With this bright audience fanning fond desire,
Well may the wish to please our hearts inspire;
Well may old Erin's, England's, Scotland's lays
Be sung as ne'er before, to win your praise,—
For, have we not in this bright companie
A guest illustrious who can claim to be
By right of blood linked to those nations three !
And thou, loved lady, whose fair presence shows
How sweetly blends the Thistle with the Rose,
Will not, however partial to Argyll,
List aught less pleased some lay of Erin's Isle.
Daughter of our good Queen! beloved by all,
Not only for her sake: Heaven, prodigal,
Has showered upon thyself such graces rare
As well may claim men's homage everywhere;
Stars like to thee need no reflected light
To magnify their native lustre bright.
If therefore here, we, in our joy elate,
The Princess in the woman may forget,
It must be owned we have a reason good
In thine own gentle, perfect womanhood—
Thy winning ways-thy speech and looks benign,
Making all hearts in thy fair presence thine,—
Just what we all were taught to hope for in
The gifted daughter of our glorious Queen.
MAC-CAILEIN'S son! 'twere strange indeed if we
A greeting aught less loyal gave to thee—
Thou whose bright promise well should make us all to Be proud to give thee a "Ciad mile failte"!
Long may this land, fair-spreading far away,
Delight to boast of thy vice-regal sway.
Too much inherits thou of patriot fire
To make us doubt thy purpose to aspire
Our welfare to advance-our love to win-
No matter who the party, "out" or "in,"-
Nor less to lead us all to keep in view
That to be noble is to nobly do,—
That truthful lives are more than rank or station,
That righteousness alone exalts a nation.
Thus thus alone-a people truly free
We, in" this Canada of ours," may be;
Thus may we lifted be to virtues Spartan
'Neath the congenial shadow of the Tartan!
So much by way of prologue: Ere away
We bow ourselves, this further we would say,—
If, after starting in a key so crouse,
We may not just at once" bring down the house,"
We trust it may be owned that, ne'ertheless,
We are, upon the whole—“ a great success
THE WORLD AS IT GOES.
THIS life has mysteries we may not hope
To solve, or trying, find we thrive but ill,—
Things which, in our imperfect summing up,
Seem scarce accordant with high Heaven's will.
Talents God-given in the devil's pay,
Honesty crush'd where rascals make their "pile,”Knaves in high places wielding wicked sway,— Shams palace-housed and patriots in exile ;—
The poor made by oppression still more poor,-
The homage due to modest worth denied.
Till, all too late, some rich man opes his door
And finds his neighbour perishing outside !—
Loved ones, whose presence made our homes a heaven, Untimely carried to the silent tomb;
Friends, whose dear sight we would forever live in, Estranged or doomed in foreign lands to roam ;
Fond hearts ne'er mated, or but mated ill;
The good and true linked to the vile and base;Creatures as angels pure and beautiful
Yielding to clowns what should be Love's embrace !
In vain we darkly grope, in vain surmise
How such things can be: Wise alone is he
Who is content to let such mysteries
Find a solution in the life to be.
(Written during the Howe Annexation movement in Nova Scotia, in 1868.)
SHALL the star that to empire late pointed our way
Be quenched all so soon? Our proud answer be, Nay!
Though dimmed for a moment, yet quickly shall shine
More brightly than ever that herald benign.
Let cowards cry halt, yet its course we'll pursue;
Halloo then for Union! Halloo, boys, halloo !
Old Milton once sung of a spirit so fell,.
Than second in bliss, he'd the first be in-bale :
Such spirits turn up every now and again;
I fear we have one somewhere down by the main :
Ambition so blind must itself quick undo;
Halloo, then for Union! Halloo, boys, halloo !
Let Jonathan banish his vain hopes forlorn;
As friends, we can greet him-as foes, we can scorn ;—
Our good ship Dominion will ne'er woo the fray,
Yet woe to the pirate that crosses her way!
The flag at her masthead was always "true blue;"
Halloo then for Union! Halloo, boys, halloo !
Would Canada prosper, a land without peer-
The Atlantic her front, the Pacific her rear,-
The watchword must now be of one and of all,
Henceforward, together we flourish or fall!
As brothers thus banded, to dare is to do:
Halloo then for Union! Halloo, boys, halloo !
(Written for the Kingston Caledonian Society's Games of 1863.)
On to our gathering! Highlanders, on !
Sons of the Lowlands! come every one;
Let all who love Scotland the blue bonnet don,
And joyfully come to our Gathering!
The Games styled Olympic were grand in their day,
Yet nothing to match with our coming display:
In all manly pastimes the Scot leads the way;
Hurrah then, hurrah for our Gathering!
Would you see kilted lads of the manliest frame,
Would you hear the Piob-mhor played in manner supreme,
Would you see feats performed that would Hercules shame,
Then take care that you miss not our Gathering.
Ye who deem the famed Feine extinct as a race,
Believe me that this is by no means the case ;—
'Neath the graceful "Glengarry" their features to trace
You have only to come to our Gathering.
Come Celt and come Saxon, come Teuton and Gaul;
A right Highland Welcome we offer you all :
Each true Caledonian, proud of our call,
Will exultantly join in our gathering!
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