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fTKTTTr 
 
 Is S, 
 
 ^ PRIGS 0' 3{EflTHER 
 
 Scottisl^... 
 
 sy 
 
 Thomas Laidlaw. 
 
 'T^'T^'r 
 
 I 
 
it 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 11 
 
 \i 
 
mm 0' HEATHER 
 
 *-^". 
 
 5^> 
 
 For Scottish Satborinffs 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS LAIDLAW. 
 
 St. Andrew's niclit ! " tae Scotland yet" 
 
 Are kindly ^'reetings paid, 
 And will be, as she doncely sits 
 
 Wrapt in " lier auld gicy plaid." 
 
 GUELPH : 
 THE MERCURV ELECTRIC PRE88 
 
It. 
 
 
 in 
 
 //,JiiojC 
 
 N 
 
To the President mul Mewbers of St. Amb'eiv's 
 Sueieti/, Guelph. 
 
 Gentlemen : 
 
 " Sprigs o' Heather for Scottish Gatherings " 
 were written for and read on different occasions at 
 the Annual (latlierings of the Guelph St. Andrew's 
 and Caledonian Societies, for which I have had the 
 honor of being chosen to the otlice of Bard for years 
 in succession — an honor whicli I have ever truly 
 appreciated. The last piece in the collection was 
 read before the Guelph Gadic Society, who, in 
 recognition of my very liumble merits as a writer of 
 English verse, kindly elected me an honorary 
 member. 
 
 It is unlikely that I will ever again, even in 
 imagination, climb the hills of my' native land in 
 quest of " Sprigs o' Heather for Scottish Gather- 
 ings," therefore, I have taken what I have gathered 
 and tenderly bound them together into one united 
 bunch. Each individual sprig has, to me, some 
 pleasant memory of a time when in quest of it I 
 was wafted in abstraction, for awhile, across the 
 deep blue sea to hills and glens that were echoing 
 from " curlews calling through a cloud and whist- 
 ling plover." 
 
 In this collected form they are now respectfully 
 dedicated to St. Andrew's Society, 
 
 By the Author, 
 
 Thomas Laidlaw. 
 
L' 
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ODE-ST. ANDREW'S DAY. 
 
 
 .1 
 
 T 
 
 Scotland's rugged strand 
 
 Our hearts would homage pay, 
 And with affection leal and true, 
 We muse on hills and bonnets blue 
 On this her natal day. 
 
 Unique her witching lore. 
 
 Impressed on hill and dale ; 
 Through silent glens let fancy rove 
 Where hoary age her legends wove- 
 A weird romantic tale. 
 
 Her sea girt shores resist 
 
 The wild waves sullen swell, 
 And dashing from the mountains high 
 The torrents rush to lochs that lie 
 Fringed round with heather bell. 
 
-i ; 
 
 6 
 
 ST. ANUUKW'S DAY. 
 
 k\ 
 
 I : 
 
 % 
 
 i ■ : 'i 
 
 Across her bleak hill sides, 
 
 White flecked with fleecy flocks, 
 Up from the sea the sun is borne, 
 Throu-h cloud and mist, when blushing morn 
 Shines forth with dripping locks. 
 
 A down her silent glens 
 
 Are homes of virtue rare ; 
 Go enter 'neath that low thatched roof 
 And learn of Scotland's warp and woof— 
 
 Her -Big ha' Bible's" there. 
 
 Her grand old ducal seats, 
 
 In woods of beauty hid, 
 And ruins, through whose silent halls. 
 And arches rent, the moonbeam falls— 
 
 The builders with the dead. 
 
 The land is classic ground. 
 Its scenes with memories throng, 
 
 Where genius, with her magic pen, 
 
 Has lustered every hill and glen 
 And wove in deathless song. 
 
ST. AXnilKirS J>AY. 
 
 norn 
 
 Her fields where lieroes bled ! 
 
 Her glens where youth and age ! 
 Their grand old psalms rolled to the hills 
 From troubled souls, whose sorrow fills 
 
 Her history's brightest page. 
 
 ! martyrs to the faith ! 
 
 With patriots true and just ! 
 We write your names in letters tipt 
 With gold, and be they ever kept 
 
 And held in sacred trust. 
 
