Frederick George Scott

thumb| Frederick George Scott CMG DSO FRSC (7 April 1861 – 19 January 1944) was for the first part of his life an Anglican priest and a Canadian poet to whom the Canadian literary establishment gave the epithet "Poet of the Laurentians". He was associated with Canada's Confederation Poets, and wrote 13 books of Christian and patriotic poetry, often using the natural world to convey deeper spiritual meaning. In his fifties, Scott became a chaplain in the Canadian Expeditionary Force sent to France during the First World War. Despite his insistence on remaining close to the front line to give assistance to the wounded, he survived many close calls until he was seriously wounded only weeks before the Armistice. He was subsequently decorated for bravery under fire. His memoir, The Great War As I Saw It, was favourably received by both critics and the Canadian public. The book was still in print a century after publication. Scott remained a British imperialist his entire life, and wrote many hymns eulogizing his country's roles in the Boer Wars and World War I. Quotes Growing to full manhood now,With the care-lines on our brow,We, the youngest of the nations, With no childish lamentations,Weep, as only strong men weep,For the noble hearts that sleep, Pillowed where they fought and bled,The loved and lost, our glorious dead. "In Memoriam", st. 1, in C. P. Mulvany, The History of the North-West Rebellion (Toronto, 1885), p. 155 I saw Time in his workshop carving faces;  Scattered around his tools lay, blunting griefs,  Sharp cares that cut out deeply in reliefsOf light and shade: sorrows that smooth the tracesOf what were smiles. "Time" (1886), in The Soul's Quest and Other Poems (London, 1888), p. 114 'Is Sin, then, fair?'  Nay, love, come now,Put back the hair  From his sunny brow;See, here, blood-redAcross his headA brand is set,The word — 'Regret.' "The Sting of Death", st. 1, in My Lattice, and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 84 'How slayeth Sin?'First, God is hid,And the heart withinBy its own self chid;Then the maddened brainIs scourged by painTo sin as beforeAnd more and more,For evermore. "The Sting of Death", st. 4 Cf. 1 Corinthians 15:55–57 'Oh, curses on you hand and head,  Like the rains in this wild weatherThe guilt of blood is swift and dread,Your sister's face is cold and dead,Ye may not part whom God would wed  And love hath knit together.' "The Feud", st. 8, in My Lattice, and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 31 Cf. Genesis 2:24, Matthew 19:5, Mark 10:8, Ephesians 5:31 So often have I met death face to face,His eyes now wear the welcome of a friend's. "Dion", in My Lattice, and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 63 Clay was I; the potter ThouWith Thy thumb-nail smooth'dst my brow,Rolltdst the spittle-moistened sandsInto limbs between Thy hands.[...]Strong Thou mad'st me, till at lengthAll my weakness was my strength;Tortured am I, blind and wrecked,For a faulty architect. "Samson", sts. 9, 12, in My Lattice and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 4 Cf. Judges 16; and John Milton, Samson Agonistes. Author's note, in Collected Poems (Vancouver: Clarke and Stuart, 1934), p. 178: "Written at Drummondville. The inner meaning is revolt against the law of heredity. The poem was written at one setting." Give me splendour in my death —Not this sickening dungeon breath,Creeping down my blood like slime,Till it wastes me in my prime.Give me back for one blind hour,Half my former rage and power,And some giant crisis send,Meet to prove a hero's end. "Samson", sts. 20, 21 Right hath the sweeter grace,But Wrong the prettier face. "The Two Mistresses", st. 1, in My Lattice and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 88 Sweet house of God, sweet earth, so full of pleasure,  I enter at thy gates in storm or calm;And every sunbeam is a joy or pleasure,  And every cloud a solace and a balm. "In the Woods", st. 4, in My Lattice and Other Poems (Toronto, 1894), p. 89 It sleeps among the thousand hills  Where no man ever trod,And only nature's music fills  The silences of God. "The Unnamed Lake", st. 1, in The Unnamed Lake and Other Poems (Toronto, 1897), p. 7 The pulse of our life is in tune with the rhythm of forces that beatIn the surf of the farthest star's sea, and are spent and regathered to spend. "A Dream of the Prehistoric", st. 11, in The Unnamed Lake and Other Poems (Toronto, 1897), p. 14 The immortal spirit hath no bars  To circumscribe its dwelling-place;My soul hath pastured with the stars  Upon the meadow-lands of space. "Eothen", in The Canadian Magazine, vol. 11 (May–October 1898), p. 164 In lonely gorge and over hill and plain,  I sowed the giant forests of the world;The great earth like a human heart in pain  Has quivered with the meteors I have hurled. "The Burden of Time", st. 7, in The Canadian Magazine, vol. 13 (May–October 1899), p. 327 Author's note, in Collected Poems (Vancouver: Clarke and Stuart, 1934), p. 176: "Written in my garden in Quebec. Time is the greatest force in the universe, and to it all others are subservient." One doom waits all — art, speech, law, gods, and men,  Forests and mountains, stars and shining sun, —The hand that made them shall unmake again,  I curse them and they wither one by one.Waste altars, tombs, dead cities where men trod,  Shall roll through space upon the darkened globe,Till I myself be overthrown, and God  Cast off creation like an outworn robe. "The Burden of Time", sts. 13, 14 Oh, linger, little river!  Your banks are all so fair,Each morning is a hymn of praise,  Each evening is a prayer.All day the sunbeams glitter  On your shallows and your bars,    And at night the dear God stills youWith the music of the stars. "The River", st. 3, in The McMaster University Monthly (March 1903), p. 288 Something in my inmost thinking  Tells me I am one with you,For a subtle bond is linking  Nature's offspring through and through. "In the Winter Woods", st. 4, in The McMaster University Monthly (January 1904), p. 192 They saw the stars in heaven hung,  They saw the great Sea's birth,They know the ancient pain that wrung  The entrails of the Earth. "The Storm", st. 7, in A Hymn of Empire and Other Poems (Toronto, 1906), p. 12 Ah God, what thunders shook these crags of yore,  What smoke of battle rolled about this place,    What strife of worlds in pregnant agony!Now all is hushed, yet here, in dreams, once more  We catch the echoes, ringing back from space,    Of God’s strokes forging human history. "The King's Bastion", in A Hymn of Empire and Other Poems (Toronto, 1906), p. 52 Purgatory for me will be five hundred years of catching trains and two thousand years of remembering names. Quoted in The Canadian Magazine, vol. 32, no. 5 (March 1909), p. 460 The great world's heart is aching, aching fiercely in the night,And God alone can heal it, and God alone give light;And the men to bear that message, and to speak the living word,Are you and I, my brothers, and the millions that have heard. "Our Duty" (May 1909), st. 1, in Poems (London and Toronto, 1910), p. 206 Like some grey warder who, with mien sedate  And smile of welcome, greets the throngs who pour  Between the portals of a wide-thrown door,Quebec stands guardian at our water gate,And watches from her battlemented state  The great ships passing with their living store  Of human myriads coming to our shore,Expectant, joyous, resolute, elate. "Quebec", quoted in M. O. Hammond, Canadian Footprints (Toronto, 1926), p. 57 O mighty Soul of England, rise in splendour  Out of the wrack and turmoil of the night,And as of old, compassionate and tender,  Uphold the cause of justice and of right. "To England", st. 1, in The Streetsville Review and Port Credit Herald (15 October 1931), p. 3 External links "Scott, Frederick George (1861–1944)". Representative Poetry Online. University of Toronto Libraries Category:1861 births Category:1944 deaths Category:Anglicans from Canada Category:Poets from Canada Category:People from Montreal