A Canadian Epic, I–XXIV

Ye shores of England, as ye fast recede The pain of parting rends my weary breast. I must regret—yet there is little need That I should mourn, for only wild unrest Is mine while in my native land I roam. Thou gav'st me birth, but cannot give a home.

Yet happy were the days that have been mine, So happy that those days must needs be few. It could not be that that bright sun would shine For many months, and while its light was new The clouds arose, and, in one fated day, The jealous storm had swept my joys away.

That fated day, when I believed that all The hopes that I had cherished in the past Would be fulfilled, and I should fondly call The being whom I loved my own at last: Then fell the storm, and bursting on my head, Still saved my body when my soul was dead.

I loved her dearly, and my heart was set On winning her. My only aim in life Was to secure her love, and so forget The world beside—my world would be my wife. I never loved another, her alone I loved, and, loving, longed to call my own.

The summer months were passed in tortured bliss. My love had grown, but that it could not grow; It all-enveloped me, and one sweet kiss From her dear lips had made my bosom glow With happiness; and many months of pain Had been as nothing, that one kiss to gain.

And, when the many-tinted Autumn's reign Succeeded Summer's more congenial sway, I told her of the mingled joy and pain That stirred my soul throughout each Summer's day. And whispered, in emotion's softest tone, The love that I had feared before to own.

She listened silently, then, sweetly shy, She laid her gentle head upon my breast. And, in the liquid depths of each blue eye, I read the love her lips had not confessed; And quickly, fondly, pressed her to my heart, Vowing that none should keep us two apart.

Ah! happy were the months that followed then, The months that flew as rapidly as days; And sweet the stolen hours of meeting when We listened to the nightingale's sad lays, Or, seated on a rustic bench alone, Forgot all else in glad communion.

I had not asked her father for her hand; He was a baronet of ancient blood. Proud of his lineage, jealous of his land; His pride was such as boded me no good. I was an author, not unknown to fame, But could not boast a title to my name.

Sore did my loved one beg me to confess My love to him, and ask for his consent. He loved her well, and could not fail to bless Our union; his pride had oft unbent To her, and she had now but little fear That he would hear me with a willing ear.

I gladly heard her speak in confident And reassuring tones, and all the doubt That had been mine now vanished, and I went, With lightsome heart, to seek her father out: And prayed him give his daughter for my wife, And thus confer a blessing on my life.

He heard me silently, nor did he speak For full two minutes after I had ceased; Then, while his eye flashed, and his livid cheek Betrayed his passion, was his tongue released; And, in vituperative tones, he swore That I should never cross his threshold more.

Was this my gratitude for patronage, That I should thus inveigle his one daughter, And seek to supplement my sorry wage By the rich dowry that her marriage brought her? He was a baronet of ancient name; No parvenu his daughter's hand should claim.

His words enraged me, but I checked my wrath For her dear sake, whose love alone that fire Could quench, and mildly arguments put forth To soothe the baronet, and calm his ire. But useless all the arguments I wove; In foaming rage he cursed me and my love.

What need to speak of all that next ensued? Still constantly, throughout those weary days, Impelled by hope, with fondest love imbued, Did I renew my suit. By bold essays I sought to win the baronet's consent— Each day a wilder rage his bosom rent.

He had forbidden me to see my Love; But one glad morning I received a note From her. She bade me meet her in the grove Behind her father's house. In pain she wrote, For, though the letter spoke no word of pain, Her tears had left a sorrow-telling stain.

We met at night-time; and her tear-stained face, Upturned to mine, was sorrowful and pale. I pressed her to me in a fond embrace, And kissed the cheeks that told so sad a tale. She sadly smiled, then spoke, her cheek bedewed, The while, with bitter tears again renewed:

"My fondest Love, within this silent glen, I bade thee come to say a last farewell. Alas! my Love, we may not meet again, For thou must leave me. Ah! I cannot tell What pain was mine as on my knees I cried, And begged my father to unbend his pride.

"He will not hear me; nought that I can say Will calm his wrath, but rather do my prayers Increase his passion. Each recurring day, When I would still importune him, he bears A sterner aspect, and 'twere better now That we should speak no more of this our vow.

"But leave thou me, and seek a foreign clime. My father thus will think that thou hast lost All hope of winning me. In one year's time Return again; perhaps, by conscience tossed, My father will repent his stern decree, And gladly, as my husband, welcome thee."

"Oh! fly thou with me, Love," I trembling cried, "And—" but my loved one would not hear my cry: "'Tis but a twelvemonth since my mother died, And I should sin against my God if I Should leave my father. Oh! my Love, seek not To tempt me thus, but help me bear my lot."

'Twere wrong to more persuade her. Silently I kissed her gentle lips. A loving spell Of sweet communion followed—it could be But short—and then we bade a long farewell. O'erwhelmed with tears, my gentle Love was gone, And I must wander exiled and alone.

Yet is it best that I should wander thus, Far from the cherished spot where we have passed Such happy days, since not again for us Will be the joy that seemed too great to last. Her father is too stern a man to know Remorse's sting; his hatred will but grow.

Each year my wandering feet shall hither stray, Each year my heart will feel the pang anew. And this one thought alone will cheer my way, That she, my Love, is faithful still, and true. Her father may forbid our union, But still our hearts together beat as one.