The recollection of a name,
’Twas Commissary Ashworth came. 
And not far off, with business look
And pen in hand o’er ponderous book,
I see another friend of youth
Noted for probity and truth;
’Tis Thomas Donelly, worthy man! 
Whom now with memory’s eye I scan. 
Still as the mist of memory clears,
I meet the men of other years;
Another page I now unfold,
And Captain Bolton I behold,
Or Major Bolton, if you will,
Who lived upon the “Major’s Hill,”
Which got his rank and bears it still. 
It used to be in days gone by,
“The Colonel’s Hill,” a rank more high,
And worthy of the ancient trees,
Whose foliage rustled in the breeze,
Where pigeons, in their annual flight,
Were wont by thousands to alight,
O! many a fusilade I’ve seen,
Of flint locks in its bowers green;
It got the name recorded here,
From Colonel By, who first lived there;
’Twas then a grove of thickest shade,
What civilization’s hand hath made,
The Indian, with its withering skill,
It has done for the “Colonel’s Hill.” 
Who comes, so centaur like in grace,
Good spirits pictured in his face? 
’Tis Isaac Smith, let truth not vary,
A gentleman from Tipperary,
Beloved by all, ’twere hard to mate him,
He had no enemies to hate him,
His friends were neither scarce nor few
They numbered every soul he knew. 
Who e’er remembers Isaac Smith,
Mounted top boots and breeches with,
Upon his stately old black mare
Will recollect a horseman rare. 
Christopher Carlton, where art thou? 
Come here, old friend, I want thee now
To ramble back with me again
To where of old McPherson and Crane,
And Francis Clemow, too, I think,
Did business at the Basin’s brink. 
And Bindon Burton Alton, who
Has vanished from terrestial view;
The poet with the flashing eye—­
The true born son of minstrelsy! 
Who sang so sweetly, memory still
Trembles with the undying thrill. 
Which throbbed in melting tones of fire
From Bindon Burton Alton’s lyre,
Alas! alas! that such a soul
Should sink a victim to the bowl. 
Thomas MacKay, who’s worthy name
Is well known even to modern fame. 
The worth which honest men revere
Deserves a fitting record here. 
With mighty gangs he excavated
The ancient quarry situated
On west side of “the Major’s Hill.” 
Which modern hands find hard to till;
The stones from thence by powder rent
To build the seven Canal Locks went. 
The Sappers’ Bridge, too, was erected
By blocks of limestone thence ejected. 
Like many another rising man. 
Mackay for ancient Russell “ran”
To use a term, which means to-day
That he runs best who best can pay! 
The declaration found him seated
And his antagonist defeated. 
New honors came his name to greet,
A Legislative Councillor’s seat
Was given next to Russell’s pride,
Clad with which dignity he died.