An Epie of the DawE 
 
 ~ and other Poenm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 NICHOLAS FLOOD DAVIN. M.P. 
 
 REGINA, N.W.T. 
 LEADER COMPANY (LIMITED.) 
 
 MDCCCLXXXIX.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface - - - - - v 
 
 The Critics - - - - - ,7 
 
 Eos: An I'jpic of the Dawu - - - 16 
 
 A Reverie - - - - - 6ft 
 
 The Canadian Year - - - '1 
 
 To ^'Bay Ml. •- - - - "74 
 
 Xmas Day at Ottawa - - - **> 
 
 Parted - - - - - 7» 
 
 Good Night - - - - 80 
 
 A Song: Ajn-il, September, &v. - - - 82 
 
 By the Sea- A Dream - - «* 
 
 A Few Brief Hours - - - " 85 
 
 A Star - - . - - - 87 
 
 Flowers - - - - - 88 
 
 Numbers - - - - - oJ 
 
 Reconciled - - - - - 00 
 
 Farewell ----- -'l 
 
 Album Yerses. 
 
 Since First O'er Albuni Verse - - - ^'"^ 
 
 The Liindlady's Daughter - - " ^f)- 
 
 Augusta - - - - ' • I 
 
 To Kinkometta the Quadro»)n - - -''"^ 
 
 Valentine 
 
 ToG- 
 
 100 
 
 To Mrs. Gorbett - - - - 102 
 
 io;i 
 
 > 
 
 A Photf)graph - - - - 104 
 
 759479
 
 IV. 
 
 Ai.BrM Verses. (Continued.) 
 
 I Asked Sweet Love - - - - l*'-f> 
 
 The Young Bride - - - l''*J 
 
 The Prayer - - - - - lOS 
 
 Masks and Faces - - - M<' 
 
 Hygie - - - - - J 12 
 
 The Charitable Night Shirt - - - 11.". 
 
 The Irish Fair - - - - - 11'5 
 
 The Robin and the Worm - - - ll-S 
 
 Regina ... - - l-J-j 
 
 SONXETS. 
 
 In Memory of a Dinner - - , - 1-4 
 
 Friendship - - - - V2T> 
 
 Historic Lights - - - - 1 >•() 
 
 Sir John Macdonald - - . - - 127 
 
 Lady Macdonald - - - 12vS 
 
 A Christmas Card - - - i -'.) 
 
 Absent ... - 130 
 
 A Prairie Dawn in Suunner - - 131 
 
 Der Koenig in Thule -A TransLitlon - - I'.V.') 
 
 National Poems. 
 
 Young Canada - - - - lo.'j 
 
 Forward - - - - lliCt 
 
 A Song of Canada - - - . - 13<S 
 
 E5— £
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The fi>ll()Vi-ing attempts were written from time to time 
 is i.Mi^iilsf. nrmnnhHf] "1 lisued ill iiuuibers for the num- 
 
 p. iv. in 6th line— Hygeia for Hygie. 
 p. 1 1 2 — Hygeia for Hygiea. 
 line 7 ! for ? 
 
 " 8 : ." ? 
 
 imagination as important as the raising of gram. ine raising 
 of grain will bring us wea'tli, bat intellectual progress, on 
 which again the highest development of our material re- 
 sources depends, will be slow unless all the faculties of the 
 mind are stimulated. The greatest merchants the world ever 
 saw were highly cultivated men, great and discriminating 
 ]tatrons of literature, with not merely a keen eye to the 
 profit of a commercial transaction, but a ([uick and tr.ie sense
 
 IV. 
 
 Ar.BVM Versks. ((J(jutiiuied.) 
 
 1 Asked Sweet Love - - - - 105 
 
 The Young Bride - - - 10<> 
 
 The Prayer - - - . . lOS 
 
 Masks and Faces - - - 110 
 
 Hygie - - - - - J 12 
 
 The Charitable Night Shirt - - - ]\:\ 
 
 The Irish Fair - - - - - llf. 
 
 I'lie Robin and tlie Worm - - - Ho 
 
 Regina . . . _ - 122 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 2-.o^
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following Htfceuipts were written from time to time 
 as impulse prompted. "1 lisped in numbers for the num- 
 l)ers came," such as they were. But soon after I began to 
 earn my bread, I arrived at the conclusion that with the 
 cream skimmed off tlie mind by newspaper writing, and en- 
 gaged in the exacting study of law, I could not, even if 1 had 
 the native gift, hope to write poetry which should be at once 
 original and of high workmanship. The terror of 
 
 Mediocribiis esse jjuetis 
 A o;( liiiiiiinrs^ nun dil, non concessere Cul'umn<£, 
 
 was on me; and save one work which was well advanced, Ijut 
 which now may never see the light, the tragedies, comedies, 
 idylls, epics I contemplated, died unborn. 
 
 Why then dc) I publish these tilings ? I am probably not 
 .HO vain as I was in my twenty-third j'ear. 1 have learned to b,' 
 afraid of nothing but God and wrong-doing, and hold it c )\var- 
 dice to shrink from endeavour thro' fear of failure. T am a 
 North-West man, and I think the cultivation of taste and 
 imagination as important as the raising oi grain. The raising 
 f grain will bring us wea'th, but intellectual jinjgress, on 
 which again the highest development of our material re- 
 .sources de])ends, will be slow unless all the faculties of the 
 mind are stinudated. The greatest merchants the world evei- 
 saw were highly cultivated men, great and discriminating 
 patrons of literature, with not merely a keen eye to the 
 profit f>f a commercial tran.saction, l)ut a tpiick and trae sense 
 
 o.
 
 VI. 
 
 of literary excellence; and I rejoice to know we have on many 
 of our farms educated men, and that the Saskatchewan can 
 lioast (jf a successful mercliant who has won a high place in 
 the ranks of Canadian poets. 
 
 ^\'e }ieed in Canada genendly a broader intellectual air; 
 redem})ti(;n from the domination of sciolists, with hearts often 
 as contracted as their cuitwre; the consciousness that we have 
 within ourselves all that ciin make a gxeat people; and every 
 step towards the creation of a Canadian literature tends to 
 hasten the new a:i<l hetter era in whose advent I believe. The 
 late JVlr. Arnold denoai'.ccd the Enghsh Philistine; the Phil- 
 istine is not the pest we have to complain of. Wherever we 
 turn we are met by people without respect for decency or 
 truth. The Philistine of .Arnold is a man with inherited 
 ideas, doiuiiiated by prejudice and intolerant of enlightenment. 
 But wlide thankful for brilliajit and instructed publicists, we 
 cannot deny that we have gorillas who presume to instruct 
 mankind on every subject, and express what they call public 
 opinion, whose teaching is degrftxiing, and the weapons of 
 whose warfare are calumny and lies. 
 
 Again, before a great poet can arise there must be a large 
 number of wiiters to prepiiie, not merely the mind of the 
 nation for kim, but to accumulate material on which his more 
 plastic hand shall work. The extraordinary versatility of 
 Shakespeare, Ms command of every note in the human soul,^ 
 tliis is not due to liis genius alone; it is due, in great part, to 
 the fact that lie absorbed, adopted, exploited the works of 
 other lueo, mtOiy of whom thought and wrote anaid con- 
 ditions wholly tSifferent from those of liis own country 
 and time. 
 
 A great critic has pronocmced the main idea of Eos "xsn- 
 deniably hjippy." One not leas comj>etent wrote me it was 
 '■ original and hap])y," and regretted I had not made all that 
 fould be made uf it. I have endeavoured to do more justice 
 to the oppt)rcaijities it presents, but I know well how much 
 more might have been done; and perhaps hereafter a cun- 
 njnt»er hand, and one more favourably circumstanced, wUI
 
 vu. 
 
 talic it up and sing a song worthier than niinc. E\'en then, 
 though .Tiy little star will be lost in the blaze of his, I shall 
 have done soiuething in my humble way for literature. 
 
 These verses came as the fly stung, oi- as 1 was ur^ed by 
 friends, (some of whom niight have stood up rivals to the 
 Muses); -^o write, with an exception in the case of the second 
 edition of Eos, as now published, and another work already 
 referred to, written before I had grown to manhood 
 
 While wandering about London and Paris in 18^7, I wrote 
 the verses to "The Critics." I hid inb&nded publishing 
 what now appears and something mare in London, but the 
 readers of the publishing houses were away holiday making^ 
 and I had not time to await their return. Some of the 
 smaller pieces are purely imaginary; some were written in 
 very early life. 
 
 The first edition of " Eos " had the distinction of being 
 dedicated to Lady Macdouald. I here recall the fact that I 
 may put on record the regard I bear a great and good woman, 
 and express ray gratitude to her for her ennobling influence. 
 To know her is to be a better man. While writing "The 
 Critics " a dedication of this volume was made impulsively, 
 and not unnaturally, to another lady, not so great, but not 
 less, by reason of every womanly vLrfcue, an honour to her 
 sex. 
 
 This is the first purely literary work printed and j)ublished 
 in the North-West Territories. Let us hope it is the small 
 beginning of great things. It is the product of stniy mo- 
 ments in a busy, and, for some twelve yoirs, a tavS Tient life. 
 I have in "The Critics" dealt with those criticisms on 
 " Eos " which were cai>able of being treated in verse With 
 regard to such criticisms as that I ended some of the lines 
 with a preposition, all 1 have to say is [ do not agree with 
 the view that this is always a fault. Milton, Byi'on, and 
 other great masters, frequently close a line with a preposi 
 tion. I am inclined to think in the present day the poet is 
 lost in the artist, and that we need a reaction analagous to 
 hat which Cowper unconsciously led against the imitators of
 
 Vlll. 
 
 Pope. Where I could, I h;ive bowed to my judges. 1 h.-ivt 
 even changed the title to please those who objected to my 
 calling it " a prairie dream. " 1 may say, however, the de- 
 scription of the home of Eos was composed in slcej), and when 
 1 awoke I ^vrote it down. This suggested the poem. 
 
 The descriptions oi Paris and Londrm in this edition of 
 Eos are founded on careful observation. I saw the sun rise 
 over Paris from the .\rc de Triomphe. In order to correct 
 and guide the imagination, I read the accounts of their im- 
 pressions published by balloonists. "Eos" is, I hope, now 
 less open to the charge of want of balance and proportion. 
 
 Many men engaged in active life as I am, would shrink in 
 our community from publishing verses; but to my thinking, 
 it is a duty to educate the people out of the narrow, not to 
 say brutal view, that a man must be a mere specialist. In 
 all times, and all countries, the highest ability for practical 
 affairs has been conjoined with versatilitj', and a Canadian 
 politician need not fear an ignorant sneer which could have 
 been flung at a statesman like Canning. 
 
 I will probably never write another verse. Despairing of 
 leisure in the future, I throw these on the stream with all 
 their imperfections — and as, while the book Avas passing 
 through the press, I was hurried from one end to the other of 
 a vast constituency — the defects, in mechanical workmanship 
 alone, cannot be few or far between. Let them sink or swim. 
 If they sink, they will find themselves in very good company ; 
 and if they swim a little day, it is about as much as most 
 modern works can hope for. 
 
 Regina, Jan. 21st, 1889. 
 
 -^^I^^^
 
 My Mother ! o'er loide leagues of land, . 
 
 And over belts of roaring brine, 
 I reach thee this umvorthy hand. 
 
 And strain to touch these lips with thine. 
 
 For as when day's bright glare is o'er, 
 And stealing shadows longer draum, 
 
 The moments, sad and sicift, restore 
 Effects like those of early dawn ; 
 
 And as the Autumn storms tear 
 
 TJie ivhirling leaves from sivaying boughs, 
 Revealing, mid the branches bare. 
 
 Some nest where birds were used to house; 
 
 So, as life's shadows longer groiv, 
 And passion's power and dreams of youth 
 
 Decline, the child's heart's outlines shoiv 
 Amid the bai-e bleak boughs of tnith ; 
 
 And tho" that heart be u-ell nigh dead. 
 
 And never more new joys can thrill. 
 Its every fluttering imjndsefled, 
 
 Its build is as you made it still :
 
 still strong loith bonds of home-knit love, 
 And your oum ivill, wliicli did not quail 
 
 Amid all trouble, high above 
 
 Whafs mean, it rocks in life's wild gale. 
 
 'Flie cloudlet's froxon that did deface 
 Our strong love's all-embracing joy — 
 
 Long x>ast — lias left behind no trace ; 
 I love you now as when a boy ; 
 
 And blend with this small book your name. 
 
 Which breathes of babblings round your knee- 
 Whereat you smiled, half -posed of fame. 
 
 Great deeds, glad flights o'er land and sea; 
 
 And therein songs you'll lightly scan. 
 Wherein my heart for love loas fain ; 
 
 They show me weak : they x>rove me man : 
 Tliey're bursts of joy, or births of pain.
 
 TEE CRITICS. 
 
 Thanks, gentlemen, for your fair criticisms, 
 
 VVhich, to be frank, I think were far too kind ; 
 I also thank you for your witticisms, 
 
 Which showed your kindness did not ' go it blind. ' 
 Tho' some remarks proved there were little schisms 
 
 Within your rank?, I think that here you'll find 
 I've tried to profit by most things you taught me, 
 The only profit the edition brought me. 
 
 I will say this, it pleased me much to see 
 The rancour that in other paths pursue 
 
 My steps, did not contaminate the free 
 And open air of literature, and you 
 
 My generous foes who did for once agree 
 To see some merit, and to say so too, 
 
 In what I did, I thank you from my heart, 
 
 Ah ! if we'd all at all times play that part ! 
 
 I take my inspiration fiom a muse, 
 
 Whose dainty feet ne'er trod the hill Parnassus, 
 Yet if you saw her, you would not refuse 
 
 To own her sway, for sweeter than molasses 
 Is her soft smile serene; nor could you choose. 
 
 Unless indeed quite crazy, or as crass as 
 A fool, but own tliat of tlio Nine as any 
 She's as fair, or were there twice as many.
 
 8 THE CIIITIC3. 
 
 Therefore perhaps, my flight though with a goddess, 
 May not have soar'd so high as 'twould have run. 
 
 If my inspirer didn't wear a bodice, 
 
 Likewise a bustle v/hen her toilet's done. 
 
 But then a glance— you would not think it odd is 
 
 That for no undraped maid that ever won 
 Apollo's smile I'd change. Inured to rustlin' 
 
 In our North-West —I like a muse in muslin, 
 
 Or silk, or cra])e, or calico ; I ask 
 
 But this that it be cut and stitched with skill, 
 
 Nor outlines mar in wliich the eye would bask, 
 Whose beauty heart and mind and soul can fill 
 
 With joy. It should not bs too hard a task 
 To drape sweet naturs's handiwork, and still 
 
 Preserve the entrancing grace of God's chefd'ceavre 
 
 As did the Greeks of old: go see the Louvre. 
 
 Think you we'd pause before each statue there, 
 O'er which the flowing marble's drapery falls, 
 
 If this concealed the lines of beauly rare, 
 The stately loveliness which soul enthralls. 
 
 Perfection's essence, now beyond compare ? 
 Ye who obey the monthly fashion's calls. 
 
 Here might ye learn hov/ grace may be disgraced 
 
 By camel humps and corsets tightly laced. 
 
 But fashion's ugliness can uglier be 
 
 If skilless artists make the lady's dress, 
 
 Therefore fair reader, look to it and see 
 That yours shall deftly every point express.
 
 THE CTJTICS. 
 
 Save what the nuincnt's hideous fantasy 
 
 Insists on hiding. But e'en then I guess 
 Good taste deformity can minimize, 
 And sun-like beauty breaks thro' all disguise. 
 
 Yet never think you need not reck the style : 
 'Tis true no milliner can dim your eye, 
 
 Or sour the sweetness of your honied smile, 
 Or steal its peril freni your bosom's sigh. 
 
 Or cover o'er a solitary wile ; 
 
 But as saltpetre makes the dwarf as high 
 
 As Anak's sons, so fashion's ceaseless whirls 
 
 Tend to equality among the girls. 
 
 1 his muse of mine in no way analytical, 
 Of mind constructive, leans to synthesis, 
 
 Therefore it is not that I would be critical. 
 But as in ]>ostscript or parenthesis. 
 
 We mention something private or political, 
 We'd like to note without much emphasis, 
 
 On one or two remarks I would remark, 
 
 If but to show I wrote not in the dark. 
 
 One critic said 'twas wrong to make a pause 
 In the swift goddess's transorbic run. 
 
 Because 'tAvas contrary to nature's laws, 
 And she'd be surely caught up by tlie sun. 
 
 With due respect he hardly weigh'd the cause, 
 Nor thought of Avhat for Joshua he'd done. 
 
 If once to please a man a long pause made ha, 
 
 He'd make a short one just to please a lady.
 
 JO THE CRITICS. 
 
 Another pointed out that Eos could not sleep, 
 Eternal wakefulness her doom decreed; 
 
 Another said 'twas wrong to make her weep; 
 Another that he knew she could not read; 
 
 Then how he ask'd in politics be deep, 
 
 And pose as if the world she meant to lead 
 
 In wiser ways ? To all this I reply : 
 
 The thing's a dream — I dreamt I saw her cry. 
 
 That fast as dove with head beneath her wing 
 I saw her sleep, though her all glorious head 
 
 Was not conceal'd, but radiant shone, a thing 
 For Millais at his best to paint. Of red 
 
 A touch to her dishevelled gold he'd bring, 
 Nor spoil the beauty poor Tithonus wed. 
 
 But tho' of carrotty tones he is so fond, 
 
 I'd rather see him paint her perfect blonde. 
 
 Then if no leisure hour the goddess claimed 
 
 When had she time to woo ? But yet we know 
 
 There's hardly one in all the skies so famed 
 For captivating fairest men below. 
 
 The stricture about reading too lies maimed, 
 For heavenly minds with intuition glow. 
 
 In days when all we mortals know our letters, 
 
 Pray can we limit our immortal betters ? 
 
 Why she talk'd politics, I cannot say. 
 
 Perhaps in heaven they take the' Daily News^ 
 And Telegraph, and Times, and duly lay 
 
 To heart the lessons which these sheets infuse.
 
 THE CRITICS. 11 
 
 I'm cure they take the t'tin and lo they may 
 
 Know all the babble of the mart and mews, 
 Take Trtith and BelUs Life and thus to sport 
 Add all the gossip of our brilliant court. 
 
 The Pall Moll ceitcs finds an entrance there, 
 And boys with wings distribute Aveekly papers, 
 
 The Saturday, Spectator and the Fair, 
 
 The World where Edmund cuts his weekly capers. 
 
 All these and mure to make the seraphs stare, 
 With fashion prints from milliners and drapers. 
 
 Are taken in and conn'd by heavenly eyes, 
 
 And mortal's deeds immortals much surprise. 
 
 Most certainly they've read I cannot say 'poor devi7s,' 
 
 All the descriptions of the jubilee, 
 Of royal dinners and of royal revels, 
 
 Of our fine fleet ujion our silver sea, 
 Of cutlasses and bayonets in shrivels ; 
 
 I hope they'll never see what ne'er should 1>^, 
 Our fine fleet batter'd like a piece of crockery, 
 And all our glory 'monumental mockery, ' 
 
 How brought she then no horse-race on the tapis 1 
 Why told she not of dinners and of balls ? 
 
 Of scandals not yet cold but sweet and sappy ? 
 Of paltry rivalries in royal halls ? 
 
 Of princes drest in suits of warlike nappy. 
 
 Who'd be quite lost to meet their duties' calls ? 
 
 Her views on politics might be exprest 
 
 Because she thought I'd like the subject beat.
 
 12 THE CRITICS. 
 
 The dream's dramatic, tho' by no strict rules 
 My muse who wears a smock, evolves her story; 
 
 " Out west," you know we're rebels to old schools, 
 And in our independence rather glory, 
 
 For this I hope you'll here not dub us fools^ 
 And as on strict condition that no more he 
 
 '11 err, at tim33, a calprifc gets off free, 
 
 Against harsh jud£,m3nt I might make a jjlea. 
 
 But no ! if I've presumed too fond and far, 
 Lay on the lash and make me rue the deed; 
 
 In other walks I've heard and felt the jar 
 Of bitter conflict, but I did not bleed 
 
 Quite unavenged, nor weakly doubt my siar. 
 But here, in unaccustomed fields, a reed 
 
 I'U bow to whatsoever comes. The blow 
 
 Will only tell me what I fully knos^, 
 
 That art requires not only high vocation. 
 
 But all life's vows and hours laid on her shrine, 
 
 Too deep I've drunk th' unspeakable elition 
 
 Of Shakespeare's song and 'Marlowe's mighty line,' 
 
 And Milton's epic, Dante (in translation), 
 Old Homer, Horace, Virgil, and in fine 
 
 I've march'd with all the singers of the world, 
 
 Their banners to eternity unfurled 
 
 Above me all unworthy ; but I felt 
 
 The rythmic clangour of their sonorous songs 
 
 AU beauty, greatness breathing, and I knelt 
 
 In heart and worshipp'd, learning there all wrongs
 
 THE CEITICS. 13 
 
 To hate and war on, tho' hot hell should pelt, 
 
 And low corruption sound her myriad gongs, 
 To call her minions 'gainst whoever stands 
 For right and light, in free or fetter 'd lands. 
 
