On soft Pacific slopes,—­beside
    Strange floods that northward rave and fall,
  Where chafes Acadia’s chainless tide,—­
    Thy sons await thy call.

  They wait; but some in exile, some
    With strangers housed, in stranger lands;
  And some Canadian lips are dumb
    Beneath Egyptian sands.

  O mystic Nile!  Thy secret yields
    Before us; thy most ancient dreams
  Are mixed with far Canadian fields
    And murmur of Canadian streams.

  But thou, my Country, dream not thou! 
    Wake, and behold how night is done,—­
  How on thy breast, and o’er thy brow,
    Bursts the uprising sun!

CHARLES G.D.  ROBERTS.

* * * * *

WHAT IS THE GERMAN’S FATHERLAND?

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Is it Prussia, or the Swabian’s land? 
  Is it where the grape glows on the Rhine? 
  Where sea-gulls skim the Baltic’s brine? 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Bavaria, or the Styrian’s land? 
  Is it where the Master’s cattle graze? 
  Is it the Mark where forges blaze? 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Westphalia?  Pomerania’s strand? 
  Where the sand drifts along the shore? 
  Or where the Danube’s surges roar? 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Now name for me that mighty land! 
  Is it Switzerland? or Tyrols, tell;—­
  The land and people pleased me well! 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Now name for me that mighty land! 
  Ah!  Austria surely it must be,
  So rich in fame and victory. 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Tell me the name of that great land! 
  Is it the land which princely hate
  Tore from the Emperor and the State? 
      Oh no! more grand
    Must be the German’s fatherland!

  What is the German’s fatherland? 
  Now name at last that mighty land! 
  “Where’er resounds the German tongue,
  Where’er its hymns to God are sung!”
      That is the land,
    Brave German, that thy fatherland!

  That is the German’s fatherland! 
  Where binds like oak the clasped hand,
  Where truth shines clearly from the eyes,
  And in the heart affection lies. 
      Be this the land,
    Brave German, this thy fatherland!

  That is the German’s fatherland! 
  Where scorn shall foreign trifles brand,
  Where all are foes whose deeds offend,
  Where every noble soul’s a friend: 
      Be this the land,
    All Germany shall be the land!