one and all. Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. Treason, riot, and rebellion Never more be seen, Faithful be the happy million — Faithful to their Queen. Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. Union is the strength of Britain’s Still unconquered powers ; While our history’s being written, Be that Union ours. COLLECTED VERSE 331 Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. ■God of Heaven, let Thy blessing Rest on every shore ! May the world rejoice, possessing Peace for evermore. Never let the Rose and Thistle With the Shamrock fight ; Let them ever blow one whistle, In one song unite. THE AUCTION SALE OF SLAVERY Hear ! all ye nations of the earth From Britain to Japan, The Union has resolved to sell Their property in man 1 The death of Brown gave such a shock That we were forced to bring our stock Of slavery to the auction-block To sell it, if we can. “ Who bids for slavery ? Who bids ? The creature must be sold. We hanged John Brown upon a tree, His lips are pale and cold, But yet he speaks — his spirit speaks ! His voice is heard. Our Eagle shrieks Amd now, in desperation, seeks T’ exchange our slaves for gold.” “ Who bids for slavery ? Who bids ? ” The cotton auctioneer Exalted on the Union-stump Would make the nations hear. 332 COLLECTED VERSE The sugar-eating North comes in — New York’s Observer counts his “ tin,” And fain would buy the giant sin, No matter cheap or dear. “ Who bids for slavery ? Who bids ? ” The merchants are astir, And all the Abolitionists Their deadly hate incur. But Harriet Beecher Stowe draws nigh (For “ Uncle Tom ” and “ Dred ” run high),' She scatters all the cotton fry Who vent their rage on her. The Auctioneer denounces all Who “ Yankee Doodle ” sing, And says, “ I’ll find another mart For this detested thing. I’ll go to Canada, perhaps I’ll sell it to those British chaps.” At this bright thought the Eagle claps And folds each starry wing. “ Who bids for slavery ? Who bids ? Canadians, won’t you hear ? I wish to sell you slavery, The Union sent me here. We’ll sell it very cheap, cash down, We cannot stand the death of Brown,, We cannot bear Creation’s frown, The universal jeer. “ We thought we had the victory When Stevens we had hung, And of true freedom on the earth The death-knell we had rung. But oh ! the intolerable dread That insurrection here will spread, And that our blood will yet be shed By those who suffer wrong ! ” COLLECTED VERSE While thus he comes to Canada, To make his offers vile, Our indignation we express In independent style. We tell the South, the North, the World That Freedom’s flag is here unfurled, And every thing shall hence be hurled That comes but to defile ! Downcast and sorely mortified And almost dead with shame, We find the cotton-auctioneer Returning whence he came. He soon arrives at Washington, When gathered Congress waits upon Their favoured auctioneering one His progress to proclaim. “ Oh ! Mr. President,” he says, “ They took me for an elf, And frowned upon me just as if I murdered Brown myself.” Then says the President, “ I trust That you can sell it yet, you must Or we shall all be shortly crushed. Begone, and bring the pelf.” Straight to the British Parliament His way he does pursue, And gains a ready audience As strangers always do. But when his tale is told the Peers Raise such a shout of hearty cheers For Freedom — and the Yankee’s tears Begin to drop like dew. And while the weeping auctioneer Is groping for the door, He hears a loud, majestic voice, The British Lion’s roar ! 334 COLLECTED VERSE “ Go back and tell the wicked knaves That they should liberate their slaves As Britain did of yore.” The Eagle shrieks, he knows not where To turn his weary eye ; But hope revives upon the earth For Italy is nigh. Perched on the lofty Alpine towers He shouts, with all his native powers, “ Who buys this slavery of ours ? Italians, will you buy ? ” Then Garibaldi’s voice is heard In language calm and clear, “ Shame on thy country ! Shame on thee, Thou wicked auctioneer ! Let no Italian be the slave Of Northern Turk or southern knave, Young Italy is free and brave ! We want no slavery here ! ” The Eagle shrieks again, they go To Russia afar To shout, “ Who bids for slavery ? ” Before the mighty Czar. But soon, alas ! with flashing eyes Th’ insulted emperor replies, “ Go home, and tell the foolish wise How free my people are ! ” So, after shouting ’round the earth, “ Who bids for slavery ? ” He comes to Washington, and says “ The world despises me, I could not get a single dime For slavery — your darling crime — And now I really think it’s time To set the negroes free.” COLLECTED VERSE 335 The President hangs down his head And Congress heaves a sigh ; While every man who owns a slave Forebodes destruction nigh. With zeal unequalled heretofore They free the slaves from shore to shore, And now the Eagle shrieks no more But nobly soars on high. THE GREAT ABOMINATION, OR SMOKING, CHEWING AND SNUFFING TOBACCO Whenever we politely speak, We say “ Sir,” “ Miss,” or “ Madam,” Though things have changed, most sadly changed, Since Eve conferred with Adam. Geology may name the rocks Of both diluvian ages, While you and I may cast an eye O’er Man’s historic pages. And 0 ! the panorama dark, Of sin and degradation, As Time proclaims the passing names Of every tribe and nation. For Man, by God created good, With upright pure intentions — Has gone astray from wisdom’s way, Pursuing vile inventions. To count the crooked ways of life, By which commands are broken, Might well exhaust the treasures vast Of every language spoken. 336 COLLECTED VERSE The Oracles Divine declare In Proverbs, wisely written, How Man destroys his social joys By fangs of folly bitten. If he is mad who plays with fire, As Solomon has told us, What would he say if in our day That Preacher could behold us ? And well might holy angels weep ; Those messengers of Heaven, Who sally forth to visit Earth, By sin and sorrow riven. To see a reasonable man Addict himself to smoking, Producing fumes where’er he comes, With insolence provoking. The pipe’s an idol made of clay ; Cigars are nothing better, And he who wants to smoke consents To wear a burning fetter. His pipe is fixed between his teeth, His cheeks become his bellows, He puffs and feels ecstatic thrills, As smokers sometimes tell us. What kind of pleasure can be found In such a “ light employment,” Destroying health by burning filth. And styling that enjoyment ? To church he goes, with all his clothes And pockets strongly scented, Nor does he care, if half the air From door to desk is tainted. COLLECTED VERSE 337 When some one faints he asks the cause, In language gruffly grunted, But little thinks how much he stinks, With all his senses blunted. Some simple youths begin to smoke At first by way of frolic, And some to ease or cure disease, The toothache or the colic. But how can human frames diseased Return to healthy action, By what deceives and only leaves A burning satisfaction ? And many half demented dupes Go forth from foggy caverns, To seek relief from lonely grief And burning thirst in taverns. For when the weed has lost the power Narcotic, to control them, The more they drink, the more they think That whisky must console them. Pursued through suffocating smoke By foes that seem infernal — Tobacco first, and then a thirst That leads to death eternal. A slave in chains, whose galling coils Grow daily stronger, thicker, Still owns his fears, and tells with tears, The ruin wrought by liquor. Then with returning appetite And conscious degradation, Again he fails, and smoke prevails Throughout his habitation. 338 COLLECTED VERSE When once the breath and teeth proclaim Approaching putrefaction, 0 hope, farewell ! we ring thy knell, Despair becomes distraction. A lady said to one who smoked, And who desired to take her, “ ’T would never do to marry you, Td smell you half an acre.” Whenever love and beauty fail To win an erring mortal, He should be sent in banishment Beyond some penal portal. Another said she never wished To see her pastor enter, For every book he opened took The touch of her tormentor. Behold an educated man, A poor deluded creature, Who belches fumes, and yet presumes To be a Gospel preacher. His hands, his clothes, his very breath. The House of God defiling ; No wonder then, that from such men, We find the truth recoiling. When such a preacher leaves his home To seek another station, His study tells by stains and smells, What was his occupation. The slaves of habit must condemn Themselves, without accusers — The filthy will be filthy still, Those vile tobacco users. COLLECTED VERSE 339 0 why should graduates, when called To be ordained as pastors, Of this vile art, the smoking-art, Be bachelors and masters ? And why should students crowd the streets, Offensive fumes upraising In curling spires, their Moloch fires Beneath their noses blazing ? A preacher smoked behind a barn, To hide from observation, But ere he stopped, a spark he dropped, Which caused a conflagration. The great destruction, traceable To this abomination, Of property, on land and sea, Defies all computation. A student to the country went, His gun upon his shoulder, To his dismay, while on his way, A spark blew up his powder. His nerves were shattered by the shock* We say : 64 It is no wonder,” At least to one compelled to own, It was a smoking blunder. Another set his clothes on fire, And scorched himself so badly, That to escape in any shape He took a drenching gladly. A sorry sight it was to see The hasty application — The object wet, will not forget The quenching operation. 