Chapter III: Canto THE THIRD: I

Below me, as I stand upon this mount, I see, in panoramic view displayed So clearly that with ease I could recount The mighty buildings and the ships fast stayed Within the harbour, Montreal, the port Of Canada, and once its chiefest fort.

II.

And, winding through the valley, I can see St. Lawrence river, and the fields beyond Of corn and pasture land. The scenery Reminds me of my native land, and fond, Yet sad and sorrow-laden, memories Possess me as the vision meets my eyes.

III.

My native land! still, still I think of thee; By day and night the oft-recurring thought Brings intermingled pain and joy to me. And oft I curse the fortune which has brought These days of exile and of solitude To one who longs for peace and quietude.

IV.

My life has not been sinless, yet what sin Have I committed that my punishment Should be so great! An aching heart within Still makes me sorrowful. Why was I sent, Far from my home, to wander lonely here, Apart from those whose love I hold so dear?

V.

I met and loved her whom I may not wed, And, ere I knew that she could not be mine, I thought that God upon my life had shed A brighter light than had been wont to shine. And, sure, this power cometh from above; He teacheth us to love, whose name is Love.

VI.

And since He giveth us this love, oh! why Doth He not smooth the path of love, and hear The prayer of those who in their anguish cry To Him for help, and in their godly fear Rely upon His aid? And why hath He Prepared this pain and agony for me?

VII.

Be still my soul; it is not thine to take Thy God to task. Canst thou forget the pain And agony He suffered for thy sake? Or canst remember these and not restrain Thyself from challenging thy God? Be still, And bow submissive to thy Father's will.

VIII.

'Twas man condemned me to a life of woe, And 'twas not God. The pride of man hath said That I must suffer thus. It must be so Because the baronet was nobler bred. Oh, cruel, cruel wrong! Oh mockery! That bluer blood should sever her from me!

IX.

Give thanks to God, Canadians, that ye Have not been cursed with nobility. And, as you love your country, keep it free From those whose utter inutility For any good is proven by their pride Of blood; they have not aught to boast beside.

X.

A noble land is yours, and ye may well Be proud of her. And here before me lies Your greatest city. Would that I could tell One-half the tales of brave self-sacrifice Which those who founded Montreal had shown, Ere yet the name of Canada was known.

XI.

But, should I strive to speak of every deed Of sacrifice and brave endurance borne By all your heroes, I should feel the need Of greater time, and heart less sorrow-worn; Nor have the Muses so inspired my pen That I can fitly praise those noble men.

XII.

Yet would I strive to sing as best I may Of him who landed first upon this shore; I fain would speak of hardy Cartier: His ship the first St. Lawrence ever bore; His face the first pale-face the Indians Had seen; his deeds well merit utterance.

XIII.

Three centuries and half a century Have sped their course since Cartier set sail From France, intent upon discovery. He oft had heard the wonder-stirring tale Of distant lands possessed of mighty wealth; These now he would discover for himself.

XIV.

And westward sailing on his unknown way, In course of time he met his due reward; And sailed this noble river on the day Made holy to St. Lawrence. He implored The blessing of the Saint upon his aim, And called the gulf and river by his name.

XV.

Then, landing on the wooded shore, he knelt Before his God, and offered up a prayer To Him, to show the gratitude he felt Towards the God whose hand had brought him there In safety. And he asked for further aid And guidance in the land where now he stayed.

XVI.

When men were more unlearned than they are In this our present scientific day, The earth to heaven seemed to be more near, And God Himself appeared less far away. For deeds accomplished, or for blessings given, Due praise was offered to the God of Heaven.

XVII.

But now our wise philosophers, and those Whose scientific knowledge is so vast That he who knows what has escaped them knows What is not worth the knowing; these, at last, Have reached to such a pinnacle of pride, That God Himself is little by their side.

XVIII.

In truth, their learning has become so great That their imagination can conceive No being mightier than they, and, straight, In God's existence they will not believe. And men untutored listen to their word, And deem those foolish who believe the Lord.

XIX.

But Cartier was living in an age When Science in her cradle was asleep, And men accounted not themselves too sage To bow to God in prayer, nor to reap The benefits which only can accrue To those whose faith in God is pure and true.

XX.

So he besought a blessing from his Lord Before he re-embarked; then, setting sail, The newly-christened river he explored, Till, favored by a gently-blowing gale, He reached the Hochelaga settlement Of Indians, and thence no further went.

XXI.

A hundred years elapsed, and then there came A little band from France to yonder isle; To found a mission and a fort their aim; And there they laboured for their faith, the while Protecting them as best they might from those Who proved themselves their fierce and bitter foes.

XXII.

