Away to the west! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Where over the prairies the summer winds blow!
Why known to so few were its rivers and plains,
Where rustle so tall in their ripeness the grains?
The bison and Red-men alone cared to roam
O'er realms that to millions must soon give a home;
The vast fertile levels Old Time loved to reap
The haymaker's song hath awakened from sleep.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Why waited we fearing to plant and to sow?
Not ours was the waiting! By God was ordained
The hour when the ocean's grey steeds were up-reined,
And green marshes rose, and the bittern's abode
Became the Lone Land where the wild hunter strode,
And soils with grass harvests grew rich, and the clime
For us was prepared in the fulness of Time!
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
For us 'twas prepared long ago, long ago!
There came from the Old World at last o'er the sea,
The bravest and best to this land of the free;
And, leal to their flag, won the fruits of the earth
By might that has given new nations a birth,
But found in our North-land a bride to be known
More worthy than all of the love of the throne.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
God's hand is our guide; 'tis His will that we go!
To lands yet more happy than Europe's, for here
We mould the young nation for Freedom to rear.
Full strongly we build, and have nought to pull down,
For, true to ourselves, we are true to the Crown;
The will of the people its honour shows forth,
As pole-star, whose radiance points steadfastly north.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Where rooted in Freedom shall Liberty grow!
Right good is the loam that for five score of days
Its rolling lands show, or its plains' scented ways:
Nor used is the pick, if the earth has concealed
The waters it keeps for the house and the field;
The spade finds enough, until burst on the sight
Our Rocky Sierras' sweet rivers of light.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
From mountains and lakes there the great rivers flow!
If told of Brazil or great Mexico's gold,
Of Cotton States' warmth and of Canada's cold,
Go say how we prize, like the ore of the mine,
The snows sapphire-shadowed in winter's sunshine;
—Our gayest of seasons! which guards the good soil
For races who won it through faith and through toil.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Bright sparkles its winter, and light is its snow!
There gaily, in measureless meadows, all day
The sun and the breeze with the grass are at play,
In billows that never can break as they pass,
But toss the gold foam of the flower-laden grass,
The bright yellow disks of the asters upcast
On waves that in blossoms flow silently past.
Away to the West! Westward-ho! Westward ho!
Where over the prairies the summer winds blow.
The West for you, boys! where our God has made room
For field and for city, for plough and for loom.
The West for you, girls! for our Canada deems
Love's home better luck than a gold-seeker's dreams.
Away! and your children shall bless you, for they
Shall rule o'er a land fairer far than Cathay.
Away to the West! Westward ho! Westward ho!
Thou God of their fathers, Thy blessing bestow!
THE SONG OF THE SIX SISTERS.
[Manitoba, Assiniboia, Saskatchewan, Athabasca, Alberta,
and British Columbia.]
At a feast in the east of our central plains,
Girt with the sheaths of the wheaten grains,
Manitoba lay where the sunflowers blow,
And sang to the chime of the Red River's flow:
"I am child of the spirit whom all men own,
My prairie no longer is green and lone,
For the hosts of the settler have ringed me round,
And his bride am I with the harvest crowned."
On her steed at speed o'er her burning grass
We saw Assiniboia pass:
"The bison and antelope still are mine,
And the Indian wars on my boundary-line;
Where his knife is dyed I love to ride
By the cactus blooms or the marshes wide,
While the quivering columns of thunder fire
Give light to the darkened land's desire."
"To the North look ye forth," cried the voice of one,
Who dwells where the great twin rivers run;—
"Or farther yet," Athabaska cried,
"Where mightier waters the hills divide:
'Peace' is their name, and the musk ox there
Still feeds alone on the meadows fair."
"Nay, stay," said the first; "the white man's word
Hath called me the kindest to horse and herd."
From on high where the sky and the snow-born rill
Each morn and eve to the rose-tints thrill,
Sang the fairy Sprite of the Fountain Land:
"A daughter of her, whose sceptred hand
With the flag of the woven crosses three
Hath rule o'er the ocean, hath christened me,
And my waves their homage repeat again,
And that standard greet in the loyal main."
And their lays in her praise then sang the four:
"Alberta has all we can boast and more:
The scented breath of the plains is hers,
The odours sweet of the sage and firs;
There the coal breaks forth on her rolling sod,
And the winters flee at the winds of God.
Columbia, come! for we want but thee;
Now tell of thyself and thy silent sea!"
"Clad with the silver snow, a pine
Guarded the grot of a golden mine,
And dark was the shade which the mist-wreaths cast
Though brightly they shone on the mountain vast.
Stars and sun o'er that cavern swept,
Where on the glittering sand I slept;
But none could behold me, or know where was stored
More treasure than monarch e'er won with the sword.
Floods in fathomless torrents fall
Through the awful rifts of the Alpine wall,
Where I passed in the night over forest and glen,
O'er the ships on the sea and the cities of men—
Swifter than morn! His shafts of love
Behind me caught the peaks above,
But touched not my wings: I had gone e'er he came
Where the vine-maple fringed the deep forest with flame.
Strewn o'er the sombre walls of green
In saffron or in crimson sheen,
How lovely those gardens of autumn, where rolled
In smoke and in fire the red lava of old!
Soon I reached my sea-girt home
Sheltered from the breakers' foam.
Seek not for mine isle, for a thousand and more
Lie asleep in the calm near the mountainous shore.
Oft I roam in moon ray clear
With the puma and the deer;
From the boughs of Madrôna that droop o'er a bay
I watch the fish dart from the beams of the day.
Mine are tranquil gulfs, nor give
Sign to lovers where I live;
But the sea-rock betrays where my netting is hung,
When the meshes of light o'er its mosses are flung!"
She ceased, and then in chorus strong
The blended voices floated long:—
"No sirens we, of shore or wave,
To sing of love and tempt the brave:
We fled their path, and freedom found
Where blue horizons stretched around,
And lilies in the grasses made
A double sunshine on each blade.
No wooers we, but, wooed by them,
We yield our maiden diadem,
And welcome now, no longer mute,
Tried hearts so true and resolute!"