Verses and Rhymes by the way | Page 7

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 than those which swell and pride themselves In long, loud titles in the older world; The whirl and hum of industry are here, And all the fragrance of the enriching pine; And on the river in the wake of boats That snort and prance like Neptune's battle steeds, Pawing the water with impatient steps, Passes our floating wealth that seeks the sea.

THE LAKE ALLUMETTE.
"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 frown On a place unmarked, unheeded, and yet In that place my brother went down.
Sad hearted we sit by Lake Allumette, Who saw him go down in the wave; And question ourselves in anguished regret, Did we make every effort to save?
For those who are left, to some one so dear. We tried feebly warning to set, We have failed, we look with sorrow and fear For woe that must come by Lake Allumette.

HOW PRINCE ARTHUR WAS WELCOMED TO PEMBROKE.
Do you know the town Pembroke so loyal and long And so worthy the praise of a poet in song? Nestled down by the lake shore, that ripples and shines, And hemmed in by the hills with their crowning of pines. Now this town is that town so wondrous and fair, Long thought to be but a chateau in the air, Where the sons are all brave and the daughters all fair.
You may guess what great gladness there rang down the street, Where the wise and the witty so neighbourly meet, To compare their opinions to hear something new, As their friends the Athenians of old used to do, When the news was to all so gracious and good, "There is coming to see us a Prince of the blood." Then all our good people grew loyalty wild To show love for the Queen as they welcomed her child. Straightway counsel was ta'en as to what should be done For to greet as befitted her Majesty's son, In a way to bring credit and praise to the town. "We must have an arch at the bridge, and a crown, And '_Welcome to Arthur_,' arranged all so fine With balsam and tamarack, spruce and green pine; But the crown shall be flowers, the fairest that blow, Or are made by deft fingers, from paper you know, And many a fair one who skilfully weaves Wreaths and garlands, shall bring them of ripe maple leaves; And then, as 'Jason Gould' that so snug little boat, The most 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