Canada, the blest – the free! Land of vast hills and mighty streams, the lofty sun that
o’er thee beams. OH! can you leave your native land, an exile’s bride to be? Queen of
the West! – upon thy rocky throne, in solitary grandeur sternly placed, thou sittest
alone. The strains we hear in foreign lands, no echo from the heart can claim. There’s
rest when eve, with dewy fingers, draws the curtains of repose round the west, where
light still lingers, and the day’s last glory glows. Though distant, in spirit still present
to me, my best thoughts, my country, still linger with thee. Oh Canada! Thy gloomy
woods will never cheer the heart. Backwoodsman, son of the isles! rave not to me of the
old world’s pride and luxury. ‘Tis merry to hear, at evening time, by the blazing hearth,
sleigh-bells chime. The parting sunbeams ringed with red, a line of dazzling glory shed!
Moodie, Susanna Strickland. Roughing It in the Bush, or, Life in Canada. London: Richard Bentley, 1852. https://archive.org/details/roughingitinbush01mood_1/page/n20/mode/1up