All hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
With her fair and changeful dress-- A type of our youthful country In its pride and loveliness; Whether in Spring or Summer, Or in the dreary Fall, "Mid Nature"s forest children, She"s fairest of them all.
Down sunny slopes and valleys Her graceful form is seen, Her wide, umbrageous branches The sunburnt reaper screen; "Mid the dark-browed firs and cedars Her livelier colours shine, Like the dawn of the brighter future On the settler"s hut of pine.
She crowns the pleasant hilltop, Whispers on breezy downs, And casts refreshing shadows O"er the streets of our busy towns; She gladdens the aching eyeball, Shelters the weary head, And scatters her crimson glories On the graves of the silent dead.
When winter"s frosts are yielding To the sun"s returning sway, And merry groups are speeding To sugar-woods away; The sweet and welling juices, Which form their welcome spoil, Tell of the teeming plenty, Which here waits honest toil.
When sweet-toned Spring, soft-breathing, Breaks Nature"s icy sleep, And the forest boughs are swaying Like the green waves of the deep; In her fair and budding beauty, A fitting emblem, she, Of this our land of promise, Of hope, of liberty.
And when her leaves, all crimson, Droop silently and fall, Like drops of life-blood welling From a warrior brave and tall; They tell how fast and freely Would her children"s blood be shed, Ere the soil of our faith and freedom Should echo a foeman"s tread.
Then hail to the broad-leaved Maple!
With her fair and changeful dress-- A type of our youthful country In its pride and loveliness; Whether in Spring or Summer, Or in the dreary Fall, "Mid Nature"s forest children, She"s fairest of them all.
H. F. DARNELL
DAMON AND PYTHIAS
In Syracuse there was so hard a ruler that the people made a plot to drive him out of the city. The plot was discovered, and the king commanded that the leaders should be put to death. One of these, named Damon, lived at some distance from Syracuse. He asked that before he was put to death he might be allowed to go home to say good-bye to his family, promising that he would then come back to die at the appointed time.
The king did not believe that he would keep his word, and said: "I will not let you go unless you find some friend who will come and stay in your place. Then, if you are not back on the day set for execution, I shall put your friend to death in your stead." The king thought to himself: "Surely no one will ever take the place of a man condemned to death."
Now, Damon had a very dear friend, named Pythias, who at once came forward and offered to stay in prison while Damon was allowed to go away. The king was very much surprised, but he had given his word; Damon was therefore permitted to leave for home, while Pythias was shut up in prison.
Many days pa.s.sed, the time for the execution was close at hand, and Damon had not come back. The king, curious to see how Pythias would behave, now that death seemed so near, went to the prison.
"Your friend will never return," he said to Pythias.
"You are wrong," was the answer. "Damon will be here if he can possibly come. But he has to travel by sea, and the winds have been blowing the wrong way for several days. However, it is much better that I should die than he. I have no wife and no children, and I love my friend so well that it would be easier to die for him than to live without him. So I am hoping and praying that he may be delayed until my head has fallen."
The king went away more puzzled than ever.
The fatal day arrived but Damon had not come. Pythias was brought forward and led upon the scaffold. "My prayers are heard," he cried. "I shall be permitted to die for my friend. But mark my words. Damon is faithful and true; you will yet have reason to know that he has done his utmost to be here!"
Just at this moment a man came galloping up at full speed, on a horse covered with foam! It was Damon. In an instant he was on the scaffold, and had Pythias in his arms. "My beloved friend," he cried, "the G.o.ds be praised that you are safe. What agony have I suffered in the fear that my delay was putting your life in danger!"
There was no joy in the face of Pythias, for he did not care to live if his friend must die. But the king had heard all. At last he was forced to believe in the unselfish friendship of these two. His hard heart melted at the sight, and he set them both free, asking only that they would be his friends, also.
CHARLOTTE M. YONGE
Honour and shame from no condition rise; Act well your part, there all the honour lies.
POPE
THE WRECK OF THE ORPHEUS
All day, amid the masts and shrouds, They hung above the wave; The sky o"erhead was dark with clouds, And dark beneath, their grave.
The water leaped against its prey, Breaking with heavy crash, And when some slack"ning hands gave way, They fell with dull, low splash.
Captain and man ne"er thought to swerve; The boats went to and fro; With cheery face and tranquil nerve, Each saw his brother go.
Each saw his brother go, and knew, As night came swiftly on, That less and less his own chance grew-- Night fell, and hope was gone.
The saved stood on the steamer"s deck, Straining their eyes to see Their comrades clinging to the wreck Upon that surging sea; And still they gazed into the dark Till, on their startled ears, There came from that swift-sinking bark A sound of gallant cheers.
Again, and yet again it rose; Then silence round them fell-- Silence of death--and each man knows It was a last farewell.
No cry of anguish, no wild shriek Of men in agony-- No dropping down of watchers weak, Weary and glad to die,
But death met with three British cheers-- Cheers of immortal fame; For us the choking, blinding tears-- For them a glorious name.
Oh England, while thy sailor-host Can live and die like these, Be thy broad lands or won or lost, Thou"rt mistress of the seas!
C. A. L.
THE TIDE RIVER
Clear and cool, clear and cool, By laughing shallow, and dreaming pool; Cool and clear, cool and clear, By shining shingle, and foaming weir; Under the crag where the ouzel sings, And the ivied wall where the church-bell rings, Undefiled, for the undefiled; Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
Dank and foul, dank and foul, By the smoky town in its murky cowl; Foul and dank, foul and dank, By wharf and sewer and slimy bank; Darker and darker the further I go, Baser and baser the richer I grow; Who dare sport with the sin defiled?
Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.
Strong and free, strong and free, The flood-gates are open, away to the sea; Free and strong, free and strong, Cleansing my streams as I hurry along To the golden sands, and the leaping bar, And the taintless tide that awaits me afar; As I lose myself in the infinite main, Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.
Undefiled, for the undefiled, Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.
KINGSLEY
The best result of all education is the acquired power of making yourself do what you ought to do, when you ought to do it, whether you like it or not.
HUXLEY