TRANSLATED BY MARY A. M'IVER

| A tomb of monumental granite raise,

O! Canada, proud of thy liberty!

| To him the chronicler of vanished days.

+ That unborn ages may the record see.

| Muse of our land ! open again, with tears The book of gold where shines each hero's name ; | | To thee the off’ring of his hopeful years Was made, and what hast thou to give but fame? |

| À weary while he strove with courage mild

To bend his soul to strangers who despised ;

| Yet held he sacred rights altho’ exiled

From those whose party strife he little prized.

Marked his high place ’mid the immortal throng, |

| And honors, worthless thro’ a long delay,

Now to his mourning eountrymen belong. ,

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