Nora Pembroke

So friend of mine 'tis thy birthday morn,
    And friends with fair gifts around thee come,
Outside the circle I stand forlorn,
    My hands are empty my lips are dumb.

O Thou who seest in secret still,
    Who reads the heart when no word is said,
The wishes that rise in prayer fulfil
    In royal blessings to crown his head.

Entering the portals of manhood now,
    The boy we loved from our knowledge slips,
With fresh consecration seal his brow,
    With thy altar fire retouch his lips.

He girds himself for the strife anew,
    And love foresees what the dangers are;
But thou, O Captain, art tried and true,
    'Tis at thy charge he goes forth to war!

My empty hands to thy throne I lift,
    While parting sorrow my spirit swells,...

Mary, ah me! gentle Mary,
    Can it be you're lying there,
Pale and still, and cold as marble,
    You that was so young and fair.

Seemeth it as yestereven,
    When the golden autumn smiled,
On our meeting, gentle Mary,
    You were then a very child.

Busy fingers, flitting footsteps,
    Never resting all day long;
Shy and bashful, and the sweet voice
    Ever breaking into song

Always gentle, kind and thoughtful,
    Blameless and so free from art,
'Twas no wonder one so lovely
    Found a place within my heart.

You, while life was in its spring time,
    Made the Scripture Mary's choice;
Jesus saw you, loved you, called you,
    And you listened to His voice.

Ever patient and rejoicing,
    Shielded t...

He lay on my breast so sweet and fair,
    I fondly fancied his home was there,
Nor thought that the eyes of merry blue,
    With baby love for me laughing through,

Were pining to go from whence he came,
    Leaving my arm empty and heart in pain,
Longing to spread out his wings and fly
    To his native home far beyond the sky

They took him out of my arms and said
    My baby so sweet and fair was dead,
My baby that was my heart's delight
    The fair little body they robed in white

Flowers they placed at the head and feet
    Like my baby fair, like my baby sweet,
They laid him down in a certain place,
    And round him they draped soft folds of lace

Till I'd look my last at my baby white,
    Before they carried him from my sigh...

It was in the early morning
    Of life, and of hope to me,
I sat on a grassy hillside
    Of the Isle beyond the sea,
Erin's skies of changeful beauty
    Were bending over me.

The landscape, emerald tinted,
    Lying smiling in the sun,
The grass with daisies sprinkled,
    And with shamrocks over run,
The Maine water flashed and dimpled,
    Still flowing softly on.

The lark in the blue above me,
    A tiny speck in the sky,
Rained down from its bosom's fulness
    A shower of melody,
Dropping through the golden sunlight,
    And sweetly rippling by

Afar in the sunny distance,
    O'er the river's further brim,
Like a stern old Norman warder,
    Stood the castle tall and grim,
And, nearer a grassy ruin,
...

There's a place in the North where the bonnie broom grows,
Where winding through green meadows the silver Maine flows,
Every lark as it soars and sings that sweet spot knows;
                For the mate for whom it sings,
                Till the clear blue heaven rings,
Is brooding on its nest mid the daisies in the grass;
                And that psalmist sweet, the thrush,
                And the linnet in the bush,
Tell the children all their secrets in song as they pass.

Oh brightly shines the sun there where wee birdies sing,
A glamour's o'er the buds in the green lap of spring,
In happy, happy laughter children's voices ring!
                Like some fair enchanted ground,
                In memory it is found,
Where my childhood's golden hours of happine...

        Sing and rejoice,
        With heart and voice,
An heir is born to the British Crown,
        A royal son,
        A princely one,
One born to glory and renown.

        A nation's mirth
        Rose at his birth,
On every side great joy prevails,
        The nation's joy,
        The royal boy,
Our dear Queen's infant, Prince of Wales,

        With gladness we
        Rejoiced to see
A virgin wear Britannia's crown,
        Then hailed the bride,
        By Albert's side,
And saw her look benignly down.

        And now with joy
        We hail thee boy,
Heir of thy royal mother's fame,
        And see our Isle
        With rapture smile,
Resounding Albert Edward's name
        Edward, a name

(ORSON GROUT),

One of the victims of the Southern Prisons.


Sit by me comrade, thou and I have stood
    Shoulder to shoulder on the battle-field,
And bore us there like men of British blood,
    But comrade this is death, and I must yield.

You have been leal, my friend, and true and tried
    In battle, in captivity of me;
Since we went up to worship side by side
    O'er the green hills I never more shall see.

From this dread prison pen, thou shalt go forth;
    But I, I know it, never more shall rise,
Nor see my home in the cool pleasant North,
    Nor see again my wife's dark mournful eyes.

Nor see my children, every shining head
    And merry eye, for what know they of grief;
'Twill still their play to know that I...

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 t...

Thou art, and, therefore, Thou art near, oh God!
    Thick darkness covers me, I cannot see;
Is this the Shepherd's crook, or the correcting rod,
    And by Thy hand, O Father, laid on me?

I cry to Thee, and shall I cry in vain?
    My soul looks up as if through prison bars,
Up through the silent Heaven, ah, turn again
    Thy face to me, hide not behind the stars.

Thy presence hath been with me in the past,
    Where "heaps of witness" mark out all the way;
Thy years change not, Thy love is still as vast,
    I look to Thee, I trust Thee though Thou slay.

My friends walk on the hills the sun hath kissed,
    Flowers at their feet, their sky is blue and fair;
I'm prisoned in this vale of tearful mist,
    Shut in with sorrow, darkened by despair....

