Chapter IV

And her soul is drinking the music that flows through the golden lyre,
From the deeps of the woods and waters and wonderful hearts of men,
From the long-hushed songs of the forest, the wild, primeval choir,
Till she feels the breath of the Spirit move over her face again.

1.

Of the shadowy distant ages,
(This is the song they sing),
That scorn historic pages,
When the Maple alone was king;
When the bears were lords of creation,
The beaver’s the only trade,
And the greatest Confederation
Was that which the wolves had made.

2.

And then, long ages after,
How the first of the forest men,
With sounds of war and laughter,
Invaded the wild beast’s den;
They tell of the axe’s ringing,
Of the camp-fire’s savage glee,
Of the pipe of peace and the singing
Under the maple tree.

3.

And how strange birds of ocean
Came from the dawn of day,
And woke untold commotion,
Where’er they winged their way;
How pale-faced men and cruel
Carried the sword and brand,
In search of gold and jewel,
Into the red man’s land.

4.

How, with the warriors, others
Of gentle manners came,
Who called the red men brothers
And told them of His Name,
Who came from the Great Spirit,
To bless mankind and save;
And who, for man’s demerit,
Suffered the cross and grave.

5.

How still in spite of preaching
Of brotherhood and peace,
It seemed that war’s stern teaching
Should never, never cease;
How blood was shed like water,
How treaties were despised,
How massacre and slaughter
Were night and day devised.

6.

How, in the course of seasons,
Other strange ocean birds
Brought violence and treasons,
And smooth, deceitful words;
And how the first pale-faces
Fought with the last who came,
Until a war of races
Set all the woods aflame.

7.

How valiant deeds and noble
Shone out amid the night,
Illuming scenes of trouble,
With Heaven’s blessed light;
How oft, in human nature,
Though wofully defaced,
Was seen some god-like feature--
A flower in a waste;

8.

Till now, through God’s good guiding,
Those who as foemen strove,
With heart in heart confiding,
As brothers join in love;
Till, from lake, sea and ocean,
Mountain and woody dell,
Is heard, with glad emotion,
Division’s passing-bell.

V.

So she hears, not in words, but in spirit, the changeful tale of the past,
As she leans to the sun with veins that are blue like the
blue of the sky,
Hears with a smile on her lips that the demon Division is cast
Into the river of death, as a monster worthy to die.

VI.

And she hears many tongues of men, that are singing as one in her praise,
Calling her, all, by one name, a name that is noble and old,
Singing a pæan of joy for the light of the gladdest of days,
Making a noise of thanksgiving for union more precious than gold.