A new edition of the life and heroick actions of the renoun'd Sir William Wallace General and Governour of Scotland. Wherein the Old obsolete Words are rendered more Intelligible; and adapted to the understanding of such who have not leisure to study the Meaning, and Import of such Phrases without the help of a Glossary |
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| 6. | The Sixth BOOK OF Sir William Wallace. |
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 | A new edition of the life and heroick actions of the renoun'd Sir William Wallace |  |
97
The Sixth BOOK OF Sir William Wallace.
ARGUMENT.
Winter being pass'd, and the Summer advancing, Wallace returns again to Lanerk; to visit his Mistress, (an Account of the first beginning of his Passion, is to be found in the Fifth Book) where meeting with a kind Reception, he marrys her.
BUT the English during that Time he had spent in his Courtship, having occupied and taken Possession
98
99
CHAP. I.
Now had cold February spent its Store,And Boreas rushing Blasts offend no more;
No more the Hurricane embroils the Deep,
And driving Winds on its smooth Surface sleep:
No more the Plains in standing Lakes appear,
And March had spent the Winter of the Year.
100
And hoary Snows now melted to the Sun,
A springing Verdure crowns the happy Land,
And smiling Nature own'd rhe Summer's Hand.
While thus the Earth smiles in its Gayity,
And Summer Weeds adorn each springing Tree:
The busy Nymphs renew their annual Toil,
And build their Grott's perfum'd with Balm and Oil,
Each blythsome Hour, in Ranks they dance along,
And the pleas'd Hunter listens to their Song.
In this blest June when all conspir'd to move,
His manly Soul with the soft Flame of Love,
Our Knight to Lanerk went of new again,
Seiz'd with the Pangs of his returning Pain,
He runs with Joy to meet his lovely Fair,
Nor reck'd he of his English Foes since she was there:
The subtile Flame feirce roll'd within his Breast,
Hot in his Pain he thought ne'er one so blest.
Sometimes the Thought of Conquest wou'd return,
And fierce Ambition in his Bosom burn;
His Country's Glory rise before his sight,
And Love's soft Joys yeild to the Toils of Fight;
At other Times, Love wou'd usurp again,
Fair Glory's Charms decay, and War subside again.
Shall I no more hear the fierce Battles rage,
No more in bloody Fields my Foes engage,
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My easy Heart, and move my pliant Soul:
What Plague is this? This Bane of Mortals Love?
That me from Arms of Glory wou'd remove.
My Honour calls, and nothing e're shall make,
Me lose my Honour for my Pleasure's sake;
To War I will, and shine in Arms again,
And Love shall spread its Silken Chains in Vain.
While thus the Heroe spent his anxious Life,
And Love and Honour held the doubtful Strife,
Alternate Passions rul'd his wav'ring Mind,
And now to this, and now that inclin'd.
At last resolv'd to finish all his Grief,
And give his mourning Soul a sure Relief:
To wed with holy Love the beauteous Dame,
Give loose to his Desire, and quench the sacred Flame.
And dow the Morning its fair Beams display'd,
And Musick wakened into bless the Maid.
Conubial Hymen wav'd his Torch on high,
And bad their future Life, compleatest Joy;
Now live in strictest Unity of Love,
And for all jarring Dissonance remove;
Let wing'd with Pleasure the soft Minutes flow,
And lasting Bless no Interruption know.
A rising Joy now dawns within his Breast,
Of all that Heaven cou'd bestow possest:
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And Fortune's various Face offends no more;
In her alone he places his Delight,
And Joy arises from her only Sight:
While with like Heat, her faithful Bosom warms,
For in his Time he was the Flow'r of Arms;
Thus blooming Love extends his soft Command,
And joyful Hymen reigns with equal Hand.
While now the Heroe far from Wars alarms,
Enjoys all Pleasure in his Consort's Arms;
His former Love of Glory fires again
His Martial Soul, and prompts him to the Plain;
To bear aloft again the Patriot Shield,
And vindicate his Country in the Field:
His burning Breast glows yet with Fields unfought,
And future Triumphs rise upon his Thought.
Now leave thy Mirth, and seek thy Country's Foes,
Tho' round thy Head the gath'ring Battle glows
Go leave thy Love or glorious Freedom lose.
Which ne'er on Earth shall be Redeem'd again,
Go live in War, go live in cruel Pain:
And then just GOD, who does this World sustain,
Let not this Thrist of Vengeance be in vain.
