William Alexander Stephens (9 April 1809 – 1891) was an Irish-Canadian poet, teacher, journalist, customs officer, and lecturer. He is best remembered as the “pioneer poet of Ontario” and the “Poet of Canada West.”
Stephens and Settlement in Norval
Born in Belfast, Ireland, as one of twelve children, Stephens emigrated to Canada around 1830.
He settled in the Esquesing area (near present-day Norval, Ontario) in the 1830s and 1840s, where he lived on the family farm.
The region had only recently been opened for settlement. Following Treaty 19 (1819) with the Mississauga people, Irish, Scottish, and American Loyalist settlers began clearing dense forests, building log cabins, and establishing farms. Typical crops included wheat, barley, oats, and potatoes, alongside sheep and cattle. Life was demanding, marked by manual labour, rocky soil, harsh winters, and encounters with wildlife.
Stephens was deeply involved in the local community. He worked as a teacher, participated in business ventures (including partial ownership of ships), and engaged in local politics. He was also an active member of the Disciples of Christ (Churches of Christ) congregation, serving as a lay preacher. Regular services were held in a log church, with baptisms conducted in the Credit River.
The family’s “old farm” in Esquesing remained significant. A personal note from Stephens records:
“My Father was buried 35 years ago today (1833). My mother died in 1844. My sister Ann 1837. My sister in law Ann died 1845. They are all buried on the old Farm in Esquesing.”
Stephens in Owen Sound
From around 1850, Stephens lived permanently in Owen Sound, where he served for decades as Collector of Customs. He remained active in the Protestant church, the temperance movement, and early anti-slavery efforts. In 1845 he married Mary; the couple had several children, though some did not survive to adulthood. William Alexander Stephens died in Owen Sound in 1891.
Literary Career
Stephens wrote in a traditional, moralistic style influenced by 18th-century poetry and biblical themes. He contributed to newspapers and magazines in Canada and the United States, produced lectures, didactic verse (such as Poetical Geography), patriotic ballads about Canada, and occasional poems.
His most important work is the long descriptive poem Hamilton (1840). He signed the preface from Esquesing in February 1840, suggesting he wrote much of it while living on the family farm near Norval.
The poem was first published in the volume Hamilton, and Other Poems (Toronto: Rogers and Thompson, 1840) and later in an expanded edition in 1871.
The Poem Hamilton
Hamilton is a four-book topographical and celebratory work. Rather than telling a dramatic story, it functions as a poetic guide and hymn of praise to the city of Hamilton, Ontario—its scenic location beside Lake Ontario, surrounding hills and rivers, architecture, residents, industry, and promising future.
If the readers of the present work wish to know anything of its history or its author, — I came in the days of early boyhood to this pro- vince, with my father and family, who had re- solved upon encountering the forests of Canada, since which time I have been principally em- ployed in assisting to hew and burn a farm from out the wilderness, and in cultivating it after it had been cleared, a situation (it will be readily confessed) not the most favorable in the world for literary improvement. Indeed, almost the whole of the present volume has been composed while employed in the business of the farm, and during the usual intervals of relaxation.
PREFACE / HAMILTON / 1840
Written in a classical style reminiscent of William Cowper’s The Task, the poem features long descriptive passages, biblical allusions, and moral reflections. It is considered one of the earliest volumes of poetry published in Upper Canada and exemplifies the optimistic, landscape-celebrating spirit of early 19th-century Canadian colonial verse.
Stephens’ personal diaries, preserved at McMaster University (covering periods such as 1852–1854 and 1867–1881), provide valuable historical insight into family life, travel, politics, and his creative process.
About Stephens by Viator 1847
I was shown here the residence of Stephens, the Poet, who gave such a glowing description of Hamilton some years back. He, like the author of “Claud Halero,” published a volume of his effusions, but also for the poetic taste of Canada, it turned out a failure.– One principal reason for this was the titles to his pieces were not unique or classical.– The public, now-a-day, want something very attractive, something of a tinselled glare before they can be caught. Modesty won’t do, that is long since discarded as altogether unsuited to this enlightened age. “Claud,” gifted youth, saw this, and admirably did he suit the titles to the taste of the public and in the merits of the outpourings of his talented mind; for you must know “Claud” has talent.There is no doubt that Stephen’s had talents of a high order, but they require cultivation, and even if they were cultivated I doubt it he ever would attain any celebrity. There are numerous and great obstacles attending the success of genius when knowing no influence or wealth. How many a noble intellect and talented mind have been doomed to pine in dreary despondency and hopeless griefs for the want of some powerful hand to lead them forth and support their tottering hopes.
Year after year sees minds endowed with sterling abilities sink into oblivion because of no influence or name. Minds which if placed in positions that would give scope to their impassioned yearnings, would shed a luster upon mankind. What trials, what tortures must not the true man of genius endure in his endeavor after fame, when surmounted by difficulties which unfeeling society compel him to suffer. The ignoble and the illiterate he sees elevated over him. He meets the cold gaze and the cruel scoff of the cynic, and illiberal, withering satire of the critic.
