Читать книгу Carols of Canada, Etc., Etc - E. S. MacLeod - Страница 17

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Oh! ye who suffer ills untold

Upon the ground you tread! Whose children pine from want and cold,

And cry in vain for bread, Fold not your hands o'er cruel fate,

Nor weep with blinded eyes; Look onward! peace and plenty wait

Aneath our western skies.

I left my home in Erin's Isle,

By Shannon's glittering wave, I bade farewell a mother's smile,

A youthful husband's grave. Together with my orphan band

I crossed the raging sea, And sought and found in this bright land

A home for them and me.

Where riches may not rob the feast

Won by the hand of toil; Nor oust the man to feed the beast

Upon God's fertile soil. Where sterling worth may upright stand,

Where industry is blessed;— Yes! though I love my native land,

I love this land the best.

Here Scotia finds her sweet blue bell,

Here Erin's shamrock blows; Whilst incense floats o'er hill and dell

From England's fragrant rose. Each country finds its own again

Tenfold, in this great world, Where Freedom's hand, from mount to main,

Her banner hath unfurled.

Fair Canada! all lands above

In power to conquer wrong; Thou yieldest love in turn for love,

Thy strength shall aye be strong. Oh beauteous, peerless, wide domains!

Oh ever teeming store! Though exiled myriads seek thy plains,

There's room for myriads more.

Now, where the Rocky summits rise,

At tender eve's decline, I watch the sun of cloudless skies

O'er many an acre shine. My heart's best treasures by my side,

The years may ebb and flow; Till I shall greet, 'yond storm and tide,

The loved of long ago.