Let Heav'n with due Success still crown the Just,
And lay the proud Oppressor in the Dust.
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Expos'd to all the common Ills of War;
Shou'd he by adverse Fate be forc'd to yeild,
And to the Foe give up the vanquish'd Field:
A Thousand sad corroding Cares infest,
And Fate hangs gloomy on his anxious Breast.
Far from the hoarse Noise of the thund'ring War,
He wou'd remove the Object of his Care;
But sad with Grief relents his bleeding Heart,
And his Thoughts shrink, at the dread Word to part.
'Twas now the Time when all to Rest repair,
And weary Wretches laid aside each Care;
When with fond Arms the fair Fidelia prest,
Her panting Heroe to her snowy Breast;
With Grief she found the rising Tears bedew
His manly Face, and heard the Sighs he drew:
With frequent Sobs her heaving Bosom rose,
And catch'd the dear Infection of his Woes;
On her pale Cheeks does livid Paleness rise,
And Sorrow speaks in Silence from her Eyes:
Then with a Groan thus he, long I've supprest,
The struggling Passion in my labouring Breast;
But now all sad Restraints at once give way,
Fierce Sorrow bids me speak, and I obey;
Behold our Native Country drown'd in Tears,
Around one general Face of Woe appears.
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And Suns in vain, with genial Ardor rise,
In vain a yellow Harvest crowns the Plain,
And nodding Boughs their golden Load sustain:
The Peasant comfortless repining stands,
And sees his Harvest reap'd by others Hands;
See the fierce Soldier rages o'er the Land,
The Flames wide spreading from the Hostile Hand:
Those shining Spires who lately pierc'd the Sky,
Now equal with the Ground in Ruins lye,
O dire and curst Effects of Slavery.
Yet once I nobly durst assert her Right,
Bold in her Cause, and dauntless in each Fight;
But now the useless Sword is laid aside,
And my once faithful Helm long been untry'd,
But now the Tyrants Pow'r we dare restrain,
And Liberty shall rear her Head again:
With fell Revenge another War prepare,
Bend the long unstrung Bow, and launch the rusty Spear.
But various Cares solicitat my Breast,
Invade my Heart, and rob my Soul of Rest;
While to my drooping Minds prophetick Eyes,
A Thousand Griefs in fatal Prospect rise:
Methinks I view the cruel raging Foes,
End that dear Life to finish all my Woes.
Methinks I see that sacred Blood now spilt,
To fill up Hesilrig's black Scene of Guilt:
And now to save thee from the coming Blow,
And shield thee from the Malice of the Foe:
I have prepar'd of Youth a chosen Band,
Ready to march where e'er thou shalt command;
Some well built Tow'r a hospitable Seat,
Shall prove from Wars alarms a safe Retreat;
There nor the Battles voice shall wound thy Ear,
Nor the fierce Spoiler black with Guilt appear.
There may thy constant Prayers bless my Sword,
And waft thy kindest Wishes to thy Lord;
Till circling Time bring back the happy Day,
When Scotland shall be free from English Sway;
Till her extended Plains be call'd her own,
And yet a Scotish King ascend a Scotish Throne.
He said and ceas'd, nor groan'd, but deep supprest,
Each rising Passion in his manly Breast:
But fiercer Grief her tender Heart assail'd,
She wept, and the frail Woman all at once prevail'd.
And will thou then she said, and wilt thou go,
Where Thunders call thee, and where Battles glow,
And leave me here expos'd to every Foe:
See Hesilrig with lustful Rage appears,
Derides my Passion, and insults my Fears.
With hasty Steps he comes to be possess'd,
Or stab his Poynar'd in my hated Breast;
In vain with piteous Shrieks I fill the Air,
And stung with Sorrow my bare Bosom tear,
When he that shou'd Revenge me is not near.
Hast thou forgotten how his ruthless Sword,
In my dear Brother's Blood has deep been gor'd;
Fir'd with bright Glory's Charms both met the Foe,
And sunk beneath the mighty Warriors Blow;
'Tis true that fighting for their Country's Right,
They glorious dy'd nor recreant left the Fight;
That Thought indeed shou'd flowing Grief restrain,
But Nature bids me, and I must complain.
But say in vain is all this flow of Tears,
Fantastick Passion, a weak Woman's Fears;
No Hesilrig red with my Kindreds stain,
No Friends destroyed, and no Brothers slain,
Yet with her Wallace let his Consort go,
Join with his Ills sad Partnership of Woe!
