Sol Canadien, Terre Cherie.

(From the French of Isidore Bedard.)         O soil Canadian, cherished earth,             The brave, the noble, peopled thee;         They left the country of their birth,             And sought a land of liberty.         It was from glorious France they came:             They were the pick of warriors, they;         The shining lustre of their fame             Is kept untarnished till to-day.         How beautiful thy fields appear!             How much thou hast to give content!         All hail, ye mountains that uprear             Your lordly heights magnificent!         All hail, St. Lawrence' noble tide!             Hail, land by Nature richly deckt!         Thy children's hearts should throb with pride,             Thy sons should walk with head erect.         Still honor the protecting hand             Of Albion, friend of the opprest;         And harbor no malicious band             Of traitors nourished in thy breast.         Yield never in the storm, be brave;             Thine only masters are thy laws;         Thou wast not made to be a slave;             Fear not, thy rights are Britain's cause.         If that belov'd, protecting hand             Should ever fail thee, undismay'd         Stand by thyself, alone, my land,             Rejecting, scorning foreign aid.         From glorious France thy founders came;             They were the pick of warriors, they:         The shining lustre of their fame             Unsullied shall be kept for aye.