JOSEPH HOWE
A CENTENARY SONG OF THE LANDING OF CORNWALLIS AT HALIFAX
ALL hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.Beneath it the emblems they cherished are waving,The Rose of Old England the roadside perfumes;The Shamrock and Thistle the north winds are braving,Securely the Mayflower[A]blushes and blooms.Hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet,Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.We'll honor it yet, we'll honor it yet,The flag of Old England! we'll honor it yet.In the temples they founded, their faith is maintained,Every foot of the soil they bequeathed is still ours,The graves where they moulder, no foe has profaned,But we wreathe them with verdure, and strew them with flowers!The blood of no brother, in civil strife poured,In this hour of rejoicing encumbers our souls!The frontier's the field for the patriot's sword,And cursed be the weapon that faction controls!Then hail to the day! 'tis with memories crowded,Delightful to trace 'midst the mists of the past,Like the features of Beauty, bewitchingly shrouded,They shine through the shadows Time o'er them has cast.As travellers track to its source in the mountainsThe stream which, far swelling, expands o'er the plains,Our hearts on this day fondly turn to the fountainsWhence flow the warm currents that bound in our veins.And proudly we trace them! No warrior flyingFrom city assaulted, and fanes overthrown,With the last of his race on the battlements dying,And weary with wandering, founded our own.From the Queen of the Islands, then famous in story,A century since, our brave forefathers came,And our kindred yet fill the wide world with her glory,Enlarging her empire, and spreading her name.Every flash of her genius our pathway enlightens,Every field she explores we are beckoned to tread,Each laurel she gathers our future day brightens—We joy with her living, and mourn for her dead.Then hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Above and around us their spirits shall hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
ALL hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.Beneath it the emblems they cherished are waving,The Rose of Old England the roadside perfumes;The Shamrock and Thistle the north winds are braving,Securely the Mayflower[A]blushes and blooms.Hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet,Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.We'll honor it yet, we'll honor it yet,The flag of Old England! we'll honor it yet.In the temples they founded, their faith is maintained,Every foot of the soil they bequeathed is still ours,The graves where they moulder, no foe has profaned,But we wreathe them with verdure, and strew them with flowers!The blood of no brother, in civil strife poured,In this hour of rejoicing encumbers our souls!The frontier's the field for the patriot's sword,And cursed be the weapon that faction controls!Then hail to the day! 'tis with memories crowded,Delightful to trace 'midst the mists of the past,Like the features of Beauty, bewitchingly shrouded,They shine through the shadows Time o'er them has cast.As travellers track to its source in the mountainsThe stream which, far swelling, expands o'er the plains,Our hearts on this day fondly turn to the fountainsWhence flow the warm currents that bound in our veins.And proudly we trace them! No warrior flyingFrom city assaulted, and fanes overthrown,With the last of his race on the battlements dying,And weary with wandering, founded our own.From the Queen of the Islands, then famous in story,A century since, our brave forefathers came,And our kindred yet fill the wide world with her glory,Enlarging her empire, and spreading her name.Every flash of her genius our pathway enlightens,Every field she explores we are beckoned to tread,Each laurel she gathers our future day brightens—We joy with her living, and mourn for her dead.Then hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Above and around us their spirits shall hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
ALL hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.Beneath it the emblems they cherished are waving,The Rose of Old England the roadside perfumes;The Shamrock and Thistle the north winds are braving,Securely the Mayflower[A]blushes and blooms.
ALL hail to the day when the Britons came over,
And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!
Around and above us their spirits will hover,
Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
Beneath it the emblems they cherished are waving,
The Rose of Old England the roadside perfumes;
The Shamrock and Thistle the north winds are braving,
Securely the Mayflower[A]blushes and blooms.
Hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet,Around and above us their spirits will hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.We'll honor it yet, we'll honor it yet,The flag of Old England! we'll honor it yet.
Hail to the day when the Britons came over,
And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet,
Around and above us their spirits will hover,
Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
We'll honor it yet, we'll honor it yet,
The flag of Old England! we'll honor it yet.
In the temples they founded, their faith is maintained,Every foot of the soil they bequeathed is still ours,The graves where they moulder, no foe has profaned,But we wreathe them with verdure, and strew them with flowers!The blood of no brother, in civil strife poured,In this hour of rejoicing encumbers our souls!The frontier's the field for the patriot's sword,And cursed be the weapon that faction controls!
In the temples they founded, their faith is maintained,
Every foot of the soil they bequeathed is still ours,
The graves where they moulder, no foe has profaned,
But we wreathe them with verdure, and strew them with flowers!
The blood of no brother, in civil strife poured,
In this hour of rejoicing encumbers our souls!
The frontier's the field for the patriot's sword,
And cursed be the weapon that faction controls!
Then hail to the day! 'tis with memories crowded,Delightful to trace 'midst the mists of the past,Like the features of Beauty, bewitchingly shrouded,They shine through the shadows Time o'er them has cast.As travellers track to its source in the mountainsThe stream which, far swelling, expands o'er the plains,Our hearts on this day fondly turn to the fountainsWhence flow the warm currents that bound in our veins.
Then hail to the day! 'tis with memories crowded,
Delightful to trace 'midst the mists of the past,
Like the features of Beauty, bewitchingly shrouded,
They shine through the shadows Time o'er them has cast.
As travellers track to its source in the mountains
The stream which, far swelling, expands o'er the plains,
Our hearts on this day fondly turn to the fountains
Whence flow the warm currents that bound in our veins.
And proudly we trace them! No warrior flyingFrom city assaulted, and fanes overthrown,With the last of his race on the battlements dying,And weary with wandering, founded our own.From the Queen of the Islands, then famous in story,A century since, our brave forefathers came,And our kindred yet fill the wide world with her glory,Enlarging her empire, and spreading her name.
And proudly we trace them! No warrior flying
From city assaulted, and fanes overthrown,
With the last of his race on the battlements dying,
And weary with wandering, founded our own.
From the Queen of the Islands, then famous in story,
A century since, our brave forefathers came,
And our kindred yet fill the wide world with her glory,
Enlarging her empire, and spreading her name.
Every flash of her genius our pathway enlightens,Every field she explores we are beckoned to tread,Each laurel she gathers our future day brightens—We joy with her living, and mourn for her dead.Then hail to the day when the Britons came over,And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!Above and around us their spirits shall hover,Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
Every flash of her genius our pathway enlightens,
Every field she explores we are beckoned to tread,
Each laurel she gathers our future day brightens—
We joy with her living, and mourn for her dead.
Then hail to the day when the Britons came over,
And planted their standard, with sea-foam still wet!
Above and around us their spirits shall hover,
Rejoicing to mark how we honor it yet.
[A]The Trailing Arbutus, the emblem of Nova Scotia.
[A]The Trailing Arbutus, the emblem of Nova Scotia.