Our Canadian Dominion Half a dozen ballads about a king for Canada. From the pen of Martin F. Tupper, with some prose comments |
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| I. | No. I.
A KING FOR A COLONY. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Our Canadian Dominion |  |
5
No. I. A KING FOR A COLONY.
Cubs of the grand old lioness brood,
Patriot colonies, sturdy and shrewd,
All of you—each,—wherever unfurl'd
St. George's cross flames over the world,
Hearken a minute, and let one word
Now by two hemispheres loudly be heard,—
Alfred! glory shines in the name;
Alfred! it rings on the buckler of fame;
Alfred! which of you, then, most wise,
Prays and works to secure such a prize?
Lo! what a name as a Founder-King's!
What a seed of high thoughts, what a root of good things!
What a watchword in war, what a motto for peace!
What a prince,—more worthy of you—than of Greece!
Patriot colonies, sturdy and shrewd,
All of you—each,—wherever unfurl'd
St. George's cross flames over the world,
Hearken a minute, and let one word
Now by two hemispheres loudly be heard,—
Alfred! glory shines in the name;
Alfred! it rings on the buckler of fame;
Alfred! which of you, then, most wise,
Prays and works to secure such a prize?
Lo! what a name as a Founder-King's!
What a seed of high thoughts, what a root of good things!
What a watchword in war, what a motto for peace!
What a prince,—more worthy of you—than of Greece!
Proud Australia, spangled with gold;
India, man's gemm'd cradle of old;
Canada, colleagued with comrades brave;
Hope-bound Africa, purged of the slave;
And wherever from hundreds of Isles
Mother Britannia frowns and smiles,—
Which of you all, true lovers of us,
Truer self-lover will prove, as thus?
Which of you, such wise love to evince,
Will pray for your King in the Sailor Prince,
And ere many more of his summers be run,
Ask of the Queen, for your King, Her Son?
India, man's gemm'd cradle of old;
Canada, colleagued with comrades brave;
Hope-bound Africa, purged of the slave;
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Mother Britannia frowns and smiles,—
Which of you all, true lovers of us,
Truer self-lover will prove, as thus?
Which of you, such wise love to evince,
Will pray for your King in the Sailor Prince,
And ere many more of his summers be run,
Ask of the Queen, for your King, Her Son?
For, in the fulness of time, it is seen
That swarming bees hive off from their Queen:
Not like America, sorrow to tell,
Forced by that tyrannous tax to rebel;
But, as constrain'd by the spread of mankind,
The width of the world, and the progress of mind,
By numbers and wealth, by distance and clime,
By the Babel-scatter of Place and of Time.
We, small isles on the ends of the earth,
People the world with a Titan birth;
We, a mere eagle's nest on a rock,
Are hatching-out so much of eaglet-stock
That flocks fly forth, full-fledged, full-grown,
And each claims an eyrie and rock of his own!
We cannot keep men-children at school;
Nor fancy by telegraph-wires to rule,
Puppet-like, mighty communities free,
Thousands of leagues, over land, over sea:
Stout and shrewd, full of power and skill,
And quite independent—save for good-will,—
Swarming peoples, born in a day,
Cover huge continents far away,—
Too far, too huge, such Nations upspring
To bear the small pride of a Downing-Street King.
That swarming bees hive off from their Queen:
Not like America, sorrow to tell,
Forced by that tyrannous tax to rebel;
But, as constrain'd by the spread of mankind,
The width of the world, and the progress of mind,
By numbers and wealth, by distance and clime,
By the Babel-scatter of Place and of Time.
We, small isles on the ends of the earth,
People the world with a Titan birth;
We, a mere eagle's nest on a rock,
Are hatching-out so much of eaglet-stock
That flocks fly forth, full-fledged, full-grown,
And each claims an eyrie and rock of his own!
We cannot keep men-children at school;
Nor fancy by telegraph-wires to rule,
Puppet-like, mighty communities free,
Thousands of leagues, over land, over sea:
Stout and shrewd, full of power and skill,
And quite independent—save for good-will,—
Swarming peoples, born in a day,
Cover huge continents far away,—
Too far, too huge, such Nations upspring
To bear the small pride of a Downing-Street King.
Ay,—vast Empires with clipt wings,
Giant-children in leading-strings,
Tutored and trammell'd o'er lands and seas
By clerks at their office-antipodes,
Half set free, it is true, but still
Slaves to some partizan Premier's will,—
Is it not, some of you, time to escape
From circumlocution's fetters of tape?—
High time now to be running alone
With a King of your choice, a King of your own?
No creature of party, no rival of place,
No clamorous oligarch, vain of his race,
No broken-down soldier, no half-ruined lord,
No barnacle-hack of a Government board,
No tinsel sham-king with his flunkeyfied court,
But the real royal thing of the right good sort,—
A stem of Britannia's Oak, that fills
With the boughs of a dynasty old as the hills,
Rooted at centre and acorn'd to heaven,
This dear old planet, to man God-given!
