Lorne And Louise.

Lines written on the arrival of Governor Lorne and the Princess Louise in Canada.


        The tidings now all hearts do please,
        That she has landed safe, Louise,
        Victoria's beloved daughter,
        Who boldly has crossed the water,
        For royal Princess doth adorn
        The title of the Lord of Lorne,
        For this union it doth join
        Campbell with Royal Stewart line;
        Lorne will be Duke of broad Argyle,
        And the Lord of many an Isle.
        When he inherits broad domain
        May he strive tenants hearts to gain.
        To us it seems a brighter morn
        Hath dawned on us with Governor Lorne,
        And when they visited this place
        True happiness beamed on each face,
        The first white child who here was born
        Presented was to Governor Lorne,
        From Forest 'ere it was reclaimed,
        Our fine town after him was named.

James McIntyre

James McIntyre was a Canadian poet, most notable for his poetry concerning cheese, cheese-making, dairying, and dairy products. Often referred to as 'The Cheese Poet,' McIntyre's work is celebrated for its earnestness and unintentional humor, making him both a beloved and an infamous figure in literary circles. He emigrated from Scotland to Canada in 1851 and settled in Ingersoll, Ontario, where he became a successful businessman and community leader.

James McIntyre

Galt And Dunlop.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Life In The Woods.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Indian Romance.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Gordon And Burnaby, 1885.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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A Welcome - The Campbells Are Coming

    Gather, oh gather! gather, oh gather
    On with the philabeg every man
And up with the bonnet and badge of your father,
    Belt on the plaid of the great Campbell clan
    From the heather clad hills of that island
    In whose straths and glens your fathers were born
They come, and so gather, ye hearts that are Highland,
    Welcome the Lord and the Lady of Lorne!
                            Gather, oh gather, &c.

    Ocean to ocean the welcome is ringing,
    Fair Indian summer, with blush and with smile,
O'er forests her right royal vesture is flinging
    To welcome the bride and heir of Argyle.
    Princess of Lorne, we rise to receive her,
    First royal lady our country has seen,
To this, the wide land of the maple and beaver,
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Welcome To The Prince Of Wales.

Lines written when the Prince of Wales was about embarking for Canada, May, 1860.


        In his long voyage o'er the sea,
        To where doth grow the maple tree,
        May he be blest with pleasant gales,
        The coming man, the Prince of Wales.

        The maple grows but in good soil,
        Where nature doth reward for toil
        The farmer splitting his fence rails,
        He welcome bids the Prince of Wales.

        In the woods the axe is ringing
        And the yeoman merry singing,
        The song resounds o'er hills and dales,
        Our future king the Prince of Wales.

        Round the brow of our future chief
        We'll weave a wreath of maple leaf,
        For o'er broad Canada prevails
        Kind...

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How Prince Arthur Was Welcomed To Pembroke.

Do you know the town Pembroke so loyal and long
And so worthy the praise of a poet in song?
Nestled down by the lake shore, that ripples and shines,
And hemmed in by the hills with their crowning of pines.
Now this town is that town so wondrous and fair,
Long thought to be but a chateau in the air,
Where the sons are all brave and the daughters all fair.

You may guess what great gladness there rang down the street,
Where the wise and the witty so neighbourly meet,
To compare their opinions to hear something new,
As their friends the Athenians of old used to do,
When the news was to all so gracious and good,
"There is coming to see us a Prince of the blood."
Then all our good people grew loyalty wild
To show love for the Queen as they welcomed her child.
Strai...

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Lines Read At St. Andrew's Anniversary, 1868.

        Scotia's sons to-night we meet thee,
        With kindly feelings we do greet thee,
        In honor of the land of heather,
        Around this board to-night we gather.

        Land where the fields for border edges,
        Have garlands of blooming hedges,
        Land of the whin and of the broom
        And where the bonnie blue bells bloom.

        Land where you may enraptured hark
        To heavenly song of the skylark,
        Which soars triumphant in the skies
        Above the gaze of human eyes.

        Land of bleak hills and fertile dales,
        Where they tell oft their fairy tales,
        Land where the folks do love the kirk
        And on the Sabbath cease from work.

        Land of porridge and of brose,...

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Prince Charlie's Grandsons.

Oft' times these handsome gentlemen appeared in the garb of old Gaul.


        Long 'ere Her Majesty the Queen
        Had visited of Aberdeen,
        'Ere she in castle did abide
        'Mong glorious hills on the Dee side,
        Or visited each Highland glen,
        Or won the hearts of Highland men,
        Here oft' was seen in celtic dress
        Two Stewarts brave in Inverness,
        Well worthy of the poet's lyre.
        They claimed Prince Charlie as grandsire,
        And that they also did combine
        Stuart with Royal Polish line,
        Their names Sobieskie, Stuart,
        They won many a Highland heart,
        But Royal order did go forth
        To build Balmoral Castle North,
        Then wondrous change was quic...

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The Coming Of The Princess

I.


Break dull November skies, and make
Sunshine over wood and lake,
And fill your cells of frosty air
With thousand, thousand welcomes to the Princely pair!
The land and the sea are alight for them;
The wrinkled face of old Winter is bright for them;
The honour and pride of a race
Secure in their dwelling place,
Steadfast and stern as the rocks that guard her,
Tremble and thrill and leap in their veins,
As the blood of one man through the beacon-lit border!
Like a fire, like a flame,
At the sound of her name,
As the smoky-throated cannon mutter it,
As the smiling lips of a nation utter it,
And a hundred rock-lights write it in fire!
Daughter of Empires, the Lady of Lome,
Back through the mists of dim centuries borne,
None nobler, non...

Kate Seymour Maclean