340 COLLECTED VERSE When habit has become disease And one is long afflicted, The heart and will grown weaker still, By thraldom self-inflicted. Yet this tobacco-plague may be Successfully resisted, And in the war against it are The best of men enlisted. In this our age of great reform, Political and civil, How many wise, and otherwise, Still dally with this evil. “ I, by the grace of God, can smoke,” A famous preacher muttered, A good cigar,” and though these are The very words he uttered, A strenuous effort has been made To falsify the story. It may be true that smokers do Ascend from grace to glory. For though tobacco-users bear Their conscious condemnation, ’Twould be too much to say that such, Like drunkards, miss salvation. Why should a great divine refuse To censure puffing preachers ; And yet by rule from Sabbath-school Expel all smoking teachers ? All honour to the Conference Of that denomination, Before whose power the smokers cower, And bear their condemnation. COLLECTED VERSE 341 God bless the worthy, faithful ones Endowed with zeal and knowledge. Proclaiming truth and teaching youth, In church and school and college. By precept and example, too, And earnest exhortation, Young men and boys are taught to rise Above this foul temptation. Tobacco, as a drug, they hate Nor are they slow to tell it — They neither chew, nor smoke ; and do Not raise, nor buy, nor sell it. And noble women workers, too, Devoted, good, and holy, There are, who seek to lead the weak, Away from ways of folly. Could not the mothers give the world A lasting reformation, While they can reach, and train and teach The rising generation ? The world has witnessed woman’s power The dingy dens destroying, Where drunkards choke themselves with smoke. The passers-by annoying. Go estimate the blessed work Of Christian Endeavour, And then confess it nothing less Than going on for ever. When Joel wrote his prophecies, Of times so far outreaching, Does it appear that he could hear The army-women preaching ? COLLECTED VERSE And though in part fulfilment fell In Pentacostal blessing, Yet how much more on every shore The work is now progressing ! The old divines who dream ; their dreams Are earnestly explaining, — Young men delight in visions bright Of work for them remaining. For truth extends to foreign shores “ Where every prospect pleases.” What cheering news ! when Greeks and Jews Believe, and trust in Jesus. The Gospel sheds a purer light On doctrinal confusion, And maidens fair, and servants, bear Their witness to the effusion. And in the coming by and by When this our world is better, Shall women teach and vote, and preach, Without restraint or fetter. A preacher heard these lines, enraged — His wrath did much upset him — Red, white and blue he turned, and few That saw it could forget him. And in a neighbouring saloon They said he was a thumper, As one by one was called upon To give his health a bumper. One said he was as fine a chap As Greek and Latin learning Could make a man on any plan Most famous for discerning. COLLECTED VERSE Another praised his charity ; “ His friendly exhortations, Are not severe,” he said, “ on beer Or friendly fumigations.” 0 wretched praise ! accepted from The men who treat and babble, And crack their jokes because he smokes — The hero of the rabble. Poor man ! I pitied him, and so Did all the congregation, Except the few that round him blew The smokers’ consolation. 1 almost think it sacrilege That he should ever trample God’s holy house, while sots carouse And quote his vile example. And is not he a hopeless case Who good advice despises, And only finds a joy that blinds, In smoke that round him rises ? While he who only smokes pursues A fiery avocation ; The man that chews and smokes, enjoys Two-fold abomination. For, when his pipe is laid aside, Amid a shower of ashes, His “ Honey-dews ” he grinds and chews With most repulsive splashes. While from his chimneyed nose and mouth His fetid breath emerges, He squirts and spits, where’er he sits, And all around submerges. 