 Therefore I know this little song of mine 
 For what it is ; my highest hope that here 
 
 I've struck a warning note, pointed a line 
 Of action that may ward off what I fear 
 
 For England, Ireland, Empire. Those should shine 
 Twin island stars of power and peace ; too near 
 
 For aught but love. Now love is for the free 
 
 In equal fortunes and strict equity. 
 
 I also wished — too daring or too vain ! 
 
 To strike from greater anvils still a spark, 
 To guide some groper o'er the trailless plain. 
 
 And show him where to wend tho' all be dark. 
 For honest hearts a faith that's not inane 
 
 But full of comfort, calls men to an ark, 
 Will safely ride the troubled waves of life, 
 And give them peace amid its stormy strife, 
 
 Tho' the loud thunder bellow's o'er the tide 
 Submerging all our hopes and all we love. 
 
 And wailing winds, like spirits that deride 
 Joy, trust, and truth, howl round and from above. 
 
 Whence light should shower, the wild wrack spreads its 
 wide 
 Horizon-touching wings, yet comes this dove 
 
 Hope's branch held in its beak, whose green leaves tell 
 
 God's forces rule and all for all is well.
 
 14 THE CRITICS. 
 
 And doing this, this far-west flower of verse, 
 May stir a heart or two with beauty seen 
 
 By me but never half expressed, the curse 
 Of long immersion in the world's din 
 
 Being on me, and my cruel fate far worse 
 
 Than those who strive but fail the prize to win, 
 
 For they sketch o'er the course and all but touch 
 
 The goal, while I— my Pegasus a crutch ! 
 
 A foolish boy, alas 1 long summers since, 
 I cast my horoscope for highest things. 
 
 And thought l)y strength the world I should convince, 
 And that with time I'd feel my budding wings. 
 
 I said : 'I'll take my cue from every prince 
 
 Of song ; from every harp its sweetest strings ;' 
 
 And fancy walked thro' all the muse's maze. 
 
 Thro' all song's avenues and haunted ways. 
 
 And then I wrote presumptuous : ' I will climb 
 And write in starry characters my name 
 
 Where the great blaze of Byron's song sublime 
 Makes the lame bard the cynosure of fame ;' 
 
 And all I asked from heaven was health and time 
 Doubt's craven fears and envy's sneers to shame, 
 
 When up stalked Poverty and wrought me ill, 
 
 And fiery passions fought the fiery will. 
 
 Here's but an echo of a song that wanes, 
 
 Thrown from far studies and forgotten years. 
 
 Like sounds of anthems in deserted fanes. 
 
 Hymns' phantoms in the temple which uprears
 
 THE CRITICS. 15 
 
 Its crumbling roof and arches to the rains 
 
 And winds, hallowed by bygone prayers and tears; 
 Hark to those strains ! aloft and down the aisles 
 Reverberate ! Is't only Fancy's wiles ? 
 
 To thee fair spii-it ! of whom half in jest 
 
 I've sung above, I dedicate to thee 
 These songs ; to thee, the beautiful, the best I 
 
 My never-absent-one where'er I be ! 
 My calm mid scenes where howling winds infest, 
 
 And where peace blooms the fairest flower for me 
 Far, far— yet near — 1 send across the sea 
 These songs to thee, my beautiful, to thee ! 
 
 London, August, 1887.
 
 EOS: AN EPIC OF THE DA WN. 
 
 Illusion makes the better part of life. 
 
 Happy self-conjurors, deceived, we win 
 
 Delight and ruled by fancy live in dreams. 
 
 The mood, the hour, the standpoint, rules the scene ; 
 
 The past, the present, the to-be weave charms ; 
 
 White-flashing memory's fleet footsteps fly. 
 
 And all the borders of her way are pied 
 
 With flowers full glad e'en when their roots touch quick 
 
 With pain. Witli tears upon his dimpled cheek 
 
 Forth steps the infant joy, and laughing, mocks 
 
 At care. In time, smiles play upon the cheek 
 
 Of pale regret, who grows transformed, and stands 
 
 A pensive queen, more fair tlian boisterous mirth. 
 
 The present's odorous with leaves of trees 
 
 Long dead, rnd dead defacing weeds and thorns, 
 
 And past the cloud that glowered, the blast that smote. 
 
 And out from never to be trodden days 
 
 Hope smiles, and airs from dawns we're never doomed 
 
 To see, come rich with fi-agrance, fresh with power, 
 
 Profuse of promises of golden days. 
 
 And join the necromancy of the past, 
 
 •Mingling the magic which makes up our lives. 
 
 I had been musing how the goddess bright 
 Of morning red, at close of every night, 
 Announcing coming light of day to gods
 
 EOS 17 
 
 And in()i't;il,s, drove lier lambei't car across 
 
 The sky, and how she stoop'd and pluck'd those flowera 
 
 Of men, —Orion, Cephalus, Tithonua — 
 
 Tithonus, wlio became a wrinkled shade, 
 
 So changed from him w^hose strength and beauty pierced 
 
 The heart of Eos in its tender dawn 
 
 Of love. 
 
 A sunny sky of blue arching 
 A plain in verdure drowned, and floating thick 
 Upon the emerald sea sweet wild Howers gay ; 
 Their stately queen the light-pink prairie rose. 
 The whirr of insects loud on every side. 
 And loud and clear the prairie lark, deep hid 
 In those vast fragrant meadows, sang ; the creek 
 Sent thousand- voiced upon the sultry air 
 The bull-frog's v>fcary canticle. I slept 
 And dreamt the goddess bent above me there 
 On that wide treeless plain, and made my heart 
 Distend with dumb, bewildering, dreadful joy ; 
 Near mine the snowy forehead isled in gold. 
 Near mine the eyes of blue, ineffable, sweet, 
 And on my mouth the dewj' rose of hers. 
 She rose and bared her milk-white arm, and drew 
 Me near her ; then there fiash'd a blinding light ; 
 Whirlwinds of fl.ime swept o'er the grass ; the plain 
 Was one vast tire from rim to rim ; but on 
 We went till distance made th' abounding blaze 
 Like glow of western clouds presaging storm, 
 When the broad sun in awful glory sets. 
 Then leaves great yellow fire-lit tracts behind, 
 Like fame of some portentous deed ; the heart
 
 18 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 
 
 Is touched and no unpleasing sadness wraps 
 The soul. 
 
 The sea soon lay beneath, with isles 
 Of vines and palms, tall cedars, citron groves, 
 Within an azure concave rimmed with light. 
 A rush of green-white wave and we were whelm'd 
 Tn depths wherein whole navies might go down, 
 Nor leave a ripple on the placid sea. 
 Careless, I closed mine eyes to die, but she 
 Reached forth the delicate hand with tapering fingers. 
 White, rosy-tipp'd, and touched me. At that touch 
 Strength came. I seemed to breathe my native air, 
 And she led on towards stately towers unique 
 In architecture and in ornament. 
 But when we neared the carven arch and door 
 She turned and said : — '* To-morrow you shall ride 
 With me," and like a dream she went, and blank 
 And desolate, I knew not where to turn. 
 
 Far down where never sailors' plummet reach'd, 
 
 Nor ever beam of piercing sunbeam stole, 
 
 Nor dream of faint forgotten sound e'er stirred, 
 
 Nor ghost of earthly odours smote the sense, 
 
 Wall'd in with silent, fearful waves, its roof 
 
 Of night and pallid waning stars, upheld 
 
 By massy pillars quarried from the dark, 
 
 The home mysterious of the goddess stands ; 
 
 Its solemn spacious chambers carpeted 
 
 With dusk, and hung with swarthy tapestries ; 
 
 Ebon the garniture ; pro'?use on lounge 
 
 And litter lay the furs of animals
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 19 
 
 Extinct for centuries ere man emerged, 
 
 Of which the rocks no hint to science give. 
 
 Along the halls and corridors obscure, 
 
 In many a dim recess, rose stately shapes 
 
 Of blackness. Fed from odorous flowers fresh culled 
 
 In gardens of Persephone', the air 
 
 Was sweet - a rich pervading fragrance pure, 
 
 And through the rayless splendours of these halls-- 
 
 Led by what happy chance or gracious guide - 
 
 I groped and found where far within, in such 
 
 A room, so full of sleep-compelling airs, 
 
 So beautiful, so stately-solemn, still. 
 
 As silence, weary of time's fret and change 
 
 Might choose for an eternal sleep, lo ! there 
 
 On couch dark as a piece of Erebus, 
 
 But soft as Summer cloud, cunning the frame, 
 
 Made from the lethal bronze the Titan works 
 
 In thunder clouds, in dreamless slumber Eos 
 
 Lay. .\h ! n > dirkness there 1 Frjm white lithe limbs, 
 
 Full throat, curve;! shoulder, pure firm breast and waist 
 
 Which rose in beauty to the swelling hips. 
 
 Light shone, and glory from her golden head ! 
 
 Athwart those hips a vaporous veil, dim lace 
 
 Of magic woof, the work of hands divine 
 
 And made from mists of dawn was thrown, but fail'd 
 
 To hide large outlines fair, which dazzling glow'd 
 
 As glows the sun thro" half -enkindled clouds. 
 
 Like small snow mounds o'er which in thresliing time 
 
 The farmer spills the yellow grain, which curves 
 
 Around the base, her eyelids white ; her mouth, 
 
 Her ruddy cheeks glow'd like young roses red
 
 20 EOS 
 
 Above the lilies of her throat and breast. 
 
 Around, light, airy, fairy forms kei)t watch. 
 
 She moved and these took wing. She rose and stood 
 
 A vision fairer than e'er sculptor dream'd, 
 
 And like a catar.\ct of fire and gold 
 
 That down white rocks of Parian marble sweeps. 
 
 O'er shoulder, breast and flank her thick hair fell 
 
 And reached her pearly ankles pale. Her maids 
 
 Who seem'd compact of starlight, now return'd, 
 
 The bath prepared, and like to Artemis 
 
 When by the hunter spied, but riper- warm 
 
 Her beauty, Titian's to Correggio's 
 
 Venus, or what the matron of fo:ne years 
 
 Of happy married life is to the girl 
 
 She was before love struck the fountains deep 
 
 Of life and all the streams of tenderness 
 
 Set free, Eos stood while they poured the water 
 
 O'er her, parting the hair to let the wave 
 
 Reach the white back and lave the fruitful breast. 
 
 Upon her flesh the drops enamour 'd stood, 
 
 Trembled and rolled unwilling down ; around 
 
 Her form a purple robe, diaphanous, 
 
 She flung, and passed into the hall where-through 
 
 Now gleam'd a light, clear, soft, di2"used. Her faca 
 
 W^as full of youth and puqjose, and she cast 
 
 No glance at all aside, nor did she heed 
 
 The helpless pathos of those filmy hands 
 
 Tithonous held out pleading, nor dumb prayers 
 
 Regard. Before the high arched carven door 
 
 There rushed the blaze of golden car and steeds 
 
 Of fire, with lightning shod, their eyes like pits
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 21 "• 
 
 Of flame, and standing noar, with harp in hand, 
 Spirits of beauty sang clear voiced and sweet : 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Hail ! day's herald reappearing ! 
 
 Joy of earth ! young eartli's adorning, 
 Wings out-spread and fast careering 
 Down the gulfs of Chaos darkling, 
 
 Soon Black Night will disajipear ; 
 While her star above her sparkling, 
 Comes with shining robes the Morning, 
 Orange-tinted, purple-glbwing, 
 Samite skirts and freely flowing. 
 Songs of birds, and saucy crowing 
 Shrill of wakeful chanticleer. 
 
 Bounding rills down bowery highlands, 
 
 Flashing streams with streamlets flushing, 
 Lucid waves round flowery islands, 
 
 In thy beams will soon be blushing, 
 And tlie lily's pallid cheek will burn with thy dyes 
 
 And the leaves and fields will twinkle 
 
 With the dews thy tears besprinkle, 
 Tears from thine immortal eyes. 
 
 Where now darkness grimly gloometh, 
 
 Soon leaf shadows will be swaying, 
 Over sunny banks where bloometh, 
 Drinking draughts of sunny air, 
 Sweet as love and glad as day,
 
 22 • EO 5 
 
 Flowers too bright to know decaying, 
 Tliey are so immortal fai; ' 
 Though their doom be to dec .y. 
 
 SEMICKORUS I. 
 
 Mount thy car I 
 We come from far — 
 Come from watching fairies footing 
 Steps fantastic in the moonlight, 
 O'er enchanted lawns of green ; 
 On the left white billows shooting, 
 Wh(jse spray showers of margarite 
 Play o'er sheets of silver sheen : 
 On the right a cedarn cover, 
 Where coy Dian with her lover 
 
 Might have met and kissed unseen. 
 
 Mount thy car ! 
 Fain wc^uld i\ e be viewing 
 Thy soft tears the earth bedewing, 
 The meadows green and mountains, 
 The forest thick and fells, 
 Leafy dells, gardened closes, 
 Roses red, pink and pale, 
 Towery hyacinth and jasmine and blue bells. 
 And ten thousand flowers unnamed which regale 
 With the odours they exhale? 
 Drunk enraptured sense subduing 
 
 Through the perfume laden gale, 
 Bearing spoils from large wild roses, 
 From i)ied pansies, nectar'd posies —
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 
 
 Puriile chalices and golden, 
 
 Of man's eyes still unbeholden, 
 
 Which the bee to-day shall drain ; 
 From tall grasses big with sun and rain, 
 From glad vines no careful hand shall train 
 
 Wliich run riot round wild fountains 
 That go flashing down the dale. 
 
 SEMICHORUS II. 
 
 Mount thy car ! 
 Jewelled, golden, asbestine, 
 We would have divine delight, 
 
 And would gaze 
 
 On the maze 
 Of commingling waters' blaze, 
 On wild teeming ocean's daughters, 
 
 Lakes and seas ; 
 
 On the haze 
 Over lakes and wooded mountains, 
 Over fields and spray-crowned fountaim, 
 Where the earliest day-gleams shiver. 
 On mild-glinting rill and river, 
 Where the youngest morning beams 
 Plash in streamlets play on streams, 
 
 Waterfalls, like ruby wine, 
 In thy amethystine light. 
 
 Mount thy car ! 
 
 Now while they sang we mounted that high car. 
 And, ere I was aware, Eos, the reins 
 
 23
 
 24 EOS 
 
 Held in both hands, was flying up the steep 
 Way phosphorescent, I beside her. Tongues 
 Of flame played in the horses' manes and all 
 Seem'd hurrying flame, and soon the cold raw air 
 Of the dark world was stirred, and the stars blinked 
 And glimmered pale and went. But Lucifer 
 In untam'd sjilendour shone, and up the heavens 
 And o'er the broad JE'^ean blood-red shafts 
 Were mixed with yellow, sapphire and beryl ray». 
 
 We saw the isles dispersed within what seemed 
 The hollow sea, like leaves within the cup, 
 When old tea-drinking crones their fortunes tell. 
 Afar lay Cypress whence Phcjenicians came 
 With wares to Argos and Mycense, bent 
 On trade and plunder, stealing youth and maid 
 And wife with golden tresses, limbs like light, 
 To sell in Egypt. On these shores they found 
 The shell-fish which contained their Tyrian dye. 
 They settled in the land, buiit cities long 
 Renown'd in song, grew rich and great, and lost 
 The memory of their Eastern lands less fair. 
 They taught the Greek their arts, their alphabet ; 
 To measure, mould, carve, gild, inlay, 
 Design ; to write in symbols and to frame 
 Grotesque impossible embodiments. 
 But Greece her own bright genius felt and soar'd 
 Into ideal worlds, and gave men forms 
 And faiths such as Divinity itself 
 Might charm ; the beautiful she first revealed, 
 And when from sleep and slaughter Europe woke
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. S5 
 
 'Twas at the kiss of Greece upon her brow, 
 
 Blood-stained — the crown of grace in Fkto'a speech, 
 
 Tlie majesty of Pheidian art, above 
 
 Life's lusts, and wars loud varnish, glory called — 
 
 The worship of Euripides for worth 
 
 In man and tender woman's selfless love. 
 
 Right over Athens she drew up her team, 
 
 Air-pawing, breathing blaze-mixed smoke, and down 
 
 On tower and temple, mighty ruins, grey 
 
 Old columns of past empire, glory showered. 
 
 A buried world rose up before mine eye, 
 
 Methought to greet us, awful Pallas came, 
 
 Cold, love proof maid, serene, omnipotent 
 
 In arms, who never snatch'd from human fields 
 
 A mortal youth, to dare the perils dread 
 
 Of charms divine, nor ever shed a tear, 
 
 No, not when battlefields were heaped with slain, 
 
 And widi >ws tore their hair and screamed, and wild 
 
 With woe-compelling grief, the lonely couch 
 
 A river made ; her followed, glorious throng, 
 
 The singers, statesmen, sages, heroes old, 
 
 All that made Athens glory's shrine, the world'i 
 
 Pharos ; while far from Thebes Memnonian strain* 
 
 Were borne thro' many a flowery-scented vale. 
 
 The mind of Eos turned to him she bore 
 
 Tithonus, his ripe beauty and his fate 
 
 Unripe, by fierce Achilles sent to death. 
 
 Her large blue orbs were dimmed with tears, such tear* 
 
 As weep immortal eyes, and swift, all blade* 
 
 Of grass, all leaves, all flowers were gemm'd with dew ;
 
 $6 EOS 
 
 And oh I her beauty as she swept away 
 
 Those drops from cheeks fit thron^^s for love and joy ! 
 
 " Nay not for him," she said, " alone I mourn, 
 
 Old gods dathroncd may claim my tears and realjns 
 
 Of beauty lost. Change is the only fate. 
 
 Even gods are subject to his mighty sway. 
 
 Each moment works its will, and as men dream 
 
 That they are thus or thus, they cease to be 
 
 What they conceive themselves. Who could have thought 
 
 That Greece would sink to what she is ? Proud Athens, 
 
 Home of ideal thought and noblest art — 
 
 Where now the poet, hero, sculptor, sago, 
 
 The men whose art prolongs the lives of gocp, 
 
 Which keeps them in men's mouthi whon all their pomp 
 
 Of worship is no more ; the words with wings ; 
 
 The graceful wisdom full of calm and smiles, 
 
 The poeans sounding thro' the laurels green 
 
 For ever, songs of joy which shook the dew 
 
 From pink and rose ? Corner never more that life 
 
 To fill the Avorld with worship, proudly make 
 
 All time its debtor ? Where the Olympian fight 
 
 For no base sordid prize ? Where are the men 
 
 Those billows gladly bore to fame and power, 
 
 Their triremes filled with valour fronting death. 
 
 While strains that still are living stirr'd the air ? 
 
 G Jiie like their shadowi* in th'? glassy deep ! 
 
 Their very monuments oblivion's mockery. 
 
 That sea sounds doleful on desertless shores. 
 
 And glory's waters waste round voiceless isles. 
 
 No more, no, never, never more comes back 
 
 Upon the world such days, A\hcn men were men
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 27 
 
 jVll round, not narrow'd inti ipecialisms, 
 
 When JE^ohyliis fought auA sang, when Pcriclea 
 
 Commanded ainiieg, ruled tlie state, loved art, 
 
 And the bard's laurel kiss'd the victor's crown." 
 
 She ?/Aved her hand and on we went. We dash'd 
 
 Against great banks of cloud and made them blaze. 
 
 And far ahead the skirts of flying Night 
 
 Were fring'd with silver lace, and round her neck 
 
 And swarthy bust a russet robe she cast 
 
 As though to shield her from day's prying eye. 
 
 O'ev Salamis and Megaris we drove ; 
 
 A glance toward's Delphi's shrine and Dorian hills. 
 
 And Achaian vales renowned in ancient song, 
 
 And high Olympus once the throne of gods. 
 
 Ulysses' isle one moment claim'd our thoughts, 
 
 Then broke the sea upon the Apulian shore. 
 
 Canusium, Brundusium, Cannte, 
 
 Arpi, Arpinum, these unnoticed pass'd. 
 
 We paus'd a moment o'er Imperial Rome, 
 
 Her tale — the Milky Way of mighty deeds, 
 
 Her streets a wilderness of monuments, » 
 
 Her very dust made of the bones of saints ; 
 
 The Column, Forum, Coliseum, Arch, 
 
 Passed like the shadow of a bird. 
 
 "Ah there," 
 I cried, " you have a theme." 
 