 We hold it solemn truth, 
 
 Deny the claim who may. 
 To struggles in those mournful years — 
 Those conflicts waged in blood and tears- 
 
 We owe a debt to-day. 
 
 The rights our fathers won 
 
 Are ours in trust to guard ; 
 Rights won by valiant men and true, 
 Beneath their spotless banner blue, 
 With fearless flashing sword. 
 
8 
 
 i i 
 
 1!4 
 
 I! 
 
 '"^T. JA7>//A7r\S' DAY. 
 
 To-day we live JiL-e men 
 WJio act as coiiseience will, 
 
 Oiir souls rejoice in freedom's' light 
 
 Our laws in guardianship of right 
 TJieir majesty fulfil. 
 
 Our father's land wo love 
 
 Tiie land of gallant nien- 
 I^ong may they tread her hills and vales 
 in h-eedom, as the eagle sails 
 Around the lofty "J^en." 
 
 in senate hall, or on 
 
 The field in martial might, 
 I^e ever this her battle cry- 
 To this let every heart reply 
 
 As one-God and our IlLt, 
 
 \ i 
 
 I 
 
THE OLD SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 les 
 
 r^ SING us to-night from the Old Scottish 
 ^-^ songs — 
 
 The songs which our mothers would hear 
 In the old cottage homes, that were covered with 
 thatch, 
 
 In a land that will ever be dear. 
 
 
 To the true Scottish heart they feelingly speak, 
 
 As they waft us in spirit away 
 To the great moon-lit glens, with their deep hazel 
 dens 
 
 And the " Bens " that are prouder than they. 
 
 To the green margined burn, wimpling far up the 
 strath. 
 
 To the moors with their red heather bells. 
 Where the lone curlews cry till the echoes reply, 
 
 Where nature in solitude dwells. 
 
t 
 
 10 
 
 Till': ()IJ> SCOTTISH SOX(tS. 
 
 And out from the .stream, and beyond the thatched 
 roots, 
 The Kirk of our fathers appears, 
 'Tis the auld parish Kirk looking grey through the 
 mirk 
 And embalmed witli the memories of years. 
 
 iij j 
 
 ii 
 
 ^ > 
 
 '! I 
 
 And we stroll up the glen, past the quaint water- 
 mill, 
 And round by the old castle tower 
 Enshrouded with mystery, of ghost, troubled 
 history, 
 And lonely at night's witching hour. 
 
 With the sweet-scented gowan the meadows are 
 gemmed. 
 
 And tlie lark sings its song from the sky, 
 All nature rejoices, and the hills have the voices 
 
 Of freedom that never will die. 
 
 ' I 
 
tup: old SCOTTISH SONGS. 
 
 11 
 
 thatched 
 
 rough the 
 
 Eirs. 
 
 In the days of unrest, when the land was in gloom, 
 
 And the godly their Zion bewailed, 
 When the hunters of men searched the soul- 
 stricken glen, 
 
 And the heart of the truest had quailed. 
 
 nt watcr- 
 
 roubled 
 
 To the hills then they looked for the spirit and 
 power 
 
 To strike from oppression the rod. 
 Nor were they denied as they fought as they died 
 
 For the Kirk and their covenant God. 
 
 dows are 
 
 ^'oices 
 
 Yes, the spirit that stemmed the invasion that 
 sought 
 
 To wrest from the kingdom its crown, 
 That spirit untamed down the ages has flamed 
 
 With untarnished, unsullied renown. 
 
 Dear land of the wild rugged mountain and glen, 
 
 With f; spirit that dares to be free, 
 We rejoice in the fame that enlustres your name. 
 
 And the worth that is centred in thee. 
 
i! 
 
 u 
 
 n 
 
 THE OLD SC0T2ISH SOXGS. 
 
 Then sing us to-night from the old Scottish songs— 
 
 The songs which our mot) ers would hear 
 In the old cottage homes that were covered with 
 
 thatch, 
 In a land that will ever be dear. 
 
 ': : I 
 
 
 I i ' 
 
 I'll 
 
3ongs — 
 ed with 
 
 IN MEMORY 
 
 OF DAVID KENNEDY, THE DISTINGUISHED 
 SCOTTISH VOCALIST. 
 
 Died at Stratford, Ontario, October 13th, 18H(). 
 