He could, under other circumstances, treat these with lofty disdain, but he must, as he is, bend beneath them. The mind which contains within itself the germs of greatness, seems to you but of ordinary mould. The chrysalis which hangs from yonder wall is to you unsightly and unworthy of notice, yet a few genial suns will bring forth from its uncouth enclosure a thing of life and beauty. Despise not, then, genius though it be poor, or talent because you find it in rags; rather give it your support and the sunshine of your favor. By so doing, you ennoble yourself, benefit the world, and earn the gratitude of your fellow men.
VIATOR Township of Kingston, Sept. 30, 1847
LETTERS BY VIATOR FOR THE BRITISH WHIG – 1847
Samples and Excerpts from the Works of William Alexander Stephens:
From Hamilton…
The sunbeams throw upon the waters bright
A horizontal line of golden light,
Ontario stretches to the eastward far,
A mighty mirror, where each brilliant star
Beholds its image far beneath the wave,
Set in the mimic sub-marine concave ;
But oft the mirror’s face is wildly riv’n
To shatter’d fragments by the winds of heav’n,
When tempests leagued with thunder wildly
…But silent now is many a babbling brook,
All shrunk expiring in their marshy nook,
And many a torrent now has lost its force,
Creeping along an almost silent course —
But now the ocean river brings them aid,
And all their gifts are bounteously repaid.
Descending now in gently falling show’rs,
To meet him joyful rise the herbs and flow’rs ;
Now pours in floods from his dissolving cloud —
Again the tumbling torrent roars aloud,
Again the sparkling streamlet flows along,
Babbling toflow’rs and birds its pebbly song:
Thus, all his tributary streams supplied,
He pours the rest in great Superior’s tide,
And having ceased his wanderings thro’ heaven,
His stream again is to the ocean given,
While in this mighty interchanging round,
What love, what pow’r, what providence profound
Is here developed ; while thro’ cloud and flood .
In Nature’s works we see the hand of God.
….Some thirty years have pass’d since first he gave
The sail-less ship to press the yielding wave.
With deep intensity of hopes and fears,
He heard the sceptic scoff, the taunts and jeers
That clog the efforts of the master mind
Who dares to dive or soar beyond his kind.But now he triumphs — see his vessel driven
By its own pow’r without the winds of heaven,
While congregated thousands wond’ring throng
To see the foaming monster dash along,
And as the multitude in wonder gaze,
Confess that round him all the brightest rays
Of glory meet in one unclouded blaze ;
Not less triumphant then did Fulton feel,
Than when Columbus from his vent’rous keel
Sprang on the shore, and saw his flag unfurl’d
In waving glory on the new found world.
Years pass away, and on that very shore
Where congregated crowds long years beforexxx
“Upon a range of table land,
sweeping
Upon a still narrower, but
Upon a Hamilton in beauty lies,
The town of glory the morning skies.”xxx
“Where prowl’d the wolf, the bear and fox obscene,
Now grateful kine, loud lowing, graze the green.
Such are thy blessings peace! superior far
To specious conquests of wild-wasting war.”xxx
“What mean those notes of anguish and of woe?
My child! my child! the oft-repeated words
My mother’s cry, a well-known voice
Her look is agony, her words are woe,
That child is lost! wild maternal wail
Ellen! Ellen! mounts upon the gale
And Ellen! Ellen! echo hill and dale…”xxx
ON SEEING IN THE DISTANCE A LIGHT
IN THE WINDOW OF HOME.Yon lamps that bespangle on high,
The glorious azure of night,
Shed their radience around on the sky,
But I turn to a lowlier light.Yon glimmering lamp, far below
The vault of nights luminous dome,
Doth its mellowing brilliancy throw,
On the humbler heaven of home.The blaze of ambition may lead,
The youthful aspirant afar,
When nodding plum’d warriors bleed,
’Mid the triumphs and struggles of war !He may follow its blaze through the storm,
O’er the wide rolling billows of foam !
But its lustre, O never can charm
Like the peaceful enjoyments of home.Lo! Byron has donn’d his bright crown,
Which he wears, by the fiat of fame,
While the loud trumpet blast of renown,
The triumphs of genius proclaim !He may gather the incense of praise,
And through visions of glory may roam,
But hark, mid the laurel and bays,
He mourns the lost pleasures of home!xxx
ACROSTIC.
This acrostic poem captures the essence of Stephens’ life, literary contributions (especially Hamilton), and historical context.
The vertical keyword is WILLIAM ALEXANDER STEPHENSWhere Credit River’s waters gently flow,
In Esquesing’s woods the pioneer did roam,
Log church and layman’s voice in hymns arose,
Labouring on the old farm, far from home.