1 343 344 COLLECTED VERSE Why should our stores and shops be made Such dens as I have found them, Where loafers sit, and smoke and spit, Polluting all around them. And who can enter any place, With floors and counters varnished By what is blown about and thrown And get away untarnished ? Where tea and coffee, sugar, rice, And dry-goods are so stinking, That merchants mad might well be glad To burn their stock I’m thinking. A servant girl who went to work, Where three young gents were spitting, Declared at once she would resign Her place, and took her flitting. She plainly told the dandy dudes That she could live without them, Nor would she rub, nor touch, nor scrub The filth they cast about them. A lady to the office went To get the evening papers, And slowly found her way around A graceless group of gapers. A pipe, cigar, or cigarette, Each puffed as for existence, Or honour due, amidst a crew Disgusting at a distance. A self-appointed loafer sat Their champion employing His puffing powers, and squirting showers, The lady’s dress destroying. COLLECTED VERSE Take such a man and pinion him, And flog him most severely, Within an inch of life, nor flinch Till he repent sincerely. A castigation may not seem Just what the law comprises, But would correct, with more eflect, Than criminal assizes. And now, ye fair and gentle ones, If you would wisely marry, Don’t throw yourselves away on elves That large spittoons should carry. I never could enjoy the sight Of ugly pictures painted, Nor would I blot a single jot When truth must be presented. No, never, I must speak the truth, And truth itself shall clear me, If I am wrong, I’ve lost my song, If right the world shall hear me. Tobacco does not fit a man For prayer or exhortation, And let me tell a truthful tale By way of illustration. “ And is she worse ? ” the pastor said, “ 0 yes, she’s hourly sinking.” “ Should I not read and pray ? ” “ Indeed You might ; but you’re so stinking. “ She never could endure your breath, She’d rather do without you ; Yes, sooner die than have you nigh With such a smell about you.” 345 346 COLLECTED VERSE I do sincerely pity him, Who knows he should be holy, His preaching good, his practice rude, Himself a slave to folly. The heralds of redeeming grace Should set a good example, And neither claim, nor seem to claim The right on rights to trample. I’ve travelled in the second-class, And found it most provoking, When clergymen and “ gentlemen (?) ” Came in to do their smoking. I’d put all smoking travellers No matter whence or whither — In one great iron cattle-car, To smoke and spit together. By those refined saliva-pumps, It cannot be disputed, That clothes are spoiled and houses soiled, And even pews polluted. And doctors, clerks and merchantmen, All ages, ranks, professors, Have been beguiled, and might be styled, The puffing-up transgressors. What would the old Apostles say, Of preachers, elders, deacons, Who love to whiff, and look as if They should be burning beacons. Would they not say a blast of death Had swept away their senses ? And to the elves who smoke themselves, The yearly cost immense is. COLLECTED VERSE 347 Let mingled scorn and pity rule, When truth my race exposes, And men take snuff, that filthy stuff, With which they cram their noses. Some ladies, too, of rank and taste, I almost said, 44 Confound them,” Take snuff, and sneeze, as if a breeze From Greenland swept around them. Behold that stately nobleman ! Was ever mortal prouder ? A box of gold he keeps, to hold The nauseous, dirty powder. In olden times the snuff was passed From pew to pew unhindered, And every nose received a dose, Nor priest nor parson wondered. Some ministers themselves were known, And I could even name them, Who took their stand snuff-box in hand, Nor did their sneezing shame them. A preacher from that noble isle, Where grows the blooming heather, A pocket had expressly made Well lined with chamois leather, And there he kept with constant care, Though he would fain conceal it, A full supply, snuffed on the sly, Did not his face reveal it ? The evil of these habits vile To greater powers entrusting, I only say, as well I may, ’Tis perfectly disgusting. 348 COLLECTED VERSE In short, the man who undergoes The thraldom of tobacco, Might well succumb, with patience dumb, To all the laws of Draco. Away with this tobacco trade, In one wholesale consignment — Its filthiness of nastiness Outrages all refinement. I’d rather move to any part, Beneath the whole horizon Than spend my life, with man or wife, Who loves tobacco poison. 