 TO-NIGHT we lift the minstrel harp, 
 With tears of sorrow wet, 
 And strike with reverent liand its chords 
 
 To waihngs of regret. 
 We strike in numbers sad and low, 
 
 And dirgeful notes prolong ; 
 We mourn to-night for one who reigned 
 A prince of ^Jcottish song. 
 
 His songs were fragrant with the breath 
 
 Of broom and heather bells, 
 They echoed to the murmuring streams 
 
 And music of the dells ; 
 
 ^m\ 
 
'1! 
 
 14 
 
 !t 
 
 ! 
 
 IN Mt:Mony. 
 
 He brought auld Scottish scenes to view, 
 
 Ap if by magic wand ; 
 We loved him ! 0, " a nicht at hame " 
 
 With Kennedy was grand. 
 
 The sighs and vows that lovers breathe 
 
 Were sacred in his hands, 
 He wove them into garlands rare. 
 
 Entwined with vestal bands ; 
 And honest worth more noble seemed, 
 
 As with exultant swell 
 He sang how independent minds 
 
 All other minds excel. 
 
 With all the bearing of a prince 
 
 To front with battle brought. 
 He grandly sang of honoured fields 
 
 By Scottish valor fought. 
 He held us, as he seemed to rend 
 
 Tyrannic chains with scorn, 
 And led us with him as he soared 
 
 On wing of freedom borne. 
 
IX Mh:M()llY. 
 
 1; 
 
 o 
 
 He sketched the lore of Scottish soiij; 
 
 With true perceptive art ; 
 His stories, with a wondrous power, 
 
 Revealed the human heart. 
 Now tender, pawky, shrewd and wise. 
 
 Anon with humor rife. 
 As told by him with unction rare, 
 
 Were true to Scottish life. 
 
 His voice had stirred the flagging soul, 
 
 And rapturous plaudits won 
 In every clime, in wintry zones. 
 
 Or 'neath the tropic's sun. 
 And in our land, whose shores again 
 
 His welcome foot had prest, 
 Expectance reigned in every heart, 
 
 The heart to joy confessed. 
 
 Alas for hope ! within yon room 
 
 The Scottish minstrel lies, 
 Where weeping friends close round his bed 
 
 And breathe their burdened sifjhs. 
 
10 
 
 L\ mJ':m()UY. 
 
 Hand clasps witli liand, in kind farewell, 
 
 Lips iLMidor words convey, 
 While soul-lit eyes with touching glance 
 
 8ay more than words can say. 
 
 He breathes a wish to hear that hymn, 
 
 " The Kock of Ages cleft," 
 Friends in that deeply solemn hour 
 
 Their trembling voices lift. 
 The dying minstrel feebly joins. 
 
 Yet sings in faith and love, 
 Yet while he sings, his spirit soars 
 
 To sink' the song above. 
 
 V,. ! 
 
 ■!! i 
 
 Yet tliough on earth his voice was hushed, 
 
 And on a foreign strand, 
 His dust is in the auld kirk yard 
 
 And in his native land ; 
 Amid the scenes of which he sang. 
 
 Of which he was a part. 
 Where on his grave the lark doth rain 
 
 The music of its heart. 
 
IX MKMOIIY. 
 
 17 
 
 Ye autiiinn winds that drift the lea 
 
 With lieavily burdened sigh ; 
 Ye limpid streams that gently How 
 
 Beneath a leaden sky, 
 In concert sing with muffled voice, 
 
 And join ye woodland throng 
 In liquid notes, for one who reigned, 
 
 A Prince of Scotash song. 
 
y 
 
 SCOTIA'S THISTLE. 
 
 THIS INCIDENT IS SAII> TO HAVE OfCrRUED AT THE lUTTLE 
 
 OF LAlUiS IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTrRY, MHEN THE 
 
 DANES INVADED SCOTLAND. 
 
 SCOTIA'S Thistle, honored gem, 
 To-iiight we round your rugged stem 
 A wreatli of huirel bind ; 
 Your fame would date, as legends say, 
 From time i-emote, now dim and grey, 
 And down tlie years through feud and fray 
 
 In loyal hearts enshrined, 
 And we awhile to-night would scan 
 The scene whereon your fame began. 
 
