ByCharles G. D. Roberts.
O rivers rolling to the seaFrom lands that bear the maple tree,How swell your voices with the strainOf loyalty and liberty!A holy music heard in vainBy coward heart and sordid brain,To whom this strenuous being seemsNaught but a greedy race for gain.O unsung streams—not splendid themesYou lack to fire your patriot dreams!Annals of glory gild your waves,Hope freights your tides, Canadian streams!St. Lawrence, whose wide water lavesThe shores that ne'er have nourished slaves!Swift Richelieu of lilied fame!Niagara of glorious graves!Thy rapids, Ottawa, proclaimWhere Daulac and his heroes came!Thy tides, St. John, declare La Tour,And, later, many a loyal name!Thou inland stream, whose vales, secureFrom storm, Tecumseh's death made poor!And thou, small water, red with war,'Twixt Beaubassin and Beauséjour!Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar,What voice shall from the bastioned shoreThe tale of Roberval revealOr his mysterious fate deplore?Annapolis, do thy floods yet feelFaint memories of Champlain's keel,Thy pulses yet the deed repeatOf Poutrincourt and D'Iberville.And thou far tide, whose plains now beatWith march of myriad westering feet,Saskatchewan, whose virgin sodSo late Canadian blood made sweet?Your bulwark hills, your valleys broad,Streams where De Salaberry trod,Where Wolfe achieved, where Brock was slain,Their voices are the voice of God!O sacred waters! not in vain,Across Canadian height and plain,Ye sound us in triumphant toneThe summons of your high refrain.
O rivers rolling to the seaFrom lands that bear the maple tree,How swell your voices with the strainOf loyalty and liberty!A holy music heard in vainBy coward heart and sordid brain,To whom this strenuous being seemsNaught but a greedy race for gain.O unsung streams—not splendid themesYou lack to fire your patriot dreams!Annals of glory gild your waves,Hope freights your tides, Canadian streams!St. Lawrence, whose wide water lavesThe shores that ne'er have nourished slaves!Swift Richelieu of lilied fame!Niagara of glorious graves!Thy rapids, Ottawa, proclaimWhere Daulac and his heroes came!Thy tides, St. John, declare La Tour,And, later, many a loyal name!Thou inland stream, whose vales, secureFrom storm, Tecumseh's death made poor!And thou, small water, red with war,'Twixt Beaubassin and Beauséjour!Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar,What voice shall from the bastioned shoreThe tale of Roberval revealOr his mysterious fate deplore?Annapolis, do thy floods yet feelFaint memories of Champlain's keel,Thy pulses yet the deed repeatOf Poutrincourt and D'Iberville.And thou far tide, whose plains now beatWith march of myriad westering feet,Saskatchewan, whose virgin sodSo late Canadian blood made sweet?Your bulwark hills, your valleys broad,Streams where De Salaberry trod,Where Wolfe achieved, where Brock was slain,Their voices are the voice of God!O sacred waters! not in vain,Across Canadian height and plain,Ye sound us in triumphant toneThe summons of your high refrain.
O rivers rolling to the seaFrom lands that bear the maple tree,How swell your voices with the strainOf loyalty and liberty!
O rivers rolling to the sea
From lands that bear the maple tree,
How swell your voices with the strain
Of loyalty and liberty!
A holy music heard in vainBy coward heart and sordid brain,To whom this strenuous being seemsNaught but a greedy race for gain.
A holy music heard in vain
By coward heart and sordid brain,
To whom this strenuous being seems
Naught but a greedy race for gain.
O unsung streams—not splendid themesYou lack to fire your patriot dreams!Annals of glory gild your waves,Hope freights your tides, Canadian streams!
O unsung streams—not splendid themes
You lack to fire your patriot dreams!
Annals of glory gild your waves,
Hope freights your tides, Canadian streams!
St. Lawrence, whose wide water lavesThe shores that ne'er have nourished slaves!Swift Richelieu of lilied fame!Niagara of glorious graves!
St. Lawrence, whose wide water laves
The shores that ne'er have nourished slaves!
Swift Richelieu of lilied fame!
Niagara of glorious graves!
Thy rapids, Ottawa, proclaimWhere Daulac and his heroes came!Thy tides, St. John, declare La Tour,And, later, many a loyal name!
Thy rapids, Ottawa, proclaim
Where Daulac and his heroes came!
Thy tides, St. John, declare La Tour,
And, later, many a loyal name!
Thou inland stream, whose vales, secureFrom storm, Tecumseh's death made poor!And thou, small water, red with war,'Twixt Beaubassin and Beauséjour!
Thou inland stream, whose vales, secure
From storm, Tecumseh's death made poor!
And thou, small water, red with war,
'Twixt Beaubassin and Beauséjour!
Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar,What voice shall from the bastioned shoreThe tale of Roberval revealOr his mysterious fate deplore?
Dread Saguenay, where eagles soar,
What voice shall from the bastioned shore
The tale of Roberval reveal
Or his mysterious fate deplore?
Annapolis, do thy floods yet feelFaint memories of Champlain's keel,Thy pulses yet the deed repeatOf Poutrincourt and D'Iberville.
Annapolis, do thy floods yet feel
Faint memories of Champlain's keel,
Thy pulses yet the deed repeat
Of Poutrincourt and D'Iberville.
And thou far tide, whose plains now beatWith march of myriad westering feet,Saskatchewan, whose virgin sodSo late Canadian blood made sweet?
And thou far tide, whose plains now beat
With march of myriad westering feet,
Saskatchewan, whose virgin sod
So late Canadian blood made sweet?
Your bulwark hills, your valleys broad,Streams where De Salaberry trod,Where Wolfe achieved, where Brock was slain,Their voices are the voice of God!
Your bulwark hills, your valleys broad,
Streams where De Salaberry trod,
Where Wolfe achieved, where Brock was slain,
Their voices are the voice of God!
O sacred waters! not in vain,Across Canadian height and plain,Ye sound us in triumphant toneThe summons of your high refrain.
O sacred waters! not in vain,
Across Canadian height and plain,
Ye sound us in triumphant tone
The summons of your high refrain.