0 that this world were saved from all The fashions foul that drown it, That cleanliness and righteousness, And holiness might crown it. And now, my friends, the time is short For any reformation, But while your brains unburned remain, With firm determination Arouse, and in the strength of God Your iron fetters sever, Arouse, and vow you’ll conquer now, And may it be for ever. And be your sphere of action here, In low or lofty station, Cleanse, cleanse your hands from all that brands This great abomination. Lynn, April 1st, 1902. u COLLECTED VERSE THE INDIAN AND THE SLAVE Is the Indian torn from the land of his birth And sent to Orleans or the ends of the earth At the will of a merciless trader ? Yea, he does not dwell in the forest wide, Possessing himself, and his own his bride, Fearless of foe or invader ? Unfettered and free he provides his food ; Though his raiment is coarse and his wigwam rude Yet his household joys are many. What mortal dares dispute his claim To walk the earth a human name ? Not any, my friends, not any. What power restrains the youthful joy That swells the heart of the Indian boy ? Or who with chains has bound him ? And when that youth shall have manhood won Shall he not live as his fathers have done With his social bliss around him ? He can hunt his game through the prairie flowers, Or sink into rest in the shady bowers When the noonday sun is shining. He can launch his canoe and the rivers explore, Or loiter about his camp on shore, No man his peace undermining. But the negro is torn from his native shore And the land of his fathers he sees no more Despite of every feeling ! While the frantic scream and the deep-drawn sigh, The writhing limb and the tearful eye, The grief of the soul is revealing. 350 COLLECTED VERSE Let the Muse be aroused to words of wrath To tell of the crew the slaver hath ! Above that deck and under What earthly words can equal the wails That rise beneath the foreign sails That escape the British thunder ? Yet onward and onward the guilty ship Plunges her way o’er the briny deep, Her human freight within her. Oh ! the filth, and the heat, and the want of breath, — And the weak who sink in the stench of death Are overboard thrown to clean her ! No sooner in port than the slaver yields Her fresh recruits to the cotton fields — And now to the auctioneering. “ Hallo, Mr. Haley, what say you there ? Look at this damsel young and fair, How do you like her appearing ? ” Mr. Haley has studied the physical laws, He opens her mouth and examines her jaws ; And while on the block she is mounting He privately thinks her “ the pick of the whole,” And the price of the “ article ” body and soul, In dollars and dimes he is counting. “ Two hundred dollars,” are offered, “ three,” “ four,” — “0, a Christian is worth a great deal more ” — Then rapidly, “ five,” “ six,” “ seven,” Then “ eight.” “ How much ? How much ? ” “ Nine,” “ ten.” And they buy and sell their fellow-men In the light of a gracious Heaven. She is sold and bought, but bought for what ? 0, need I tarry explaining that To those who are good at guessing ? COLLECTED VERSE 351 An immortal spirit’s exchanged for gold, ’Midst anguish of heart and grief untold And partings most distressing. And now all ye who can sympathise With a sorrowful heart, wherever it lies, 0, think of the families severed ! And while ye may feel for the wild Red man, Pity, 0 pity the African, And pray that he may be delivered. THE LIGHTNING RUN Proclaim to the world in the light of the sun The triumph achieved and the victory won, For the Vanderbilt race has been quite outdone — On the Canada Southern Railway. The September sun was bright and clear, When voices of joy and words of cheer Sounded and echoed far and near, On the Canada Southern Railway. While an iron steed and a palace car On a special train such wonders are, This was the greatest sight by far, On the Canada Southern Railway. Out on the glittering steel they stood, Enginemen in a merry mood ; For the line is straight and the rails are good On the Canada Southern Railway. All Aboard ! All Aboard ! It was said and done, Then away in pursuit of the setting sun. O, ’twas a grand, ’twas a lightning run ! On the Canada Southern Railway. 352 COLLECTED VERSE And the timorous passengers who thought Insurance tickets were wisely bought, A lesson of trust were quickly taught, On the Canada Southern Railway. ... For though he went out like a flash of light, Passing the birds in their airy flight, Macomber came safely in that night, On the Canada Southern Railway. Nobles were there who had crossed the foam ; Some were returning from ancient Rome ; But Manager Muir was quite at home, On the Canada Southern Railway. With calm composure he seemed to view The receding world as philosophers do. ’Twas a joyous, rapid ride all through, On the Canada Southern Railway. A race for minutes, a race for miles, Steam has a power that time beguiles ; But the miles prevailed, midst greetings and smiles, On the Canada Southern Railway. Sweeping by stations far between — Sounds were unheard and sights unseen, And whirlwinds sent to the wall, I ween, On the Canada Southern Railway. For a hundred miles and ten and one In an hour three quarters were safely run, And the fastest train on earth outdone, On the Canada Southern Railway. Onward and onward they swiftly sped, Village and town and country fled ; And dinner was quietly served, they