APPENDIX A XLIII 



and again, his "Ode for the Canadian Confederacy," beginning: 

 "Awake! my country, the hour is great with change." 



If the song of each of the poets of Confederation is analyzed we 

 find in it the note of a new freedom and mastery — a cry which had 

 been lacking before, of relief from the small provincial outlook, and 

 a devotion to the beauty of this most beautiful of all lands. Archibald 

 Lampman, for instance, seems at first sight to deal in themes and 

 measures far away from national outlook. What have his titles, 

 "Alcyone," "The Favorites of Pan," or, "The Story of an Affinity," 

 to do with Canada? Or "The Frogs" — those "quaint uncouth 

 dreamers, voices high and strange?" — by which he told me he really 

 intended the tree-toads! But in that exquisite poem, what a picture 

 of the charm of his country! 



"And ever as ye piped, on every tree, 

 The great buds swelled ; among the pensive woods 



The spirits of first flowers awoke and flung 



From their buried faces the close-fitting hoods. 



And listened to your piping till they fell. 



The frail spring-beauty with her perfumed bell, 



The windflower, and the spotted adder-tongue." 



After all, in his most distant excursions, he was working at the enrich- 

 ment of Canadian life. In "Freedom," he turns to the Laurentians; 

 painting in clear, firm, tones the new wide land : 



"Up to the hills, where the winds restore us. 



Clearing our eyes to the beauty before us; 

 Earth with the glory of life on her breast. 



Earth with the gleam of her cities and streams." 



Lampman 's amplest expression of his lovely and attractive soul, — 

 for all who knew him loved him deeply — is his "Land of Pallas" that 

 noble picture of the ideal country: 



"A land where Beauty dwelt supreme; and Right, the donor 



Of peaceful days, a land of equal gifts and deeds, 

 Of limitless fair fields, and plenty had with honor; 



A land of kindly tillage and untroubled meads. 



A land of lovely speech, where every tone was fashioned 



By generations of emotion, high and sweet; 

 Of thought and deed and bearing lofty and impassioned ; 



A land of golden calm, grave forms and fretless feet. 



There were no castes of rich or poor, of slave or master. 

 Where all were brothers and the curse of gold Was dead; 



But all that wise fair race to kindlier ends and vaster 

 Moved on together with the same majestic tread." 