 " A theme indeed," 
 She said, "on which I well might dwe^l, for none 
 Have hned to meet me more than those whose home 
 Wa^ Rome. Cajsar returning late from revel, 
 Power-musing, gazed upon the grey above
 
 S8 EOS 
 
 The Sabine Hills, noting with emulous eye 
 My conquering car across their smmits flash ; 
 The Capitol in purest outline stood 
 Against the steely background of the sky ; 
 The hum of life woke down the Sacred Way ; 
 The selfish clients throng'd the doors and halls 
 Of those proud nobles. Mightiest and truest souls, 
 The tenderest spirits and noblest hearts. 
 Their highest inspirations find in me. 
 From Baise Horace oft Vesuvius' cone 
 Has watch'd grow red beneath my burning wheels, 
 And Virgil loved to see my eager steeds 
 Beat the dark ether into silver fire. 
 And hear the gentle breeze my rushing wheels 
 Send fragrant o'er the trembling forest trees. 
 Mine is the hour for meditation ; heart 
 And mind are freest ; care but half awake ; 
 Pale lust is drowsing ; blear-eyed drunkenness 
 Shrinks scared from me ; the soul she yearns to God ; 
 She feels her wings, like birds about to leave 
 • The nest, and blesses Him who made all things 
 So fair ! The rose is ne'er so lovely-sweet 
 As when my rays gleam through the tremulous pearls 
 Within the shining ivory of its shells. 
 What time to watch the sea like that when o'er 
 Its steel-blue paths I drive, transforming sky 
 And wave, hiding in gleaming tissues gemmed. 
 Dawn's russet jerkin ? Mine's the hour to think, 
 To pray, to hear great nature's heart beat. He 
 Who'd know himself, know what and when to do, 
 Know what is best and fairest, what of power
 
 AN" EPIC OF THE DAWN. 29 
 
 Is in the step whicli walks with us, who'd draw 
 
 Into his life the forces of the gods, 
 
 Must greet me waking worlds from daily death. 
 
 A ressurrectiou comes with every dawn. 
 
 Yon glory-blazon'd city, black with crimes, 
 
 The mightiest stage on which mankind has play'd- 
 
 There the great battle was fought out afresh, 
 
 Christ crucified a thousand times — the rack. 
 
 The living tor.h, the wild beast's maw, the sword, 
 
 The myriad shout exultant of fierce joy 
 
 Within tho33 Flavian walls, now ruin's home, 
 
 Then white with togas, sp'endid, beauty-crown'd, 
 
 Rank above rank, to watch the naked faith 
 
 Engage the world, nor dream'd that the poor slave 
 
 Tliey doom'd had conquer'd death, and smote their rule 
 
 With truth's all deadly touch. Gentle souls serene ! 
 
 Their hymns, pure as the carols of the birds 
 
 Of dawn, I've heard mount o'er the Palatine, 
 
 While in the palace lust and madness gloom'd. 
 
 Long had our ancient lovely creeds decay 'd — 
 
 The soulless re'ics of a by-gone day. 
 
 Their time wa3 up. I'd heard glad angels sing 
 
 In Bethlehem, had seen His after triumph, 
 
 Captivity led captive. Death in chains, 
 
 Just as the Jordan crimson'd in my ray, 
 
 But Olivet a glory wore which mine 
 
 Eclipsed. I bow'd and reined my steeds until 
 
 Into the heaven of heavens He passed, the gates 
 
 Of God's suprema abode clang'd opening wide, 
 
 And shouts and songs of triumph shook the stars. 
 
 Him well I knew ; by Him I sprang to life ;
 
 30 EOS 
 
 Like Pallas from the brain of Zeus full-arm 'd 
 "Let there be light !" he said, and straight I was, 
 And driving 'thwart the limitless abyss, 
 Woke up old Chaos from eternal sleep, 
 And startled stars remote and farthest space 
 With the first footfalls of light's glancing feet. 
 Huge Darkness for a moment stood appal'd, 
 Then went, vague terror on his swarthy b ow. 
 Alas ? Christ's cult has been depraved. Faithless, 
 Taking his cue fiom cu'iosity, 
 The piiest, grown sceptical c rrupts all creeds. 
 Weak men and weaker wumen fain would know 
 The future, tho' among its factor's will 
 Should hold no humble place. They'd have the <;od 
 , Some special favours to themselves afford. 
 Some better revelation of himself 
 Than starry spheres, than all earth's beauties teach 
 In form and tint, the sky-reflecting streams 
 Which feed the flower enamell'd odorous fields, 
 The lakes wherein the mountains glass their bulks 
 Majestic, looking greater in the wave. 
 Like lives of great ones passed away, whose word 
 Yet echoes in men's hearts, whose deeds still hold 
 The field against the blows of time. Debased 
 Their pur-blind hearts conceive he'll come at call 
 Of spells in dim-lit holes, and that he loves 
 Oppressive smells, who makes wild trees and shrubs 
 To load the winds with perfume. Fittest fane 
 For Him the boundless universe he made. 
 But men are children, various in their growth, 
 And so the soul be brought to touch with God's,
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 31 
 
 The end of all sincere religion's gained. 
 
 If man would roach the highest possible 
 
 He must, like Enoch, walk with God ; must build 
 
 His reservoir of power among the stars 
 
 If he yvpuld go as high ; who'd soar must feel 
 
 The strength divine within his life and hear 
 
 The unfaltering wings of fate beat time with his, 
 
 And, save such dread companionship, alone. 
 
 We minor gods our end subserv'd, but fail'd 
 
 To strike the master note of love, which chord 
 
 He struck evoking softest, sweetest strains, 
 
 With deeper spell than Orpheus' powerful lyre, 
 
 Which balm on hearts afflicted breathes and peace 
 
 On storm-tost souls, and more than martial airs 
 
 Can stir the hero's heart ; can nerve a child 
 
 With gaze untroubled, frowning worlds to front ; 
 
 Its simple notes in purest accents heard, 
 
 And ancient crowns and creeds antique dissolve ; 
 
 The world for man new-born was made anew ; 
 
 Life throbb'd beneath the ribs of death ; new life 
 
 And full cf joy in ch irnel hearts ; and o'er 
 
 Dominions of despair hope's shining star 
 
 Was seen, and sin was spurn'd. Christ rais'd man high, 
 
 His own vain dreams have sunk him low." 
 
 She ceased and shook tlie silvery reins which flash'd 
 
 Like lightening bands above the Central Sea. 
 
 A southern breeze bore balm upon its wings 
 
 And shed Arabian perfume round our way. 
 
 " How fair this world," I cried. 
 
 " .\ye fair," she said, 
 " Fair the bright flowers whose eyes are fair for mine ;
 
 32 EOS 
 
 Fair snowy falls and stream and fell and vale ; 
 
 The farmer faring nimbly to his fields, 
 
 His bucksome wife loud-chucking for her hens ; 
 
 The burly plowman turning up the earth ; 
 
 Small shapely fingers dressing loaded vines ; 
 
 The rooks at parley in the pine-tree tops ; 
 
 The orchestral biu-sts of joy from little throats 
 
 Of black -bird, thrush and robin, linnet, finch, 
 
 And lark —that rocket of heart-glowing song ! 
 
 The sea — the free, the rushing waves at play ; 
 
 The steamship holding on 'gainst wind and tide ; 
 
 The sailor singing as he scours the deck ; 
 
 Fair is the mother praying with her babes ; 
 
 The boy, sly-creeping o'er his sleeping sire ; 
 
 The maiden in her lover's pure embrace, 
 
 Their trysting place the dewy fields of dawn ; 
 
 The ivied cottage whencf? the smoke up curls, 
 
 Its feet touched by the foam of sobbing seas ; 
 
 Fair is contrition's early prayer to heaven ; 
 
 Fair tender-handed nurses watching pain : 
 
 Fair holy nuns their orisons repeating ; 
 
 And fair the poet drinking in my force, 
 
 Framing great songs whose waves melodious bear 
 
 High thoughts like ships rich laden. Fair all these. 
 
 But I could show you where ghast murder glares, 
 
 Terror with all her furies standing near ; 
 
 Where at this hour which seems so fair to you, 
 
 Bewilder'd girls drown their helpless babes ; 
 
 Where women beautiful as Dian's smile 
 
 In silver seas, drowse guilty in gilt splendour, 
 
 Or sleep the outworn thralls of lust ; men dower 'd
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 33 
 
 With Fortune's favours, yes and those with gifts 
 
 Of mind, in drunken langour snoring life 
 
 Away ; gaunt hunger crimp 'd in garrets vile ; 
 
 The moon-light ruffian coming from his work 
 
 Of s;t\'^ge war on civil life ; and here 
 
 A mountain side, a peasant's hut, his home 
 
 Where he and his were born, but whence vile greed 
 
 Ejects him now unjustly, for it made 
 
 His load too hea\'y. He in anger scowls ; 
 
 The aged palsied mother weeps ; the wife 
 
 With apron wipes her tears away ; then scolds 
 
 The instruments of law, to them the dogs 
 
 Of pitiless oppression ; sons tall, strong. 
 
 With murderous eye survey the bailiff hard ; 
 
 The children cry, the neighbours helpless crowd 
 
 Against the cordon thrown around by power. 
 
 Aye fair the world ! byt did I niake you see 
 The ceaseless, measureless flow of heart-wrung tears, 
 And hear the chorus vast of woeful sighs ! 
 Fair were this world, wei'e but mens' actions fair. 
 But now — " 
 
 Quick moved her hand, a gesture proud 
 Of scorn. The lightning gleam'd within her eyes 
 Deep blue ; crimson her cheek, her nostrils spread ; 
 But pity driving anger out she cried : 
 " Poor man ! not wholly hateful even at worst, 
 At best, he's greater than the gods themselves. 
 The poet and priest have praised us long in song 
 More laden with coarse flattery than altars 
 With fat of lamb and ram and bullock, for they deem'd 
 ■ff e loved the odour which your dainty dame
 
 34 EOS 
 
 Will faint to find invade her boudoir. Now 
 
 A god will say a word in praise of man — 
 
 We are immortal. Man's frail life a whiff 
 
 From swamp or river puffs out ; all the odds 
 
 Against achievement ; his rewards they grow 
 
 Upon the precipice's ledge ; he toils, 
 
 Fails, fights again for doubtful j)rizes, plucks 
 
 His flowers with wide-mouth 'd ruin gaping far 
 
 Below ; he lives and sweats for other men. 
 
 Whose tardy praises will not reach his ears. 
 
 He thinks, he acts, he laughs, he weeps, he loves, 
 
 And always in death's shadow ; whatever house 
 
 He builds, his destined lodging is the tomb. 
 
 The bride he wreaks his heart on, death wUl claim. 
 
 And make a grinning horror of the face 
 
 Which thrilled his soul. The dome where genius dwells 
 
 And whence it sends its thoughts, like arms, to clasp 
 
 The universe, becomes a hideous piece 
 
 Of crumbling bone. Yet on the isthmus small 
 
 Of life, the past and future, like great seas 
 
 On either hand whose deeps oblivious 
 
 Devouring all, make mockery of fame, 
 
 What works, what plans immense the insect rears ! 
 
 We see fruition ; we the end enjoy ; 
 
 Ten thousand heroes walk the earth and sow 
 
 And know they cannot reap, but those they love 
 
 Will — mother, wife or child ; ten thousand who 
 
 Would gladly die for men they never knew. 
 
 Such lives, such deeds, the noblest praise for him. 
 
 Whose fingers form'd wondrous man.
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAwN. 35 
 
 All Europe lay beneath us now ; a map 
 Whereon since Ciu^ar's time change scribbles, like 
 A wayward child perverse ; red battle fields 
 As thick as tomb-stones in the parish gi-ound, 
 And armies that in thunder yet will break 
 On bloodier fields. 
 
 More silvery grey ihe clouds 
 Above and round the city of the Seine. 
 Clear did it show in regular beauty fair. 
 (Uear showed its long straight streets with boskage lined ; 
 Its boulevards, and palaces and towers 
 And domes, and thro' the wilderness of art. 
 Beneath its many ponts, between its wealth 
 Of trees umbrageous, the river moved ; 
 The cab its light— a pin head, plied for hire ; 
 From Neuilly and well-cultur'd Courbevoie 
 The market cart came 'neath the Arc do Triompho, 
 And, looking like a beetle, hurried down 
 The Champs Elyse'es, which contrasted now. 
 In the pure quiet of the early dawn, 
 With the coarse splendours of its nightly wont. 
 Empty those gardens where vain pleasure haunts. 
 Where queens of lust to-day in diamonds shine, 
 W^ho on no distant morrows die in rags. 
 The Boulevardian roar is hushed ; the blaze 
 Of Cafds veiled ; of thrice ten thousand shops 
 The glory's out ; but all that soul can stir 
 Remains : The dome which rises o'er his tomb 
 Who broke on Europe bearing death and fire. 
 And carrying terror to the hearts of kings. 
 Whole nations mesmerizing, whose column stands
 
 36 EOS 
 
 And Arch Triumphant, reverenced by those 
 
 Who would all else destroy. That gilded dome 
 
 Shines like another sun, and there lies he 
 
 Silent, but still a wonder and a power. 
 
 Yet more inspiring are the monuments 
 
 VVhich speak of deatli to tyrants and of hope 
 
 For men, of aspirations after good, 
 
 The love of liberty, the love of man, 
 
 The love of art, of song. Yes ! Paris stands 
 
 By suffering purified, with more true force 
 
 To raise men's thoughts than when false glitter call'd 
 
 From every side proud dissolute wealth, 
 
 To dazzle tliro' the streets of slaves. 
 
 She read 
 My thoughts, and, answering them, the goddess spake 
 " Amazing genius in the Kelt abides. 
 How sweet his warm, quick, gentle courtesy ! 
 How brave in arms ! Excelling in all arts ! 
 How loyal to the leader of his heart ! 
 His very vanity a power. The price 
 He pays for his great gifts is great : balance, 
 The steady aim and duty made supreme. 
 France might be well content to-day. She lost 
 But what she took by force. But thunders crouch 
 In every heart. Ere long they'll Rhine-ward spring, 
 .\nd, though the fight will not be such as when 
 A court of cowards and cocottes held sway, 
 'Twill end disastrously for France. Her foe 
 Has all the great conditions of success. 
 The people will be made ambition's pawns, 
 Ten thousand bleed to make one leader great.
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 37 
 
 Perhaps to make a tyrant ; such is man ; 
 Of all his follies war's red glory worst. 
 If wisdom ruled, the peoples of the world 
 Might be as one." 
 
 The isles of freedom lay 
 Like jewels on the ocean's breast. The roar 
 Of London now was still. Its million flues 
 Had not yet thrown a canopy opaque 
 Between it and the fc;ky. A thousand spires 
 I'ose clear into the air. Their crosses shone. 
 Huge chimneys hideous forms reared above 
 The sna of roofs, and, like a penitent, 
 The Tower, full of remorseful memories, showed. 
 The river seemed to slumber on its way ; 
 Its shores of new embankment, buildings old, 
 St. Paul's great dome, St. Stephen's ornate tower. 
 Were mirrored in its calm but murky tide. 
 Huge barges lay, like monsters of the deep 
 Asleep. Ten thousand masts were tipp'd with gold. 
 'Twas fancy, or I heard the ghost-like tread 
 Of stray policemen in deserted streets. 
 A speck, the waggon laden with fresh fruits 
 And ri>ots and flowers, towards Covtnt garden moved. 
 A blot of wretchedness crept down the strand, 
 Another night of sin and gin and pain 
 Gone by. Slow limpt she to her squalid home, 
 If home was hers in that hard populous hive. 
 
 " There," said my guide, " the largest city time 
 E'er saw, the seat of peerless empire, built 
 By valorous deeds and counsels sage, now caught 
 In the fierce draw of wild democracy,
 
 88 EOS 
 
 Whose rapids menace death. Founder she will 
 Amongst those howling rocks unless the wise 
 And patriot rule the hour. The House of Lords — 
 A scuttled, mastless hulk in stormy seas. 
 The boasted constitution's gone, and England. 
 Unless she builds anew, 'gainst perils new 
 Will split up in the roaring surge. The man 
 Of state to-day who wins success is he 
 Who rattles loudest for the monstrous child, 
 With headlong passions and imperial pov/er. 
 Poor tricks are played. Any bait to which 
 The fish will rise. Great men of long renown 
 Palter with truth, and seek, like circus clowns. 
 To ride two hors3s ; daub themselves and lose 
 Identity. Wliat they are, what next 
 They'll do, no man can say. They'll summersault. 
 Or j ump through all their principles. They'll fall, 
 They'll tumble, then up smiling come, and bow 
 For cheers, that Burke had ra'her die than hear. 
 A few, indeed, the danger see. The rest 
 Sing songs of progress, or in dalliance live. 
 Deaf t(j the ruin-thundering billows near. 
 The greatest and the noblest nation, too, 
 That's risen yet should not so fall." She ceased. 
 
 "Is that small isle," I asked, "whose earth-fenced fields 
 Gleam emerald from below, the land of Flood 
 And Grattan ? " 
 
 Answering she sighed, or seem'd 
 To sigh : " Yes ; that's lerne there." 
 
 "O stained," 
 I cried, ' ' with centuries of tears and crimes
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 39 
 
 Recriminating crimes, what hope for her ? . 
 Must she forever lie a floating sorrow- 
 On heaven upbraiding seas ? Will never fall 
 From skies of mercy healing dews for her ? 
 No power e'er break the spell of anarchy ? 
 And fill the land with happy homes and men 
 Made truly free from wrong by rectitude, 
 And balanc'd judgment pointing to what's fit ? " 
 " That land," she said, " will also have its day. 
 
 Fail'd, fail'd, ignominiously they've failed 
 To whom the glorious privilege of rule 
 
 Was given. Lost in low frivcjlity. 
 
 On them were lost high opportunities. 
 
 They spent, drank, sank and soddened into swine, 
 
 Or lived, bloodhounds and beagles, chasing whom 
 
 They should protect. No sense at all of duty. 
 
 Their highest art to run a fox to death, 
 
 Harrying a hare their noblest day's delight ; 
 
 The peasant girl a quarry for their lusts ; 
 
 License their law, and blind to skyey portents, 
 
 They ground who'll now grind them ; their wisdom's thrift 
 
 To blight the land of which they were the lords. 
 
 The hour of retribution comes, and time's 
 
 Old ledger evens up accounts. To-day 
 
 In freedom's happy laud th' evictor's child 
 
 Bows to the evicted's, and low-cringing sues 
 
 For palty place— so terrible is Fate ! 
 
 The danger's now men may mistake the cry 
 
 Of blinding Vengeance for the voice of Justice. 
 
 If headlong hate's hot counsels shall |,revail, 
 ' And truth and honesty be nosed aside,
 
 4-0 EOS 
 
 As swine -woukl pearls, then comes the liour of fiito 
 
 For those who stand elate on victory's steps, 
 
 Nor weigh the duties favouring gods impose. 
 
 Wolf-like attacks on (me defenceless man, 
 
 The cruel boycott piled on travails pangs, 
 
 The sinless heifer hock'd by senseless hands, 
 
 The yet green harvest mow'd with envy's scythe. 
 
 The worst of tyrannies in worst of forms, 
 
 A reign of terror through the country side, 
 
 The honest farmer who will dare be just, 
 
 Is either slain by brother peasants' hands 
 
 Or earless drives his tailless kine to town — 
 
 Sucli deeds, tlio' fruits of misused powei — for not 
 
 The money taken from the land, the trim 
 
 Spruce agent gvitting huts, the agony 
 
 Of bursting hearts that dared not speak, embrace 
 
 The worst ; the degradation of the man 
 
 O'er-shadows all : yet none the less such deeds 
 
 The name of fijeedom soil and balk the aim 
 
 Of those who'd bring in better happier days. 
 
 E'en God's aims fail because of man's misdeeds. 
 
 This only certain, Goodness, Truth, the Right 
 
 Prevail at last. But man his own best star 
 
 Can be his own worst bale. Once give him power 
 
 Forgot are all the lessons of all times, 
 
 He yokes himself to passion, heaven provokes 
 
 To send on him the plague which crush'd his foe». 
 
 Yet hope's star rises o'er that troubled land. 
 
 A healthy breeze comes from her stormy sky, 
 
 Will blow down bigotry's corrupting shrines, 
 
 Her fatuous feuds the nightmare of vain dreams
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 41 
 
 Of day's delusive and of ways defiled 
 
 P»y deeds ill-suited to the present hour. 
 
 She'll play a part her world-scatter'd sons 
 
 Can watch, nor blush : Empire's right hand ; her soil 
 
 No 16ftger drain'd to deck the Paris jade ; 
 
 Security where dark assassins lurk'd ; 
 
 Fields laden with earth's bounty where high walls 
 
 Uprear'd by pride, wide-barrenness enclosed ; 
 
 Contentment on the yeoman's ruddy face, 
 
 Within his heart the glow of charity 
 
 For all the brother peoples of the earth, 
 
 And decent self-respect where pig and ass 
 
 Were hous'd on equal terms with man." 
 
