ON BEACON HILL.
And e'en for sake of rich and plenteous peace.
Lei mastery in arms be honor'd still!
So r)nly shall the fear of foemen cease.
For this is naked truth, say what thej' will.
That when a people lose the power to kill,
They count for naught among the sons of men; —
Nor tongue nor pen nor art nor work- men's skill
Can save their homes from alien ravish then, Or lift their fallen capitols to place again.
IN THE PARK— NEAR VANCOUVER, B. C.
Then give us rifles — rifles everywhere!
Ready rifles tipt with bayonets!
And men of iron to lead who little care
For parlor tactics and for social sets!
Strong captains, worthy of their epau- lettes.
Not rich men's sons to make a scarlet show
f.ace-loving fops and wooden martinets.
But clear-eyed stalwarts o'er the ranks who know How best to train a naval gun or trap a foe.
17
And tho' the burden and the fret of life Still wear upon us with unequal weight. We'll weaken not to fratricidal strife. We are a people strong to tolerate Till formed opinion tranquilly abate The jagg'd abuses of an earlier age, Rather than impatient emulate Those hapless nations that in sudden rage Of revolution wreck their ancient heritage.
i8
Our Saxon temper that 'gainst Church
and Crown And tyrant Castles of the feudal plan Made steady way until it wore them down, And straighten'd all their maxims till they
ran
Current for the right of every man Freely to change his state and circum- stance, Is virile yet unbrokenly to span What gulf ahead — what unforeseen mis- chance — Would threat the front of our magnificent advance.
And we have those whose dreams of bet- terment Outrun their fleeting day — whose hearts
ideal Beat evermore against discouragement. In high endeavor not to cease till all The barriers of creed and color fall Within the union of the British bred; Nor rest content until the mutual Machinery of state be perfected So that no least of all our brethren go unfed.
20
I never saw Britania carv'd in stone r never saw Britannia carv'd in stone I've thought what merit shall be all her
own In that great brotherhood that's yet to
be— The diamond empire of futurity. Whose equal citizens all thron'd elate, And treading each a sovran destiny, Shall count it still their pride and best
estate To happily for commonwealth co-operate.
Who'd be the bard of that triumphant
time? Who hath the pen of promise and the skill To tell its periods in exultant rhyme? For I be but a dreamer on a hill. And prone withal fantastic hours to fill With fancies running wild of thought, or
gloat Eerie on the rising Moon until Betimes I hear her dim, harmonic note, Boding of forbidden things and themes re- mote.
But so a passing ship — a bugle call — Did tempt me to essay a song of state Beyond the range of my poor art as all Yon rank'd Olympians that loom serrate Against the azure, upper air are great O'er this low hill. To them young Morn- ing throws His golden, first largesse — there lingering
late Rose-mantled Eve her deep allegiance shows, — Glorious mid unconquer'd peaks and virgin
