Thoughts, Moods and Ideals: Crimes of Leisure Part 6

All you who on your acres broad, Know nature in its charms, With pictured dale and fruitful sod, And herds on verdant farms, Remember those who fought the trees And early hards.h.i.+ps braved, And so for us of all degrees All from the forest saved.

And you who stroll in leisured ease Along your city squares, Thank those who there have fought the trees, And howling wolves and bears.

They met the proud woods in the face, Those gloomy shades and stern; Withstood and conquered, and your race Supplants the pine and fern.

Where'er we look, their work is there; Now land and men are free: On every side the view grows fair, And perfect yet shall be.

The credit's theirs, who all day fought The stubborn giant hosts: We have but built on what they wrought; Theirs were the honor-posts.

Though plain their lives and rude their dress, No common men were they; Some came for scorn of slavishness That ruled lands far away; And some came here for conscience' sake, For Empire and the King; And some for Love a home to make, Their dear ones here to bring.

First staunch men left, for Britain's name, The South's prosperity; And Highland clans from Scotland came-- Their sires had aye been free; And England oft her legions gave To found a race of pluck, And ever came the poor and brave And took the axe and struck.

Each hewed, and saw a dream-like home!-- Hewed on--a settlement!

Struck hard--through mists the spire and dome The distant rim indent!

So honored be they midst your ease, And give them well their due, Honor to those who fought the trees And made a land for you!

CANADIAN FAITH.

I.

In the name of many martyrs Who have died to save their country, Poured their fresh blood bravely for it, And our soil thus consecrated; In the name of Brock the peerless, In the name of Spartan Dollard, Wolfe and Montcalm--world's and ours-- The high spirit of Tec.u.mseh; Of the eight who fell at Cut Knife, Bright in early bloom and courage, When our youth leapt up for trial; In the names of thousand others Whom we proudly keep remembered As our saviours from the Indian, From the savage and the rebel, Or from Hampton, or Montgomery By Quebec's old faithful fortress; And at Chrysler's Farm and Lundy; And upon the lakes and ocean; Or who lived us calmer service;-- Many is the roll, and sacred;-- In their names a voice is calling, Through this native land of ours!

Hark, for we have need to listen!

All our martyrs warn and shame us.

Do not let them see us cowards!

Why are all these faint-heart whispers In the very hour of progress?

Tattles of disquiet vex us, And among us are new enemies-- Cowards, weak, ign.o.ble whiners, Esaus, placemen, low-browed livers, Traitors, salesmen of a nation.

Some would have us drop despondent And convince us we are nothing.

(Us of whom ten thousand heroes. .h.i.therto to here have conquered And we _must_ be faithful to them!) Some are hypocrites and cynics; Some would wreck us; some would leave us; Even in the hour of peril Would the hand of many fail us; They would almost make to falter Our old simple faith in G.o.d.

Therefore this appeal, O brothers, Earnestly do I adjure you To believe and trust your country.

By the glorious star of England, s.h.i.+ning mast-high o'er all oceans; In the name of France the glorious; In the world-proud name of Europe; Whence you draw your great traditions; I adjure you trust your country!

By all n.o.ble thoughts of manhood; By the toil of your forefathers; By their sacrifices for you; By the Loyalist tradition; And your own heart's generous instincts; I adjure you be Canadian.

II.

"Is there a place, a work, a rank Our Canada is called to fill:-- She has but struggled till she sank Hers is it but to toil and till: No seat among the peoples ours."-- So speaks the Tempter in our bowers.

So soft he presses on his bonds:-- But hark! a softer voice responds:

"Behold, Canadians, this your place, Your task, your rank, in earth _and heaven_ To make you an especial race To G.o.d and human progress given."

Too holy is the task for jeers, Too lofty to permit of fears.

Ign.o.ble is the fear of loss; The call of honour _all_ demands!

What thought those generous hearts of dross Who sowed our races in these lands?

Who blames the Loyalist of pelf?

Champlain, what cared he for himself?

Ign.o.ble is the dread of harm:-- Expurge it for a n.o.bler creed!

Until we smile at all alarm Poor will be our Canadian breed.

He may not count on victories Who will not die as patriot dies.

Ign.o.ble the consent to take The light opinions of our worth That strangers condescending make Who own not better brains nor birth:-- Children of men who toiled and fought, Build your own fate; respect your lot.

Arise! Live out a larger dream-- Your nation's that ye may be man's: Advance; invent; improve; the gleam Of dawn for all illume your plans!

Greece lived! the world requires again The lives of nations and of men!

THE KEERLESS PARD.

No, I'm a disappointed man, Though I've acted fer the best; But I tell ye, stranger, what it is-- The Occident's not the West.

Have I got the hang of the dialeck?

Ye're nearer New York ner I An' ye've seen th' latest litteracher This lingo's laid-down by.

What is Bret Harte now givin' us?

How's the Colorado tongue?

Bret wuz the pard that run the West When I wuz East--and young;--

That is to say, three months ago.

But now I must be grey, Fer I've been out here so long I've lost The hang o' the Western way.

Way down thar in the State o' Maine, In mild Skowhegan town, I pastured as a tenderfoot An' the clerk o' Storeclothes Brown.

Till I got to readin' _Roarin Camp_ An' about that Truthful James, Buffalo Bill an' b.l.o.o.d.y Gulch, An' pistol-an'-poker games,

An' the pleasure o' shootin' justices An' sheriffs deeputies An' the oncomplainin' public An' the gineral mob likewise.

Then I--wich my name is Dangerous Jake-- (Leastwise when took that way) Sloped unappreciative Brown An' follered the wake o' day.

An' here am I in Bismarck Jug!

Fer an inoffensive spree-- Puttin' some buckshot inter the leg Of a pagan-tail Chinee.

Wot is the good of our churches Ef the Mongol's goin' ter rule?

An' how kin ye shoot the redskin When they're givin' him beef and school?

What are the Rockies comin' too?

Well, _I've_ acted fer the best.

But the only remark I've got to make, is-- The Occident's not the West

THE BATTLE OF LAPRAIRIE. (1691.)