A Canadian Epic, XXV–XLVIII

Lonely I stand, and silent gaze upon The fading shore, where dwells my soul's twin-soul. 'Midst my companions I am still alone, Less near to them than her, though billows roll Between us two. Fast fades the distant strand. Farewell my Love! Farewell my native Land!

England! dear land of liberty and peace, Great art thou now, and greater still wilt be, If but thy truth and honesty increase As each revolving decade renders thee In population greater. Let the name Of Christian England fix thy future fame.

The tale is told that when a foreign king Would know what pow'r thy gracious Queen possessed, That she could rule, with might unfaltering, Her people, and by them be ever blessed; She laid her hand upon a Bible near, And, smiling, said: "That pow'r lies hidden here."

Defender of the Faith we call our Queen, And she has been that Faith's exemplar too. Not all the ages of the past have seen A sovereign more noble, pure, and true. And she has kept, as well as monarch could, Her childhood's promise: "Oh! I will be good."

And not without the help of that great Book Could she have kept the promise of her youth. Through all the backward years of history look— These plainly prove that declaration's truth. Kingdoms may rise, and, with unquestioned sway, Monarchs may rule, and none their right gainsay,

But, founded on another base than this, That monarch's might shall surely pass away; No kingdom is so strong that it can miss This destiny. A premature decay Has greeted, and will ever greet, that land Whose weak foundation trembles in the sand.

The sword is mighty; by its bloody might Empires have risen—risen but to fall. A nation built in blood must ever fight, Or lose its name and power. 'Tis not all To conquer once; an enemy subdued Waits but a happy chance for further feud.

Nor will the nation nurtured by the sword, If undisturbed by subjugated foes, Remain in peace and rest; one murmured word Of discontent will plunge it in the throes Of fratricidal warfare; and not long That word remains uncalled for by some wrong.

The page of history is blotted o'er With tales of bloodshed. Not a single nation Exists, but spent its greater life in war. And in each Power's restless fluctuation From might to weakness, and from servitude To might, is shown the sword's incertitude.

Until the time when every mighty Power Stands ready to confess the Christian creed That bloodshed is a sin—until that hour Has come, all Europe's treasuries must bleed, That naval armaments may grimly stand, And military menace every land.

Then, England, since an universal peace, A peace eternal, has not been proclaimed, Thy military might must still increase, Thy naval glory must not be defamed. But only when thine honour shall demand, Or injured right, upraise thy martial hand.

Be Christian first and last, and be not slow To propagate the cause of arbitration. Let peaceful compacts, bloodless victories, grow Till hideous war, with ruthless devastation, Destroy no more the beauty of thy land, Nor raise against thy homes its bloodstained hand.

Be Christian first and last, for thus alone Shalt thou attain to might unfaltering. No nation in the past has ever known The lasting power which faith alone can bring. Though each in turn has gained a glorious name, Not one has risen to eternal fame.

The Roman Cæsars, with increasing pride, "Outstretched their hands and grasped a hemisphere." Their glory swelled with ever-flowing tide, And nations bowed to them in trembling fear. Their eagles flew, and lofty was their flight, Yet only Cæsar's empire met their sight.

But now the Roman Empire is no more; No longer Roman eagles sweep the sky. The pampered luxury of Rome soon bore Its wonted fruit—gross immorality; And weakened thus, and by internal strife, Great Cæsar's Empire yielded up its life.

And classic Greece, which, in a former age, Bore mighty warriors without compeer, Knew not the land whose war-compelling gage Could not be taken up without a fear. But now her power is so completely broke, She almost yields her to an Asian yoke.

And France, in later days, has girded on A might magnificent; and none could stay The pow'r of her adored Napoleon, Before whose hosts, in ill-concealed dismay, The nations fled. Then France her flag unfurled, And waved it proudly over half a world.

But not in England. And when Bonaparte Would lay the British nation at his feet, Her legions tore his mighty hosts apart, And snatched the Conqueror from his lofty seat. Then France's glory faded fast away, Till not a nation owned her sovereign sway.

And thus have mighty nations ever perished, Or lost the greater portion of their might, When, as their sole upholder, they have cherished The reeking sword, in disregard of right. Then, England, take thou warning by their fate, And keep thy Christian faith inviolate.

America's Republic stands alone. But once for bloody glory did she raise Her martial hand; and Canada was thrown Into a state of war. But all essays To sever her allegiance from her King Proved vain—her faith remained unfaltering.

But once America unrighteously Led forth her armies. Only to defend Her people's honour and integrity Has she, since then, allowed them to contend In bitter warfare. And the peaceful arts Engage more readily her people's hearts.

A noble nation striving peacefully To gain the highest pinnacle of honour, Without a peer in ingenuity; Well mayest thou, great England, look upon her As worthier far to be thy firm ally Than any European monarchy.

Send forth thy Prince's son, and let him find In broad America a worthy bride. Thus let the ties of blood together bind The Anglo-Saxon race on either side The great Atlantic. Keep thy princes free From royal Europe's mad heredity.

Far better were it they should choose their brides From some American pure family, Than wed their cousins, in whose blood, besides The fell disease which immorality Of ancestors has planted there, there run Weaknesses caused by kindred's union.