Verses and Rhymes By the Way Part 18

And look upon our country, young and strong, With prospects of a future great and grand; Grant us that Right still triumph over Wrong, That Righteousness exalt and bless the land.

That here where smiling peace and plenty reign, Beneath the glory of unclouded skies A Nation that shall know no honour stain Girt by sons pure and peaceful, shall arise

O! Canada our own beloved land, Land of free homes, and hearts uncowed by fear, Refuge of many, be it thine to stand Foremost among the nations each New Year!

MY BABY

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 sight, By the sweet dead babe, so fair to see, They tried in kindness to comfort me

They said, he is safe from care and pain, Safe and unspotted by sin or stain; Before the mystery of the years Brings heart ache or pang, or sorrow's tears.

He's safe, sweet lamb, in the Shepherd's care, Sorrow nor suffering enters there; But with brow of gladness, clothed in light, He is fair as the angels in His sight.

I know what they said to me was true, And should have fallen on my heart like dew; For, although my grief was very sore, My baby was safe for evermore.

I know that they spoke with kindly care, My grief to comfort and soothe, or share; But I gave my baby the last, last kiss, Saying, G.o.d alone comforts grief like this.

THE FATE OF HENRY HUDSON.

I, Louis Marin, mariner, born on the Breton coast, Must pa.s.s from earth away, And, because wild remorse Pursues me--is my curse, My guilty hand this day Will write down of the crime that haunts my death-bed like a ghost.

In sixteen hundred ten, Bold Hudson and his men Left London town behind with its castles, towers and fanes, The crew were twenty-three, Which, alas! included me When the good ship _Discovery_ went sailing down the Thames We were all picked men and strong, We took willing hearts along Yes, our hearts were bold and brave Every eye was keen and bright, When the wild Atlantic wave Hid the homeland from our sight

On a voyage of discovery bound to win a high renown, That on the line of years our names be proudly handed down As, with merry hearts and light, we flew on before the blast, We little dreamed this voyage was ordained to be our last All full of reckless venture and so fearless--could we know Hope beckoned on a path of fame to lure us into woe, As we sailed into the frozen seas, the place of ice and snow, We sighted the ominous Farewell Cape And steered north through drift ice up Baffin's Strait Oh, lonely and drear to the weary eye Were the vast ice-fields floating slowly by Not a blade of gra.s.s not a leaf to tell That the summer verdure was possible Round the pale horizon, the aching sight Met an awful vastness of barren white, As if earth lay beneath the chilly sky Struck to death by Gehazi's leprosy We sailed on, and round us on every hand, On the darkling wave, on the desert strand, On the rock-bound coast, on the icy cape, The ice heaved up in wild fantastic shape; In mountain, and mosque, and cathedral dome, Lofty peak, and column, and minaret, And ponderous arches in order set, Tower and spire and pinnacle high, Soaring up to the deep blue sky Statues ice sculptured, frost work and fret, That had some weird likeness to sights at home.

On and on we sailed through the waters dark, Where the damp fog clung like a witch's veil, And hid from the faces of watchers pale, The dangers that crowded around our bark, In this, the birth-place of the snow and mist.

Icebergs by the low clouds covered and kissed, Cl.u.s.tered round us like ghosts to bar our way; While the sharp sleet drove on the icy blast, Cutting through the foam of the seething spray, Sheathing in ice both sail and mast, Northward still northward we sailed away.

The wild air was thick with flurrying snow; The winds broken loose, raging, swept and swirled, Heaping mountain drifts on hummock and floe, Deadly that wind as the cannon's breath, To crush out life with the blast of death.

Wreathing winding sheets round an Arctic world.

Upon that wild day, on that dreadful day!

Amid grinding noises of crash and jar, With the winds and snow, waves and ice at war, In their wildest fury and greatest might, We drove with the storm into that wide bay, That forever will keep our captain's name, And embalm in horror his death and fame, And around us closed in the Arctic night.

Our ship was caught in jaws of ice, That closed on it, held it as in a vice, Ice was around us mountains high Its dazzling spear points pierced the sky, In every shape of vast and wild, Heaps upon heaps were tossed and hurled, Mountain on mountain roughly piled, The chaos of an icy world

It was a ghastly, beautiful sight, The rosy flush of the Northern Light, Lances of splendour shot through the sky And blood-red banners were waved on high, Creatures of light darted to and fro, Dancing in mockery of our woe, Unrolling with their luminous hands Belts of glory, and quivering bands Of heaving, pulsing, transparent green, Throwing out light in shimmering waves, That spread into a tremulous sea Of wavering glowing brilliancy, Clothing the heavens in delicate sheen, From which darts, and arrows, and tongues of fire Glancing in splendour higher and higher Wove themselves into a glorious crown, Letting bright streamers hang wavering down, Until brilliant sea and crown of beams Faded to mist like fairy dreams Vanishing all away, away, Away behind ice wall and icy caves, Leaving us in the moonlight grey, Pale skeletons sitting by frozen graves

We in our misery cared not, For splendours that mocked our wretched lot, We were locked in a place by G.o.d forgot He did not care For sigh or prayer, For He never answered to help or bless, But death and fell sickness and loathsomeness Of disease that cometh from extreme cold, Joined to cow the hearts of the brave and bold, The provisions rotted within the hold, And the worm eaten bread was foul to use.

Sufferings and agonies manifold Gathered round the end of that fatal cruise.

