A Canadian Epic, XL–VII

Then let the infidel or atheist, Or him who doubts if ever God can be, And questions the existence of a Christ, Mark well the fruits of Christianity, And say what other power has ever wrought The good that Christianity has brought

No myth or vain delusion can achieve What love of Christ has done; no mockery Can bring the troubled comfort, or relieve The broken heart; nor can idolatry Inspire our hearts with love and charity: These follow only Christianity.

I pause before a simple monument, And read inscribed thereon the noble names Montcalm and Wolfe. Their enmity is spent, And each from French and English justly claims An equal reverence. This humble stone Stands emblematic of their union.

And are the nations so united now, In Canada, that nothing comes between To break the bond, or disannul the vow Of friendship and of fealty to our Queen? Do they not rather live each wide apart From other, bound in name but not in heart?

Well nigh a century and thirty years Have run their course since Canada became An English colony; and yet appears, Within her shores, a unity in name, And name alone, between those races who Should live as one, but still exist as two.

What boots it that an oath of loyalty To Britain's Queen is taken by the French, If they but wait the opportunity To give that man support who seeks to wrench This vast Dominion from the British Crown, And tear our noble red-cross banner down?

And why call that an English colony In which a foreign tongue predominates? And how will he preserve his loyalty To England, who the name of England hates? Too generous have been your governors, Too lightly exercised their given powers.

Ere this, if England had asserted all The rights that conquest gave, here might have been A colony which we could truly call A British land. Nor should we now have seen, In Canada, two nations side by side Upgrowing, by affection's bond untied.

"A nation self-divided cannot stand." All history has proved this adage true. And, Canada, if thou would'st be a land Of might and power, thou must surely do As other lands have done; it cannot be That thou wilt else secure prosperity.

Let not incipient rebellion grow To actual revolt, but trample down Its very sign, and with a mighty blow, Crush all who rise disloyal to the Crown. Do this, but this alone will not suffice; A sterner duty yet before thee lies.

Send forth the edict that the English tongue, And it alone, shall be official here, And teach the language everywhere among The French in all the counties far and near. Thus, and thus only, canst thou hope to see Thy future self preserved in unity.

But what are these to me? A passing thought, An evanescent stirring of the brain, Which, for a time, forgetfulness has brought, And temporary soothing of my pain. But as I turn away, anew I feel The burning sore which time can never heal.

Apart from her I love I wander here, In thought communing with that absent one; In body distant, though in spirit near, I feel our hearts are in communion. Then, softly murmuring, I breathe this lay To her so near, and yet so far away.

From regions remote my message shall float On zephyrs across the sea, And softly thou'lt hear the words in thine ear, "I love thee, I love but thee."

Though distant I rove, sweet thoughts of my love Are ever at home with me. Each day and each hour but strengthen their power; I love thee, I love but thee.

If sorrow be thine, oh! cease to repine, For mine thou shalt always be. Oh! breathe not a sigh, though I am not nigh, I love thee, I love but thee.

Though oceans divide us and fortune deride us, No two are more near than we; Our hearts close are beating in tenderest greeting; I love thee, I love but thee.

I ask not of Fate a lordly estate, Or position of high degree; I ask her alone to grant me my own; I love thee, I love but thee.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.