Or if propitious Heaven shall dain to smile,
With faithful Love reward my Heroe's Toil;
What tho' my tender Nerves refuse to bend,
The twanging Yew, and the fleet Dart to send;
Round thy distinguish'd Tent, yet will I stay,
And wait impatient the decisive Day:
When Freedom on thy Helm shall crested stand,
Nor Fortune linger with her doubtful Hand.
But canst thou, thou wilt say endure Alarms,
Hear Wars rough Voice, and the hoarse sound of Arms;
When the big Drum, and sprightly Pipe prepare,
In dreadful Harmony to speak the War.
Then shall thy Breast with trembling heaving rise,
And female Sorrow gather in thy Eyes;
But let the Wars rude shock assaults my Ears,
The Woman Wallace shall throw off her Fears,
On this weak Breast shall Love new Force impress,
Nor let that Doubt repel my Happiness.
But whether can I go, or where Retreat,
From following Vengeance and impending Fate;
Even shou'd I go, where dreary Caves forlorn,
Horrid with Night, exclude the joyous Morn:
And lonely Hermits never cease to mourn.
Yet wou'd keen Hesilrig find out the Place,
And in my Ruin finish all my Race;
What tho' the bounding Vessel waft me o're,
To Lands remote, and some far distant Shoar;
What tho' extended Tracts of Lands and Sea,
Divide the War, and my dear Lord from me.
The Wife of Wallace can't be long conceal'd,
But soon by babling Fame shall stand reveal'd;
Then take me with thee, what e're Chance betide,
Firm to thy Cause, and honest I'll abide:
Nor let me mourn, alone when I am left
Of thee, and ev'ry Joy with thee bereft.
Invade my Heart, and rob my Soul of Rest;
While to my drooping Minds prophetick Eyes,
A Thousand Griefs in fatal Prospect rise:
Methinks I view the cruel raging Foes,
End that dear Life to finish all my Woes.
Methinks I see that sacred Blood now spilt,
To fill up Hesilrig's black Scene of Guilt:
105
And shield thee from the Malice of the Foe:
I have prepar'd of Youth a chosen Band,
Ready to march where e'er thou shalt command;
Some well built Tow'r a hospitable Seat,
Shall prove from Wars alarms a safe Retreat;
There nor the Battles voice shall wound thy Ear,
Nor the fierce Spoiler black with Guilt appear.
There may thy constant Prayers bless my Sword,
And waft thy kindest Wishes to thy Lord;
Till circling Time bring back the happy Day,
When Scotland shall be free from English Sway;
Till her extended Plains be call'd her own,
And yet a Scotish King ascend a Scotish Throne.
He said and ceas'd, nor groan'd, but deep supprest,
Each rising Passion in his manly Breast:
But fiercer Grief her tender Heart assail'd,
She wept, and the frail Woman all at once prevail'd.
And will thou then she said, and wilt thou go,
Where Thunders call thee, and where Battles glow,
And leave me here expos'd to every Foe:
See Hesilrig with lustful Rage appears,
Derides my Passion, and insults my Fears.
With hasty Steps he comes to be possess'd,
Or stab his Poynar'd in my hated Breast;
In vain with piteous Shrieks I fill the Air,
And stung with Sorrow my bare Bosom tear,
When he that shou'd Revenge me is not near.
106
In my dear Brother's Blood has deep been gor'd;
Fir'd with bright Glory's Charms both met the Foe,
And sunk beneath the mighty Warriors Blow;
'Tis true that fighting for their Country's Right,
They glorious dy'd nor recreant left the Fight;
That Thought indeed shou'd flowing Grief restrain,
But Nature bids me, and I must complain.
But say in vain is all this flow of Tears,
Fantastick Passion, a weak Woman's Fears;
No Hesilrig red with my Kindreds stain,
No Friends destroyed, and no Brothers slain,
Yet with her Wallace let his Consort go,
Join with his Ills sad Partnership of Woe!
Or if propitious Heaven shall dain to smile,
With faithful Love reward my Heroe's Toil;
What tho' my tender Nerves refuse to bend,
The twanging Yew, and the fleet Dart to send;
Round thy distinguish'd Tent, yet will I stay,
And wait impatient the decisive Day:
When Freedom on thy Helm shall crested stand,
Nor Fortune linger with her doubtful Hand.