Giant-children in leading-strings,
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By clerks at their office-antipodes,
Half set free, it is true, but still
Slaves to some partizan Premier's will,—
Is it not, some of you, time to escape
From circumlocution's fetters of tape?—
High time now to be running alone
With a King of your choice, a King of your own?
No creature of party, no rival of place,
No clamorous oligarch, vain of his race,
No broken-down soldier, no half-ruined lord,
No barnacle-hack of a Government board,
No tinsel sham-king with his flunkeyfied court,
But the real royal thing of the right good sort,—
A stem of Britannia's Oak, that fills
With the boughs of a dynasty old as the hills,
Rooted at centre and acorn'd to heaven,
This dear old planet, to man God-given!
For well do I wot that your wisdom clings
To the quiet good rule of legitimate Kings:
For you, no republican riots shall roar,
No constant elections corrupt to the core,
No towns be laid waste by renewed civil strife,
No provinces blasted by war to the knife!
British America! look well around;
Sulphurous skies, and blood-sodden ground,
Famishing orphans, and desolate farms,
Shouts of fierce fury from brothers in arms.
Hark! how their terrible eloquence rings,—
“Curses on Presidents, Blessings on Kings!”
To the quiet good rule of legitimate Kings:
For you, no republican riots shall roar,
No constant elections corrupt to the core,
No towns be laid waste by renewed civil strife,
No provinces blasted by war to the knife!
British America! look well around;
Sulphurous skies, and blood-sodden ground,
Famishing orphans, and desolate farms,
Shouts of fierce fury from brothers in arms.
Hark! how their terrible eloquence rings,—
“Curses on Presidents, Blessings on Kings!”
And—if he but wills—what a King for your choice!
What a nature, as well as a name, to rejoice
Your hope of his future from love of his past,
A slower beginning that's surer to last.
Let us speak the plain truth without favour or fear;
No paragon piece of perfection is here,
No fabled romantic impossible prince
Never seen before Arthur, nor in him, nor since;
But, a soul full of pluck, and a mind full of thought,
Well-born and well-nurtured, well-grown and well-taught,
Frank, kindly, whole-hearted, brave, simple, and true,
And if still a youth better fitted for you;
No prejudice rampant, nor habits grown strong,
Nor need of unlearning a possible wrong,
But, scion of England and bred in her school,
True to his right, constitutional rule.
What a nature, as well as a name, to rejoice
Your hope of his future from love of his past,
A slower beginning that's surer to last.
Let us speak the plain truth without favour or fear;
No paragon piece of perfection is here,
8
Never seen before Arthur, nor in him, nor since;
But, a soul full of pluck, and a mind full of thought,
Well-born and well-nurtured, well-grown and well-taught,
Frank, kindly, whole-hearted, brave, simple, and true,
And if still a youth better fitted for you;
No prejudice rampant, nor habits grown strong,
Nor need of unlearning a possible wrong,
But, scion of England and bred in her school,
True to his right, constitutional rule.
And dream not, O world, that in cutting them free,
Dear patriarch England less honour'd would be,—
An Ishmael, with twelve of the sons of his hearth,
Princes and Kings all over the Earth!
And dare not, O statesman, to hint with a sneer,
“Secession! high treason! a traitor is here!”
The son that is married and settled in life
Secedes, if you will, to his home and his wife;
But his home is a nook for your peaceful grey hair,
And his wife a new daughter to set your armchair:
Kingdoms and families follow like laws;
Division had ever good growth for its cause.
And dread not, O Queen, that in leaving them thus,
Their hearts as in pride could repudiate us:
No! king'd with some Prince of the Blood as their own,
Allied as dear kindred, yet standing alone,
Each realm with its difference, when it upsprung,
Would claim, as one race, one flag with one tongue:
Great England would be, as in wealth so in worth,
Victoria's England, all over the Earth;
Our Alfred might hold an American helm,
Our Arthur rule over Australia's realm,
Our Leopold, Rajah of India be seen,
And the great Maharanee of all be The Queen!
Dear patriarch England less honour'd would be,—
An Ishmael, with twelve of the sons of his hearth,
Princes and Kings all over the Earth!
And dare not, O statesman, to hint with a sneer,
“Secession! high treason! a traitor is here!”
The son that is married and settled in life
Secedes, if you will, to his home and his wife;
But his home is a nook for your peaceful grey hair,
And his wife a new daughter to set your armchair:
Kingdoms and families follow like laws;
Division had ever good growth for its cause.
And dread not, O Queen, that in leaving them thus,
Their hearts as in pride could repudiate us:
No! king'd with some Prince of the Blood as their own,
Allied as dear kindred, yet standing alone,
Each realm with its difference, when it upsprung,
Would claim, as one race, one flag with one tongue:
Great England would be, as in wealth so in worth,
Victoria's England, all over the Earth;
Our Alfred might hold an American helm,
Our Arthur rule over Australia's realm,
Our Leopold, Rajah of India be seen,
And the great Maharanee of all be The Queen!
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