Roughing it in the Bush | Page 6

and what they are to the
refined and accomplished gentleman, these simple sketches will
endeavour to portray. They are drawn principally from my own
experience, during a sojourn of nineteen years in the colony.
In order to diversify my subject, and make it as amusing as possible, I
have between the sketches introduced a few small poems, all written
during my residence in Canada, and descriptive of the country.
In this pleasing task, I have been assisted by my husband, J. W. Dunbar

Moodie, author of "Ten Years in South Africa."
BELLEVILLE, UPPER CANADA

CANADA
Canada, the blest--the free! With prophetic glance, I see Visions of thy
future glory, Giving to the world's great story A page, with mighty
meaning fraught, That asks a wider range of thought. Borne onward on
the wings of Time, I trace thy future course sublime; And feel my
anxious lot grow bright, While musing on the glorious sight;-- My heart
rejoicing bounds with glee To hail thy noble destiny!
Even now thy sons inherit All thy British mother's spirit. Ah! no child
of bondage thou; With her blessing on thy brow, And her deathless, old
renown Circling thee with freedom's crown, And her love within thy
heart, Well may'st thou perform thy part, And to coming years proclaim
Thou art worthy of her name. Home of the homeless!--friend to all
Who suffer on this earthly ball! On thy bosom sickly care Quite forgets
her squalid lair; Gaunt famine, ghastly poverty Before thy gracious
aspect fly, And hopes long crush'd, grow bright again, And, smiling,
point to hill and plain.
By thy winter's stainless snow, Starry heavens of purer glow, Glorious
summers, fervid, bright, Basking in one blaze of light; By thy fair,
salubrious clime; By thy scenery sublime; By thy mountains, streams,
and woods; By thy everlasting floods; If greatness dwells beneath the
skies, Thou to greatness shalt arise!
Nations old, and empires vast, From the earth had darkly pass'd Ere
rose the fair auspicious morn When thou, the last, not least, wast born.
Through the desert solitude Of trackless waters, forests rude, Thy
guardian angel sent a cry All jubilant of victory! "Joy," she cried, "to th'
untill'd earth, Let her joy in a mighty birth,-- Night from the land has
pass'd away, The desert basks in noon of day. Joy, to the sullen
wilderness, I come, her gloomy shades to bless, To bid the bear and

wild-cat yield Their savage haunts to town and field. Joy, to stout
hearts and willing hands, That win a right to these broad lands, And
reap the fruit of honest toil, Lords of the rich, abundant soil.
"Joy, to the sons of want, who groan In lands that cannot feed their own;
And seek, in stern, determined mood, Homes in the land of lake and
wood, And leave their hearts' young hopes behind, Friends in this
distant world to find; Led by that God, who from His throne Regards
the poor man's stifled moan. Like one awaken'd from the dead, The
peasant lifts his drooping head, Nerves his strong heart and sunburnt
hand, To win a potion of the land, That glooms before him far and wide
In frowning woods and surging tide No more oppress'd, no more a
slave, Here freedom dwells beyond the wave.
"Joy, to those hardy sires who bore The day's first heat--their toils are
o'er; Rude fathers of this rising land, Theirs was a mission truly grand.
Brave peasants whom the Father, God, Sent to reclaim the stubborn sod;
Well they perform'd their task, and won Altar and hearth for the
woodman's son. Joy, to Canada's unborn heirs, A deathless heritage is
theirs; For, sway'd by wise and holy laws, Its voice shall aid the world's
great cause, Shall plead the rights of man, and claim For humble worth
an honest name; Shall show the peasant-born can be, When call'd to
action, great and free. Like fire, within the flint conceal'd, By stern
necessity reveal'd, Kindles to life the stupid sod, Image of perfect man
and God.
"Joy, to thy unborn sons, for they Shall hail a brighter, purer day; When
peace and Christian brotherhood Shall form a stronger tie than blood--
And commerce, freed from tax and chain, Shall build a bridge o'er earth
and main; And man shall prize the wealth of mind, The greatest
blessing to mankind; True Christians, both in word and deed, Ready in
virtue's cause to bleed, Against a world combined to stand, And guard
the honour of the land. Joy, to the earth, when this shall be, Time
verges on eternity."
CHAPTER I

A VISIT TO GROSSE ISLE

Alas! that man's stern spirit e'er should mar A scene so pure--so
exquisite as this.
The dreadful cholera was depopulating Quebec and Montreal when our
ship cast