But canst thou, thou wilt say endure Alarms,
Hear Wars rough Voice, and the hoarse sound of Arms;
When the big Drum, and sprightly Pipe prepare,
In dreadful Harmony to speak the War.
Then shall thy Breast with trembling heaving rise,
And female Sorrow gather in thy Eyes;
107
The Woman Wallace shall throw off her Fears,
On this weak Breast shall Love new Force impress,
Nor let that Doubt repel my Happiness.
But whether can I go, or where Retreat,
From following Vengeance and impending Fate;
Even shou'd I go, where dreary Caves forlorn,
Horrid with Night, exclude the joyous Morn:
And lonely Hermits never cease to mourn.
Yet wou'd keen Hesilrig find out the Place,
And in my Ruin finish all my Race;
What tho' the bounding Vessel waft me o're,
To Lands remote, and some far distant Shoar;
What tho' extended Tracts of Lands and Sea,
Divide the War, and my dear Lord from me.
The Wife of Wallace can't be long conceal'd,
But soon by babling Fame shall stand reveal'd;
Then take me with thee, what e're Chance betide,
Firm to thy Cause, and honest I'll abide:
Nor let me mourn, alone when I am left
Of thee, and ev'ry Joy with thee bereft.
She said and wept, nor yet his Sorrows rise,
But awful Grief sits decent in his Eyes:
Cease, cease he cry'd nor urge a vain Relief,
Nor by thy lingring Doubts increase my Grief.
But awful Grief sits decent in his Eyes:
Cease, cease he cry'd nor urge a vain Relief,
Nor by thy lingring Doubts increase my Grief.
Now if kind Heav'n shall bless my Enterprize,
Nor Fate look on me with her envious Eyes:
In flowing Ease, shall end our hated Strife,
And Joy conduct us to the Verge of Life.
But if just Heav'n shall otherwise ordain,
'Tis Heav'n that wills it—why shou'd we complain.
Nor Fate look on me with her envious Eyes:
108
And Joy conduct us to the Verge of Life.
But if just Heav'n shall otherwise ordain,
'Tis Heav'n that wills it—why shou'd we complain.
Thus while the faithful Pair their Grief exprest,
And sooth'd the Passions in each others Breast;
The beateous Morn disclos'd its early Ray,
And the gray East shone with the future Day.
The Heroe rose, and with becoming Art,
Feigns a false Joy, at the same Time his Heart,
Was fill'd with Grief, which touch'd each tender Part.
Then to the Fields he went with Sorrow fraught,
While Thousand Woes surcharg'd each rising Thought.
With Patriot groans he fills the Morning Air,
And spreading both his Hands to Heav'n this was his Pray'r.
And sooth'd the Passions in each others Breast;
The beateous Morn disclos'd its early Ray,
And the gray East shone with the future Day.
The Heroe rose, and with becoming Art,
Feigns a false Joy, at the same Time his Heart,
Was fill'd with Grief, which touch'd each tender Part.
Then to the Fields he went with Sorrow fraught,
While Thousand Woes surcharg'd each rising Thought.
With Patriot groans he fills the Morning Air,
And spreading both his Hands to Heav'n this was his Pray'r.
Hear me kind Heav'n if still my Feet have trod,
In Virtues Paths, nor devious from my God;
Since first with Floods of Fears and constant Pray'r,
My weeping Parents gave me to thy Care.
When round my Head the Guardian Angels flew,
And conscious Heav'n approv'd my little Vow:
That if propitious Fate, increas'd my Span,
And lengthned tender Childhood out to Man.
My Country's Foes, shou'd always feel my Might,
Nor my Sword sparkle in another Fight;
Thence soon commenc'd my Woes, and hateful Strife.
With War embroil'd my tender Years of Life.
Oft has the Soldier, under my Command,
From Slav'ry base, redeem'd his Native Land;
But now opprest with Foes, we droop again,
And panting Liberty forsakes the Reign
Yet bold in Virtue's Cause, we nobly dare,
To raise the sleeping Embers of the War;
No impious Itch of Empire fires our Mind,
Nor are our Hearts to those base Thoughts inclin'd:
But our fierce Breasts glow with a holy Rage,
Thine are the Fields we fight, and thine the War we wage
But if Alass! Some unforseen Offence,
Lies latent in the Book of Providence;
For which the trembling Scot shall shameful fly,
And leave the Field to his fierce Enemy;
Then let me dye preventing all my Foes,
And close these Eyes, nor see my Country's Woes.
