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Old Deutchland's the country for sauerkraut and beer,
Old England's the land of roast beef and good cheer,
Auld Scotland's the mother of gristle and grit,
But Ireland, my boy, is the mother of wit....

("Ma fille! ' seul bonheur.")

[LE ROI S'AMUSE, Act II]


My child! oh, only blessing Heaven allows me!
Others have parents, brothers, kinsmen, friends,
A wife, a husband, vassals, followers,...

O Lord, in sickness and in health,
To every lot resigned,
Grant me, before all worldly wealth,
A meek and thankful mind!

As, life, thy upland path we tread,
And often pause in vain,...

You don't love me... I have never appealed to you...
Was never your type...
And my hard eyes annoy you, my darling...
I'm too dark for you. And too coarse -
And my white teeth have such a brutal shine...

I

What words of mine can tell the spell
Of garden ways I know so well? -
The path that takes me in the spring
Past quince-trees where the bluebirds sing,
And peonies are blossoming,...

No; no;
It must not be so:
They are the ways we do not go.

Still chew
The kine, and moo
In the meadows we used to wander through;

Still purl
The rivulets and curl...

Paths that wind
O'er the hills and by the streams
I must leave behind -
Dawns and dews and dreams.
Trails that go
Through the woods and down the slopes
To the vale below;...

A wind comes from the north
Blowing little flocks of birds
Like spray across the town,
And a train, roaring forth,
Rushes stampeding down
With cries and flying curds...

I.

I saw how the patient Sun
Hasted untiringly
The self-same old race to run;
Never aspiringly
Seeking some other road
Through the blue heaven
Than the one path which God...

The passion of despair is quelled at last;
The cruel sense of undeserved wrong,
The wild self-pity, these are also past;
She knows not what may come, but she is strong;...

Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,
But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks
Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks;
To do without, take tosses, and obey....

Kings must not use the axe for each offence:
Princes cure some faults by their patience.

The flowers that bloom in sun and shade
And glitter in the dew,
The flowers must fade.
The birds that build their nest and sing
When lovely spring is new,
Must soon take wing.
...

Abundant plagues I late have had,
Yet none of these have made me sad:
For why? My Saviour with the sense
Of suff'ring gives me patience.

'O dreary life,' we cry, 'O dreary life!'
And still the generations of the birds
Sing through our sighing, and the flocks and herds
Serenely live while we are keeping strife...

("L'-haut, qui sourit.")

[Bk. VII. vii., September, 1853.]


Who smiles there? Is it
A stray spirit,
Or woman fair?
Sombre yet soft the brow!
Bow, nations, bow;
O soul in air,...

On the shores of the northern lakes
An infant giant now awakes,
He has long time been in a dream,
But now is roused by engine's scream.

For mighty spirits are abroad...

Written at the time of the last excitement on the Niagara Frontier.


Rejoice, rejoice, we all do stand,
United in one mighty band;
No traitors in our land we find,...

There was a time when it was counted high
To be a patriot--whether by the zeal
Of peaceful labour for the country's weal,
Or by the courage in her cause to die:

For King and Country was a rallying cry...

Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
Who never to himself hath said,
'This is my own, my native land!'
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd
As home his footsteps he hath turn'd...