 She ceased ; 
 The horses forward sprang ; the Atlantic broad 
 Was well in view. The chariot flying o'er 
 The watery plain, bright roads of purple wide 
 Were dashed this way and that 
 
 O ! the pulsing sense 
 Of life exstatic ! O the wide, wide sea ! 
 The sea-gulls wheel and poise and dip for prey, 
 The porpoise bounding through the billows, whales 
 Shooting to heaven great towers of glittering spray, 
 Their brown backs heaving huge above the wave, 
 Like boats upturn'd. What joy to sail for ever 
 High o'er the dark blue sea !" And Eos spake : 
 
 " I've told you of man's greatness," said the goddess 
 " Amaze and admiration fill your soul 
 At this wide sweep of measureless sea 
 Now all but calm. Some day you may again
 
 42 EOS 
 
 Stray o'er these waters by my side, when c'ouds 
 
 Will wrap my car, clyuds crashing thunder ; hail 
 
 And lightening flaring round our heads ; the bolt 
 
 Of Jove, wild hissing in tlia m id abyss, 
 
 And then unhanu'd for I will throw my shield 
 
 Invisible twixt death and you, y<ju vvtll admire, 
 
 For you have lov'd the storm whose choral music, 
 
 Long-pealing thro' a;rial aisles, has been 
 
 To you from infancy a joy. I've seen 
 
 Upon the sea, what all surpassed itself 
 
 In storm or calm : men save lives and die, 
 
 Nor blench with all its fury hurtling round 
 
 Their heads serene ; Columbuf crossing ways 
 
 Untrodden, guided by bold thought and faith, 
 
 And maik'd him quell his mutinous meir and move 
 
 Heroic in his slender craft, unawed 
 
 By man or elements, and reach his gaol 
 
 Despite of fiiltering fickle hearts ; despite 
 
 'J he warring dread white-banner'd billows vast, 
 
 The Imrtling, roaring, spar-shaking, sibilant seas, 
 
 As in battalions up they rose to bar 
 
 The invader. Toils, privations, envy cares. 
 
 Ingratitude, ncg'ect, the scorn of fiols, 
 
 Successful treachery, contempt and want, 
 
 All this was his for throwing wide the gates 
 
 Not only of new lands with wealth untold. 
 
 But of an era new for down-crush'd man. 
 
 For liberty required a virgin soil. 
 
 W hat has Columbus done for Europe's slaves ! 
 
 Not only for the homeless happy homes ; 
 
 With tlie Email leaven of great pioneers,
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 43 
 
 It made and makes from Europe's ooze and scum, 
 
 The foremost nation in fair freedom's ranks. 
 
 It's citizens — tliey walk the earth like kings. 
 
 Proud -eelf-reliant, they have strinfc the crest 
 
 From idleness and swopt from toil the ban, 
 
 And for the brave and strong thrown all doors wide. 
 
 There is the field of victory over kings 
 
 And tyrants, aye, aiid o'er the passions wild 
 
 Of the impulsive throng. The courtly mob 
 
 May sneer, but no where else the crowding mass 
 
 Of men have been erect and free, each man 
 
 A sovereign, knowing this, respecting all, 
 
 However poor, who bravely work their way, 
 
 Not capable of bending pliant knees, 
 
 Or doffing cap to any child of eaith." 
 
 We noted soon, great ice-bergs floating like 
 Abandoned isles and curving round the shores 
 Of Nova Scotia, Anticosti, New 
 Brunswick, I'rince Edward and Quebec, the waves 
 Of the St. Lawrence Gulf with refluent sweep ; 
 The fishing fleets like fairy tents encamped 
 Upon the plains, and schools of n^.ackarel 
 Moved shoreward shining in a thousand hues, 
 While o'er them boiled the sea or seemed to boil. 
 
 We reached, admired and pass'd that city hoar ^^ 
 Which wears an old face in a world all new, 
 From whose high plain and storied citadel, 
 VVolfe's glory streams for ever, and we mark'd 
 How the broad river roU'd along, wide-hemmed 
 With wooded shores, the land and water all
 
 44 . EOS 
 
 One mighty maze of ruby sun-Ut mist, 
 
 Far-burning wood and sheets of silver fire. 
 
 A shade of tliought passed like a cloudlet o'er 
 
 Her face, and like a summer cloudlet went. 
 
 *' Lo ! there," she said, "a piece of French antique 
 
 'Gainst which the waves of time its blasts and storms 
 
 Would seem to break in vain. They cling dnwn ther» 
 
 To forms and glories and traditions old 
 
 Of other lands and of long-vanished years, 
 
 And while they live beneath one rule, they own 
 
 The civilization of another, not 
 
 In harmony therewith ; nor can they cease 
 
 To look beyoml the sea until that day, 
 
 Far off, which impulse new will give and bind 
 
 The heart's affections round the land they till. 
 
 Their mother then, no nursing substitute 
 
 For one long leagues away. They have the forca, 
 
 They have the genius of a mighty race ; 
 
 Poets and thinkers, statesmen eloquent ; 
 
 Their peasants gentle, virtuous folk ; but lost 
 
 Are many winning graces of the Gaul 
 
 At home. Old wine is pent in bottles new ; 
 
 You see the i^ame faults farther west in those 
 
 Blind egotists, who damn in others what 
 
 •They do themselves the merest slaves of cant, 
 
 Of what has been — iucajiable of deeds 
 
 Strong-limbed and bold, such as are born of thought- 
 
 And will. But there shall come a race in which 
 
 This Gallic stream will play a noble part, 
 
 A race, which gathering strength from diverse fount*. 
 
 Will— a majestic river — onward flow,
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 45 
 
 Full volumn'tl, vast, its guide its proper bent, 
 And take its character and hues from all 
 That makes the present great - rolling along 
 A crowded avenue of weulth and power. 
 
 She shook the reins which"gleam'd like lightning bands, 
 
 The horses toss'd their meteor heads, the clouds 
 
 Flew round their feet in darting flames, the mist 
 
 Rose up illuminated round our wake. 
 
 Which blazed a diamond track for many a league. 
 
 Upon my brow the wind was cold ; I heard 
 
 The rush of wheels so quick each look'd a fire 
 
 Of dazzling brightness ; held by power divine 
 
 I held my place. 
 
 But now she drew the reins 
 Tight, and the horses stopped. I heard the singing 
 Of tributary streams, and looking down 
 Saw where the river — the Ottawa — cut out 
 Ot the eldest ribs of earth a theatre vast. 
 Like threads of silver run from silver coin 
 To coin, it wound between the hills, and spread 
 At intervals in wide and beauteous lakes. 
 
 Right in the midst a hill fit throne for rule, 
 •And crowning this were stately structures, towers 
 And domes and gothic arches quaint, with rich 
 Device of ornament. A shade of grave 
 Reflection passed across her face but did 
 Not mar the outlines of immortal youth. 
 Nor dim its hues. Her eyes looked far away 
 .■^s though all future time was glass'd within
 
 4G EOS 
 
 Their depths : so look'd the Oumcean Sibyl's, 
 Her first onvalsloni o'er, whe'i s1i3 foretoM 
 -iPneas all the years held in their womb 
 For his descendants. 
 
 " These," she said, " were built 
 By one of large conceptions, forecast sage, 
 Imperial dreams, in whom Ulyssean wiles 
 Were wedded with a grasp for state affairs 
 Which mates him with those mighty minds whose care 
 And patient wisdom nations founi ; great souls, 
 Wliose monuments are continents, from whom 
 Whole races drink their inspiration. 
 He had to work with crude materials gross. 
 His task to wield in one wide-scatter'd states. 
 Abroad, at home, fat ignorance beset 
 His path : the smug sagacity of men 
 Purblind, — the chosen voice of those ill fit 
 To choose who shall declare what law must bo — 
 The roar of calumny, faction's furious feuds, 
 The want of heart, of faith, proper to times 
 When Mammon-worship is the shameless cult 
 Of most, — with these and more he had to fight, 
 But he nor blench'd nor faltered one small hour, 
 But like a law bore on, borne up by hopes 
 Such as are parents of immortal things. " 
 
 She ceased. The sense's memory, tremulous with 
 Her tones, like some rare music often heard 
 Before, Avith happy pain my heart made faint, 
 And in my eyes the waves well'd up from founts 
 Of joy and grief ; the chords of mourning thrill'd
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. ^7 
 
 As for some loss divine, while all the springs 
 Of rapture moved; meanwhile thro' tears I inark'd 
 The rosy bulge of delicate clouds which slept 
 On either side. She said: 
 
 ' •• " Lo beautiful lives 
 
 Dissolved in mist and rocked asleep by airs 
 Impalpable as they." 
 
 " But up there came 
 The phantom roar of waters. Bending o'er 
 The car which now was near the earth, I saw 
 Where over rocks wild torrents gnashed and foam'd, 
 And I was noting how the mass of white 
 And furious billows, catching rays of dawn. 
 Began to show like a great rose in vase 
 Of silver, fringed with jasmin flowers, when she 
 Went on: 
 
 ' ' Yes, there's the seat of empire young, 
 A people destin'd to be great and free, 
 Tho' oft blind ignorance and greed these halls 
 Invade, and in fair Freedom's very fane 
 Swine guttle. Ah ! these eyes have seen what man 
 Can do. Full many a morning have I watch 'd 
 The envious croud in Athens spit out hate 
 Of noble Pericles, the balanc'd man. 
 Wise with all wisdom, beautiful with love 
 Of every art. who made Athena's heme 
 Worthy of her— that light for evermore 
 Ti> man; for sink he ne'er so low, the hcg 
 In him may overgrow the soul, and lust 
 And drunkenness drive far the graceful form< 
 Which wait on Llie j)ure life, stil! musb he rise
 
 48 EOS 
 
 Again, redeemed, drawn h; tli3 pawer of Athens— 
 Her benucy fairai- tli in the lover dreams 
 Of her he loves — the greatness of the mind, 
 Calm, self contained; the music struck by soula 
 For goodness p.issioiiate from nature's strings. 
 The scorn of death, the love of noble deeds- 
 All this Avill rest on mankind like a spell, 
 And spite of filth and crime, disease and death. 
 Cause them to move towards excellence Ah ! true, 
 The course is slow. The freshening morning cornea 
 Upon the hetls of night and gives each day 
 A new birth to the world ; the years steal by 
 And leave behind their legacies of fact ; 
 The generations rise and fall like waves. 
 But ere they die tha store of knowledge swell; 
 The centuries bearing names and deeds of note, 
 An I petty pang^ and lyric joys and loves 
 Two weighty for frail lives— the centuries flee; 
 A thousand years are gone like yesterday; 
 Old empires sink into decreptitude; 
 New kingdoms rise; even racei pass away; 
 New types appear; new forms of civic life - 
 But man is still the same blind fool, the same 
 Base groveller, still will he hug his chains, 
 Anl still pursue whit leads to chains and death. 
 Down the ruining precipices of time 
 Tyrant and tyrannies are hurled, and man 
 A moment rises free and stands erect; 
 The future opens like a dawn of spring; 
 It seems as if afar in depths of space 
 The stars were harping choral symphonies,
 
 AN EPKJ OF THE DAWN. 49 
 
 In sympathy with worlds born again, 
 
 And a new era stood ujx)n the verge 
 
 Of fact. Alas 1 Vile use has bred the slave's 
 
 Habitr The liorse h:\3 flung his rider off, 
 
 But runs bewilder'd till another holds 
 
 The reins, and mikes him feel the master's touch; 
 
 The late wasii'd sow grows sad with cleanliness, 
 
 But as the pig imagination glows 
 
 With dreams of wallowing near, she grunts with joy. 
 
 Haled by Pisistratus men could not be 
 
 Worse slaves than they are tliere in that young land, 
 
 In this new world. They have academies; 
 
 All I from a thousand tabernacles gleams 
 
 The cross, the symbol sweet of truths more deep 
 
 Than Greek philosophy, or modern lore. 
 
 They have the garner'd wealth of ages old 
 
 And new, but cannot think — the serfs of bold 
 
 And blatant calumny, whose breath of life 
 
 Is rank vituperation of the best 
 
 And wisest men. That form of civic life 
 
 Which liberty and government by the sage 
 
 Secures, nowhere in that round world is seen. 
 
 Democracy puts apes in power, and howls 
 
 Hosannas praising not humility 
 
 Divine an ass bestriding, but the ass 
 
 Himself, out-braying hideous egotisms. 
 
 Richly comparison'd and capering o'er 
 
 The prostnite crowd, while those who live, the salt 
 
 Of human things, who keep society 
 
 From mortifying, hated are push'd 
 
 Aside; low cunning more and more is crown'd.
 
 50 EOS 
 
 9 
 
 Without some practice, who cm plough a field ? 
 
 Without instruction, who can make a watch? 
 
 Without much study, who can master art ? 
 
 But men will act as if the veriest boor 
 
 Were fit for government, while government 
 
 Of all things man can do is hardest, mo?t 
 
 Beset with problems such as only minds 
 
 Of finest fibre, trained and confident 
 
 From knowledge and the sense of power can cope 
 
 With. Give to poor sniall brains the task to drive 
 
 This chariot, Phacthon's fate awaits him, worse 
 
 Than Phaethon's fate, ])erhaps, the peojile whom 
 
 He tries to rule. But still things onward move; 
 
 And though the curve that's near will seem depraved. 
 
 And is, in times's large circles progress lives ; 
 
 And 'tis permitted generous hope to keep, 
 
 That in a far off day the dull will honour 
 
 Worth with other meed than hate. The heart 
 
 Of mediocrity will sweetened be 
 
 By sweet benevolences born of time 
 
 And sad experience. Benefactors wise 
 
 Of men will then not have to Avait till death 
 
 For their reward ; but many a lapsing year 
 
 Must pass, before the harp from which the Fates 
 
 Will strike this music has been made, and oh 1 
 
 How many thousand times my burning wheels 
 
 Will lighten o'er this earth before I can 
 
 Announce that happy morn. Right under here 
 
 The savage ruled, and on that very hill 
 
 His councils held, councils which in the mind 
 
 Of Jove rank near as high as those which now
 
 A>f EPIC OF THE DAWN. 61 
 
 A race self-styled superior hold, alone 
 
 In cunning great. They do not feed on doga 
 
 Or human flesh, but moral cannibals 
 
 They are. They kill with venomous lies and then 
 
 Like ghouls they batten on the cor^ise, and scenes 
 
 Humiliating as an Indian dance 
 
 Arountl a white dog swimming in its broth, 
 
 Have been enacted in that chamber where 
 
 A Cicero should find himself at home. 
 
 And Furke's deep wisdom be a common thing. 
 
 Who worships truth? who honours liberty? 
 
 A few. Too few. The mass are lost in love 
 
 Of gain, in low desires, conceptions all 
 
 Unworthy of the task they should essay. 
 
 Talk statesmanship to them, you cast your pcarb 
 
 .A.way ; but rave and slaver out abuse 
 
 And they will crunch the hardest epithets, 
 
 With joy the garbage bolt, and gulp the swiU 
 
 Of reeking rhetoric. " 
 
 Her cheek here seem'd 
 To burn as with a touch of angry red. 
 The reins she sliook which flashed like lightening bands 
 .Mong the horses' backs. Like fire when winds 
 Are strong, whole streets ablaze, roofs crashing in, 
 The sky red-hot, the r- ar as of mad seas 
 At war, the firemen's toil in vain — like fire 
 Thoy forwirl sprang, an'l, in a twinkling, towers 
 And blocks of masonry niajestical 
 Looked like a doubtful edifice of dreams. 
 Dim, air-built castles of forgotben years ; 
 The cataract a second glanc'd— a gleam
 
 ■52 EOS 
 
 Of white 'gainst rainbow dust ; the lakes swept by. 
 
 Reflecting now the forms of fiery steeds, 
 
 And now a rosy shadow, and again 
 
 The gem-like radiiinco of our bumish'd trail. 
 
 She reined her horses, tuni'd her head and said : 
 
 " Hew beautiful must that fair city be 
 
 When o'er Laurentian hills Apollo sinks '" 
 
 " O Eos, splentlid in thy gleam !" I said, 
 " 'Tis far more beautiful at sunset hoars, 
 And at that time upon the river oft 
 A song Ls heard, which should your gentle ear 
 Not scorn a mortal's voice, I'll sing. 1 sang. 
 And as I sang the air was play'd by hands 
 Unseen on some mysterious harp divine . — 
 
 " Fair is the sight, when sinking to his rest, 
 
 The sun leans gently on the mountain's breast. 
 
 Empurpled clouds his radiant limbs bedeck, 
 
 And golden carls hang round his glossy neck. 
 
 The enamour'd river flushes in his gaze. 
 
 And every westward window is ablaze ; 
 
 And every tower and turret gleams awhile 
 
 In the warm radiance of his parting smile ; 
 
 And every drop that Chaudiere flings on high. 
 
 One moment wears a gold or Tyrian dye ; 
 
 And every soul by nature finely wrought, 
 
 Is touch'd till feeling becomes one with thought. 
 
 And thought is rapture, like some moon-drawn sea, 
 
 The brimming spring-tide of eternity 
 
 Within the breast, on which the soul sets sail.
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 53 
 
 And leaves this world witli its allurements stale ; 
 
 A nd when at last the sun is lost to sight, 
 
 And tlie pale moon looks wistful for the ni^-ht. 
 
 Along those tracts of heaven where he has j-a£fed, 
 
 Great gorgeous draperies of clouds are massed ; 
 
 Or war seems tliere, with all its carnage dire, 
 
 Buildings in flames and battlements on fire. 
 
 You think you hear the sonorous truuipct's swella. 
 
 The roar of cannon and the whizz of shells ; 
 
 Or tints so tender linger in the sky, 
 
 The heart o'er-flows and wets the raptur'd eye, 
 
 And blesses him who taught the soul to know 
 
 Such heavenly beauty in this world below ; 
 
 For in the soul is all the beauty there 
 
 And without love 'tis so much empty air. 
 
 The purjjle fades ; more bright the moon beams shine ; 
 
 Beneath the deep'ning blue a saffron line 
 
 Alone recalls the pageantry and power, 
 
 The boisterous splendors of that sunset hour ; 
 
 The saffron's lost in ultra-doep marine, 
 
 And starry Night is mistress of the scene !" 
 
 " Ah that's a sight," she said, " I fain would see. 
 But even the gods must limit their desires. " 
 
 O'er all Ontario's wealth of field and town 
 The music followed, and still breath 'd around 
 When Lake Superior spread below, it's isles 
 Of bosky beauty fragrant, mirror'd clear ; 
 At last the prairie wide, with tint of flower 
 As delicate as her own cheek.
 
 51 EOS 
 
 We paused, 
 Tho broi 1 brown pr.iirie hollowed-out beneath. 
 " Monotonous," she cried, " yet like the sea." 
 I Faid : " Its beauty must be seen from earth, 
 Its dazzling, gloAving skies all clear of cloud 
 And fervent with the sun-god's strongest beams, 
 Or strewn with soft white pillows tier on tier ; 
 Like swans at rest u]ion a sea of blue. 
 They rise from rim to top o' the sky's great womb. 
 Fruitful of beauty, gendering all the wealth 
 Of yellow grain and roots, and all green things. 
 The flowers that shine as if sun-rays took root, 
 And shredded stars in balmy dewy nights 
 Were broadcast sown to be the stars of e irtli : 
 Blue bolls, the sun-fl"Vv'er small and c^rea',^ the rose, 
 Tho crocus and anemome, the wild 
 Convolvulus, and thousands more I love, 
 And daily scent and see but cannot name ; 
 Or when the Storm broods and his wide wings g'ower 
 O'er all the vast expanse of level land, 
 Which cowers, grows darker, flatter under the black 
 Terror of dread tliunder-quivering ])inions, 
 Death-stricken by tlie wild far-flashing fire, 
 Arm'd with swift death and splendours from his eye, 
 And by the voice of him which breaks like seas 
 That rise to make a universal wreck, 
 An;l bellow ruin, deafening remotest stars. 
 Then fai's afar on the shrinking, sliuddering air, 
 Dying in murmurs of loud discontent 
 And anger, like a world muttering pain, 
 Amid the blazing agonies of collapse,
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 55 
 
 And making kindred planets blink with fear; 
 
 Or in the clear bright days of Autumn's glow, 
 
 The gracious bracing time, spirit and balm 
 
 In every breath and breeze, when even the blast 
 
 Ha^some soft touch of sweetness, and every pula* 
 
 Glows with a thrill of rapture, and to live , 
 
 Is joy ; its superb sunset pageantries. 
 
 When large and yellow suns go down aflame 
 
 'Mid tapestries immense of purple clouds. 
 
 And continents of vapour, their vast hearts 
 
 On fire ; the russet purple and silver rise 
 
 Of suns which grow all gold within an hour, 
 
 Wide-gleaming, splendid, indescribable, 
 
 In spring time, or in harvest when the seas 
 
 Of golden grain shine like the golden fleece. 
 