Irish son of Belfast, one of twelve, he came,
Around 1830 crossed the ocean wide,
Man of faith and letters, teacher, customs claim.Above Hamilton the mountain view inspired,
Landscape vast and promising he saw,
Epic verses flowed, descriptive, grand and fired,
Xalted future of the thriving town he drew.
Author of Hamilton, pioneer poet’s art,
Norval’s fields and Owen Sound his later part.
Diaries preserved, a window to the past,
Emigrant, preacher, family man steadfast.
Rhythms moral, biblical, in classic style,Stephens sang of progress, peace, and toil.
Temperance and church he proudly served,
Enduring hardships of the frontier life,
Poet of Canada West, his voice preserved,
His Infant Wanderer touched many a heart with strife.
Excerpts from his works still echo through the years,
Nature, faith, and nation in his lines appear.
So stands his legacy — Ontario’s pioneer.xxx
Composed upon the Death of the Author’s Father, and
sung at his Funeral, on the 10th of February, 1833.His spirit now has wing’d its way
To brighter realms of endless day;
No more to tread this mortal sod,
But dwell forever with his God.
The toils of life are over now,
The furrow’d cheek, the wrinkled brow,
The care-worn frame that long withstood
The storms of life, now sleeps in dust.
In Esquesing’s quiet burying ground,
His mortal part at rest is found;
Beside the loved ones gone before,
He waits the resurrection’s hour.
A pioneer in faith and toil,
He cleared the forest, tilled the soil;
With honest heart and Christian mind,
He left a pattern far behind.
His children mourn, yet not as those
Who have no hope; for well he knows
The Saviour whom he loved and served,
Has now the promised crown reserved.
O Death! where is thy victory now?
O Grave! where is thy triumph? Thou
Art swallow’d up in victory
Through Him who gained the victory.
Weep not, dear friends, but dry the tear;
He is not lost, but gone before;
In mansions bright, prepared above,
He sings redeeming grace and love.
Soon shall we meet to part no more,
On Canaan’s bright and happy shore;
Where pain and death can never come,
But joy and peace in endless home.xxx
CANADA
New Brunswick, States of Main, New Hampshire and
Vermont,
And wide New York, are on its southern front,
From Chaleur’s Bay and Lake St. Francis, and
Throughout this line the boundary is land,
The line then through the great St. Lawrence takes,
Then through the lowest of our mighty lakes ;
Then up N lagara, over cliffs so tall,
They form the world’s sublimest waterfall.
The bound’ry line here makes a southern bend,
Then west again to Erie’s western end.
Now northward turn, ‘mong lands both bright and fair,
Through the Detroit, and Lake and stream St. Clare.
Still north through Huron: near its end you vary
Your course through islands to the Sault Ste, Marie.
Then west, upon the map the line is laid
Across the largest lake that God has made ;
And here are found, upon each rocky shore,
The largest, richest mines of copper ore ;
And when it leaves the lake, the bound’ry line
Is near the parallel of forty-nine.
The line we’ve traced on cither side has written
United States or empire of Great Britain ;
Iixcept from State of Main to Chaleur’s Bay,
For both sides there are under British sway.
We’ve traced the bound’ry now on west and south,
From Lake Superior to St. Lawrence mouth,
This river’s mouth is to a gulf increas’d,
Which bounds two provinces upon the east.
The northern boundery is almost lost
’Mong boundless realms of forest, rock and frost :
Where hunters ’gainst the furry tribes make war,
From Lake Superior to Labrador. |
The turbid Ottawa by flow and fall
Descends and disembogues at Montreal:
The largest river which that monarch claims,
Whose palace rises on the banks of Thames ;
That is, the largest stream whose flowing tide
Has British land throughout on either side.
The world’s next greatest cataract is here ;
Second but to Niagara is Chaudiere.
Thus, in the largest Province in the world,
Is where the mightiest streams o’er rocks are hurl’d.
Vast rafts of timber, cut by axe and saw,
Are yearly floated down the Ottawa.
We’ll also note, along with all the rest,
It cuts the Province into east and west.And now you have, in geographic lay,
The bounds of cast and western Canada.
These were our bounds until confederation
Made us a great Dominion and a Nation.
Now Nova Scotia and New Brunswick claim
As well as we, the old Canadian name.And also Manitoba, lately plann’d,
And all the rest of wide Prince Rupert’s Land.
And Newfoundland, and |:ttle Edward’s Is!s,
Will likely soon within our Union smile:
And large Columbia, and Victoria too,Their lonely isolation will eschew,
And claim with us confederate relation,
Giving increase of pow’r and population.We on the great St. Lawrence and the lakes,
Gave up our name, which the Dominion takes.
For nearly thirty years as one we grew,But now, as once before, we are in two.
Ev’ry Province holds a local pow’r,From Ottawa, where Senate buildings tow’r.
Our central Government’s wide domination,
Extends throughout the whole confederation.