said, On the Canada Southern Railway. COLLECTED VERSE Whirling through space like a flying dream, Gone and vanished the world would seem. Vulcan ! Tell us the power of steam, On the Canada Southern Railway. I have travelled far and I ought to know, And I will maintain wherever I go That the smoothest, safest (fast or slow), Is the Canada Southern Railway. September \2>th> 1877. THE MADNESS OF WAR (Partly translated from the German) Our Father in Heaven with His bountiful hand Refreshing the earth with His life-giving showers, In proof of His goodness is filling the land With delicate fruits and with beautiful flowers. The fruits are to feed us, the flowers to please, And the gifts of His love are most lavishly given ; Nor is there a soul in creation but sees The kind all-providing indulgence of Heaven. But had I the power to remodel it all And grant your desires with a word or a breath, Each melon should turn to a huge cannon ball, To be eaten, not sent on a message of death. Asparagus turned into bayonets should glow Till each garden should gleam like a forest of spears. And poignards and sabres and lances should grow In place of the corn's farinaceous ears. 353 354 COLLECTED VERSE And lest any should look for the glorious day When the sword shall be changed as the prophet hath said, Each plough upon earth should be taken away And piles of accoutrements given instead. Your barns should be turned into barracks of course, And the dust of the earth should explode at your tramp — Each hoof be transformed to a cavalry horse, Each orchard become an artillery camp. No light upon earth but the flashing of arms, And the atmosphere loaded with sulphurous fumes ; All Nature’s sweet choristers fled the alarms And deafening din of your terrible drums. And the juice of your grapes I would turn into blood, Your plums into shot and your peaches to shell, And then would I say, “It is all for your good, Come, take the reward ye have merited well ! “ Come, feed on your chosen munitions of war, Let famine destroy and the pestilence slay ; Your sins will correct you, ye fools that ye are, Come now, and rejoice in your festival day.” Oh, when shall we hail the millennial dawn ? And when shall this wild inconsistency cease ? Each nation preparing new weapons, swords drawn, While solemn conventions are praying for peace. June 28 th, 1875. COLLECTED VERSE 355 THOUGHTS FOR THE TIMES How truly the sages while scanning the ages The changes of centuries learn ; But scoffers and doubters and prophecy-scouters No signs of the times can discern. But, as it is written, the earth has been smitten By pestilence, famine and sword ; While thousands, receiving the truth, are believing That Paradise shall be restored. Great Hope of the Nations ! In all generations The Shiloh shall come to fulfil The anthem from Heaven by Seraphim given, “ Peace, peace upon earth and good-will.” The nations who wrangle at every angle Are wondrously willing to speak One language. When spoken in accents unbroken ’Twill neither be Latin nor Greek. But English most surely, with eloquence purely Pronounced to a listening world ; The great British races maintaining their places With banners of Freedom unfurled. How great are the people, the gathering people. Their greatness let History tell, Upholding their banner, the Star Spangled Banner, And ringing their Liberty Bell. Good men in the Union extend their communions To regions unknown to Monroe By free institutions and large contributions To missions, wherever they go. 356 COLLECTED VERSE And surely by Heaven to Britain is given, On continent, island and wave, A mission to scatter the darkness, and shatter The fetters of every slave. And blind is the doubter who cannot about her A cluster of nations behold ; Colonial nations, possessing in patience The promises given of old. May Canada greater, yes, grander and greater Than any colonial shore, Inherit the blessing, her national blessing, With plenty and peace evermore. Lynn, Mass., February 22nd , 1902. TO ALEXANDER H. WINGFIELD My honoured friend, accept this eulogy — A tribute due to Hamilton and thee. Ambitious City for thy poets — now Grown famous — on thy tow ’ring mountain’s brow Be freedom’s banner sung by many a bard, Admiring patriots their shield and guard. Whilst I — a stranger to such gifted lays — In some retreat obscure around the bays Of great Parnassus, still rejoice to find That Wingfield’s genuis aye instructs mankind. Yes, Wingfield, when the sacred muse inspires Her favoured sons to touch their tuneful lyres, Then, only then, are heard soul-stirring strains Felicitous as thine ; — From maple plains The brave and beautiful still throng around The Bard of Hamilton with laurels crowned, Whose