Let us up then and toast to the uttermost
  Fair winter! we knights of the shoe,
And in circle again join hearts with the men
  That of old time toasted her too.

THE PIONEERS.

All you who on your acres broad,
  Know nature in its charms,
With pictured dale and fruitful sod,
  And herds on verdant farms,
Remember those who fought the trees
  And early hardships braved,
And so for us of all degrees
  All from the forest saved.

And you who stroll in leisured ease
  Along your city squares,
Thank those who there have fought the trees,
  And howling wolves and bears. 
They met the proud woods in the face,
  Those gloomy shades and stern;
Withstood and conquered, and your race
  Supplants the pine and fern.

Where’er we look, their work is there;
  Now land and men are free: 
On every side the view grows fair,
  And perfect yet shall be. 
The credit’s theirs, who all day fought
  The stubborn giant hosts: 
We have but built on what they wrought;
  Theirs were the honor-posts.

Though plain their lives and rude their dress,
  No common men were they;
Some came for scorn of slavishness
  That ruled lands far away;
And some came here for conscience’ sake,
  For Empire and the King;
And some for Love a home to make,
  Their dear ones here to bring.

First staunch men left, for Britain’s name,
  The South’s prosperity;
And Highland clans from Scotland came—­
  Their sires had aye been free;
And England oft her legions gave
  To found a race of pluck,
And ever came the poor and brave
  And took the axe and struck.

Each hewed, and saw a dream-like home!—­
  Hewed on—­a settlement! 
Struck hard—­through mists the spire and dome
  The distant rim indent! 
So honored be they midst your ease,
  And give them well their due,
Honor to those who fought the trees
  And made a land for you!

CANADIAN FAITH.

I.

In the name of many martyrs
Who have died to save their country,
Poured their fresh blood bravely for it,
And our soil thus consecrated;
In the name of Brock the peerless,
In the name of Spartan Dollard,
Wolfe and Montcalm—­world’s and ours—­
The high spirit of Tecumseh;
Of the eight who fell at Cut Knife,
Bright in early bloom and courage,
When our youth leapt up for trial;
In the names of thousand others
Whom we proudly keep remembered
As our saviours from the Indian,
From the savage and the rebel,
Or from Hampton, or Montgomery
By Quebec’s old faithful fortress;
And at Chrysler’s Farm and Lundy;
And upon the lakes and ocean;
Or who lived us calmer service;—­
Many is the roll, and sacred;—­
In their names a voice is calling,
  Through this native land of ours!