 The mist of years rests thick between 
 The present and the distant scene ; 
 Yet fancy sheds a ray of light 
 Across that legendary night. 
 As camped upon the heath there lay 
 The B>'ots at rest awaiting day ; 
 
SCOTIA'S TllfSI'Li:. 
 
 11) 
 
 Nor liad a tlionglit foreboding' ill, 
 All nature seemed serene and still, 
 Save when in gusts the wind would pass 
 To shake the waste and withered grass, 
 Or froni the bleak adjacent hill 
 The bark of fox, heard sharp and shrill. 
 Yet neither wakeful eye nor ear 
 Would say a foe was lurkhig near. 
 
 Yet foe there was— Danes stout and bold, 
 
 Sea rovers in the days of old — 
 
 Lurked in the gloom, their scouts ahead 
 
 With ear intent and stealthy tread, 
 
 Shot through the night iin eagle eye 
 
 A point of vantage to espy — 
 
 Some place less guarded to assail. 
 
 To strike and by surprise prevail. 
 
 With bated breath they grope their way 
 
 Barefooted, lest their steps betray, 
 
 With crouching form, till in arrest 
 
 A foot is on a Thistle prest ; 
 
 Its cruel jags the wrong resent— 
 
 A shriek tliroughout the darkness went — 
 
20 
 
 SCOTLrS rHfSTLK. 
 
 A shriek the imprecating yell 
 
 At on'^e on the encampment fell ; 
 
 Each Scot shook off his slumber light, 
 
 And in an instant stood upright — 
 
 An instant held the scene in view, 
 
 Then grasped his blade with courage true. 
 
 And out beneath the star-lit sky 
 
 He rushed with yell and battle cry ; 
 
 Wild as the torrent's maddened leap 
 
 Adown the rugged mountain steep, 
 
 So rushed the Scots, the Danes opposed, 
 
 And Scot with Dane in combat closed. 
 
 Their reeking blades life's current drank, 
 
 Down to the dust the victims sank ; 
 
 Until beneath the potent sway 
 
 Of Scottish swords the Danes gave way. 
 
 And routed on the field in flight 
 
 They sought the darkness of the night. 
 
 With vigour on the trampled heath 
 The Scots did win the victor's wreath. 
 And as the pale-rayed level sun 
 Lit up the field their valor won. 
 
SCOTfA'S THISTLK. 
 
 ill j ustice to ascribe a meed 
 Of honor to a timely deed, 
 
 They hailed the Thistle then 
 In fealt)^ and with honor due, 
 While ages roll, the emblem true, 
 
 Of Scotland hill and glen. 
 
 21 
 
 Fit choice and meet, so full replete 
 
 With rugged stem and jag ; 
 We in our emblem do rejoice 
 And shout, with an united voice, 
 Long may the Thistle wag. • 
 
INVITATION TO THE NATIONAL 
 
 GAMES. 
 
 "pESPECTED frieiis frae North the Tweed, 
 •J-^ Wha loe the Thistle weel, 
 Time aye keeps spiuiiiug at her thread 
 
 Tae wind it on her reel. 
 Another year has come and gane 
 
 Tae others that hae been, 
 Since last w^e met tae hand onr games 
 
 And dances on the green. 
 
 And now again ye'll come away 
 
 And leave your happy hames, 
 And gladly gie another day 
 
 Tae Scotland and her games ; 
 The men that for their richts would dee 
 
 And dare tyrannic steel, 
 May yet unbend tae mirth and glee 
 
 And laud the Tulloch reel. 
 
LWlTATlOS—XATlifSAL (LIMITS. 28 
 
 ! how tlie heart tae rapture wakes, 
 
 How stirred our Scottish veins, 
 AVlieu tartans wave and pibrochs break 
 
 In wildly thrilling strains. 
 In fancy, landscapes break in view 
 
 With heather, broom and whins, 
 With silent glens and mountanis blue. 
 
 And foaming, rushing linns. 
 
 We lichtly tread the heather bell, 
 
 We hear the plover's cry, 
 We see the auld kirk in the dell 
 
 Where round our fatliers lie. 
 We wander clasvsic scenes amang 
 
 Where genius thing her spell 
 Frae magic pen, since Ossiau sang 
 
 Of FingaVs deeds tae tell. 
 
