And he is gone, who led the few
Forecasters of a nation fair;
That gentle spirit, strong and true
As ever breathed Canadian air!

Forever fled? the kindly face,
The eager look, the lambent eye,
Still haunted by a boyish grace—
Can these from recollection fly?

The counsel sound, the judgment clear,
The mild thought brooding over all,
The ready smile, the ready tear—
Can these from recollection fall?

Ah! well do I remember still
The sultry day, whose sun had set;
The hostel near the tower-crowned hill,
The parlour dim where first we met;

The flush of hope, the joy divine
On that pale eve of loftier times,
When, with his friendly hand in mine,
He praised my poor Canadian rhymes;

And sung the old Canadian songs,
And played the old Canadian airs,
Then turned his smile on fancied wrongs,
And laughed away a youth's despairs;

And said: “Throw sickly thoughts aside—
Let's build on native fields our fame;
Nor seek to blend our patriot pride
With alien worth or alien shame!

“Nor trust the falterers who despond—
The doubting spirits which divine
No stable future save beyond
Their long, imaginary line!

“But mark, by fate's strong finger traced,
Our country's rise; see time unfold,
In our own land, a nation based
On manly deeds, not lust for gold.

“Its bourne the home of generous life,
Of ample freedom, slowly won,
Of modest maid and faithful wife,
Of simple love 'twixt sire and son.

“Nor lessened would the duty be
To rally, then, around the Throne;
A filial nation, strong and free—
Great Britain's child to manhood grown!

“But lift the curtain which deceives,
The veil that intercepts the sight,
The drapery dependence weaves
To screen us from the nobler light.

“First feel throughout the throbbing land
A nation's pulse, a nation's pride—
The independent life—then stand
Erect, unbound, at Britain's side!”

And many a year has fled, and now
The tongue which voiced the thought is stilled;
The veil yet hangs o'er many a brow,
The glorious dream is unfulfilled.

Yet Ocean unto Ocean cries!
For us their mighty tides go forth.
We front the sun—behind us lies
The mystery of the unconquered North!

And ardent Aspiration peers
Beyond the clouds, beyond the night,
Beyond the faltering, paltering years,
And there beholds the breaking Light!

For, though the thoughtful mind has passed
From mortal ken, the generous hand—
The seed they sowed has sprung at last,
And grows, and blossoms through the land.

And time will realize the dream,
The light yet spread o'er land and wave;
And Honour, in that hour supreme,
Will hang his wreath o'er Foster's grave.