He ceas'd when he observed thro' the Sky,
A strange prodigious Meteor to to fly;
The Chief beheld it kindling as it flew,
And from the Sight a happy Omen drew:
And does consenting Heaven yeild he crys,
And better Hours from better Omens rise.
Now, now, the English shall the Danger fear,
And trembling fly before the Scotish Spear.
And now a growing Hope springs in my Mind,
And leaves vain Jealousy and Fears behind;
Then blew his Horn, well known in Wars alarms,
To call the hardy Soldier to his Arms.
To the shrill Notes Heav'n answers all around,
And Scotia takes new Vigour from the Sound.
Spreads wide the Noise and undulates on high,
And reach the Soldiers where dispers'd they ly,
Inflaming ev'ry Breast with love of Liberty.
Now all around the Chief they listning stand,
In Virtues Paths, nor devious from my God;
Since first with Floods of Fears and constant Pray'r,
My weeping Parents gave me to thy Care.
When round my Head the Guardian Angels flew,
And conscious Heav'n approv'd my little Vow:
That if propitious Fate, increas'd my Span,
And lengthned tender Childhood out to Man.
My Country's Foes, shou'd always feel my Might,
Nor my Sword sparkle in another Fight;
Thence soon commenc'd my Woes, and hateful Strife.
With War embroil'd my tender Years of Life.
109
From Slav'ry base, redeem'd his Native Land;
But now opprest with Foes, we droop again,
And panting Liberty forsakes the Reign
Yet bold in Virtue's Cause, we nobly dare,
To raise the sleeping Embers of the War;
No impious Itch of Empire fires our Mind,
Nor are our Hearts to those base Thoughts inclin'd:
But our fierce Breasts glow with a holy Rage,
Thine are the Fields we fight, and thine the War we wage
But if Alass! Some unforseen Offence,
Lies latent in the Book of Providence;
For which the trembling Scot shall shameful fly,
And leave the Field to his fierce Enemy;
Then let me dye preventing all my Foes,
And close these Eyes, nor see my Country's Woes.
He ceas'd when he observed thro' the Sky,
A strange prodigious Meteor to to fly;
The Chief beheld it kindling as it flew,
And from the Sight a happy Omen drew:
And does consenting Heaven yeild he crys,
And better Hours from better Omens rise.
Now, now, the English shall the Danger fear,
And trembling fly before the Scotish Spear.
And now a growing Hope springs in my Mind,
And leaves vain Jealousy and Fears behind;
Then blew his Horn, well known in Wars alarms,
To call the hardy Soldier to his Arms.
110
And Scotia takes new Vigour from the Sound.
Spreads wide the Noise and undulates on high,
And reach the Soldiers where dispers'd they ly,
Inflaming ev'ry Breast with love of Liberty.
Each his keen Sabre threatning in his Hand,
And eagerly devour his last Command.
Enough my Friends, enough has Scotia born,
The Foes insulting and her Sons forlorn.
The trembling Peasant wild with dread Affright,
Shrink from the Wars rude Shock and ruthless Fight.
Resigns his Riches to the Oppressors Hand,
And sees another's Sickle reap his Land.
And long we not to urge our Fate again,
Glows not each Breast, and swells not ev'ry Vein?
Does not our Heart with love of Freedom burn,
And once again our exil'd Souls return.
Where are those Trophies by our Fathers won,
Triumphs related down from Son to Son.
Where is that Crown the first fam'd FERGUS bore,
And that fierce Scepter stain'd in Pictish Gore.
Should these old rev'rend Forms again rise,
In mystic Vision dreadful to our Eyes.
What sad Reproaches justly wou'd they give,
To those who chuse in Bondage thus to live:
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And throw' us back the hated Fathers Name.
And are we so degenerate from our Race,
Such Sons begotten to our Sires Disgrace.
That Thoughts like these shan't force us yet to arm,
And Liberty thus want the Power to warm.
Let the Pale Coward own a pannick Fear,
Or unknown Wars and distant Triumphs hear.
Let this heart startle at the Trumpets Voice,
And shrink unequal to the Battels Noise.
Can Souls like these alas! assist us now,
Or rise to Dangers which they never knew;
But we whose Courage bids us pant for Fame,
And be distinguish'd by the Patriots Name.
How should our Breast with sacred Fury glow,
And rush undaunted on the guilty Foe:
The lawless Rage of Tyrants to restrain,
Nor let fair Liberty thus court in Vain.