 Or in mid winter, all the sky clear, glad, 
 
 The purple-hollowed crust of wide white plain, 
 
 O'er which and thwart the trail of dazzling light, 
 
 The powder 'd snow, in forms fantastic, skips 
 
 To music of the northern blast, and skims 
 
 Away and never turns in that wild waltz. 
 
 Not for a thousand miles ; the sluggard then, 
 
 With feet on stove and pipe in mouth, his blood 
 
 Bakes, while the man whose blood is pure and rich. 
 
 Flesh and muscle and nerve and heart in tune 
 
 With the clear spirit that bears up his life, 
 
 Revels in stimulating airs, and drinks 
 
 The cold pui'e ether, stirring high the heart 
 
 Like wine. Clad in thick furs, he drives or walks. 
 
 And, feeling exaltation, gathers power. 
 
 Ifl. early winter comes a day all sun,
 
 56 EOS 
 
 While every shrub is thick with silver frost. 
 
 The air, like choicest champagne, tlirills your veins. 
 
 No place so fit to watch the wheeling stars, 
 
 And see the northern lights illume the dark. 
 
 The soft night's solemn stillness tills with awe 
 
 The fragrant air, the soul with other worlds ; 
 
 And tho' no trees can temjjt the pensive moon 
 
 To tarry o'er their tops, her course she holds 
 
 In the wide silence of a prairie night 
 
 'Mid stars that seem to peer more close to earth, 
 
 And all as sweetly lures to contemplation. 
 
 And fills with })assions calm, yet fiery strong, 
 
 A feeling weird unutterably deep, 
 
 As when on L:itmos down she came to kiss 
 
 Endymion's lips, her lovely fingers white 
 
 Within his locks of lavish gold, the while his breafck 
 
 Glow'd fast and warm upon her pale-flushed cheek. 
 
 And set her lips aflame ; or when she charm'd 
 
 Orion ere on Meropj he gazed, 
 
 Or thou exultantly to Delos bore 
 
 His mighty beauty for secure retreat. 
 
 In vain ! Her jealous arrows found him there. 
 
 "Speak not of him," she said, "I saw him lie 
 The moui-ning billows breaking at his feet, 
 A hundred shafts swift rooted in his breast ; his face 
 Fale, tortured ; while cold Dian paler moved, 
 With tranquil triumph smiling, as my team 
 Made the raw ether burn like my brow. "
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 57 
 
 She sigh'd, a sigh of recollected pain, 
 And said : " I'll play the gadding gossip for 
 Your sake to-day. See where the iron horse 
 Pants, puffs out smoke and snorts and cries and bears 
 Long trains thro' what was wilderness a year 
 Ago ; flinging his sm>ke aloft he makes 
 A passing ck>ud. Upon these plains immense 
 Where here and there the signs of man at work 
 Are seen, it is but yesterday the red 
 Man, the poor savage chased the buffalo. 
 I've seen him in his prime and his decay; 
 But save the wild ox and his pursuers 
 This land has been a solitude since it 
 Was heaved up from the sea. For centuries ? — 
 Oh ! yes, for thousands, those bright lakes have shone 
 Unmark'd ; the wild ducks lived upon their breasts 
 Nor feared the fowler's shot ; the roses bloomed ; 
 The gopher dug his hole and stood erect. 
 And ran and lived his lonely graceful life, 
 And played among the grasses and the flowers ; 
 The ground-lark sang ; the prairie hen and plover 
 Their broods unharmed reared ; the antelope 
 At times a prize to the Indian's arrow fell ; 
 The wolf at all hours prowled in search of prey ; 
 But not a trace of man, save when the chase 
 Brought savage hunters from the river's marge, 
 The beautiful wooded vales of the Qu'Appelle, 
 Saskatchewan, and streams subsidiary. 
 The Indian's doom should touch your heart. I've seen 
 Tpyes disappear before. But kindness 
 On dying races, as on dying men
 
 68 EOS 
 
 Should wait, and Canada may well be proud, 
 And England, too, of that just spirit which 
 Has ruled her councils ; these are things the gods 
 Do not forget. " 
 
 " I'd fear," I said, " this seat 
 To hold in winter when wide snow shrouds all 
 The vasty plain. But once more, that's the time 
 To watch from earth your car speed on. The snow 
 In wind-made waves lies like a frozen sea. 
 And in their myriad hollows shadows cast. 
 Their clear-cut million-faceted backs agleam. 
 Light-darting, radiant in thy rosy smile ; 
 The heaven a dappl'd glory. Soon the rim 
 Of burning gold with radiating spears 
 Peeps up, then slowly sails in yellow seas 
 Of light, the full orb'd splendour whence 
 There runs across the white empui'pled sea 
 Like fire, to the entranced gazer's feet, 
 A lane of silver fire, and all the plain 
 Compact of tiniest crystals flames with gems ; 
 Diamonds and chrysolites bespangling blaze ; 
 The frosty heavens high-up, gold fretted, blue, 
 Save where some pearly clouds may westward rest. 
 Which half an hour before were crimson round 
 Your wheels. The air the pulses stirs like fire 
 And life's a joy !" 
 
 She smiled and said: — " Yes, cold 
 No doubt for mortal brow, the swift sharp air 
 Which up here whistles on my win^ery way. 
 I Live myself to gaze upon those jilains 
 *>i\'hen bright auroraborealian tints
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 59 
 
 Go flashing flame-wise o'er their snowy waves, 
 More gorgeous in their bright commingling hues 
 Than cunningest mysteiy of colours quaint 
 In old cathedral windows, shedding gloried light 
 Thro' pillar'd silent aisles. But lo ! the sun 
 Comes on apace. We must not further pause. " 
 
 The reins she shook, which flash 'd like lightning bands, 
 And forward rushed those coursers wild, and wheels 
 Of fire, and soon the snowy peaks of hills 
 So high, our horses airy feet might well 
 Have touch 'd the topmost, were empurpled. Cones 
 U hich rose at frequent intervals, grew pink 
 And red, white clefts and chasms fathom-deep 
 Gloomed dark and dreadful. The eagle was awake 
 And wheel'd with sail-broad pinions strong, in search 
 Of quarry ; back and wings to us seem'd like 
 Gilt bronze of antique armour worn by knights 
 Of old, on which flames out the light of fire 
 In some baronial hall hung round with casques. 
 And breast-plates, shields, and shirts of mail and spears 
 Transverse ; the founder of the house he glowers 
 Above the hearth huge as cathedral door. 
 The eagle's shadow on the white peak's side 
 Was as the shade of some long-pointed cloud 
 When winds are veering. 
 
 Now the Fraser gleam'd 
 Below, its benches white with apple trees 
 In bloom. 'Neath one an Indian stood, in hand 
 A tom-tom rude, on which he beat, the while
 
 60 EOS 
 
 He sang in sad tones looking towards the sea. 
 
 The children of his tribe impassive sat 
 
 And smoked their deeii-bowl'd long-stemmed pipes- 
 
 With spread wings for ever 
 
 Time's eagle careers, 
 His quarrjr old nations, 
 
 His prey the young years ; 
 Into monuments brazen 
 
 He strikes his fierce claw, 
 And races are only 
 
 A sop for his maw. 
 
 The red sun is rising 
 
 Behind the dark pines, 
 And the mountains are marked out 
 
 In saffron lines, 
 The pale moon still lingers. 
 
 But past is her hour 
 Over mountain and river 
 
 Her silver to shower. 
 
 As yon moon disapperreth. 
 
 We pass and are past ; 
 The pale face o'er all things 
 
 Is potent at last. 
 He bores thro' the mountains, 
 
 He bridges the ford. 
 He bridles steam horses 
 
 Where Bruin was lord,
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. <5l 
 
 He summons the river 
 
 Her wealth to unfold, 
 From flint and from granite 
 
 He crushes the gold. * 
 
 Those valleys of silence 
 
 Will soon be alive 
 With huxters who chaffer. 
 
 Prospectors who strive. 
 And the house of the psde face 
 
 Will peer from the crest 
 Of the cliff, where the eagle 
 
 To-day builds his nest. 
 
 The Red Skin he marred not 
 
 White fall on wild rill. 
 But to-morrow those waters 
 
 Will turn a mill ; 
 And the streamlet which flashes 
 
 Like a young squaw's dark eye, 
 Will be black with foul refuse, 
 
 Or may be run dry. 
 
 From the sea where the Father 
 
 Of waters is lost. 
 To the sea where all Summer 
 
 The ice-berg is tost. 
 The white hordes will swarm 
 
 And the white man will sway, 
 And the smoke of his engine 
 
 Make swarthy the day.
 
 62 
 
 EOS 
 
 Tflound the mound of a brother 
 
 In sadness we pace, 
 How much sadder to stand 
 
 At the grave of a race 1 
 But the good Spirit knows 
 
 What for all is the best. 
 And which should be chosen 
 
 The strife or the rest. 
 
 As for me, I'm time-weary, 
 
 I await my release, 
 Give to others the struggle, 
 
 Grant me but the peace. 
 And what peace like the peace 
 
 Which Death offers the brave? 
 What rest like the rest 
 
 Which we find in the grave? 
 
 For the doom of the hunter 
 
 There is no reprieve ; 
 And for me, 'mid strange customs, 
 
 "Tis bitter to live. 
 Our part has been played 
 
 Let the white man play his ; 
 Then he too disappears. 
 
 And goes down the abyss. 
 Yes ! Time's eagle will prey 
 
 On the Pale Face at last. 
 And his doom like our own 
 
 Is to pass and be past.
 
 AN EPIC OF THE Di.WN. 63 
 
 He closed exultantly, in contrast strange 
 
 To mien and tone with which he had begun. 
 
 The grandeur, gloom, and dread sublimity 
 
 Of this great river was soon left behind. 
 
 Wii passed o'er lucid streams whose sands are gold ; 
 
 Inlets and gulfs whose beauty man can ne'er 
 
 Destroy ; forests of mighty trees whose age 
 
 You count b}^ tens of centuries, and now 
 
 Reflecting manj' a shape— outlines too fair 
 
 For gross embodiment in flesh — young forms 
 
 Of tender beauty, robed in hues of heaven. 
 
 Attendant on that glory-scattering car. 
 
 The rippleless ocean lay beneath us, bright ; 
 
 No wrinkle on its vast and placid brow ; 
 
 No cloud in view, and as we flew along 
 
 Deep voices from around the car poured forth 
 
 Sweet strains which o'er the ocean rolled and died 
 
 In frozen whis[;ers 'mid the polar seas. 
 
 "This is the sea, "she said, "on which a bard 
 Might feel the inspiration of your empire. 
 And write an epic worthy of the race 
 Or races which have built it grandly up ; 
 For Kelt and Saxon, each has done his share; 
 By Kelt and Saxon, must it be maintained. 
 The Irish on a hundred battle fields, 
 In counsel by the spoken word, by toU, 
 Have play'd a great part in this work. 
 They should have scope to bless their own green isle ; 
 But shipwreck will attend their aims, unless 
 They merge them in a noble loyalty
 
 64 EOS 
 
 To the gre t empire whicli is theirs no less 
 
 Than others ? }*oor wailing round old graves 
 
 And cries for vengeance, sliow how deep all wrongs 
 
 VVill strike, and hers were of the greatest : long 
 
 Continued, cruel, cold, calamitous 
 
 Injustice, poison 'd with contempt and scorn 
 
 Engend'ring hate. But heroes do not waste 
 
 Themselves upon the past— on dead things gone; 
 
 The present and the future, there's their field. 
 
 Those isles are link'd by Fate ; the people lords, 
 
 'Tis theirs to learn the cause of all is one, 
 
 Or from their wrangles, flames will shoot and wrap 
 
 The edifice, and in the general blaze 
 
 Both crash in ruin. War to the idler, war 
 
 To all injustice, war to faction, war 
 
 To gilt corruption, war to agitation. 
 
 Its work once done, and love like fruitful heaven 
 
 Spanning these lands, and then it will be seen 
 
 How much of greater greatness was within 
 
 The grasp of Britain than her past can show. 
 
 Your young Dominion, by imperial works 
 
 Worthy an ancient state, built up by one 
 
 As yet in gristle, nobly aids the task, 
 
 And gives large promise of the mightier day." 
 
 The ocean was now left behind — a brc;idth 
 
 Of light. A score of dusky nations old 
 
 We pass, then plunge beneath the en«ulphing waves. 
 
 A rush of waters green and white— again 
 
 I clossd my eyes to die, when she rtach'd forth
 
 AN EPIC OF THE DAWN. 65 
 
 Her hand with tapering fingers rosy-tipped 
 
 And touched me. Then, once more myself, I saw 
 
 Her steeds, unbreath'd, draw up, and how there flashed 
 
 A sudden light o'er carven arch and door, 
 
 And sable towers and pillars glimmering fair; 
 
 And colonnades stretch 'd darkling far away ; 
 
 And in the distance, vistas dim were seen, 
 
 Like walks enchanted made for fairy feet ; 
 
 And there stood Twilight like a lingering ray, 
 
 And like a fantasy he went, and Eos, 
 
 A form of light, moved into shadowy halls, 
 
 And all the busy upper world was day. 
 
 And I awoke and turned my steps to where, 
 A mile away on the monotonous plain, 
 The hammers rang on shingle roofs, and grew 
 Each hour the "city " of a few weeks old. 

 
 ( 66) 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 My thoughts poor plummet deep I sink. 
 
 But never bottom find, 
 And, rudder gone and compass lost, 
 
 The sport of every wind. 
 
 Survey the veiled-up heavens in vain ; 
 
 No sun-gleam in the day. 
 And in the night never a star, 
 
 E'en could I shape my way. 
 
 Like wild sea gulls my mind wheels on — 
 
 A wearj' worthless chase, 
 And sometimes folds her jaded wing. 
 
 And rests a little space. 
 
 No glimpse of blue the clouds glints through. 
 
 Yet comes a sunny dream ; 
 A boy bends o'er an old oak bridge 
 
 And babbles to the stream. 
 
 At dusk the garden walls he scales, 
 
 Himself and pockets fills, 
 Or holds a tryst with ^Tary Bate 
 
 Beside old Lambert's Mills; 
 
 Or in the play ground 'mid a ring 
 
 He fights with Charlie Brown, 
 One dreadful moment there they stand. 
 
 The next and Brown is down.
 
 A REVERIE. 67 
 
 The big boys lift them up and cry: 
 
 " Now for another round !" 
 They wildly strike, then close again; 
 
 This time he meets the ground. 
 
 A third time front to front they stand. 
 
 Brown takes him 'neath the chin, 
 But soon gets into chancery, 
 
 And so must e'en give in. 
 
 With claret, so we called it then, 
 
 My sleeve shows many a stain, 
 But victor never prouder felt 
 
 Upon the foughten plain. 
 
 The river fouls in flowing on. 
 
 To taste its waves we shrink, 
 But at its source the stream is pure, 
 
 And angels there might drink; 
 
 And pure that stream to which I fly 
 
 From ]iresent thouglits appalling, 
 And liquid cltar it strikes the ear. 
 
 Like founts on Pindus falling. 
 
 Ah I then whate'cr the world's time, 
 
 However dark the sky, 
 Refulgent suns of youth sublime 
 
 Light up the inner eye: 
 
 Sweet tender memories full of sounds 
 
 Of home, and fragrant days 
 All glad, and dewy lawns, and hounds, 
 
 And games, and wholesome praise.
 
 68 A REVERIE. 
 
 Bright morning trips with rosy smiles 
 Across those ancient pine, 
 
 And in her glance tlie white roi-e glows, 
 Two garden lakelets shine. 
 
 My doiis bound round with eager bark, 
 And fain would force the will, 
 
 They wag their tails and gri^ e the hand, 
 And look t<jwards yonder hill. 
 
 Where well they know a hundred hares 
 Through dewy brambles peep; 
 
 The hill is gained; old Gip gives cry; 
 And puss flies u[» the steep. 
 
 A vigorous run. the qnarrj'^'s won, 
 
 I rest upon the ridge, 
 And watch the river roll below. 
 
 The wain toil o'er the bridge, 
 
 The village white, the curling smoke, 
 The old stone spire, the school. 
 
 The listening horse, the grazing kine, 
 The fat geese in the pool. 
 
 And then across the fields for home, 
 By hedges fresh and green, 
 
 Where l>erries oft invite to pause, 
 And wild flowers bloom between. 
 
 Soon in that ancient antler'd hall 
 My dogs jump and rejoice; 
 
 I hear the maids sing at their work, 
 I h^ar my mother's voice;
 
 A REVEKIE. 69 
 
 She comes to know how fortune fared; 
 
 I see her look so bright; 
 Her golden hair, her sweet blue eye, 
 
 Her tiny figure slight. 
 
 The game I show, receive a kiss; 
 
 Ah I who could dream the years 
 Would roll and roll, until one day 
 
 That kiss would cause but tears 1 
 
 Above dark woods of oak and elm, 
 
 The placid moon shines clear; 
 A young man in a garden bower — 
 
 He holds his breath to hear. 
 
 His eyes on fire, as tho' enraged, 
 
 Survey the twinkling stars; 
 His heart beats like some wild thing cagad 
 
 Against its prison bars. 
 
 A glimpse of muslin — flash of feet, 
 
 And eyes — red lijis apart 
 In smiles. Ho springs his love to greet; 
 
 She's folded to his heart. 
 
 He kisses her; he pats her hair; 
 
 One long perfervid kiss: 
 His life he'd wreak in kisses there, 
 
 For life has naught like this. 
 
 But she must go — O yes she must— 
 
 Another kiss and then - 
 Yes — s!u> mu.st go — to-morrow night, 
 
 To-moiTdW in the t^Ien.
 
 70 A KEVEUIE. 
 
 Thus Fancy flying through the past 
 
 Flito now from that to this, 
 And present woe is all forgot 
 
 Til iinfoi'gotton Lliss. 
 
 On magic Avaves I'm borne away 
 
 To happier shores serene, 
 Where founts of joy forever play 
 
 'Mid fields for ever green. 
 
 And here at times a stronger spell 
 
 Upon my spirit falls, 
 I lie on banks of Asphodel 
 
 And tread Elysian halls. 
 
 While thronging round come shapes of light. 
 
 With eyes of temper 'd fire; 
 The Muses nine, the Graces three, 
 
 Apt)llo with his lyre; 
 
 And fairer forms than e'er were feigned 
 
 On poets powerful scroll 
 And sweeter strains of rarer song. 
 
 Than e'er touch'd human soul. 
 
 The world is enter'd— comes the prose; 
 
 Man's falsehood, woman's wiles, 
 The plot of scoundrels o'er the wine, 
 
 The treachery masked in smiles. 
 
 The dream is gone— the river fades, 
 Those wooded heights are lost, 
 
 Once more upon a lonely sea 
 A lonely bark is tost.
 
 ( 71 ) 
 
 ,^ THE CANADIAN YEAR. 
 
 The depths of infinite shade, 
 The soft green dusk of the glade, 
 With fiery fingers the frost had fret, 
 
 And dyed a myriad hue, 
 Making the forests temples of golden aisles: 
 The swooning rose forgot to bloom ; 
 Jn fragrant graves slept violets blue ; 
 And earlier shook her locks of jet 
 Night, with her subtle shadowy wiles, 
 Night, with her starry gloom, — 
 Before like suns which could not set. 
 
 Your eyes shone clear on mine. 
 Flushing the heart with feelings high, 
 Toucliing all life as thrills the sky. 
 When over cloudy pavements thunders rumble and roll ; 
 Then flamed the faltering blood like wine, 
 And overflowed the soul. 
 
 Through wintery weeks, the sun above 
 
 Oceaned in blue, the frost below ; 
 Through blustry hours, when fiercely drove 
 
 Winds razor-armed the drifting snow, 
 And peeled the face and pinched the ear, 
 And hurled the avalanche of fear 
 From roof-tops on the mufllered crowd ; 
 
 The air one blinding cloud ; 
 Through many a brisk and bracing day.
 
 72 THE CANADIAN YEAR. 
 
 The sky wide summer as in June, 
 
 The joyous sleighbells ringing tune 
 More blithe than aught musicians play ; 
 
 The pure snow gleaming white ; 
 Men's eyes fulfilled of finer light, 
 Of finer tints the women's hair ; 
 
 Their cheeks aglow, and full and pink ; 
 
 The skaters sweeping through the rink, 
 Like swallows through the air : 
 We talked, and walked, and laughed and dreamed, 
 
 And now snow-wreaths, auroral rays, 
 
 The winter moon, day's blinding blaze, 
 
 The merry bells, the skaters' grace 
 
 Recall thy laugh, recall thy face. 
 As dazzling as it earliest beamed ! 
 
 Love stirred in the frozen branches. 
 
 And straight the world was crown'd with green, 
 And as a shipwright his trim craft launches, 
 Each bud put forth in a night its might. 
 