The Iroquois, by cruel hate possessed, Left not a chance untaken to obtain A reeking scalp; and fiercely they oppressed The little band, whose suffering and pain, In Montreal and all throughout the land, Seemed more than human frailty could withstand.

XXIII.

But Maisonneuve and they who followed him Were bent upon a high and holy aim; Their undertaking was no foolish whim, Nor had they come for honour or for fame. A Jesuitic band, they sought to win Those Indians from a life of death and sin.

XXIV.

They sought to win them to the faith which they Themselves possessed, and thought it not a hard, Nor yet an unexpected, thing to lay Their own lives down to win them. Their reward They counted not to win on earth, but knew That each in Heaven would gain the glory due.

XXV.

What though the Jesuitic creed be not As true and generous a faith as that Which we profess; what though a bloody blot Has stained its page of history; the great And worthy deeds those fathers wrought should raise A feeling in our hearts of loving praise.

XXVI.

They suffered for their God and for their Pope; They suffered for their faith, to them as true And pure as ours to us, and in the hope That God would bless their labours, and endue The savage Indians with a softer heart, And give them with the blessed ones a part.

XXVII.

_They_ merit praise and honour, but the cause For which they laboured merits none of these; A cruel creed, with harsh and bloody laws, The very name of Christ it travesties. An evil Order, working in the name Of Christianity dark deeds of shame.

XXVIII.

He whom they call their Master suffered not His followers to mingle in the strife Of politics--not such their chosen lot; Theirs to prepare men for a higher life. And yet He bade them to their king be true, And offer unto Caesar all his due.

XXIX.

But this do not the Jesuits; they fain Would undermine the power of the land In which they dwell, and every effort strain To take the civil sceptre in their hand. They creep, as serpents, smoothly on their prey, But subtly spread their poison in the way.

XXX.

And these, Canadians, have found a home Within your shores. Ye know not what ye do In harb'ring them. Be sure the day will come When ye will bitterly and sadly rue Your action. Other lands will not permit The entrance of the hated Jesuit.

XXXI.

But why should I presume to thus dictate To ye? And what know I of all the things Which influence your Ministers of State, That I should utter forth these murmurings? By greed and selfish motives unpossessed, They, in their wisdom, must do what is best!

XXXII.

I stand upon the hill at Ottawa, And stretching wide before me lies a scene Of pretty lowland country. Near and far, The river Ottawa winds on between The wooded slopes and meadow-lands, where lie The lazy cattle chewing silently.

XXXIII.

The scene is unimposing; there is nought Of grandeur or magnificence displayed; But by its quiet prettiness is brought A sense of calm enjoyment--hill and glade And peaceful meadow, all alike suggest Sweet thoughts of still serenity and rest.

XXXIV.

The face of Nature, for the student's mind, Provides a subject inexhaustible. And, in its study, weary men may find A solace for the troubles caused by all The sorrows and afflictions which must be The lot of all, of high or low degree.

XXXV.

The mountain, by its grandeur, testifies To His omnipotence who placed it there; The rushing, mighty torrent verifies His ceaseless working; and His constant care And kindliness is proven by the still And growing meadow, and the purling rill.

XXXVI.

Thus, whatsoever his environment, The sorrow-stricken one can find a balm, Which should assuage his moody discontent, Replacing it by trustfulness and calm. For God reveals Himself in every place, And writes His presence on Creation's face.

XXXVII.

And here I feel a quiet peace unfelt In all my solitary wanderings Before. My heavy troubles seem to melt Away, and Faith a calm contentment brings, And all my misery aside is thrown; He cares for me who cares for all His own.

XXXVIII.

A pile majestic and magnificent, Of lofty buildings, stands upon this hill; Unequalled elsewhere on the continent, It well bespeaks the architective skill Displayed in this our nineteenth century; And clothes the city with its dignity.

XXXIX.

Within these walls are gathered in debate The statesmen and the legislators, who Are learned in the matters of the State. Alike to God and to their country true These men should be, and high above the rest Exalted, seeking not self-interest.

XL.

These hold the country's welfare in their hand. A mighty trust to them has been consigned. They know their duty, and should understand What acts will echo best the people's mind; And they should act, in matters small or great, As wisdom and their consciences dictate.

XLI.

Thus should they act, but thus do not they all, But mildly bow to their Dictator's bid; They fear to disobey him, lest they fall Quick victims to his anger, or be chid Severely by the leader, in whose power It lies to give his slaves official dower.

XLII.

Thus is a heavy premium placed upon A blind obedience and servility; And high position hardly can be won Except by meekness and docility: By meekness where assertion would be right; By weak docility where should be might.

XLIII.

