The Coming of the Princess and Other Poems | Page 3

frost
girdle throbbing and keen,
A new realm awaits thee, loyal and true!"

And the round-cheeked Tritons, with fillets of blue
Binding their
sea-green and scintillant hair,
Blow thee a welcome; their brawny
arms bear
Thy keel through the waves like a bird through the air.
II.
Shoreward the shoal of mighty shoulders lean
Through the long swell
of waves,
Reaching beyond the sunset and the hollow caves,
And
the ice-girdled peaks that hold serene
Each its own star, far out at sea
to mark
Thy westward way, O Princess, through the dark.
The
rose-red sunset dies into the dusk,
The silver dusk of the long twilight
hour,
And opal lights come out, and fiery gleams
Of flame-red
beacons, like the ash-gray husk
Torn from some tropic blossom
bursting into flower,
Making the sea bloom red with ruddy beams.
IV
Still nearer and nearer it comes, the swift sharp prow
Of the ship
above and the shadow ship below,
With the mighty arms of the Titans
under,
All bowed one way like a field of wind-blown ears,
Still
nearer and nearer, and now
touches the strand, and, lo,
With the
length of her bright hair backward flowing
Round her head like an

aureole,
Like a candle flame in the wind's breath blowing,
Stands
she fair and still as a disembodied soul,
With hands outstretched, and
eyes that shine through tears
And tremulous smiles
When the
trumpets, and the guns, and the great drums roll,
And the long fiords
and the forelands shake with the thunder Of the shout of welcome to
the daughter of the Isles.
V
Bring her, O people, on the shoulders of her vassals
Throned like a
queen to her palace on the height,
Up the rocky steeps where the fir
tree tassels
Nod to her, and touch her with a subtle, vague delight,

Like a whisper of home, like a greeting and a smile
From the fir-tree
walks and gardens, the wood-embowered castles In the north among
the clansmen of Argyle.
Now the sullen plunge of waves for many a
mile
Along the roaring Ottawa is heard,
And the cry of some wood
bird,
Wild and sudden and sweet,
Scared from its perch by the rush
and trample of feet,
And the red glare of the torches in the night.

And now the long facade gay with many a twinkling light
Reaches
hands of welcome, and the bells peal, and the guns, And the hoarse
blare of the trumpets, and the throbbing
of the drums
Fill the air
like shaken music, and the very waves rejoice
In the gladness, and the
greeting, and the triumph of
their voice.
VI.
Under triumphal arches, blazoned with banners and scrolls,
And the
sound of a People's exulting, still gathering as it rolls, Enter the gates of
the city, and take the waiting throne,
And make the heart of a Nation,
O Royal Pair, your own.
Sons of the old race, we, and heirs of the old
and the new; Our hands are bold and strong, and our hearts are faithful
and true; Saxon and Norman and Celt one race of the mingled blood

Who fought built cities and ships and stemmed the unknown flood In
the grand historic days that made our England great
When Britain's
sons were steadfast to meet or to conquer fate Our sires were the

minster builders who wrought themselves unknown The thought divine
within them till it blossomed into stone Forgers of swords and of
ploughshares reapers of men and of grain, Their bones and their names
forgotten on many a battle plain For faith and love and loyalty were
living and sacred things When our sires were those who wrought and
yours were the leaders
and kings.
VII
For since the deeds that live in Arthur's rhyme
Who left the stainless
flower of knighthood for all time
Down to our Blameless Prince wise
gentle just
Whom the world mourns not by your English dust
More
precious held more sacredly enshrined
Than in each loyal breast of all
mankind,
Men bare the head in homage to the good,
And she who
wears the crown of womanhood,
August, not less than that of
Empress, reigns
The crowned Victoria of the world's domains

North, South, East, West, O Princess fair, behold
In this new world,
the daughter of the old,
Where ribs of iron bar the Atlantic's breast,

Where sunset mountains slope into the west,
Unfathomed
wildernesses, valleys sweet,
And tawny stubble lands of corn and
wheat,
And all the hills and lakes and forests dun,
Between the
rising and the setting sun;
Where rolling rivers run with sands of gold,

And the locked treasures of the mine unfold
Undreamed of riches,
and the hearts of men,
Held close to nature, have grown pure again.

Like that exalted Pair, beloved, revered,
By princely grace, and truth
and love endeared,
Here fix your empire in the growing West,
And
build your throne in each Canadian breast,
Till West and East strike
hands across the main,
Knit by a stronger, more enduring chain,

And our vast Empire become one again.
BIRD SONG.
Art thou not sweet,
Oh world, and glad to the inmost heart of thee!

All creatures rejoice
With one rapturous voice.
As I, with the
passionate beat
Of my over-full heart feel