Verses and Rhymes By the Way Part 2

But ever there comes another, With a pale and pleading face, So helpless, and so unwelcome, A burden and a disgrace

And the river roars and rushes, Leaping past with fearful din, Its ever foaming caldron Suggesting a deadly sin.

Saying, "I am partially sheeted, In the winter's ice and snow, What's plunged in my das.h.i.+ng waters, No mortal shall ever know"

So ever with nervous fingers, He harnesses up his sleigh; So ever with stealthy movements, He travels the icy way.

And stops where the yawning chasm, Shows the yawning wave beneath, And she knows with sudden horror, That she has been brought to her death

Her weak hands cling to his bosom, His ears are thrilled with her cry; When the last struggling strength went forth In that shriek of agony.

So his most unwilling spirit, Still travels memory's track, Despair staring blindly forward, Remorse ever dragging back.

Again he walks by the waters, While innocent mortals sleep, Asking the pitiless river, The horrible deed to keep.

Spring comes and the ice is breaking, Does it break before its time?

Then he knows on G.o.d's fair footstool No shelter there is for crime.

For the rus.h.i.+ng, tempting waters, Have got an accusing roar; The treacherous sweeping eddy Has brought the crime to his door.

Then he lives over and over, That moment of anguished dread, When the cry arose--awestruck hands Had found and borne oft his dead.

Thus he, conscience-lashed and goaded, Feeling as the murderer feels, Has reached the last, last spot of earth, The Avenger at his heels

Ah me! to plunge in those swellings, Along with that ghastly face, Going out on unknown waters In that clinging dread embrace

So he floated on to judgment, What award may meet him there, Who knows--but his earthly punishment Was greater than he could bear

OTTAWA.

Hail! to the city sitting as a queen Enthroned a cataract on either hand, The voice of many waters in her ears, And the great river tranquil at her feet, Smoothing his locks and all his foamy mane After his wild leap from the rifted rocks, And while he fawns about her feet, she sits A young Cybele diademed with towers, So young yet on her sandals there is blood, And all the river will not wash it out Spilt at her feet for being true to her, So young, and well she doth become her state, We look, and know her born to be a queen, Before the mother finger o'er the sea Touched her, and made her royal with a touch; For, seated where the thundering waters meet, Spanned by her fingers, she can lay her hand On two fair provinces, and call them hers; Greater than those which swell and pride themselves In long, loud t.i.tles in the older world; The whirl and hum of industry are here, And all the fragrance of the enriching pine; And on the river in the wake of boats That snort and prance like Neptune's battle steeds, Pawing the water with impatient steps, Pa.s.ses our floating wealth that seeks the sea.

THE LAKE ALLUMETTE.

"One is not."

Have you seen the beautiful Allumette, The magnificent pine-fringed lake, In its splendour the sun about to set, Ere the fair lady moon awake.

The waters are tinged with a golden glow, With rose and ruby and purple bars; Heaven's mantle flung on the lake below Till it fades off beneath the stars.

The distant hills, robed in violet mist Of the heavenly hues partake, As they stand, with the sunlight crowned and kissed, On guard round the beautiful lake.

Over the waters ride gay little boats, Diamonds flash from the dipping oars; Laughter and song's mingled melody floats To ripple and die around the sh.o.r.es.

Life is so gay on the Lake Allumette, Ah me! does its sky ever frown On a place unmarked, unheeded, and yet In that place my brother went down.

Sad hearted we sit by Lake Allumette, Who saw him go down in the wave; And question ourselves in anguished regret, Did we make every effort to save?

For those who are left, to some one so dear.

We tried feebly warning to set, We have failed, we look with sorrow and fear For woe that must come by Lake Allumette.

HOW PRINCE ARTHUR WAS WELCOMED TO PEMBROKE.

Do you know the town Pembroke so loyal and long And so worthy the praise of a poet in song?

Nestled down by the lake sh.o.r.e, that ripples and s.h.i.+nes, And hemmed in by the hills with their crowning of pines.

Now this town is that town so wondrous and fair, Long thought to be but a chateau in the air, Where the sons are all brave and the daughters all fair.

