Utawa's tide! this trembling moon,

Shall see us float over the surges soon.
Saint of this green isle! hear our prayer,
Oh! grant us cool heavens and favoring air.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast.

The rapids are near, and the daylight's past.

We have met with two translations of Moore's Boat Song into French, but neither of them are of much merit. Besides these Boat Songs, the Islands present many Poetic Associations that give to them peculiar interest. The late Caleb Lyon, of Lyonsdale, many years since, published a poem somewhat after the style of Byron's "Isles of Greece," that has been so often reproduced that we deem it proper not to include it in the present volume.

The religious meetings that have been held upon Wellesley Island have given rise to some poetic reminiscences of peculiar interest, especially those relating to Mr. Philip P. Bliss, whose participation in the Sunday School Parliament, in 1876, was brought sadly to mind by the railroad casualty that, before the next year, ended his life at Ashtabula, Ohio. This event has been made the subject of memorial verses by Miss Winslow, of Brooklyn. The following are the opening stanzas of this poem:

Last year he stood amongst us all,
Acknowledged King of Song,

Last year we heard his deep tones fall
The river side along;

We saw his reverend mien, we knew
His spirit true and bold.

But of our singer's inner life
The half was never told.

We heard the story, as it flew

On the western wires along,

With bated breath we heard it true,
God took our King of Song;

We read of fiery chariot wheels,
Of wintry waters cold,

But angels saw the agony-
The half was never told.

THE "MILLE ILES" OF CREMAZIE, THE

CANADIAN POET.1

This poem extends through more than fifty stanzas, in which the author lets his fancy dwell upon what he would do, were he a swallow. He would fly to where the snowflocks fall, and make the wildest places echo to his song. He would visit Spain, where the almond blooms; the gilded dome of Alcazar, and the Royal Palace where the

(1) Joseph Octave Crémazie, a native of Lower Canada, was gifted with a fine poetic talent, and produced several pieces that have been greatly admired for the elegance of their style. and the highly poetic sentiments which they express. The poem above noticed, was published in La Litterature Canadienne, 1850 á 1860. ii, 107.

M. Crémazie was a merchant at Quebec, but proving unsuccessful in business, he went from Canada to Brazil, and from thence to France, and died at Havre, January 17, 1879.

Mr. Lareau, in his Histoire de la Litterature Canadienne, in speaking of the style of this poet, says:

"There is something in Crémazie's talent that is found only in those of native genius-it is inspiration. By sudden and passionate flights, he carries you into the highest spheres of poetry and thought. He adorns his style with coloring the most brilliant, and in his hand everything is transformed and animated. He invests the most common of events with features that elevate and magnify, yet in this exuberance of coloring, and this wealth of words and ideas, he in no degree impairs the simplicity of his subject. The poetic thought of his writings is clear and refined, and his verse is natural, and flows from an abundant source." It is understood that a collection of his poems is in course of preparation for the press.

Caliph Omar reigned; Cordova, and Old Castile; Leon, with its brazen gates, and Seville; the Escurial and the Alhambra, and river-banks fragrant with opening flowers. He would view the City of Venice, and the Lions of St. Mark; listen to the serenades of an Italian Summer evening, and, in short, explore on light and rapid wing whatever region or place the wide world offers-in Europe, in India, or in the land of the Nile, that awakens poetic sentiment, displays pictures of beauty, or recalls the memory of great events.

Having thus touched, as it were, a thousand islands of interest throughout the world, he says:

Mais quand dans les flots de

lumiere,

Viendrait le printemps embaume

Etendre, en chantant, sur la terre,

Son manteau vert et perfume.

Avec les chansons printanieres,

Avec le soliel matinal,

Avec les fraiches primereres,
Je reviendrais au ciel natal.

Quand Eve a l'arbre de la vie,
De sa main eut cueilli la mort,
Sur la terre a' jamais fletrie,
On vit paraitre le remord.

Puis Adam s'en fut sur la terre,
Qui deja pleurait avec lui,
S'abeuver a la source amere
Ou nous allons boire aujourd-
'hui.

Et les Archanges sur leurs ailes
Prenant l' Eden silencieux,
Au haut des spheres eternel-
les

Le deposerent dans les cieux;
Mais, en s'elancant dans l'es-
pace

Ils laisserent sur leur chemin Tomber pour indiquer leur trace

Quelques fleurs du jardin divin.

Mille Iles! collier magnifique
De diamant et de saphir.
Qu'eut prefere le monde an-
tique

A l'or le plus brillant d'Ophir.
O belle et sublime coronne,
Que pose sur son large front,
Le Saint-Laurent, quand sur le
trone,

Que ses lacs immenses lui font.

Il vient, eut montrant a la terre
Son arc-en-ciel eblouissant,
Faire retenir le tonnerre
Du Niagara bondissant.

Mille Iles! rainte merveille,
Oasis sur les flots dormant,
Que l'on prendrait pour la cor-
beille

Qu'apporte la main d'un amant.
Dans vos pittoresques asiles,
Trouvant la paix et le bonheur,
Je coulerais des jours tran-
quilles

En chantant au fond de mon

cœur.

(1) "But when with floods of light, the balmy springtime comes, with its melodies, its mantle of green and its perfumes-its vernal songs with the morning sun, and all the freshness of awakening life, I would return to my native skies.

"When Eve plucked Death from the Tree of Life, and brought tears and sorrow upon earth, Adam was driven out into the world to mourn with her, and taste from the bitter spring that we drink to-day.

"Then Angels on their wings, bore the silent Eden to the Eternal Spheres on high, and placed it in the heavensbut in passing through space, they dropped along the way, to mark their course, some flowers from the Garden Divine. These flowers of changing hues, falling into the Great River, became the Thousand Isles-the Paradise of the St. Lawrence.

"The Thousand Isles! magnificent necklace of diamond and sapphire that those of the ancient world would have preferred to the brightest gold of Ophir! Sublime and beautiful crown that rests upon the ample brow of the St. Lawrence, on her throne of the vast Lakes that display the tinted rainbow, and return the echoes of thundering Niagara! The Thousand Isles-charming wonder-oasis on the sleeping waves-that which might be thought a flowerbasket borne by a lover's hand! In thy picturesque retreats, I find naught but peace and happiness, and spend the tranquil days in singing the lays of a heart content!

"Not proud Andalusia-nor the banks of Cadiz-nor the Kingdom of the Moors sparkling like rubies-nor the poetic scenes of Florence and Milan-nor Rome with its ancient

We much regret that we could not here introduce the whole of Crémazie's Poem. The portion we give affords, however, sufficient evidence of his style, and will justify the opinion that has been expressed concerning his poetic talent.

splendors-nor Naples with its volcano-nor that charmed sea where Stamboul lifts its towers-nor the vales of sorrow where the fierce Giaours dwell-nor India in its native wealth, where Para-Brahma shines, or the seas of verdure that Kalidasa celebrate-nor the land of the pyramids― nor all the treasures of Memphis-nor the rapids of the Nile, where we seek and admire Osiris-shall ever thy echoes repeat, from the notes of this lyre which is tuned amid these charming scenes."