 And the trees stood proud in summer sheen, 
 
 Their foliage dense, a grateful screen 
 'Gainst the bold bright heat and the full fierce light. 
 Like cathedral windows the gardens glowed, 
 
 Mirrors of light the broad lakes gleamed, 
 His cunning in song the robin showed, 
 
 And the shore-lark swung on a brandy and dreamed ; 
 And boats were gliding, lover-laden. 
 
 Over lakes and streams that will yet be known. 
 The boy in flannel, the blooming maiden 
 
 In muslin white with a ribbon zone.
 
 THE CANADIAN YEAR. 73 
 
 The chestnuts fell. From their dull green slieJiths 
 
 With satin-white linings, the nuts burst free ; 
 And as sun-down cinie, bright hazy wreaths 
 
 The spirit of eve hung from tree to tree. 
 The weeks rolled on, the lush green fields 
 
 Became billowy breadths of golden grain, 
 And all roots and fruits tlie kind earth yields 
 
 Were piled on the labouring wain — 
 But you were by the cliff-barred white-crested sea, 
 
 And I where the delicate pink of the prairie rose 
 Amid rich coarse grasses hides, 
 Where the sunset's a boisterous pageantry. 
 
 And the mornings the tenderest tints disclose, 
 
 Where far from the shade and shelter of wood, 
 
 The prairie hen rears her speckled brood, 
 And the prairie wolf abides. 
 And lonely memory searching through 
 
 Found no such stars in the orbed past. 
 As the glad first greeting 'twixt me and you. 
 
 And the sad, mad meeting which was our last. 
 
 5-»-£
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 TO " BA Y Mir 
 
 Lacking a good three years of seven, 
 
 Sunny-haired boy with eyes of heaven, 
 
 With everlasting ripple of laughter ; 
 
 As yet no touch of woi'ldly leaven 
 
 In thy frank soul. Oh ! how you capture 
 
 All hearts, and drown in present joy 
 
 The cares which come from before and after, 
 
 Sunny-haired, blue-eyed, happy boy ! 
 
 Running, jumping, never at rest. 
 
 Now using one toy, now abusing another, 
 
 Caning your dearest friends in jest. 
 Ruling father and sister and mother, 
 
 And bowing all wills to your high behest— 
 
 I coidd watch your movements all day long ; 
 Whether you laugh or whether you ciy, 
 Like a bird or a rill you enchain the eye, 
 
 And you fill the heart like a burst of song. 
 
 As pageants held in ruined towers 
 Will make the sad place glad once more, 
 As laughing waves on wreck-strewn shore, 
 As summer sunshine after showers, 
 You brighten up the weary heart. 
 And charm with sweet unconscious wiles, 
 So that the tears which still will start, 
 Before they fall are lost in smiles, 
 And you are folded to my breast,
 
 TO " BAY MI." 75 
 
 And patted and caressed; 
 My hand runs through your golden hair, 
 The world is seen in hues of love, 
 , ^There's not a cloud in heaven above. 
 And all the earth is fair I 
 Scorn and hate — each evil passion flies 
 Before the beauty of your sinless eyes 
 
 You — best of preachers I have seen ! 
 
 You steal into the heart, bid flow 
 
 The dried up streams of long ago, 
 
 The farthest shores of memory glow 
 With fi-agrant flowers and tempering green. 
 So that this truth I more discern, 
 
 If moral beauty we would wed, 
 
 We must, as the Great Master said, 
 Of little children learn. 
 
 Ottawa, April 17th, 1884. 
 
 ^--£
 
 ( 76 ) 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY AT OTTAWA. 
 
 (composed while looking at the CHAUDlilRE FALLS FROM 
 THE PAVILION ON PAP.LIAMENT HILL.) 
 
 The broad snowy landscape, blue sky over-bending, 
 The river closed up, but the course of its trending 
 Apparent through woodland and mountain all bare; 
 
 And glazing and gilding, and buttress and building, 
 And tower and turret, a-gleam in the glare 
 
 Of a sun, of a brightness complete and unyielding, 
 And Hull like a camp, and the lumber like war tents; 
 The roar of the Chan liere —the smoke of its torments 
 Flung high in the clear frosty air, like the breath 
 Of some monster Titanic, in torture of death. 
 
 And the sleigh bells are singing, and jingling, are flinging 
 
 Their music of gladness through resonant air. 
 And folk, drest en file , wend where church bells are ringing, 
 
 And man kneels to heaven and proffers his prayer; 
 Where through arches of green the deep organ-note rolls, 
 
 And the cross is bedeck'd with the spoil of the trees. 
 And legends of mercy, from fanciful scrolls, 
 
 Breathe hope to the sin-laden crowd on its knees. 
 But the sun's a shekinah, the white snow an altar, 
 And whose faith, 'mid such scene, on this day, dares to falter ? 
 Trade's bustle is hushed, and great Nature calls 
 The soul to its God by the voice of those falls.
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY AT OTTAWA. 77 
 
 And those waters wliicli howl o'er the bleak rocks forever, 
 
 Now slow to the sea 'neath tliu ice silent roll, 
 Like some life full of purpose, but shrouded endeavour, 
 
 That si)unis acclaim, yet wins on to the goal; 
 Like Gocfs life in Christ- can the mind there find rest ? 
 
 A manger, a maiden, a babe newly born ! — 
 Can that tiny hand which soft presses the breast, 
 
 Be his who rules oceans and reins in the storm ? 
 His the hand who let loose those wild waves in their might. 
 And softened their terror with sw^eet rainbow light ? 
 Do not fear— have but faith - and hark ! how he calls 
 The soul to his soul thro' the sound of those falls. 
 
 O Father and source of whatever is fair ! 
 
 Fill my foul with such strength as to nature belongs. 
 The cataract's force as it leaps from its lair. 
 
 The sweetness of Summer and Summer birds' sono-s: 
 A will like a law to no passion e'er bendinj?. 
 
 A heart that responds but to noble desires, 
 And thoughts wing'd with light 'ning of Heaven's own lending. 
 
 And a fancy illumin'd with Heaven's own fires. 
 On this bright Xmas Day, v/hich annihilates care, 
 [n Christ's name I offer this confident prayer. 
 And, with heart that nor future nor present appals, 
 Thy blessing I hear in the boom of those falls. 
 
 41-^-®--)!'^^
 
 ( 78 ) 
 
 PARTED. 
 
 The cold, cruel gods who for ever 
 
 Sway men's destinies, doomed we should meet. 
 The cold, cruel gods !— who now sever 
 
 Two wild hearts which bound but to greet; 
 And then bound as the lark from his low bed. 
 
 And sing as he sings when on high, 
 When the sun o'er the earth hath his glow shed, 
 
 And his splendour is broad in the sky. 
 
 The flush of thy cheek was as morning, 
 
 As her star, the sweet light in thine eyes. 
 To a heart wrapt in darkness deforming, 
 
 And tost in a tempest of sighs; 
 And I dreamed in a sleeji, sweet to sadness, 
 
 As thy red lips in fancy I prest, 
 That that heart should beat high with noon's gladness. 
 
 And should bask in the beams of the west. 
 
 But lo ! ere the day-spring is dewless, 
 
 Ere the shrill lark's loud matin is o'er, 
 I look for thy form, but 'tis viewless. 
 
 For thy voice, but I hear it no more; 
 And Night with the boom of her beetles, 
 
 Dethrones Day with the songs of her birds, 
 There are death knells from shadowy steeples, 
 
 And wailings too wild for all words;
 
 PARTED. 
 
 And I roam like some soul banned from blessing. 
 
 Amid scenes where joy's cup used o'er-brim, 
 And bemocked of a phantom caressing, 
 
 Ap^l the ghost of a conjugal hymn ; 
 There's a night in my heart past fate's scorning. 
 
 Since above it no morrow shall rise, 
 For the flusli of thy cheek was my morning, 
 
 My day star, the light in thine eyes. 
 
 79 
 
 ^cN®^,}
 
 ( 80 ) 
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 (WBITTEN AT WINNIPEG, FEB., 1879, ON READING A LKTTKR 
 
 IN WHICH THE WKITEK SAID : " ICH DENKE IMMEK 
 
 AN DICH.") 
 
 Good night ! rest craves this wearied brain, 
 
 And rest these eyes of mine ; 
 But lo ! they're wide awake again, 
 
 And looking into thine. 
 
 Thy glance sincere my fancy takes. 
 
 And every sense it thrills, 
 And o'er my heart thy calm smile breaks. 
 
 Like morning o'er the hills. 
 
 The wintry night, a summer light. 
 
 At thy approach doth show, 
 The raptured stars shine yet more bright, , 
 
 More pure those banks of snow. 
 
 O little room ! O shabby room ! 
 
 That'st heard my sacred vow. 
 In splendours veil thy dingy gloom. 
 
 She's thinking of me now I 
 
 *& 
 
 [ know it ! By yon stars which roll 
 
 Bright sister lamps apart ! 
 The soul may strike thro' space to soul ; 
 
 Heart telephone to heart.
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 81 
 
 O hapjyy ir.i'm ! Conflicting fate ! 
 
 To love what's all divine, 
 And yet to have no oflering great, 
 
 To lay upon her shrine. 
 
 '■* Away such thouglits 1 'tis vain to grieve 
 At sniallness of my store. 
 For had I empire's dower to give, 
 I still would give t:iee more. 
 
 And had I more than empire's dower, 
 
 Still more I'd fain bestow, 
 Great Jove might lend me all his power, 
 
 Yet my demands would grow. 
 
 Beyond the verge of mortal bounds 
 
 My heart's desires expand, 
 Far — far - through wide eternal rounds. 
 
 I'd lead thee by the hand. 
 
 But that ray bliss thy bliss could mar. 
 
 Did God this hour me show, 
 I'd face cold ways which know no star, 
 
 I'd dry my tears and go. 
 
 For may my years stand all accurst. 
 
 My flag fall in the strife. 
 If I don't rate thy peace as first, 
 
 And love thee more than life. 
 
 Goodnight! thou'rt here — my heait throbs vouch; 
 
 Thy heart too sure must leap ; 
 Sweet I bend thee o'er my wintry couch. 
 
 And kiss these eyes to sleep.
 
 ( 82 ) 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 April, September, 
 
 December, July, 
 This year's love who'll remember, 
 
 When next year's sun is high ? 
 But some hearts don't falter 
 
 As passing suns set, 
 And tho' thou'lt surely alter 
 
 I'll cling to thee yet. 
 O sweet ! how sweet we should have met ! 
 O sweet ! how sad I can't forget. 
 
 My vow I have broken 
 
 This heart thus let fre?, 
 And the passion outspoken 
 
 I cherish for thee. 
 Ah ! my years may grow dreary 
 
 And darker than jet, 
 And this soul still more weary 
 But I'll think of thee yet. 
 O sweet ! how sweet we should have met ! 
 O sweet ! how sad I can't forget !
 
 A SONG. 83 
 
 The courage is shaken 
 
 That bowed to no blast, 
 And time has o'ertaken 
 /-• My spirit at last. 
 
 But autumn may mellow, 
 
 The branch become sere, 
 The winter winds bellow 
 But thou'lt still be dear. 
 O sweet ! how sweet we should have met ! 
 O sweet ! how sad I can't forget ! 
 
 5-^
 
 ( 84 ) 
 
 BY THE SEA— A DREAM. 
 
 Where the wild sea rolls up the sultry sand, 
 
 Methought we met ; 
 I marked the movements of the billows grand, 
 
 And eyes of jet. 
 
 Qn days of calm upon its placid breast, 
 
 VVatch'd the sunlight : 
 And then my glance upon thy face would rest, 
 
 More calm, more bright. 
 
 When rose the moon above the slumberous sea, 
 
 I gazed, the while 
 Her sweet light rain'd enchantment, then on thee 
 
 I look'd ; thy smile 
 
 Was sweeter than those magic beams ; my breath 
 
 Became a sigh. 
 Ah ! if in such an hour should come dread death, 
 
 'Twere sweet to die ! 
 
 And then again, heart-glad, my laugh would break 
 
 As stirr'd by wine, 
 Or joyful news, to know that I could take 
 
 Thy hand in mine. 
 
 And feel I was not all unprized by thee, 
 
 To whom my soul 
 Turn'd strong, as turns the full stream to the sea. 
 
 The needle to the pole.
 
 ( 85 ) 
 
 A FEW BRIEF HOURS— HOW QUICK 
 THEY FLY. 
 
 A few brief hours — how quick they fly^ 
 
 Our barks together bore. 
 Away ! black clouds begrime the sky, 
 
 Go seek the safer shore. 
 
 For round my boat will billows foam, 
 
 Ahead will breakers roll. 
 Away ! who fain with me would roam 
 
 Must bear no shrinking soul. 
 
 r do not blame — I don't complain, 
 
 You should lie close and warm, 
 For me, I love the hurricane. 
 
 Am kindred with the storm. 
 
 Because my star's obscured from view, 
 Doubt fills your faltering breast ; 
 
 But my heart's needle still points true ; 
 To God I leave the rest. 
 
 Her sail fades o'er the whitening wave, 
 
 She sights her bowers of ease, 
 But round me soon will storms rave, 
 
 And rise great angry seas.
 
 j^Q A FEW BRIEF HOURS. 
 
 The thunders crash -the lightnings flare- 
 The wild surge sweeps each mast— 
 
 But tho' my keel should plough the air, 
 I'll gain the goal at last. 
 
 Away ! who loves may follow me. 
 
 Hark to the canvas strain ! 
 Away ! to win the argosy 
 
 That plows the distant main ! 
 
 -*^^MS^-
 
 ( 87 ) 
 
 A STAB. 
 
 A star — a star upon the sea, 
 
 A star so far so cold to me. 
 
 A star on snowy landsca])e bold, 
 
 A star more near, a star less cold. 
 
 What could it mean that star for me 
 
 That once I saw down by the sea ? 
 
 What may it bode that star so bright, 
 That glimmers 'cross the crusty white ? 
 I cannot tell : I only know. 
 It sweetly shines across the snow. 
 
 It may be but a passing gleam 
 Upon my life's sad-flowing stream ; 
 It may be Destiny's own glow 
 That beckons me across the snow. 
 
 I do not know. I only feel 
 Its influence thro' my bosom steal, 
 And, as by magic, o'er me throw 
 A sense of Summer spite of snow. 
 
 ^-^
 
 ( 88 ) 
 
 FLOWERS. 
 
 Sweeter than flowers, tenderer than dawns t>f June 
 Bedewed, is young and lovely womanhood, 
 When in her bosom vibrates every good. 
 
 And pity, truth and virtue make one perfect tune. 
 
 As pure as these I hoped that life would be, 
 But like a dream the fond hope disappears, 
 A glimmering ghost down vistas of dark years. 
 
 And heart bereaved I fly from thought to thee. 
 
 -'^^^^^
 
 ( 89 ) 
 
 NUMBERS. 
 
 A few words all surcharged with deepest heart — 
 
 And all the fun and frolic die away. 
 
 I read your letters — all their charming play 
 Of wit but causes bitter tears to start. 
 
 Talk not of numbers — these are counted o'er, 
 And bear proportion. In my reckoning now 
 Is none like thee. From chin to dark-crown'd brow. 
 
 Thy face — love's cameo carved in memory's core. 
 
 Thy liquid laughter haunts like old world song, 
 And thro' my all too darkened days thy smiles, 
 Like sudden sunbeams in old dusky aisles, 
 
 Dispelling gloom, dispersing thoughts of wrong. 
 
 And come what may— you first and last must be; 
 
 The star that lingers when the rest have set; 
 
 A light of joy I never can forget; 
 A power that sways around me like the sea.
 
 ( 90 ) 
 
 RECONCILED. 
 
 O God! To see thee weep 
 
 And dare not kiss 
 The tear, the burstmg tear away. 
 
 My love ! my life ! my soul! 
 My highest bliss 
 Were near thee ever more to stay, 
 
 To stay for ever more. 
 
 But now a gulf yawns wide 
 
 Between us two ; 
 The sun is gone, nor star 
 
 Illumes the dark ; my peace 
 
 Is gone, and you 
 Stand yonder-sad and cold and far- 
 Far, far for ever more. 
 
 But lift thy drooping lids 
 
 And light the dark 
 Expanse ; but smile though sad twill bridge 
 
 The gulf with joy, and speak 
 One word !— the lark 
 Sings on the gleaming ridge 
 
 Of dawn! 'Tis night no more.
 
 ( 91 ) 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 All the sorest pangs that ever 
 Preyed within my bosom's cell, 
 
 Were as nothing to the sorrow 
 Of our first and last farewell. 
 
 Hope was strong ; but hope is blighted ; 
 
 Her once bright eyes dimni'd with tears ; 
 And the shadow of her sorrow 
 
 Darkens o'er the coming years. 
 
 Ff>r tho' lighter loves have loiter'd 
 Riund the portal — by the wall — 
 
 Thine alone hath ever enter'd 
 In the holiest of all. 
 
 No rapt devotee adoring 
 
 At some saint's ascetic shrine, 
 Needs to cherish feelings holier 
 
 Than for thee were ever mine ; 
 
 And perhaps here is the secret 
 That the spell has been so strong, 
 
 That you first^oke noble feelint^s 
 That had slept too sound and long,
 
 92 FAKEWELL. 
 
 And thus taught the soul to listen 
 Glad, for graver tones and sweet, 
 
 Than the wanton Circean dirges 
 
 Wild, that swell down passion's street; 
 
 And a dawn of nobler doing 
 
 Rose before the jaded eyes. 
 And a star of purer promise 
 
 Sparkled in serener skies; 
 
 And the long long hidden fountains, 
 
 Of a noble boyhood's dreams. 
 Broke their subterranean fetters, 
 
 Filled the desert heart with streams. 
 
 Ah my God ! what ground for marvel, 
 If belitf grew strong each hour, 
 
 That you came as sent by heaven. 
 To give thought and life new power ? 
 
 But tho' past the hope of winning 
 Constant strength from constancy, 
 
 Yet will, in the heart's sad gloaming. 
 Live refracted rays of thee. 
 
 Aye, and tho' I take as final, 
 
 This our fatal last farewell, 
 Thoughts now sweet, now sad, will quicken, 
 
 Feelings deep and tender swell. 
 
 When the wilful memory wanders 
 
 Wild, as wander oft she will. 
 Ghosts of hopes from burial calling, 
 
 Hopes that you alone could kill.
 
 FAREWELL. 93 
 
 But farewell ! my heart is breaking, 
 
 Love, resolve may render less, 
 But that morning dawns in darkness, 
 
 I released from tenderness. 
 
 So farewell ! the i our heart lingers 
 Near her dead — hangs o'er the bier : 
 
 '' Draw her thence ; let go the funeral ; 
 She is but a hinderance here." 
 
 And the dead from sight is buried ; 
 
 Whips crack loud ; men go their ways ; 
 But the mourner, in her chamber, 
 
 Weeps alone the weary days. 
 
 3---^
 
 d4 ALBUM VERSES. 
 
 SINCE FIRST O'ER ALBUM VERSE 1 
 GROANED. 
 
 Since first o'er Album verse I groaned. 
 What years have jiassed me by ! 
 
 'Twas hard to think the girl who owned 
 That foolish book could die. 
 
 But strange to say that die she did ; 
 
 No fish escapes death's hook ; 
 Ana stranger still, her memory slid 
 
 Quite out of memory's book. 
 
 And tho' I love you very much, 
 
 And mine is love in sooth, 
 Ne'er credit me, my love is such 
 
 As will defy Time's tooth. 
 
 To please thee, I'd resign my breath, 
 
 Or more —I'd write a rhyme ; 
 But tho' my love is strong as Death, 
 
 It is not strong as Time. 
 
 X
 
 -nil: landlady's daughter. 95 
 
 niH LANDLAI)T>i DAUGHTER. 
 
 Other poets meet 
 
 I'lieir mistress in a f;;arden, 
 Watoring happy flowers, 
 
 Drest like Dolly Varden ; 
 Mine's a happier fate, 
 
 Makes every hour so tender, 
 For Jennie cleans the grate 
 
 And toilets up the fender. 
 
 O, my anguish dire, 
 
 I'm sadder than Lord Lovell, 
 When I see her coax the fire, 
 
 And cuddle the old shovel; 
 My heart is full of wrongs. 
 
 That I never spoke her, 
 I'm jealous of the tongs, 
 
 I hate that rakish poker. 
 
 O, what joys must rest, 
 
 Where this hand would falter ! 
 Blest rose upon her breast, 
 
 Thrice blest the beaded halter. 
 I would be tliat rose, 
 
 And tho' dry as rushes, 
 My sap should gatlicr power, 
 
 My leaves bloom back her blushes ;
 
 96 ALLIUM VERSES. 
 
 And eke that beaded chain, 
 
 Gods ! how each bead would quiver, 
 
 When love shot through a vein, 
 Like sunlight througli a river! 
 
