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| IN Ottawa, the Lord of Lorne, | |
| Young Campbell, clansman of Argyll, | |
| A court shall hold to put to scorn | |
| All courts but that of Britain’s isle; | |
| Strange chiefs, through many an hundred mile | 5 |
| Of trackless woods, will seek Louise, | |
| To change their welcome for her smile, | |
| Who comes their Princess over seas. | |
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| Of Saxon aspect, proud of mien, | |
| Bearing high names in days of yore, | 10 |
| Some gay with tartan red and green, | |
| Stern as their Caledonian shore, | |
| With voices like Corbrechtan’s roar,— | |
| What men are these in furred array? | |
| These be the lords of Labrador, | 15 |
| And these the dukes of Hudson’s Bay. | |
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| The dwellers where the waters fall | |
| Down Montmorency’s woody steep, | |
| The merchant-kings of Montreal, | |
| And they who Durham uplands reap, | 20 |
| Shall join, that rule to guard and keep, | |
| Whose large dominion shall outgrow | |
| The imperial island in the deep,— | |
| Though Time her empire should o’erthrow. | |
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| Haply, on some resplendent morn, | 25 |
| When London streets are wild with life, | |
| Great captains in gay chariots borne, | |
| Men who have faced the foe in strife, | |
| And many a high peer’s haughty wife, | |
| And Norman ladies fair to see, | 30 |
| Towards Holbein’s towers, with liveries rife, | |
| Pour through Pall Mall, by Twenty three, | |
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| With goodlier pomp to swell the blood | |
| In British bosoms pleased with show, | |
| And give to thy historic flood, | 35 |
| Dark Thames, a more majestic flow; | |
| Yet there no manlier hearts can glow, | |
| In truer subjects, better born, | |
| Than those that welcome to Rideau | |
| Louisa and the Lord of Lorne! | 40 |
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