He said. A Generous Ardor stood confes'd,
And a fierce Patriot twin'd in ev'ry Breast.
Revenge alone employs each Wariours Care,
Bends ev'ry Bow, and sharpens ev'ry Spear.
Some scour the flying Horse along the Plain,
And bids his haughty Neck obey the Rein.
With goring Rowels urge him in his Speed,
And stop in full Career the bounding Steed.
Wallace beheld th'auspicious Fury rise,
And Rage redoubled flushing in their Eyes.
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And saw just Heaven, decree his Happiness.
Nor do the English with less studious Care,
Observe the growing Progress of the War,
And for the feirce Encounter all prepare.
Keen Hesilrig, Arms all their glittring Bands,
A Thousand Swords shine in a thousand Hands.
A Savage Fury brandishes each Dart,
And reeking Slaughter steels each impious Heart
But oh! ye Gods shall yon weak Bands prevail,
When hot with Rage more numerous Troops assail.
May righteous Heaven still blast the lawless Might,
And the just Patriots vanquish in the Fight:
But now advancing near, they other meet
And with no friendly Salutation greet.
Stern Vengeance lowring Frowns on every Brow,
And hate Arms ev'ry Visage like a Foe.
Behold what diff'rent Passions now excite,
And join two Nations in the Toils of Fight.
Here Pride Ambition Arms each guilty Foe,
And Tyranny attends on ev'ry Blow.
Here Partiots stand, and boldly dare restrain,
The Tyrants growth and check th'Oppressors Reign
And the fair Cause of Freeedom to maintain.
Now all the Plains with Arms are cover'd o're,
And the bent Bow unloads its feathered Store.
113
And ruddy Vesper led the Starry Night:
Wallace withdrew where Cartlane Rocks on high
Erect their shaggy Tops and threat the Sky,
Safe shelter'd there the Scotish Heroes stay
And wait impatient for the rising Day,
Mean while Fidelia with sad Cares opprest,
Had sunk into the silken Arms of Rest;
A Thousand Spectres dance before her Sight
And add to the pale Terrors of the Night;
Sword, Shield and Helms, in mix'd Confusion rise
And blended Horrors stare before her Eyes,
Even in that Time when all shou'd be at rest
When not one Thought shou'd discompose her Breast,
Even then she shakes at Hesilrig's fierce Hate,
And her Soul shrinks as Prescious of her Fate.
Now fierce with Rage the cruel Foe draws near,
Oh does not Heaven make Innocence its Care!
Where fled thy guardian Angel in that Hour
And left his Charge to the fell Tyrant's Power,
Shall his fierce Steel be redned with thy Gore
And streaming Blood distain thy Beauties o'er?
But now awakned with the dreadfull Sound
The trembling Matron threw her Eyes around,
In vain alace were all the Tears she shed
When fierce he waves the Fauchion o'er her Head
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Relentless deep he plung'd the ruthless Sword;
Swift o'er her Limbs does creeping Coldness rise
And Death's pale Hand seal'd up her fainting Eyes.
Now born upon the mournfull Wings of Fame,
To Wallace the unhappy Tydings came,
The rising Woe sore thrill'd in ev'ry Part,
And sought its painfull Passage to the Heart;
Graham and his mourning Friends with Tears o'erflow
And join Society of great Grief and Woe.
When Wallace them beheld he hush'd in Peace
And kindly bade their growing Sorrows cease,
This waste of Tears alas he cry'd is vain,
Nor can recal the fleeting Shade again,
Cou'd that vain Thought afford the least Relief,
How wou'd I mourn; but impotent is Grief;
Then let those Tears, to Wars rough Toil give Way,
And the fierce Sword perform what Words wou'd say,
Hear me brave Graham, Companion of my Arms,
Whose Soul alike is fir'd with Glory's Charms.
To thee I Swear this Sword I'll never Sheath
Till I Revenge my dearest dearest's Death,
Heaven's! what new Toils of Death and War remain?
Rivers of floating Blood and Hills of slain
But, steel'd with Rage to Slaughter let us fly,
And for her Sake there shall Ten Thousand Dye
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It slaikes the Ire of Wrong they should Redress,
But let us hast while yet the dusky Night
Extends her friendly Shade, and drowns the infant Light.
He said, The Melancholy Troops around,
With pleasing Anguish catch the mournfull Sound.
