By the purple haze that lies On the distant rocky height, By the deep blue of the skies, By the smoky amber light, Through the forest arches streaming. Where nature on her throne sits dreaming, And the sun is scarcely gleaming Through the cloudlet's snowy white, Winter's lovely herald greets us, Ere the ice-crown'd tyrant meets us. A mellow softness fills the air-- No breeze on wanton wing steals by, To break the holy quiet there, Or make the waters fret and sigh. Or the golden alders shiver, That bend to kiss the placid river, Flowing on and on for ever; But the little waves seem sleeping, O'er the pebbles slowly creeping, That last night were flashing, leaping, Driven by the restless breeze, In lines of foam beneath yon trees. Dress'd in robes of gorgeous hue-- Brown and gold with crimson blent, The forest to the waters blue Its own enchanting tints has lent. In their dark depths, life-like glowing, We see a second forest growing, Each pictur'd leaf and branch bestowing A fairy grace on that twin wood, Mirror'd within the crystal flood. 'Tis pleasant now in forest shades;-- The Indian hunter strings his bow To track, through dark entangled glades, The antler'd deer and bounding doe; Or launch at night his birch canoe, To spear the finny tribes that dwell On sandy bank, in weedy cell, Or pool the fisher knows right well,-- Seen by the red and livid glow Of pine-torch at his vessel's bow. This dreamy Indian summer-day Attunes the soul to tender sadness: We love, but joy not in the ray,-- It is not summer's fervid gladness, But a melancholy glory Hov'ring brightly round decay, Like swan that sings her own sad story, Ere she floats in death away. The day declines.--What splendid dyes, In flicker'd waves of crimson driven, Float o'er the saffron sea, that lies Glowing within the western heaven! Ah, it is a peerless even! See, the broad red sun has set, But his rays are quivering yet Through nature's veil of violet, Streaming bright o'er lake and hill; But earth and forest lie so still-- We start, and check the rising tear, 'Tis beauty sleeping on her bier. LIFE IN THE CLEARINGS VERSUS THE BUSH CHAPTER I Belleville "The land of our adoption claims Our highest powers,--our firmest trust-- May future ages blend our names With hers, when we shall sleep in dust. Land of our sons!--last-born of earth, A mighty nation nurtures thee; The first in moral power and worth,-- Long mayst thou boast her sovereignty! Union is strength, while round the boughs Of thine own lofty maple-tree; The threefold wreath of Britain flows, Twined with the graceful fleur-de-lis; A chaplet wreathed mid smiles and tears, In which all hues of glory blend; Long may it bloom for future years, And vigour to thy weakness lend."