I sit by the fire in the gloaming,
    In the depths of my easy chair,
And I ponder, as old men ponder,
    Over times and things that were.

And outside is the gusty rushing,
    Of the fierce November blast,
With the snow drift waltzing and whirling,
    And eddying swiftly past,

It's a wild night to be abroad in,
    When the ice blast and snow drift meet
To wreath round all the world of winter
    A shroud and a winding sheet.

There's a dash of hail at the window,
    Thick with driving snow is the air;
But I sit here in ease and comfort
    In the depths of my easy chair.

I have fought my way in life's battle,
    And won Fortune's fickle caress;
Won from fame just a passing notice,
    And enjoy what is called succes...

ELIZABETH TO WALTER


He has come and he has gone,
    Meeting, parting, both are o'er;
And I feel the same dull pain,
Aching heart and throbbing brain
    Coming o'er me once again
That I often felt before.


For he is my father's son,
    And, in childhood's loving time
He and I so lone, so young,
No twin blossoms ever sprung,
No twin cherries ever clung,
    Closer than his heart and mine.

He is changed, ah me! ah me!
    Have we then a different aim?
Shall earth's glory or its gold
Make his heart to mine grow cold?
Or can new love kill the old?
    Leaving me for love and fame

Oh, my brother fair to see!
    Idol of my lonely heart,
Parting is a time of test,
Father, give him what is best,
...

They are but servants, say the words of scorning,
    As though they meant to say, we're finer clay,
Yet, all the universe holds solemn warning,
    Against this pride in creatures of a day

In fashion's last new folly, flaunting slowly,
    With white plumes tossing on the Sabbath air
They pass with scornful words a sister lowly.
    Do scornful lips know anything of prayer?

Alas! poor human nature's inconsistence,
    Up to God's house we go, that we be fed;
And there, as beggars begging for assistance,
    Say "Give us, Lord, this day our daily bread."

Without a price, the priceless blessings buying
    Which are laid up for us, with Christ in God;
To Him we come as little children crying,
    That He may guide us by His staff and rod,

(From the "Globe.")


        October's leaf was sere;
        The day was dark and drear.
Wild war was loosed in rage o'er our quiet country then;
        When at Moravian town,
        Where the little Thames flows down,
In the net of battle caught was Proctor and his men.

        Caught in an evil plight,
        When he'd rather march than fight,
Every bit of British pluck and resolution gone.
        And sternly standing near,
        As a British brigadier,
Stood Tecumthe, our ally, the forests' bravest son.

        A prince, a leader born,
        His dark eye flashed with scorn,
He said: "My father, listen, there's rumours from afar,
        Of mishaps, and mistakes,
        Of disasters on the lakes,
My father need not ...

The night was bright and beautiful,
    The dew was on the flower,
The stars were keeping watch, it was
    The lover's parting hour.

The night wind rippled o'er the wave,
    The moon shone on the two,
The boat was waiting, part they must,
    "Eliza, love, adieu!"

"You know how fondly I have loved,
    How long, how true, how dear,
And though fate sends me far away
    My heart will linger here.

"Bright hope, the lover's comfort, can
    Alone my heart console,
Or soothe the pain of parting with
    The empress of my soul.

"When other suitors vainly talk
    Of fondly loving you,
Remember him who truly loved
    As no one else can do.

"I'll think upon the place contains
    My dark-eyed source of bliss,<...

The book of life to thee is given,
To warn of death, to guide to Heaven.
Wanderer on the wild astray,
Here wilt thou find the King's highway.
Has thy soul suffered, hunger, pain,
Trying to feed on husks in vain?
Here thou wilt find the palace fair,
Where there is bread enough to spare
Thou'lt find where living waters roll,
To satisfy the fainting soul.
Thou hast been thirsty, very sore,
Here come and drink and thirst no more,
Thou'lt find the pearl of greatest price
Hid in the Master's promises.
And so this book to thee is given
To warn of hell, to guide to Heaven.

GRACE HILL, 1842.

I, an Iroquois brave,
Speak from my forest grave,
Where by Utawa's wave
            I sleep in glory.
Listen, pale faces, then,
Let years roll back again,
While of Iroquois men
            I tell the story,

We were the foremost race,
That roamed the forest space;
None stood before our face,
            Rousing our fierce wrath;
By Stadacona's steep,
Where Santee's waters sleep,
Prairie broad, valley deep,
            Have been our war path.

Eries by inland seas,
Mountain bred Cherokees,
Of us, Hodenosaunees,
            With fear grew frantic;
Feared us who made their home,
Under the pinetrees lone,
Where the winds lash to foam,
            The wild Atlantic.

Tribute from east and west,
Of what we ...

"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 shores.

Life is so gay on the Lake Allumette,
    Ah me! does its sky ever...

When my heart was sad and lonely,
    And had closed its inmost cell
Over the impulsive feelings
    That rule my nation's hearts too well.

When the tie was cut asunder,
    That had bound me to a home,
And I felt the desolation
    Of being in the world alone;

When I first, the veil assuming,
    Masked before a treacherous world,
And the hopes romance expanded
    Reality had sternly furled;

And the touch of disappointment,
    Blighted what was green and fair,
And the spirit's bright revealings
    Are not so hopeful as they were.

Precious are the words of kindness,
    Falling on the heart like dew,
Freshening though, alas for weakness,
    They cannot make things new.

Thoughts come warm from that deep foun...