A fierce of Revenge bends ev'ry Warrior's Bow,
And steely Vengeance sends him to the Foe:
For now the armed Warrior's carefull Tread,
And march undaunted thro' the murky Shade:
No Light in the high Firmament was seen,
And like their Vengeance lowring was the Scene;
To Lanerk swift, they shape the destin'd Way;
The Town defenceless all before them lay.
Opprest with Sleep the weary English lay,
Nor knew sad Wretches! that their Death drew nigh.
Now in Two Bands they part their hostile Force,
And to these sleeping Tyrants bend their Force;
Where Hesilrig the cruel Murd'rer lay,
Eager on Slaughter Wallace wings his Way,
A Thousand Ills the Traitor's Mind infest,
And warring Furies Combat in his Breast;
There Slaughter Rage, rapine together roll,
And Guilt sits heavy on his dreadfull Soul.
Full on the Gate a Stone the Heroe threw.
Swift to the Stroke the rocky Fragment flew.
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And tumbl'd down before the sweepy Stroke.
Surpriz'd he stood and listning to the Noise,
With beating Heart he heard the Warrior's Voice,
Anon beheld the distant beaming Lance,
And trembling saw th'injured Man advance;
And thought'st thou Traitor fierce the Heroe cry'd,
When by thy murd'ring Steel she cruel dy'd;
When thy fell Hand her precious Blood did spill,
Wallace tho' absent woud be absent still.
Furious he spoke and raising on the Foe,
Full on his Head discharg'd the pondrous Blow:
Down sinks the Head long Fellon to the Ground,
The guilty Soul flew trembling thro' the Wound.
Mean while enrag'd Graham from his flamy Hand,
Full on the Roof directs the hostile Brand.
Inclos'd within Thorn saw with dire Amaze
The spreading Ruin and the rolling Blaze.
Consum'd in Flames he yeilds his latest Breath,
And sinks into the fiery Arms of Death.
But now the Morning rais'd her beamy Head,
Around them lay vast Heaps of slaughter'd Dead,
Freed Albion's Ensigns glitter in the Wind,
And a new Hope exults in ev'ry Mind.
The Soldier views with Joy the sanguine Plain,
And Scotia well redeemed with Heaps of slain.
117
And joyful croud to his auspicious Sword.
With Grief fierce Edward heard his mighty Name,
And burns invidious at his growing Fame.
He bids his haughty Soldiers come from far,
Blacken the Field, and calls forth all his War.
None can the Dictates of his Soul controul
While his high Conquests urge his rapid Soul.
Swift to fair Scotia's Plains he bends his Way,
By Fate reserv'd for Biggar's glorious Day.
118
CHAP. II. The Battle of BIGGAR.
Now
Biggar's Plains with armed Men are crown'd.
And shining Lances glitter all around,
The sounding Horn, and Clarions all conspire,
To raise the Souldiers Breast and kindle up his Fire.
The Hero tir'd of Lanerk's luckless Land,
Swift now to Biggar leads his conq'ring Band;
Each heaving Breast with Thirst of Vengeance glows,
And in their tow'ring Hopes already slay their Foes.
The careful Wariour on a rising Ground,
Encamp'd and saw the dreadful Foes around,
Stretch'd out in wide Array along the Plain,
And his Heart biggens with the glorious Scene.
And shining Lances glitter all around,
The sounding Horn, and Clarions all conspire,
To raise the Souldiers Breast and kindle up his Fire.
The Hero tir'd of Lanerk's luckless Land,
Swift now to Biggar leads his conq'ring Band;
Each heaving Breast with Thirst of Vengeance glows,
And in their tow'ring Hopes already slay their Foes.
The careful Wariour on a rising Ground,
Encamp'd and saw the dreadful Foes around,
Stretch'd out in wide Array along the Plain,
And his Heart biggens with the glorious Scene.
119
But now the Morning in fair Beams array'd
Rose on the Dark and chas'd the nightly Shade,
Each eager Souldier seiz'd his ready Shield,
Draws the fierce Blade, and strides along the Field;
In blackning Wings extend from Left to Right.
Condense in War, and gather to the Fight;
Thick beats each Heart waiting the last Command,
And Death stands lingring in the lifted Hand.
