Classic Poem

From lands of sunrise far away,
From Jural cliffs, from Caspian shore,
From Scythian deserts waste and gray,
From rose-decked Persia's floral floor,
One race has kept the western trail —
The bonnie, braw, warm-hearted Gael:
The sturdy Gael who came from far,
Led onward by the morning-star.

By many a stream their footsteps strayed,
From Indus to the Elbe and Rhine,
Before their ruddy children played
By Bonnie Doon or crystal Tyne.
The music of Arabian rills
Finds echo in old Scotia's hills;
The Oriental thread remains
In warp and woof of Gaelic strains.

Onward and onward year by year,
By Thracian fields, by Bosporus straits,
Through stormy seas their barks they steer
Beyond Gibraltar's frowning gates:
Impelled to seek the farthest shore
Before their wanderings are o'er,
Still onward, till before them lie
The Orkneys and the Isles of Skye.

They came — the pioneers of truth —
To bleak Iona's pebbled strand,
Bright guardians of fair Albion's youth,
The founders of a noble band;
From out whose loins sprang martyrs brave,
Who gave their all their faith to save —
The men who faced a living lie,
And for God's glory dared to die.

They came — the pioneers of song,
Of courtly grace and minstrel art,
With lyric fire that slumbers long,
Then bursts like Ã?tna's liquid heart,
And overflows the human bounds
Of thought with sweet seraphic sounds;
Like notes that stray from realms above —
Electric sparks of Heavenly love.

They came — fair freedom's pioneers,
Nor cared for king nor tyrant's frown;
No nobler record through the years
Since Gideon's sword was handed down.
They saw the individual man
In Celtic sept, in Highland clan,
And from their hill-tops floated free
The thistle-down of liberty.

The — bairn, — beside whom Hagar wept,
Ordained a hardy race to rear,
Uncradled, but by angels kept —
A motherhood forever near;
The archer lad of deserts wild
Anticipates the Gaelic child,
And leads our souls on fancy's wing
From Paran's fount to Fillan's spring.

O Gaelic fathers, yours and mine,
Who came from lands beyond the sea,
Rejoicing still in Auld Lang Syne,
We bow to thee with reverend knee!
Proud of thy faith and lofty fame,
Proud of each bright and honored name,
Our hearts respond with rapturous thrill —
— Hail to the chief! — Clan Alpine still!

And here's a hand by Funiak Spring,
To Macs and Campbells all in line,
And all that Gaelic love can bring
Unto this bright and crystal shrine!
While Katrine's lapsing waters smile,
And kiss the sands of Ellen's Isle,
So long will loyal hearts beat true
Beside De Funiak's waters blue.