warbling cadences melodious roll Till echo dies beyond the farthest pole. COLLECTED VERSE 357 Plead for the poets ; yes, with all my heart I will, and emulate the rhyming art ; Although I never shall attain the top Of great Parnassus, yet I fondly hope To write for pleasure and for bread — not fame — And so I court the muse, and do the same as others did Whose works are prized and read — The learned authors with the famous dead. Plead for the poets ; yes, because I love With them through realms of history to rove, And gather facts wherever they are found — To weave a robe of poetry around. Plead for the poets ; yes, but shall I plead Without discrimination ? No indeed. Too many from the line of truth depart And spend on trifling fiction all their art ; With minds depraved, they grasp at every bubble That floats upon the sea of mortal trouble. Not so great Wingfield, whose heart-thrilling lays Have richly won his country’s grateful praise ; Amidst a thousand hammers’ noisy tones, The restless, roaring engines’ thund’ring groans. Heedless of all the dreadful, deafening din That would have made inferior brains run thin, He touches tenderly the silver chords Of social life ; his boast pure Saxon words Rising superior to the clang of steel, Stern facts, his strength — who has a heart to feel, A sympathy for truth, must gladly own That Wingfield lives the Bard of Hamilton. 358 COLLECTED VERSE TWO ACROSTICS A time to die, the great King Preacher said — N o truth more trite, and yet good men though dead D own through the ages live. Historic fame R enders immortal many a Scottish name, E ngraven deeply in memorial trust W hile misers moulder in forgotten dust. C onvene the world’s great men, the noblest, best A s countless as the stars from east to west ; ^ ] R eview their works and register their names, ' N umbered and called according to their claims, E ach country’s delegates to that great throng, G rand worthies all. My native Land of Song I n peerless pride the foremost ! crowning one E steemed, admired and praised in every zone. 2 A s when the sun with bright refulgent rays N ew life diffuses through the flowery maze, D ispels the dawn, and from his glorious height R ichly bestows the gifts of heat and light, E ven so a great, good man do we behold W isely and well dispensing wealth untold. C onquerors and kings, though monuments are raised, A s nameless as their serfs may lie unpraised : R iches and wealth are vain. Time’s truthful pen N o good records when selfish wealthy men E nd their career. But when a great, good man G laddens the hearts of thousands when he can, I n ecstasy of wonder, “ Whence he came ? ” E nquirers ask, with blessings on his name. COLLECTED VERSE 359 4 WELL MAY WE BOAST OF LIBERTY ” Well may we boast of liberty Where every mortal man is free — Unawed by foe or tyrant knave — On British soil To rest or toil, No man to claim or call him slave. Not so the great Republic nigh Whose vaunting words were loud and high, Extolling oft the people’s rule ; For there we see Among the free Despotic power make man a fool. The black in bondage to the white, The white in terror day and night, And slavery a curse to all. The burning brands Of Christian lands Aloud to Heaven for vengeance call. The blazing fires, the cow-hide lash, The manacles, and maiming gash, The auction-sale of little ones, Has roused at length The lion-strength Of Afric’s wrong-enduring sons. When Israel’s sons were slaves of old, Where Egypt’s muddy waters rolled, Afflicted by a tyrant’s hand, From burning flame The Great I Am Sent Moses forth to plague the land. 360 COLLECTED VERSE And in that Time-enduring book, So full of counsel and rebuke For such as evil-doers be, Let those who need The warning, read The fate of Pharaoh in the sea. The wretches ruling southern climes Who love the man-enslaving crimes And crush the poor with iron heels, May soon go down Without renown As low as Pharaoh’s chariot wheels. For though the man-degrading South Has opened wide its hellish mouth In ruthless rage for bloody fight, The darkness felt Of gloom and guilt Foreshadows their Egyptian night. I’ve read of one who made a pit And dug it wide and deep, and fit As he supposed, to take his foe, Who like an elf Fell in himself And found his death and grave below. And so the wicked, who enthral Their fellow-men, are doomed to fall Into the snares that they have laid To make the North And all the earth Do homage to their cursed trade. But now we see the noble North In earnest sending freemen forth Resolved at once to do or die, And wipe the scar From every star That glitters in the Union sky. Printed in Great Britain by Wyman & Sons Ltd., London and Reading r ^> e r/<& CS25AJJ IJl 3 S'S / -f~