And they, the Ministers of State, who hold The gift of the office and the nation's trust, From long retained authority grow bold, And, almost flagrantly, they dare adjust The national affairs in such a way As best will serve them, and protract their sway.

XLIV.

But not too far do they attempt to go In serving self. There stands an arbiter To whom they must appeal; were this not so, Their conscientiousness might not deter The country's servants from committing deeds To hinder which their shame now intercedes.

XLV.

And yet, methinks, the arbiter to whom They must appeal is far too liberal, Or far too careless. When the day has come In which a judgment must be given on all The actions of their Ministers of State, The people are too mild and moderate.

XLVI.

Or they forget the misdeeds of the past-- Misdeeds which well deserve a harder name, And which at first provoked a stormy blast Of anger, and aroused a sense of shame Within the people's hearts--these are forgot, Though on the Nation's life they leave a blot.

XLVII.

They are forgot; for party feelings run More high than love of country, and the man, Who can defeat the chosen champion Of an opposing party, will obtain A full forgiveness for his deeds of shame, And crown himself with all a hero's fame.

XLVIII.

Not Liberal and not Conservative Alone compels my wrath; to either party My feeble but impartial pen would give A condemnation passionate and hearty; Each sees the wreck the Catholic has made In Canada, and each implores his aid.

XLIX.

Each begs support for only selfish ends; Unfired with love for Britain's Queen they cry, And seek to make the Catholics their friends For party purposes; their loyalty Bombastically swearing, each bows down To those inimical to Britain's Crown.

L.

'Tis hate of bigotry, they glibly shout, Impels their tolerance: Oh! take that word And bid the feet of License crush it out; For License now is undisputed lord. Let not the bigot live,--_but nurse the snake_ _That brings the Inquisition in its wake!_

LI.

See where, in old Quebec, its Premier Uplifts the Tricolor, and waves it high. While shouts un-English rend the poisoned air To greet the new-born Nationality; And hear Ontario's Minister confess His joy for this, a Liberal success!

LII.

And is it bigotry to interfere When treason stalks triumphant through the land? Will none but bigots hear the traitors cheer, Nor long to raise aloft the armed hand? Your ancestors would not account it so; And English hearts would burn to strike the blow.

LIII.

Tear down that flag! in God's name and the Queen's. Will not the Red Cross Banner rouse your zeal? Tear down that flag! and let who intervenes Bite hard the dust beneath your iron heel. Tear down that flag!--Oh, Canada! bow, bow Your shameful head in deep contrition now.

LIV.

What wonder, since your party deeds alone Absorb your thought and wake your energy, That insurrection's seeds are widely sown, And voice is given to dark disloyalty? Ye clothe your land in insurrection's dress, And nurse disloyalty, by callousness.

LV.

And I, though sojourning a stranger here, Will dare to raise my voice in condemnation, When words unwelcome to an English ear Are heard re-echoing without cessation; The while accursed party interests Drive patriotic thoughts from out your breasts.

LVI.

I marvel not that politicians stand In ill repute with honourable men, While, through the length and breadth of this fair land, They mark themselves with party's evil stain, And enter in the field of politics For selfish ends attained by shameless tricks.

LVII.

Yet are not politicians in one mould All fashioned; there are honest men and true Who serve their country, not for love of gold Or fame, but for the good that they can do. Would God that these, and these alone, held sway Within your senates, Canada, to-day!

LVIII.

But politics shall occupy my thought No more. I turn with deep relief away From that which lack of principle has brought To premature and undeserved decay. Perchance, from out the ashes where it lies, True statesmanship may, phoenix-like, arise.

LIX.

The sun is setting, and its shining rays Reflect them redly on the river's breast, Which now an iridescent gleam displays, Which, like a mighty opal, is possessed With ever-changing hues of brilliancy; As sets the sun their light I still can see.

LX.

The twilight hour approaches--silent hour For calm reflection or communion, When, in a quiet, unfrequented bower, Fond lovers whisper as they sit alone. And I would send a greeting to the one Whose heart with mine still beats in unison.

* * * * *

My Love, my own Sweetheart,
Let sorrow not be thine,
Though still we live apart,
The lamp of Hope must shine.

And, shedding on our path
The light of trustfulness
And never-failing faith,
'Twill make our sorrow less.

Let Hope then ever be
At home within thy breast,
And know God loveth thee,
And knoweth what is best.

He careth for the trees,
For every beast and bird;
And thinkest thou thy pleas
In Heaven are unheard?

Nay, God has heard each prayer,
And He will answer thee.
Trust to His loving care,
And live thou patiently.

And when the looked-for day
Of happiness and rest
Has come, we both shall say
"God truly knew the best."

And fondly to my heart
I'll press thee, dearest Life;
And none us two shall part,
For thou wilt be my wife.