Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 8

cosy, most homelike was ever afloat, Will not quicken herself

for a Prince or for two, But will at her own pace the Mud Lake paddle
through. It will be about midnight, or later than that, And as dark as the
crown of your grandfather's hat, When that ponderous boat waddles up
to the pier, A tired Prince will his Highness be when he gets here. We'll
illumine the town, from mansion to cell, County buildings and cottages,
home and hotel, And the arch with its motto, that triumph of skill, Shall
be seen in its glory by light from the mill, Which floor upon floor many
windowed shall blaze And light up each bud in the crown with its rays.
We shall have out that carriage, so costly and grand, Fit to carry the one
Royal Prince in this land; And a crowd bearing torches shall light up
the way, Till along Supple's lane be as brillant as day And to guard and
escort him our brave volunteers With their swords and their bayonets,
which ought to be spears, Shall wait at the landing for him, and the
band With the noise and the music they have at command, Shall be
heard in the distance before they are seen, Rolling out the first greeting
in "God save the Queen." Well, the Prince over portages rattled and
whirled, Suspected he drew near the end of the world, But right royally
welcomed, surprised he lit down In this dazzling, ambitious and long
little town. And the night air was rent with full many a cheer For joy
that the son of our Sovereign was here And he heard every sound, and
he saw every sight, That the people had planned for to give him delight;
And he felt he was cared for with loyalty's care, In this wonderful town,
so far off, and so fair, In the whole wide Dominion there is not a town
So loyal so lovely as this of our own Broad Ottawa washes no happier
place, As it lies in sweet Allumette's tender embrace Oh, to see it when
autumn and sunset unite To drape earth and sky with one robe of
delight, When the banners of heaven in the west are unrolled, And the
blue lake is barred off with purple and gold, And the Isle, like the
patriarch's favourite son, Its coat many coloured and royal has on Thus
fair as a vision, and sweet as a dream, It burst on the gaze of the son of
our Queen, In the glory of fair Indian summer all drest, And this was
the welcome they felt and expressed
THE WELCOME
We welcome thee Prince to the land of the pine, For thy mother's sake
welcome, as well as for thine, This town highest up in the Ottawa vale,
With the voice of pine forests gives cheer, and all hail Our welcome as
rude as the mountains may be, But that cheer is the willing voiced

shout of the free And though rude be our welcome, you'll find us, I
ween, Most lovingly loyal to country and Queen. Come and see our
sweet lake, when its waters' at rest Chafe not round the islands that
sleep on its breast And our woods many tinted in glory arrayed, Dyed
in rainbows and sunsets illumine the shade. Come and see our dark
rocks frowning sterile and high, Their brown shoulders bare and
upheaved to the sky; Come and see our grand forests, all echoing round
With the strokes that are bringing their pride to the ground; Where
thousands of workers bold, hardy and free, Carve out wealth for
themselves and an empire for thee Our river now placid, now surging to
foam, Shall echo kind thoughts that will follow thee home. All good
wishes that tender and prayer like arise, And blessings that fall as the
dew from the skies, Shall be breathed out for thee our young Prince of
the blood, Son of much loved Victoria and Albert the Good. May thy
heart be all fearless, thy life without stain, As the saint and the hero are
joined in thy name. Forget not the people whose love thou hast seen
God bless thee Prince Arthur thou, son of our Queen

A MOTHER'S LAMENT FOR AN ONLY ONE
(CLARISSA HARLOW)
Seek not to calm my grief, To stay the falling tear; Have pity on me, ye
my friends, The hand of God is here.
She was my only one, Oh, then my love how great! Now she is gone,
my heart and home Are empty desolate
I thought not, in my love That we were doomed to part, Now I am
childless, and my fate Falls heavy on my heart
O Thou who gave the gift, Who took the gift