 Her mother ruled the house, 
 
 And acted small and shabby. 
 She made me play tbe mouse, 
 
 Wliile she played the old tabby. 
 Never once a tasty dish, 
 
 But all things one would tiro on, 
 She gave me ancient hsh, 
 
 And beef steak hard as iron 
 
 Once I grew (juitc red, 
 
 Th' untouched beef steak brought her. 
 She tost her handsome head: 
 
 " 'Twas purchased by my daughter.' 
 I just touched Jennie's slender 
 
 Waist, and said : ' ' Enough, 
 But never auoht so tender 
 
 Turchased auyat so tough." 
 
 X
 
 AUGUSTA. 97 
 
 AUGUSTA. 
 
 ^\ e met, how blitiie 1113' laughter rang, 
 
 And yours fared forth in sparkling billows, 
 
 And through the pearls and corals sang, 
 And flashed beneath your eyelids' willows. 
 
 I went into the night, each star 
 
 Was bright as when it glowed on Adam ; 
 
 I struck a match — lit my cigar, 
 
 And said : "So, so, I'll dirt with Madam." 
 
 And flirt we did, nor did I fear 
 The witchery of those glancing eyes, 
 
 Would darken all I then held dear. 
 Make light all things I ought to prize; 
 
 My pidsc was Iiigh, my heart was gay. 
 
 My purpose strong 'gainst all fate hurled ; 
 
 But now, old hopes no longer stay. 
 And you coul 1 lure me round the world.
 
 98 ALBUM VERSES. 
 
 TO KINKOMETTA THE QUADROON. 
 
 Tinkometta- fair quadroon, 
 
 Soon, soon, I leave your wilds of snow, 
 Your prattling ways I'll lose too soon. 
 
 Then take my blessing ere I go. 
 Four bloods within your being meet, 
 
 Four influences blend, 
 The English give their red rose sweet, 
 
 The Scotch their thistle lend : 
 In beauty and in strength array'd 
 
 Its motto— how express it? 
 Missing a word 'twill suit a maid: 
 
 Nemo me lacessit. 
 Wit's sparkle, all that's linked with grace. 
 
 The sound of song and dance, 
 From many a trellised viny place — 
 
 These are the gifts of France. 
 Thy Indian blood should riches bring 
 
 From prairie and from brake, 
 The forest glade, the eagle's wing, 
 
 The lonely glimmering lake: 
 The white falls startling solitude. 
 
 Long months of winter's reign, 
 The sun-god in his morning mood, 
 
 Or setting tliwart the plain.
 
 TO KINKOMETTA THE QUADROON. 99 
 
 Thus whatsoe'er's romantic — wild — 
 
 Is linked with culture high ; 
 You're now a fascinating child, 
 /■> A woman by-and-bye ; 
 And if you'll take a bard's advice, 
 
 You'll watch o'er all you feel, 
 And guard your heart — that pearl of price— 
 
 Lest some boy should it steal ; 
 For tho' mythology is grey, 
 
 And Grecian gods rise never, 
 Yet trust me, love is love to-day, 
 
 And Cupid's spry as ever. 
 Four bloods within your being meet, 
 
 Four influences blend. 
 May every grace your young life greet. 
 
 Peace crown its happy end. 
 
 3--^
 
 100 ALBUM VERSES. 
 
 VALENTINK 
 
 A Flora's head ; from eyes a shower 
 Of starlight over face and figure, 
 
 And in the mouth a sense of power, 
 And in the step a note of vigour. 
 
 Hair, blacker than the murkiest night ; 
 
 No pads, no friz— lynx-eyes may scan it ; 
 The forehead, a piece (jf lunar light, 
 
 Cut by an archway on white granite. 
 
 The column'd neck - but I must pause; 
 
 My senses reel -what if [ lose 'em- ! 
 Old Hogarth's line — sweet beauty's laws 
 
 Are folded in that ample bosom. 
 
 A form — no angel's — rather hers 
 
 Who came with Neptune's sunny spray lit, 
 We'd swear, or else my judgment errs. 
 
 If you had wings to fly away with. 
 
 We met, once in the busy street. 
 
 And once when dancing ruled the season ; 
 
 We did not dance —but yet your feet 
 Bore me along in spite of reason. 
 
 And so I sit to-day and weave 
 
 This little wreath of careless rhyming. 
 
 And half I joy, and half I grieve. 
 
 To know my name's beyond divining.
 
 VALENTINE. 101 
 
 I 
 
 As one might sing to some sweet star 
 
 Upon the young night's forehead glowing, 
 
 I sing to you, so near — so far — 
 
 Hold on your radiant course unknowing. 
 
 -^^^
 
 102 ALBUM VERSES. 
 
 TO MRS. COBBETT. 
 
 In other days when love was king. 
 
 Betimes I learned to woo, 
 And whoso asked me then to sing. 
 
 Could have a stave or two. 
 
 But now my Muse is lumpish grown, 
 
 And laughs at Cupid's token, 
 And my poor heart— -'tis but a stone, 
 
 So hard — though often broken. 
 
 Thus as I pondered deep to-day, 
 
 And for invention panted, 
 My Muse grew bright as any fay, 
 
 Enchanting and enchanted ! 
 
 And from her lips such music stole. 
 
 As never on this orb yet 
 Was heard, I cried : "My Muse ! my soul !" 
 
 My Muse ! 'Twas Mrs. Corbett. 
 
 -^3^^^j^^^-«3-
 
 TO G 103 
 
 TO G 
 
 Of* ladies gay, in verses brief, 
 
 I've sung and ta'en the early rose, . 
 And asked of every dewy leaf, 
 
 What could its tender tints disclose 
 More fair than those which, ruby bright, 
 
 Glowed on young cheeks, now red now fainter, 
 Until they merged in lily white, 
 
 Which shamed the snow, defied the painter. 
 
 But when I fain would sing of thee, 
 
 In vain my midnight lamp I burn, 
 Nor rose, nor wild anemone 
 
 Will serve my dainty Muse's turn; 
 She spreads her airy wings afar, 
 
 And bathes in stellar dews her crest, 
 And then you glow that loveliest star 
 
 Which diamonds young Aurora's breast. 
 
 -4^I^^N®->I4^
 
 10-1 ALBUM VERSES. 
 
 A PHOTOGRAFH. 
 
 A. photograph adorns my ' oom 
 Two sweet young faces there, 
 
 Thank God, no tyrant speaks my doom- 
 To say which is more fair — 
 
 The evening star is sweet to see, 
 
 The morning star is bright, 
 But what conchvve could e'er agree 
 
 Which gives the purer light l
 
 I ASKED SWEET LOVE. 105 
 
 / ABKED SWEET LOVE. 
 
 I asked sweet love, 
 
 Where we should meet, 
 And greet, 
 Secure from slijjs ? 
 On earth beneath, in heaven above 1 
 He answer 'd quick with (juivering wings, 
 That perfumed zephyrs stirr'd around. 
 All crisT) with spray from springs 
 Of tears, 
 Deep laid in rapture's heart profound, 
 
 Long gathered in immeniorial years:- 
 " We'll meet, sir, on your lady's lips." 

 
 ( lOG ) 
 
 THE YOUNG BRIDE. 
 
 We three talk'd of lier yesterday; 
 
 Her father and her mother, 
 And he who writes this little lay, 
 
 In heart a kind of brother. 
 Her gentle beauty, art had placed 
 
 Upon the shelf before us, 
 And all the gifts her soul that graced. 
 
 Like suuinier lights play'd o'er us. 
 
 We thought we saw her there the while, 
 
 Recall 'd each playful saying. 
 The archness in the mouth's sweet smile, 
 
 The humour round it playing; 
 The universal love that met 
 
 Her kind heart outward going. 
 The cheerfulness which never set, 
 
 The charity ever-flowing. 
 
 EIow many a time v.hile music roll'd. 
 
 And twang'd the saucy fiddle, 
 We two sat on the stair, and told 
 
 A story or a riddle; 
 Or laughed —no scornful laugh— at those 
 
 Who bill'd and coo'd around us; 
 The music stopjj'd— then up we rose, 
 
 The slight bond burst that bound us.
 
 ALBUM VERSES. 107 
 
 Oh ! all her gracious ways that day 
 
 As we three talk'd together, 
 Came like the smell of new-mown hay, 
 
 Or of the blossom 'd heather, 
 Upon the hearts of those three friends: 
 
 Two knew her all her. past years, 
 While he who here a mourner bends. 
 
 But knew her these few last years. 
 
 But, who that knew her, months or years, 
 
 Could hear that death had taken 
 So sweet a soul, nor let hot tears 
 
 Show that his soul was shaken ? 
 The spouseless spouse ! Let fall the veil ! 
 
 Hush ! hush ! That ground's too holy : 
 O Youth ! O Death ! O tragic tale ! 
 
 Young widower bending lowly ! 
 
 To think of yesterday, and all 
 
 The gladsome memories swelling. 
 And now for that young life the pall, 
 
 The nvournf ul cliurch-bell knelling I 
 Toll out sad notes, but also sweet; 
 
 Let hope our sorrow leaven ; 
 She is not dead; tho' here we meet 
 
 No more: we'll meet in Heaven. 
 
 ^-^^■"^®^-
 
 ( 108 ) 
 
 THE PRAYER. 
 
 Tell me did he hear thee maiden ? 
 
 Did he grant thy gentle prayer ? 
 Does he rest the heavy laden ? 
 
 Is there balm for wounding there 1 
 
 Beyond voids no science bridges, 
 Beyond suns no glass can sight, 
 
 Beyond calm eternal ridges. 
 Casting shadows infinite, 
 
 Where he dwells in vast seclusion. 
 Which not fancy's wing can reach. 
 
 Does he heed the fond illusion, 
 
 That he recks man's feeble speech i 
 
 Say, did bright-robed angels flutter 
 O'er thy young ffam bending there ? 
 
 Did some voice mysterious utter, 
 Sure responses to thy prayer? 
 
 Angels bright-robed may have flutter'd ■ 
 O'er me bowed in sorrow there, 
 
 But no voice mysterious utter'd 
 Aught responsive to my prayer.
 
 THE PEAYEI?. H)< 
 
 (^nly ill my heart I felt where 
 
 Softly Jesus gently sth-red, 
 And around me as I knelt there, 
 
 All the effluence of the Word. 
 
 Yes, Lord ! coarse sense failed to hear thee. 
 
 Sense made dull by sin's black wine, 
 Yet my God I knew thee near me, 
 
 And my spirit touched by thine.
 
 ( no ) 
 
 ALiSKS AND FACES. 
 
 The features of the fairest face 
 
 Are little more than signs, 
 And but of ugliness the mask, 
 Jf they don't find their highest task, 
 In telling of a higher grace 
 
 That in the soul's face shines. 
 
 Uright eyes of blue, or grey, or jet, 
 
 Or lovelier still thine own, 
 (irow dim as chambers of the night. 
 If they're not fed with living light, 
 A mental sun which cannot set, 
 
 Till life's red leaves are blown. 
 
 And when those leaves are scatter'd wide, 
 
 The frost-bit branches sere, 
 The garden one cold wint'ry scene. 
 The abounding rose but what has been, 
 The lily fair but what has died, 
 
 And all is bleak and drear ; 
 
 ( ) I in that desert hour — what then 1 
 
 Let beauty mourn ; that glass. 
 Which of its lot could one day brag, 
 But renders back a wrinkled hag ; 
 Let genius know for other men 
 His wand was made and pass.
 
 MASKS AND FACES. Ill 
 
 But whither ;! O the cruel gods 
 
 Whose silent wheels sweep past ! 
 Rest ! rest bravo heart — the shadows grow, 
 And cold and colder lies the snow, 
 And soft and softer press the sods, 
 
 And you have peace at last. ♦ 
 
 What matters now vile Slander's hissing ? 
 
 The venom'd deadly dart ? 
 That heads grew drunk to gaze on forms,} 
 Which since have j'loved cold joints for worms ? 
 That lips were red for kissing, 
 
 That heart beat wild for heart ? 
 
 What thoughts built up the soul, wliat made 
 
 The music of the breast — 
 This, this alone concerns you now, 
 And Beauty's smile, and Fame's large brow 
 Are but as wiles of some wild jade, 
 
 Whose smile's a common pest.
 
 ( 112 ) 
 
 HYGIEA. 
 
 O shining mistress of the pure and strong ! 
 
 Crown'd with May bkssonis, sun-lit thy blue eye — 
 
 Cans't thou forgive my wanderings, oft and long, 
 From thy firm bosom where the bold may lie, 
 Nor fear the guilty pinion hovering nigh ■? 
 
 Fill, fill the Avine cup ! Drink, drink fathoms deep ! 
 Crown you with garlands, roses dewed with wine ? 
 
 Hence carking care 1 Be banished gentle sleep ! 
 Let Revel dance, gay wii's glad lightnings shine. 
 And laughter grow more loud with night's decline. 
 
 The sun is up ; the perfumed landscape glows ; 
 The streams go silverintr thro' the meadows green ; 
 
 The golden mist o'er all things glory throws, 
 
 A thousand flowcis breathe incense round their queen 
 Whose whi'e and red make mock of beauty's sheen. 
 
 Ah ! my blithe reveller, where now art thou ? 
 
 Thy beaming eye, quick wit, wild laughter's swell? 
 
 That evH is dull, dark gloom nods on thy brow. 
 Thy heart sways sadly, thy hot brain's a hell, 
 And e'en the wine has lost its quick'ning spell. 
 
 O shining mistress of the pure and free I 
 No more I'll quit thy strong inspiring hand, 
 
 Nor shun to joy with thee on life's great sea. 
 Whereon we'll sail, nor fear the fateful strand. 
 Where mid blanch'd bones the chanting Sirens stand.
 
 ( 113 ) 
 
 THE CHARITABLE NfJHT SHIRT. 
 
 I oncG went far to te 3 
 
 Soma maids with whom I might flirt; 
 They were bent on charity, 
 
 And proijosed to make a night shirt, 
 
 For the gojj of some good cause, 
 Orphans or sucli weak chickens ; 
 
 I'd have ordered without jjause, 
 If the cause were at the dickens. 
 
 I ctllei agiin— to know 
 
 Of that work my ears were itchin', 
 When the ladies, quite aglow. 
 
 Told ma all about the stltchin'. 
 
 How 'twas cut out by one. 
 
 Its full length undiminished, 
 How the gussets they were done, 
 
 And how the whole was finished. 
 
 The coa^s were waxing low. 
 
 And fainter the flames' flashes ; 
 
 Like my hot youth's fervid glow, 
 What was once fire now was ashes. 
 
 I began to scratch my head, 
 
 Like some posed and puzzled varmint— 
 And I thouglit, I'll go to bed, 
 
 And try on the new garment.
 
 114 THE CHARITABLE NIGHT SHIRT. 
 
 Scarce got beneath tlie clothes, 
 My hand beneath my head, sir, 
 
 Fixed for a night's repose — 
 
 When I sprang clean out of bed, sir. 
 
 What was wrong ? O patience please — 
 Every fibre was a-twitchin'; 
 
 Those gussets stung like bees. 
 
 And like wasps the dainty stitchin'. 
 
 To pull it off I tried, 
 
 But it hugg'd mo close, oppressive; 
 And, while struggling, I espied 
 
 A sweet face most expressive; 
 
 And a form ! -I think, I swore 
 I ne'er saw au;;ht so splendid — 
 
 She but said: "You'll sleep no more, 
 Your nights of rest are ended." 
 
 And she smiled — gods ! how she smiled ! 
 
 And how her black eyes glistened ! 
 From my pangs I Avas beguiled, 
 
 As to that voice I listened. 
 
 I stooped to kiss her hand, 
 White as milk fresh from a dairy, 
 
 She drew back with curtsy bland, 
 And then vanish'd like a fairy. 
 
 And now I never sleep, 
 
 And I'm tortur'd as I told, sir, 
 
 And I think I sometimes weep, 
 With longing to behold her;
 
 THE CHARITABLE NIGHT SHIRT. 115 
 
 But from her I'm exiled, 
 
 That maid with face bewitchin'; 
 And the gussets drive me wild, 
 
 And I'm madden'd by the stitchin'. 
 
 •^-s^ I +^^+
 
 ( 116 ) 
 
 AN IRISH FAIR. 
 
 u 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE PEASANTS SONG IN "FAUST. 
 
 Now Paddy to the dancing flew, 
 His shirt was clean, his necktie new, 
 
 And Peggy's gown and face wert/ beaming; 
 Beneath the canvas every spark 
 Was gay as dewy morning's lark, 
 
 Yukheh ! Yukheh ! 
 
 Yukheizah 1 heizah ! heh ! 
 The fiddle sticks were screaming. 
 
 And Phelim sidled up to Proo, 
 And round her waist his arm drew, 
 
 The spalpeen sure was ravin'; 
 The modest colleen jumped aside, 
 Half crimson with offended pride, 
 Yukheh : Yukheh ! 
 Yukheizah 1 heizah ! heh T 
 Now don't be misbehavin'. 
 
 But at his smile oflence takes flight, 
 They dance to left, they dance to right. 
 Their hands their hips are clutching; 
 They grow quite red, they grow quite warm, 
 Then on they wander arm in arm, 
 
 Yukheh ! Yukheh ! 
 
 Yukheizah ! heizah ! heh ! 
 'Neath the trees their lips are touching.
 
 THE IRISH FAIR. 117 
 
 Come, come, sir, be not quite sabold. 
 Or you shall find that I can scold, 
 
 This is the way of men's betrayin'; 
 He comes the blarney, utters vows. 
 And on they roam 'neath blossomed boughs, 
 
 Yukheh ! Yukheh ! 
 
 Yukheizah ! heizah ! heh ! 
 And far from crowds the tVo are straying. 
 
 •^H5Hi^
 
 ( 118 ) 
 
 THE ROBIN AND THE WORM. 
 
 Time -the Quean's Bii-fchiay; Place —the hill, 
 I watch'd a robin ply his bill. 
 To see him operate I turned 
 From visions half-divine. I spurned 
 The sprayed white thunder of the falls, 
 The mountains robed in misty palls. 
 Quite Turneresque — that made them seem 
 Like things which rise up in a dream; 
 The circles of foam on the river's breast 
 Hurrying on to its Ocean rest; 
 The bowery green o'er the Lover's Walk; 
 A curious, delicious, fortuitous talk 
 With a pretty girl, drest in print; 
 No critic had said : " There's nothing in't. " 
 Like May with apple blossoms crown'd, 
 She was tall and fresh and slim and round ; 
 Nor rose, nor rose bud — but just between ; 
 The Venus de Milo at seventeen. 
 From her dainty hat — past the full white neck- 
 Down to her waist — like a mountain beck — 
 Fell a stream of dark brown hair. 
 She had moreover a certain air 
 Of being a saint. She carried a missal. 
 And looked as demure as a Pauline epistle. 
 I talked of the greyish tint of the skies. 
 But thouglit of the tint of her deep blue eyes.
 
 THE ROBIN AND THE WORM. 119 
 
 I carelessly said: "The City of Hull 
 
 Looks empty of life;" — But my heart was full. 
 
 r noted the youth on her cheeks that shone, 
 
 And sighed to tliink my youth was gone. 
 
 I marked the cross on her heaving breast, 
 
 The emblem of suffering in beautiful rest. 
 
 Years ago in old St. Ouen, 
 
 The finest church in Norman Rouen, 
 
 I used to meet a girl like this; 
 
 In the church we'd pray and outside we'd kiss. 
 
 She was deeply concern 'd for my future state; 
 
 I was absorbed in a nearer date. 
 
 We visited the churches old and quaint. 
 
 And paused at the shrine of many a saint. 
 
 One day when leaving St. Maclou I told her. 
 
 For me to love her, and to behold her, 
 
 Were one and the same; she blushed and said 
 
 Nothing whatever, but hung her head. 
 
 We met so often ! I drank her smiles, 
 
 While the organ roll'd thro' the lonely aisles. 
 
 In hours of practice, when the artist's hand 
 
 Made every nook of the building grand 
 
 Tremble with sonorous harmonyi, 
 
 Now sweet as streams and now strong as the seA. 
 
 I saw Iier last behind the grill 
 
 Of a convent. 
 
 Now for that robin's bill. 
 He moved about the level green, 
 As stately as some youthful queen, 
 Or some sweet dame at Rideau Hall, 
 Wlio with riis "Ex" leads off the baR
 
 120 THE ROBIN AND THE WORM. 
 
 He'd now retire, uiui now advance, 
 You'd think he practised some old dance. 
 At length he stood straight on the lawn, 
 And moved his head just like Sir John. 
 
 As the old Statesman eyes a paper, 
 Prepar'd by Blake to make him caper, 
 The robin eyed an opening where 
 A worm enjoyed the morning air. 
 " The questicm is shall this bill liass 1" 
 He said, and drove it in the grass. 
 He drew it back; the prize was won. 
 Said I: " That's not milike Sir John." 
 He tugged, and pulled, and strained about, 
 And now he had nine inches out. 
 But still the twelve-inch worm profound, 
 Like bold debater held his ground. 
 
 The robin tugg'd and tugg'd; leaned back; 
 
 I thought his little thighs would crack. 
 
