  (In Memoriam The Rt. Hon. Sir John S. D. Thompson.) Hark to the solemn gun and tolling bell! What ship is this, that, dark as night or death, Is entering port upon the sullen swell, While an expectant nation holds its breath? From many a threatening port her cannon gape, Above her deck the flag of Britain flies; Like some sad dream she comes, her sombre shape Crushing the waves that in her pathway rise. One of the Sea Queen’s ocean walls is she, Grim guardian of her honor, yet that prow Ne’er upon nobler errand cleft the sea, Nor guarded Britain’s honor more than now. Day after day uprose the golden sun, Night after night it sank beneath the wave, Pointing the vessel on that carried one The Empire honored to his western grave. As Truth led that strong soul where’er it would Onward through strife to honor without stain, So is he brought through ocean’s solitude, With but the billows for his funeral train. No warrior he the blood of men that shed, His was the higher task to make them one, And Canada, awaiting now her dead, With tears attests the task was nobly done. Yet, not within this sea-borne funeral car The patriot lies. He is no longer here, But onward, upward still, he journeys far Beyond our ken to some still nobler sphere. The harbor of his earthly wishes won, Fresh from new honors from his Sovereign’s hand, To him the summons came. Earth’s voyage done, He set his bark towards the eternal strand. He has gone forth, and leaves us but his name And this cold clay that waits the silent tomb; Yet passing years shall never dim his fame, Nor love forget him in their gathering gloom. With tolling bell and beat of muffled drum, With mournful boom of cannon, lay him down Within the sepulchre, to which shall come Faintly the murmur of his native town. In death he knit the Empire closer yet, Causing unnumbered hearts to throb as one. Here by his tomb may Canada forget The bigotry that he had fain undone. With his Queen’s wreath upon his pulseless breast, Lulled by the murmur of the restless wave, Life’s voyage done, he takes his well-earned rest, In port, at last, with God beyond the grave. |
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