Fleurs de lys and other poems.

by Arthur Weir.

PREFACE

The name FLEURS DE LYS has been chosen for the Canadian Poems in the early portion of this book, because the scenes and incidents they describe belong to the Monarchial, or Fleur de Lys, period of France in Canada. The royal crest during the seventeenth century is depicted upon the cover.

Many of these poems have already appeared in the columns of the Carnival and Jubilee _Star_, the Toronto _Week_, the _University Gazette_, and the Montreal _Gazette_, as well as in the Daily and Weekly _Star_, and it is the kindly reception which they met with that has led the author to publish them in this more permanent form.

Some of the poems were written at twenty, and the latest at twenty- three, so that the author hopes the critics will consider this volume rather as a bud than as a flower, and will criticize it with the view to aiding him to avoid faults in the future rather than to censuring him for errors of the present and past.

To Mr. George Murray, of this city, the author is deeply indebted for encouragement when encouragement was most needed, and for much valuable a.s.sistance in the selection and revision of these verses for publication.

It is hoped that the notes at the end of this book will throw sufficient light upon the verses to make them perfectly intelligible to the reader.

December, 1st, 1887.

_FLEURS DE LYS AND OTHER POEMS_.

ODE FOR THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE.

1837-1887.

I

_Sailor William is dead. And now Toll the great bells disconsolate.

Let the maiden have time for tears Ere you set on her gentle brow England's glittering crown of state.

Heavy burden for eighteen years.

Grant the maiden some weeping s.p.a.ce Ere on her youthful brow you place England's crown.

Once her stately head it presses, Fifty years it must rest on her tresses Till their brown Turns to white beneath King Time's caresses-- Grant her weeping s.p.a.ce._

II.

Set the crown on the maiden's brow, And silence the bells disconsolate.

Peal! Ye loud joy-bells, now; Over city and wold let your echoes reverberate.

Peal! for the crowning of smiles and the death of tears, Peal! for the crowning of hopes and the death of fears, Peal! for a Queen who shall rule us for fifty years.

The maiden is crowned with her glorious crown, Heavy with care; Yet it shall never burden her down Into despair.

We will watch over her with our love, And our loyalty prove.

We will bear, each, his share Of the worry, grief, and pain That may seek to mar her reign.

III.

Blow! ye silvery bugles, over the sunny land, Our Queen has yielded to love.

Ring out with merry clangor, O ye bells!

Ye mountains! give the laughing bells reply.

_Hark! how the joyous tumult sinks and swells, And beats against the sky In melody!

Mark how the billows of the mighty sea Toss their white arms in glee, And race along the strand, Joining their voices with the symphony!

Our Queen has yielded to love.

Blow! silvery bugles blow!

That all may know._

IV.

_Toll! toll! ye deep-mouthed bells, Answer! each thundering gun.

Your cadence sadly tells Of a great life-work done.

Death rules this changing earth, Through royal halls he stalks, And with an awful mirth Man's n.o.blest efforts mocks.

He stills the busy brain, Tears loving souls apart, And leaves alone to reign_

_A Queen with empty heart.

Upon her lonely throne She sits, and ever weeps, For him who, once her own, Now wed to heaven sleeps.

Albert has fallen, conquered by Death's dart, A shadow lies across her anguished heart.

She dwells in loneliness that none can gauge; In grief that only heaven can a.s.suage.

She trembles and her soul would fain depart, And beats with tireless wings against its cage.

Oh! live for us, dear Queen, Thou who for years hast been Our leader in all good, Live! Live for us, O Queen!_

V.

_Ring! ye loud bells, in deep, triumphal tone, And bind a zone Around this earth of glorious melody, Till land and sea Awaken and, rejoicing, answer ye.

Ah! n.o.ble Queen! who lookst around thee now On this great nation.

Thy life, since first the circlet touched thy brow, Was consecration Of self to us. Through half a century From darkness into light we followed thee.

The poet, patriot, warrior, statesman, sage Have given thee service long, Lending their fiery youth and thoughtful age To make thy sceptre strong, And in the never-ending march of man To higher things, still England leads the van._

VI.

In fifty years what change! The world is bound In close communion, and a sentence flies O'er half the earth ere yet the voice's sound Upon the calm air dies.

Behold at England's feet her offspring pour Their bounteous store; To her each yields The first fruits of its virgin fields; Each country throws Its hospitable portals open wide To the great tide That from the dense-thronged mother country flows.

New homes arise By rivers once unknown, among whose reeds The wild fowl fed, but now no longer dwells.

No more the bison feeds Upon the prairie, for the once drear plain Laughs in the sun and waves its golden grain.

By a slender chain Ocean is linked to ocean, and the hum Of labor in the wilderness foretells The greatness of a nation yet to come.

In Southern seas Another nation grows by slow degrees, In dreamy India, under tropic sun, Two hundred millions own an Empress' sway, And day by day.

New territories won Shed l.u.s.tre on our Queen's half century.

FLEURS DE LYS.

THE CAPTURED FLAG.