CAxNADIAN BOAT SONG 287 



revived. Months had passed by and it only seemed 

 like yesterday since the river lapped the sides of the 

 " Empress of Ireland." The great continent was then 

 a book about to open its pages. Although too huge 

 a volume to become familiar even to the life student, 

 pages here and there had been mastered, and 

 pictures had left behind their indelible impress. The 

 shores of the St. Lawrence, the scenes of explorers 

 and trappers, of Iroquois and Hurons, on repassing 

 had a new significance. Across the waters came the 

 cry of the loon, the lost soul of Indian legend, and once 

 more recalled the trapper in his birch canoe silently 

 gliding amongst the rapids of the French River, 



The outskirts of the forest were still dusk and 

 mysterious, but the riddle has been read, the 

 impenetrable wild has been mastered and the cleared 

 land, with smiling orchards and lowing kine, declared 

 the victory of patience and industry. Near the 

 banks where once the dusky figure of the red Indian 

 stealthily moved, a boat appeared, and the rhythmic 

 stroke of oars marked a new era of comradeship. 

 Amongst the rugged cliffs, where once the fierce war- 

 cry found answering echoes, rise and fall in melodious- 

 ness the notes of Moore's Canadian Boat Song — 



" Faintly as lolls the evening chime. 

 Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. 

 Soon as the woods on shore look dim, 

 We'll sing at St. Anne's our parting hymn. 

 Row, brothers row, the stream runs fast, 

 The rapids are near and the daylight's past 1 " 



