Part 19 (1/2)

And may once more each hill and glen Be filled with hardy Highland men, Who love bagpipes and bonnets blue And give to Britain soldiers true.

THE s.h.i.+RES ON THE MORAY FRITH.

Worthy of either song or story Are the s.h.i.+res round frith of Moray, Here lies the valley of Strathspey, Famed for its music, lively, gay, Elgin cathedral's 'prentice aisle Is glory of that ruined pile.

What modern chisel now could trace Fine sculpture of that ancient place, And Forres famed for Sweno's stane In honor of that kingly Dane, 'Graved with warriors runes and rhymes, Long prior to historic times, For a thousand years its been forgot Who was victor Dane or Scot, It is the country of McBeth Where good King Duncan met his death, And barren heath that place of fear Stood witches cauldron of Shakespeare, Nairn's Cawdor castle strong remains Full worthy of the ancient Thanes, And nestled 'neath the hills and bens Queen of the moors, the lochs and glens, Full proudly stands in vale of bliss Chief Highland town of Inverness, Near here the famous falls of Foyers Where Burns and others tuned their lyres, And the fatal field of dark Culloden Where doughty clans were once down trodden, Here men yet wear the tartan plaid Ready to join the Highland Brigade, And when the Frith you look across The eye beholds Sutherland and Ross, Where Duke has harnessed mighty team, Plows hills and rocks and moors by steam, Perhaps it may in part atone For cruel clearings days bygone, And Cromarty, whose wondrous mason, First learned his geologic lesson, Friends may rear a stately pillar, The old red sand stone of Hugh Miller, Ben Wyvis towers like monarch crowned, Conspicuous o'er the hills around, With crest 'ere white with driven snow, Strathpeffer's water cure below.

LINES READ AT A SCOTTISH ANNIVERSARY AT EMBRO.

Scotsmen have wandered far and wide From Moray Frith to Frith of Clyde, McDonald from his sea girt isle, And Campbell from his broad Argyle.

But chiefly here you have come forth From those counties of the north, Some oft have trod Dunrobins halls And gazed upon its stately walls.

Here to night in this array Is Murray, McKenzie and McKay, And there doth around us stand The Munroe, Ross and Sutherland.

Your young men have high honor earned In all of the professions learned, Your bonnie la.s.ses sung in song, And youths are famed for muscle strong.

LINES READ AT ST. ANDREW'S ANNIVERSARY, 1868.

Scotia's sons to-night we meet thee, With kindly feelings we do greet thee, In honor of the land of heather, Around this board to-night we gather.

Land where the fields for border edges, Have garlands of blooming hedges, Land of the whin and of the broom And where the bonnie blue bells bloom.

Land where you may enraptured hark To heavenly song of the skylark, Which soars triumphant in the skies Above the gaze of human eyes.

Land of bleak hills and fertile dales, Where they tell oft their fairy tales, Land where the folks do love the kirk And on the Sabbath cease from work.

Land of porridge and of brose, Of blue bonnets and of tartan hose, The land where all good wives do bake The thrifty, wholesome, oaten cake.

We hope some day to tread the strand Of our own dear native land, And o'er the sea we'll some day sail To get a bowl of good green kail.

d.i.c.k AND EDWARD.

The Thurso baker Robert d.i.c.k[E]

Armed with his hammer and his pick, Dame nature's secrets did reveal, Which she for ages did conceal.