 Braw lads will come with blooming belles, 
 
 And fock grown frail and auld, 
 Wha'll crack o' deeds they did themsels 
 
 When they were young and yauld. 
 And aye will break upon the ear, 
 
 Tae swell owre hill and dale, 
 The pibrochs of the mountaineer — 
 
 The music of the Gael. 
 
24 jxvjT.rnoy -xattoxal games. 
 
 Corne yc that with a loving ken, 
 
 The rose and sliamrock place 
 Sae kindly in yoiu" warmest ben, 
 
 That years may not efface. 
 About ourselves we needna brag, 
 
 But meet ye as our peers. 
 And hail with you the noble Hag 
 
 That's braved a thousand years. 
 
 As one our fathers side by side 
 
 Ilae aft combatted wrang, 
 Their stirring words in echoes wide 
 
 Kesounding loud and lang. 
 And pressing on they focht and bled, 
 
 And dee'd ere they would yield, 
 Ae common grave contains our dead 
 
 On many a bloody field. 
 
 Come, come away ye'll welcome liae. 
 
 Come ilka race and tongue, 
 Wliate'er newfangled fock may say, 
 
 We're a' frae Adam sprung. 
 
 mmmsmmf-- 
 
IXVLTATloS'^yA'J lf>y-^l' //J.V/'S". 
 
 25 
 
 All honest heart, a kindly e"e 
 Break down partitions thin, 
 
 Ae spark o' nature Hashin*,' free 
 Makes a' the world kin. 
 
 Forhid, a jar should ever mar v ■ 
 
 This pleasing, happy rhyme, 
 For proudly we would thread with thee 
 
 The mazy stream of time. 
 And scatter free the kindly seeds ■.,_ 
 
 Of love that winna blight, 
 And in our banner weave the threeds , 
 
 Of honor, truth and right. 
 
 Come, come away, ye'll welcome hae, ;: 
 
 Come a' if ye be spared ; 
 What need tae say a summer day . . -• 
 
 Though lang is richly wared.' 
 Come ane and a' ! baith great and sma! J. • 
 
 Frae clansman tae the chief. 
 And swell acclaim tae Scotland's fame ; 
 
 And cheer the l\Iaple Leaf. 
 
" QUIT YOU LIKE MEN.' 
 
 
 (1st Cor. 10 : 18.) 
 
 T^I^OTIfl^RS — men God's image bearing 
 -*— ^ Nobly walking, brow erect — 
 Men, (lod's lovingkindaess sharing 
 
 Should ye fail in self-respect ? 
 Men endowed with gift of reason — 
 
 Men of conscience, mind and will 
 Time is an important season. 
 
 In it you've a place to fill — 
 
 Quit ye like men ! 
 
 Be not slaves to sinful passion, 
 
 Cleanse your skirts and keep from stain ; 
 Be not lured by empty fashion, 
 
 Unsubstantial light and vain ; 
 Rise to manhood's truer bearing, 
 
 Sinful habits blight and sere, 
 In the conflict be ye daring, 
 
 Let the proudling taunt and sneer — 
 
 Quit ye like men ! 
 
^^ (JVIT YOU LIKK MF.Nr 
 
 M 
 
 Live and act that in an audit 
 
 You may court the clearest light, 
 Pleased if ye may win the plaudit 
 
 Of a conscience just and right ; 
 Mean and base is he that reckons 
 
 On the gain that wrong may buy, 
 Follow ye where honor beckons, 
 
 Listen to her clarion cry — . . 
 
 Quit ye like men ! 
 
 Never lose the pure and holy 
 
 Lessons that we learned in youth ; 
 Leave the sceptic with his folly 
 
 Bather than compromise truth ; 
 Seek the truth in all its beauty, 
 
 Cling to all that's good and pure, 
 Never swerve nor shrink from duty. 
 
 Never ye your faith abjure— 
 
 Quit ye like men ! 
 
2H 
 
 " QUIT YOU LINK MKNr 
 
 Yes, be men — be true and upright, 
 
 Quit the fogs that lead astray, 
 Rising to the purer suniiglit 
 
 Of a clearer, better day — 
 Rising to completer union 
 
 With diviner, holier things, 
 It is yours to seek communion 
 
 Even with the King of Kings — 
 
 Quit ye like men !