 A long, long pull, and I could see, 
 
 Like some young fool of high degree. 
 
 The worm was done for — being free. 
 
 Said I: " The way you've drawn your worm. 
 
 Is not unlike the Premier's form. " 
 
 But here it seems the likeness ends. 
 If of the robin's foes or friends 
 I cannot say, but can avow, 
 • A little bird, from neighbouring bough. 
 Had watch'd the robin at his toil. 
 Silent he watch'd, nor did he spoil.
 
 THE ROBIN AND THE WORM. 121 
 
 By a distracting note, the will 
 With wliich that robin plied his bill. 
 
 But when the arduous job was over, 
 , jHe darted quickly from his cover, 
 And, without flutter of wings or pause. 
 He took the worm from out the jaws 
 Of the tired robin, who look'd dazed, 
 And stood a moment quite amazed, 
 Then slowly, sadly flew away, 
 Said 1: " Ah that's not like John A." ■ 
 
 But 'tis like many a mother's son; 
 We work, we strive; the prize is won ; 
 But when we come to claim the promise. 
 Some Jacob's ta'en the blessing from us. 
 The rythmic toiler earns his pay, 
 Which watchful cunning bears away. 
 
 From musing thus, I turn'd to see 
 
 A fellow, who'd been making a bobbin. 
 
 Had taken my girl, and treated me, 
 As the sparrow had treated the robin. 
 
 Ottawa, May 28th, 1884.
 
 ( 122 ) 
 
 REGINA.* 
 
 Verses supposed to be reoitcil on Victoria Street, ia the year of I he 
 
 City A. U. C. 22. 
 
 A pleasant city on a boundless plain, 
 
 Around rich land where peace and plenty reign; 
 
 A legal camp, the province wisdom's home, 
 
 A rich cathedral, learning's splendid dome; 
 
 A teeming mart, wide streets, broad squares, bright flowers, 
 
 A marble figure whence a fountain showers ~ 
 
 What city's this? A gentle princess, famed 
 
 For happy genius, it llegina named. 
 
 Its youth — (though born beneath a happy star) — 
 
 Was stormy, and each cur, from near and far, 
 
 Bark'd at tlie town; eacli ribald loudly talked, 
 
 Hirelings — projectors whose vile plans were balked. 
 
 They lied, they swore; loud was the ceaseless bray; 
 
 * The Winnipeg rimes of January 3rd, 1884, had a poena headed 
 "Pile of Bones" by Futuro. 
 
 " What mounds are those, carefully ploughed around ? 
 Some hunters' graves or Indian burial ground? 
 Not so, my friend — some twenty years gone by, 
 A town sprang up right here where you and I 
 Now stand, which first as Pile of Bones was known." 
 
 And the writer went on to abuse the water, etc. At the time one of 
 the foi'cmost writers in Canada was editing the Timefs, and was sup- 
 posed to have penned the verses. I did not think them worth answer- 
 ing, but on entering a store on Broad St.eet, a gentleman suggested I 
 should answer them. I thereupon took up a pen and wrote the above 
 impromptu. One of the prophecies is fulfilled— but I hope the Free 
 Press and Sun may long flourish, even though they should continue 
 to be ray bitter enemies.
 
 REGINA. 123 
 
 Reginans smiled — Regina held her way, 
 
 The while traducers perished one by one. 
 
 And fate o'ertook each guilty mother's son. 
 
 Failing to bleed the tenderfoot, they bled 
 
 Themselves, or like their sires by hempen thread 
 
 Expired; and Winnipeg the city where 
 
 Tkey lived and died, soon perished like a pear 
 
 That had the yellows. Long the Times is dead; 
 
 The Sun has s^t; the Free Fress' days are fled; 
 
 The lot of one wild scribbler stands alone; 
 
 The gods in anger turned him into stone, 
 
 And by an irony Ned called "divilish quare," 
 
 Made him a fountain in Regina's square, 
 
 And there he stands— no wonder you're amused — 
 
 gpouting the water he so oft abused. 
 
 -^
 
 124 SONNETS. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF A DINNER. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE LATE HON. J. B. PLUMB. 
 
 In other days round classic boards, I met 
 
 With those whose young brows bore the laurel, pure 
 From stain. Talking of art and strong to endure 
 
 All things, we felt youth's star could never set. 
 
 The wine I spurn now like aji anchoret. 
 
 But oft from out the past I fain would lure 
 The joyous wit, the impromptu portraiture, 
 
 The high philosophies which haunt me yet. 
 
 Fresh as those you gave us for a whet, 
 
 Apicius sent cool bivalves to his friend 
 
 In Parthia. INIany millions would he spend 
 
 On feasts colossal; but I'd make a bet 
 
 Thau yours a choicer did he never get, 
 
 And higher our young wits did ne'er ascend. 
 
 Ottawa, March 7th, 1884. 
 
 i'N©^*
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 125 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Sweeet is the moon above old English trees, 
 And sweet her light on dewy velvet lawns, 
 And sweet her pallid shade in purple dawns, 
 
 And passing sweet her sheen on languid seas. 
 
 O'er sleeping kine on broad-extending leas, 
 
 Dispersed o'er the darkling green like pawns, 
 
 Her light is sweet, and sweet wlien deep down yawn* 
 
 The abyss, or wliitens far wide prairies. 
 
 So friendship whcreso'er we go is sweet ; 
 
 Whate'er of loss or triumph we may share; 
 
 Whatever we endure, or do, or dare; 
 Nor can fate all be dark, if round our feet 
 
 Its rays are shed; however 'mersed in care, 
 Beauty and Peace amid life's shadows meet. 
 
 "^J^
 
 1 26 SONNETS. 
 
 TO E 
 
 Historic lights athwart thy brow are cast ; 
 
 And while I gaze on thee, from night's profound, 
 Bright forms, starry crown'd, come crowding round, 
 
 Their lucid outlines gleaming thro' the past. 
 
 'Twas with such eyes, the sorceress of Nile 
 Ambition charmed to rest in Caesar's heart. 
 And if Scotch Mary, playing foulest part. 
 
 Subdued men's reason, 'twas with such a smile. 
 
 See that thy beauty be no fatal dower. 
 
 Nor dull the heart, nor deaden the swift mind — 
 
 Beauty, — not certain for a single hour, — 
 The dazzling bird of youth no cord can bind: 
 
 To-day his luring lithe enchantments ihower 
 
 Divinity; to-morrow he's far down the mocking wind. 
 
 ^-£
 
 sill JOHN MACDONALD. 127 
 
 SIR JOHN MACJDOKALIJ, G. C. B. 
 
 CCMrOSED IN THE OPEltA HOUSE, TOliONTO, I>EC. 17, 1884. 
 
 The child of love and power and f;>me you came, 
 
 An Empire's sunshine on your classic brow; 
 You came to meet a people's loud acclaim — 
 
 The mighty future's murmur 'gainst the now: 
 And when that tide shall rise, with myriad sound, 
 
 Bearing imperial hopes upon its breast, 
 Laving full many a margent citj^-crown'd, 
 
 TJeflecting many a mountain's airy crest; 
 Then, like some beacon-bearing headland, yon 
 Shall tower on high, far seen across the blue. 
 To you, thro' lapsing years, shall turn the eyes 
 
 Of those who fain would read the statesman's chart, 
 And learji, when torrents roar and tempests rise, 
 
 To steer with wary hand and play a patriot's part. 
 
 ^Ti 
 
 ^|[7
 
 128 SONNETS. 
 
 LADY MACDONALD. 
 
 And now as fair a task, for 1 would sin« 
 
 Of one whose purpose does not falter; one 
 Whose name with his shall down the centuries ring. 
 
 And grow more bright with each recurring sun. 
 Ah ! dearer far than star a queen can dower. 
 
 And dearer than the people s loud acclaim, 
 A noble woman's welcome, and the power 
 
 Her touch can give, whose life is void of blame. 
 
 We build men statutes; did but Justice speak, 
 She'd say : Do likewise for those gentler lives. 
 
 Who hid away from public gaze, but seek 
 The selfless guerdon won by faithful wivei— 
 
 To do all love can do, all patience can. 
 
 And be the day-star of the work-worn, weary man. 
 
 '^1^
 
 A CHRISTMAS CARD. 129 
 
 A CUEIST MAS CARD. 
 
 The snowy v/aste all wild and wide. 
 
 The blizzard bellows on its way. 
 
 I see this card— the world's all May, 
 And you are sitting by my side. 
 This heart was ice an hour asco. 
 Now all the springs of feeling flow. 
 As 'mid the dance I see you glide, 
 
 While gay waltz music fills the air; 
 
 Or 'neath the moon — a happy pair — 
 We walk, nor care what may betide. 
 My heart swells glad with vanished bliss, 
 
 All, all before my fancy rise — 
 
 Your low sweet voice — your violet eyes- 
 Your lips, — your thrice perfervid kiss. 
 
 ^[I^
 
 130 SONNETS. 
 
 ABSENT. 
 
 Fair as the beauteous morning's golden beam 
 
 That glowing steals o'er dewy perfum'd flowers; 
 You come and linger in sad fancy's dream, 
 
 And happy pain beguiles the tortur'd hours, 
 I think you present — then my heart is glad; 
 
 I know you absent — then I fain would fly 
 To where you are —but must not — so I'm sad — 
 
 And rapture dies; my soothest song's a sigh. 
 
 The chains of love arc round me; I must love; 
 I cannot if I would, I would not free 
 Myself from his delightful slavery. 
 Affection rears a prison round, above 
 My tliought, and on the boundless, trackless sea, 
 Thy bondsman still, I'd still be thrall to thee. 
 
 ^-£
 
 ( 131 ) 
 
 A PRAIRIE DAWN— IN BUMMER. 
 
 A dull grey daivn was followed by a heaven 
 
 Offkint blu6 tint, with pillow}' clouds rolled high 
 
 Against the concave. Soon the sun, a mass 
 
 Of white and dazzling light was seen. Seen ! No: 
 
 Yon look'd, and turn'd, and blinding shadows played 
 
 Before your eyes. For lie had stolen behind 
 
 Great steely baits of vapour; gave no sign 
 
 Save some few yellow-crimson touches near 
 
 The horizon j)ale, which proved no herald raya, 
 
 But legacies of his eclipsed glory. 
 
 The clouds grew brighter, shone more pearly-white; 
 
 The horses stood but half awake, nor fed; 
 
 Lazily, languidly they switched their tails. 
 
 Up from the prairie rose the myriad songs 
 
 Of birds. Tlie bull-frog's plaintive note was heard 
 
 Tn pauses of the various melody. 
 
 The long legged night-hawk r.in along tiie track 
 
 And uttered his harsh -grating cry. The air 
 
 Was cool and balmy, odorous with scent 
 
 Of grass and flower. I sat me down to read. 
 
 My eyes I raised at intervals to watch 
 
 Put on a subtler polish the bright clouds. 
 
 Three Indians clad in cast-ofl" cloches of whites, 
 
 .AH lank and dirty, listless, came and sat 
 
 A short way off. Towards seven the sun grew hot 
 
 And made one long for branching bowery trees, 
 
 With their cool shadows and their murmuring leaves.
 
 ( 1-^2 ) 
 
 TRANSLATION OF GOETHE'S DEE KOENIG 
 
 IN THULE. 
 
 In Thule lived a noble king, 
 
 All faithful to the grave; 
 Uini, dying, his love — 0, sacred thing ! 
 
 A gulden beaker gave. 
 
 More prized than all his wealth beside. 
 
 He drained it every meal; 
 Each time he quaffed its rosy tide, 
 
 The tears began to steal. 
 
 And when death claimed him as his slave, 
 
 His towns he reckoned up. 
 All to his heir he gladly gave. 
 
 But not that golden cup. 
 
 A rich, right royal feast for all 
 
 His faithful knights made he, 
 There in his high, ancestral hall. 
 
 In his castle by the sea. 
 
 And there the aged toper rose; 
 
 He drinks life's last glad glow, 
 And then the sacred cup he throws 
 
 Into the waves below. 
 
 He sees it fall, fill, disappear 
 
 Beneath the deep, deep sea. 
 Then closed his eyes without a tear. 
 
 And no more a drop drank he.
 
 
 YOUNG CANADA. 
 
 'The hulkini? yuuij: Ki.'iiit bcyfuid St. Lawn iica and (he Lakes." 
 W. D. Howcliri ill •■ Thtir Wedding Juurncy. 
 
 A youtliful giant, golden-haired, 
 
 With fearless forehead, eye of blue, 
 
 And large and clear its frosty depths. 
 With fire within its darkn'ing hue. 
 
 His spear which dwnrfs tlic tallest pine, 
 
 Is bound around with ye'MWf grain, 
 His shield is rich in varied scenes. 
 
 To right and left loud roars the main. 
 
 A-top eternal snow is piled; 
 
 Bright chains of lakes flash down through woods 
 Now bleak, now green, now gold, now fire, 
 
 Touched by the season's changing moods. 
 
 He dreanieth of unborn times; 
 
 W'ith manhood's thoughts his mind is braced; 
 He'll teach the world a lesson yet. 
 
 And wit'i the mightiest must be placed. 
 
 Heaven's best star his footsteps quide ! 
 
 Give him to know what's truly great ! 
 Not wealth ill-got or ill-enjoyed; 
 
 For power— no thrall to lust or hate;
 
 134 NATIONAL POEMS. 
 
 But equal heart -the thirst for truth — 
 A mind strong to produce aad pry — 
 
 The love of inm -the generous he-it 
 Thnh mak^s tlio hero ula'i to die ! 
 
 If pure in purpose as he's strong, 
 
 Nothing of danger need he fear; 
 But better far than base success, 
 
 To ride on a:i untimely bier. 
 
 But fear be hushed I (rood omens beckon; 
 
 Who counselled wrong will soon be far. 
 Beyond the hill a voice is calling, 
 
 Its notes ring clear above the jar 
 
 Of passing strifes and paling passions -~ 
 Hell's wild battle 'mid mortal graves; 
 
 And with it, hark ! the great bass mingles 
 Of Atlantic and Pacific waves: 
 
 "Not Scotjh, nor Irish, Freucl , noi- Saxon, 
 But all of these and yet our own; 
 
 There are no beaten paths to greatness; 
 
 Who'd scale those heights must climb alone. 
 
 lerne's heart, compact of joy 
 
 And sorrow, wealth of feeling brings; 
 
 France, sweetness for each word and act — 
 The gaiety that ever sings. 
 
 From Scotland, thrift and strength you borrow— 
 John Knox's strength and Burns' liberal heart; 
 
 The Saxon breadth and compromise 
 Shall lend; but you the larger part
 
 YOUNG CANADA. 
 
 Of your own destiny must be ; 
 
 Yours to direct — you light the fire — 
 The animating soul's your gift, 
 
 For all fair things the high desire. " 
 
 The voice dies o'er the dews of morning, 
 Which round him glitter while shadows flee. 
 
 Bright concord beams from shore to shore, 
 Glad union peals from sea to sea ! 
 
 April, 1878. 
 
 135
 
 136 NATIONAL PUEMS, 
 
 FOR WARD. 
 
 Who sneers she's but a colony — 
 
 No national spii-it there; 
 Race ditferences, faction's feuds 
 
 Her flag to tatters tear 'I 
 
 Wliab rises o'er those snowy plains ? 
 
 What flouts the Western sky ? 
 Whence on tlie virgin Avhite those stains ? 
 
 Whose is that crimson dye 'i 
 
 Rebeli ion's ensign blots the blue, 
 
 And mars its fretwork gold, 
 And near those stains of crimson hue, 
 
 Canadian hearts lie cold. 
 
 Another ensign I Trumjjets ring ! 
 
 A youth this flag ujiholds; 
 And lo ! from every side men spring 
 
 And range beneath its folds. 
 
 Nor race, nor creed, the patriot's sword, 
 
 Nor faction blunts to-day. 
 "Forward for Canada !" 's the word, 
 
 And, eager for the fray. 
 
 Our youth press on and carpers shame. 
 
 Their bearing bold and high. 
 For this young nation's peace and fame. 
 
 Ready to do or die.
 
 FORWARD, 137 
 
 They come from hamlet and from town. 
 
 From hill and wood and glade, 
 From where great palaces look down 
 
 On streets that roar with trade; 
 
 From whence by floe and rocky bar. 
 
 The Atlantic's held in check; 
 From where Wolfe's glory, like a star. 
 Shines down on old Quebec; 
 
 From where Mount Royal rises proud 
 
 O'er Cartier's city fair; 
 From where Chaudiere with thundercloud, 
 Flings high its smoke in air ; 
 
 From pleasant cities rich and old 
 
 That gem Ontario's shore; 
 From where Niagara's awful plunge 
 
 Makes its eternal roar ; 
 
 From each new town, just sprung to life. 
 
 Mid flowery prairies wide; 
 From where first Riel kindled strife 
 
 To Calgary's rapid tide 
 
 Upon the field, all rancour healed, 
 
 There's no discordant hue; 
 The Orange marches with the Green, 
 
 The Rouge beside the Bleu. 
 
 One purpose now fires every eye. 
 
 Rebellion foul tt) slay, 
 " Forward for Canada !" 's the cry, 
 
 And all are one to-day.
 
 138 NATIONAL POEMS. 
 
 A SOI^G OF CANADA. 
 
 Columbia growls. 
 
 We care not, we, 
 
 We are young and strong and free. 
 
 The storm-defying oak's great sap 
 
 Swells in the twig. 
 
 A breath of power stirs round us from each sea, 
 
 And, big with future greatness, 
 
 Our hearts beat high and bold, 
 
 Like growing seas that smite the cliffs to dust. 
 
 You cannot make us blench. 
 
 The sons of freemen we, we must be fre^. 
 
 Heroic milk is white upon our gums 
 
 Where lion's teeth will grow; 
 
 You cannot make us fear; 
 
 With rythmic step we move on to the goal. 
 
 A nation's destiny is bright 
 
 Within our eyes, 
 Deep-mirror'd in heroic will; 
 The future years Lke Banquo's issue pass: 
 
 A crown is there. 
 No tinsel croAvn of Kings, no bauble; 
 
 A people's sovereign will. 
 The crown of manhood in its noblest use. 
 Freedom, men wcilhy of her great reward.
 
 A SONG OF CANADA. I2d 
 
 Let the wolf growl, 
 The lion's whelp is undismayed. 
 A better part the child of VN'ashington 
 Might play to-day — 
 
 'To shun the jealousies, and shame the greed, 
 Which deluged earth with blood; 
 To reach a sister's hand, 
 To hold the faith which yet will rule. 
 That nations may be great and near. 
 
 Live side by side, and yet 
 Keep adamantine muzzles on the beagles of the grave, 
 And with the glance of Justice strike 
 
 Fell Slaughter dead. 
 
 Let the wolf howl. 
 
 Look to the West, 
 
 And note the giant's strides; 
 
 Then turn from feasts of hell, 
 
 From mumbling bones of faction. 
 
 And sweep back to obscure night, 
 
 The bat-like lives, 
 
 Whose wings are made in dark corruption's loom. 
 
 Bestial mediocrities, 
 Whose eyes blear at the light, 
 And through the sacred edifice of our hopes. 
 Wherein they snugly build. 
 
 Hold erring flight. 
 And mock the spirit of the mighty fane. 
 
 And stain with ordure 
 The altar-cloth of Liberty.
 
 49 NATIONAL VOEMS. 
 
 O Canada ! My country ! 
 
 What is there thou might'st not do 
 
 Tf truth and honour guide thy steps ? 
 
 Arise ! To-day thy need is men ! 
 
 Men full of all lore, 
 
 And master of this too, 
 
 Men of brain and heart and will, 
 
 Men who scorn base lucre's lures; 
 
 Men of such breed, where are they ? 
 
 Factions which keep thy pocket lean, 
 
 And t<jrture fact. 
 And blind thine eyes to truth, 
 
 Repress the wise. 
 But many a one true as the great of old 
 
 Is thine. 
 Awake ! Thou drowsing child of destiny ! 
 Awake ! Escape from clinging phantasms, 
 Soar free from shams and shibboleths, 
 To find thy kingly men— thy greatest need; 
 
 Thy first of duties 
 To hear and hearken to the voice of truth. 
 
 Columbia, crying out like Rome 
 
 And echoing Cato, 
 Touch with the. present must forego, 
 Losing to-day she'll lose to-morrow too. 
 But thou — draw into all thy life 
 
 The genius of the time; 
 Of Justice, Truth; Court Honour's smile; 
 Then mayest thou laugh at threats^ 
 And win a happier, greater fate
 
 A SONG OF CANADA. 141 
 
 Than ownecl the empires of the past, 
 
 In palmiest days of power. 
 Awake ! the dawn is tripping on the hills; 
 
 The day's at hand; 
 ' ■* 1 see a nation young, mature, and free, 
 
 Step down the mountain side, 
 To take her proud place in the fields of time, 
 
 And thou art she ! « 
 
 September, 1888. 
 
 3-*-E
 
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