The spring kept away so late, oh so late!

Through death our numbers waxed feeble and few; And when famine sat down among the crew, Came both sullen anger and fiery hate, And we hardened our hearts and cursed our fate.

Some deserted to speedily fall and freeze Some, swollen and blue with the fell disease, Blasphemed and called on the saints in turn With choking utterance and livid tongue.

We cursed the captain to his face For bringing us to this wretched case.

He sat among us gloomy and stern, His venturous heart was with anguish wrung; While silent and sad Was the little lad, His only son, Once so full of fun When he sailed on the cruise that had no return.

Sitting in our misery on a night, Fresh wonders burst on our awe-struck sight; For the stars were raining out of the sky, In a fiery shower, falling thick and fast; Yea, and horrible sounds were on the blast, Of crash and jar, and shivering moan, As of rending earth; and all nature's groan Were sent to warn us the end was nigh.

With awe-struck gladness we looked around, Waiting to hear the last trumpet sound.

From living death in that desolate Bay, We had sprung to welcome the judgment day; Although in the pit should our lot be cast, So that this our great woe should end at last.

The bleak spring came, the ice did part; Devils entered each sailor's heart; No blessed thoughts sweetened our wretched lives, Of the distant mother's, sweethearts, and wives; Of innocent pleasures we valued most, In the greenwood haunts of our childhood's home, In sweet English vale, or bold Breton coast, That we left to sail on the salt sea foam.

We launched the boat--we, the wicked crew-- Strong in the evil we meant to do, To leave the most helpless ones behind-- The men who were loathsome, sick and blind.

We tumbled them in without sail or oar; We forced in the captain and his son; And when the horrible crime was done We mocked them and told them to go ash.o.r.e.

O, Mighty G.o.d of the sea and land!

Where hadst Thou hidden Thy strong right hand; That this should happen under the sky, And be looked at by Thy All-seeing eye For we spread our sails to leave that spot, Secure in that G.o.d regarded not.

As we steered the ship away, away, From the boat that rocked on that dismal Bay, There arose from the wretches left behind, Helpless by famine, sick and blind, A cry that would pierce through iron bars; The despairing groan Of those left alone Pa.s.sed through the ranks of the shivering stars, To the dreadful G.o.d on His holy throne.

When out of that accursed Bay, Southward, homeward we sailed away.

We had favouring winds, we hurried fast, Had our sails been of the hurricane's blast, Our guilt so surrounded and hemmed us in That we could not sail away from our sin; For all nature knew that we had done The awfullest deed beneath the sun Our burning eyes were forbid to weep, We lost the rest of the blessed sleep; For scared by dreams and terrified By visions, leaving us weary-eyed, We knew that the tempter's work was done, We had staked our souls and the fiend had won.

I stood one night at the wheel alone: Stars in millions were in the sky, Every star an accusing eye; I heard again that horrible groan Of horror, of helpless terror and pain, I had hoped to nevermore hear again-- The cry of those we had left alone.

The sky was changed, an angry glare Lit up the billows, and through the air Flaming swords flashed in invisible hands, Ready to execute G.o.d's commands.

The solemn light of the pale moon's glance Glowed with the wrath of His countenance.

At the far horizon shadowy things Shod with the lightning, with fiery wings, Were darting with messages to and fro, I saw them flitting on, noiseless, swift, Through the holy vail of luminous mist, Where G.o.d was apportioning our woe.

I knew the time had come when He meant To mete out to us our punishment.

An awful voice from the maintop fell: "Where is the captain and sick of the crew?"

It filled my brain with the pains of h.e.l.l; The cold sweat started like drops of dew.

My hair stood up--for, over the side, On the rolling swell of the heaving tide, Gliding along on the crest of a wave, I saw, in the moonlight's shimmering track, Our messmates, the feeble, sick and blind, That leagues away we had left behind; To the vessel groping their blind way back Coming again to join the crew; Led by the captain looking as brave, As full of command, as he used to do

The wave heaved up to the bulwark's side, And one after one they stepped on board.

Dead men, with eyes that opened wide With the stare of blindness--gracious Lord!

One of them groped his way abaft, And laid his swollen hand on the wheel.

His hand that in death was clammy and damp; His blind eyes stared at the binnacle lamp, As if the dead hand had nerves of steel, He altered the ship's course in spite of me Who could only stare at him and gasp, For I was in the nightmare's grasp.

Fiends in the air around me laughed; But the dead man worked on all silently, Nor noticed the ecstacy of my fears; Yet he was a man I had known for years.

A messmate at sea, a comrade on sh.o.r.e, And in jolly carouse, in wa.s.sail roar.

My holiday time with him I spent When I was of life-blood innocent; But he never looked or spoke to me, But steered away from the open sea.

Towards the sh.o.r.e beyond the desolate strait, Where suffering and crime had been so great.

Dead hands pulled the ropes and trimmed the sails, But no cheery cries the night wind hails.

They worked the ship like men who slept But steadily, oh so steadily!

They took in sail, the watch they kept, And groped about blindly, silently.

Fore and aft on the waves swarmed fiendish things, Vile creatures that seemed to be heads with wings.

Like a shoal of porpoises millions strong, Alive with motion that could not rest, Twisting out ropes from the breaker's crest, From the fleecy foam of the yeasty spray, With hands that appeared and vanished away; Chattering, they towed the ship along; And we, the living, stood looking on, Until that horrible night was gone.