THE MARQUIS OF LORNE'S VISIT TO THE NORTH-WEST
WHAT went ye to the wilderness to see?
A shaking reed? Men in king's houses dwelling?
A prophet? Yea, more than a prophet telling
Of lands new named for Christ—a gift in fee,
And heritage of millions yet to be.
Green prairies like an ocean swelling
From rise to set of sun—great rivers spelling
Their rugged names in Blackfoot and in Cree.
That went you forth to see, and saw it lie,
The glorious land reserved by God till now,
For England's help in need—to drive the plough,
A thousand miles on end—till in the sky
The snowy mountains, from the plains upborne,
Bear on the proudest peak the name of Lorne.