You may guess what great gladness there rang down the street, Where the wise and the witty so neighbourly meet, To compare their opinions to hear something new, As their friends the Athenians of old used to do, When the news was to all so gracious and good, "There is coming to see us a Prince of the blood."

Then all our good people grew loyalty wild To show love for the Queen as they welcomed her child.

Straightway counsel was ta'en as to what should be done For to greet as befitted her Majesty's son, In a way to bring credit and praise to the town.

"We must have an arch at the bridge, and a crown, And '_Welcome to Arthur_,' arranged all so fine With balsam and tamarack, spruce and green pine; But the crown shall be flowers, the fairest that blow, Or are made by deft fingers, from paper you know, And many a fair one who skilfully weaves Wreaths and garlands, shall bring them of ripe maple leaves; And then, as 'Jason Gould' that so snug little boat, The most cosy, most homelike was ever afloat, Will not quicken herself for a Prince or for two, But will at her own pace the Mud Lake paddle through.

It will be about midnight, or later than that, And as dark as the crown of your grandfather's hat, When that ponderous boat waddles up to the pier, A tired Prince will his Highness be when he gets here.

We'll illumine the town, from mansion to cell, County buildings and cottages, home and hotel, And the arch with its motto, that triumph of skill, Shall be seen in its glory by light from the mill, Which floor upon floor many windowed shall blaze And light up each bud in the crown with its rays.

We shall have out that carriage, so costly and grand, Fit to carry the one Royal Prince in this land; And a crowd bearing torches shall light up the way, Till along Supple's lane be as brillant as day And to guard and escort him our brave volunteers With their swords and their bayonets, which ought to be spears, Shall wait at the landing for him, and the band With the noise and the music they have at command, Shall be heard in the distance before they are seen, Rolling out the first greeting in "G.o.d save the Queen."

Well, the Prince over portages rattled and whirled, Suspected he drew near the end of the world, But right royally welcomed, surprised he lit down In this dazzling, ambitious and long little town.

And the night air was rent with full many a cheer For joy that the son of our Sovereign was here And he heard every sound, and he saw every sight, That the people had planned for to give him delight; And he felt he was cared for with loyalty's care, In this wonderful town, so far off, and so fair, In the whole wide Dominion there is not a town So loyal so lovely as this of our own Broad Ottawa washes no happier place, As it lies in sweet Allumette's tender embrace Oh, to see it when autumn and sunset unite To drape earth and sky with one robe of delight, When the banners of heaven in the west are unrolled, And the blue lake is barred off with purple and gold, And the Isle, like the patriarch's favourite son, Its coat many coloured and royal has on Thus fair as a vision, and sweet as a dream, It burst on the gaze of the son of our Queen, In the glory of fair Indian summer all drest, And this was the welcome they felt and expressed

THE WELCOME

We welcome thee Prince to the land of the pine, For thy mother's sake welcome, as well as for thine, This town highest up in the Ottawa vale, With the voice of pine forests gives cheer, and all hail Our welcome as rude as the mountains may be, But that cheer is the willing voiced shout of the free And though rude be our welcome, you'll find us, I ween, Most lovingly loyal to country and Queen.

Come and see our sweet lake, when its waters' at rest Chafe not round the islands that sleep on its breast And our woods many tinted in glory arrayed, Dyed in rainbows and sunsets illumine the shade.

Come and see our dark rocks frowning sterile and high, Their brown shoulders bare and upheaved to the sky; Come and see our grand forests, all echoing round With the strokes that are bringing their pride to the ground; Where thousands of workers bold, hardy and free, Carve out wealth for themselves and an empire for thee Our river now placid, now surging to foam, Shall echo kind thoughts that will follow thee home.

All good wishes that tender and prayer like arise, And blessings that fall as the dew from the skies, Shall be breathed out for thee our young Prince of the blood, Son of much loved Victoria and Albert the Good.

May thy heart be all fearless, thy life without stain, As the saint and the hero are joined in thy name.

Forget not the people whose love thou hast seen G.o.d bless thee Prince Arthur thou, son of our Queen

A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR AN ONLY ONE

(CLARISSA HARLOW)

Seek not to calm my grief, To stay the falling tear; Have pity on me, ye my friends, The hand of G.o.d is here.