Wallace then threw around his skilful Eyes,
And saw with Joy their eager Passions rise,
To day my Friends, to day lets boldly dare
Each doubtfull Hazard of th'uncertain War;
Let our fierce Swords be deeply drench'd in Gore,
And then our Toils and Labour shall be o'er:
See round our Heads the Guardian Angels stand
And Guide the Javelin in each eager Hand;
To Edward shall they bear the flying Dart
And with the pointed Javelin pierce his Heart,
Let Glorious Liberty your Soul inspire
Raise ev'ry Heart and rouze the Warriours Fire,
He said,—Rose on the Dark and chas'd the nightly Shade,
Each eager Souldier seiz'd his ready Shield,
Draws the fierce Blade, and strides along the Field;
In blackning Wings extend from Left to Right.
Condense in War, and gather to the Fight;
Thick beats each Heart waiting the last Command,
And Death stands lingring in the lifted Hand.
Wallace then threw around his skilful Eyes,
And saw with Joy their eager Passions rise,
To day my Friends, to day lets boldly dare
Each doubtfull Hazard of th'uncertain War;
Let our fierce Swords be deeply drench'd in Gore,
And then our Toils and Labour shall be o'er:
See round our Heads the Guardian Angels stand
And Guide the Javelin in each eager Hand;
To Edward shall they bear the flying Dart
And with the pointed Javelin pierce his Heart,
Let Glorious Liberty your Soul inspire
Raise ev'ry Heart and rouze the Warriours Fire,
And kindling into Fury rose each Breast,
With Love of Virtue all at once possest.
Eager they thicken on the Mountains Brow,
And hang impendent on the Plain below.
The Foe surpriz'd look up and see from far
The Progress of the swift descending War.
They run, they fly, in Ranks together close,
And in a steely Circle meet their coming Foes;
But now the Scotish Heroes bend their Way
Where in his Tent the Royal Monarch lay,
There rose the Battle, there the Warriors tend,
And Thousand Deaths on Thousand Wings ascend:
Swords, Shields and Spears, in mix'd Confusion glow
The Field is swept and lessens at each Blow;
Wallace's Helm distinguish'd from afar
Tempests the Field and floats amid the War,
Imperious Death attends upon his Sword,
And certain Conquest waits her destin'd Lord:
Fierce in another Quarter, Kent employs
The wrathfull Spear nor fewer Foes destroys,
Where e'er he conq'ring turns recedes the Foe,
And thickned Troops fly open to his Blow.
His bounding Courser thundering o'er the Plain,
Bears his fierce rapid Lord o'er Hills of slain;
Scarce can the Weak retreating Scots withstand,
The mighty Sweep of the Invader's Hand.
Wallace beheld his fainting Squadron yield,
And various Slaughter spread along the Field,
Furious he hasts, and heaves his orbed Shield:
Resolv'd in Arms to meet his Enemy,
Before his Spear they Rush, they run, they fly.
And now in equal Battle meet the Foes;
Long lasts the Combat and resound their Blows:
Their dreadfull Fauchions brandishing on high,
In wavy Circles highten to the Sky.
With furious Ire they run the Field around,
And keen on Death explore each secret Wound.
They heave, they pant, they beat in ev'ry Vein
While Death fits Idle on the crimson Plain.
Long in Suspense th'uncertain Battle hung,
And Fortune fickle Goddess doubted long,
On whom she should the Laurel Wreath bestow.
Whom raise as Conq'ror, whom depress as Foe;
At last the Heroe tyr'd with forc'd Delay,
At his full Stretch rose and with mighty Sway,
Bore from the Foe his Shield's defence away.
Now high in Air the shiny Sword he rear'd
Pondrous with Fate the shiny Sword appear'd
Descending full it stop't his stiffled Breath
Giddy he turns around, and reels in Death.
The Stringy Nerves are wrapt around in Gore
And rushing Blood distain'd his Armour o'er
Now all is Death and Wounds, the crimson Plain
Floats round in Blood and groans beneath its slain.
Promiscuous Crouds one common Ruin share
And Death alone employs the wastful War.
They trembling fly, by conquering Scots opprest
And the broad Ranks of Battle lye defac'd
A false Usurper sinks in every Foe,
And Liberty returns with ev'ry Blow;
Before their Prince the mangled Subjects Dye
The Slaughter swells, and groans ascend the Sky:
The King beheld with sad astonish'd Eyes
The havock of the various Battle rise;
Unable to sustain fain wou'd he stay,
And yet again retrieve the vanquish'd Day,
At last behind his Back he threw the Shield,
Spurs on his rapid Steed, forsakes the Field.
The Scots pursue and follow fast behind,
The rattling Noise swells dreadful in the Wind.
With Grief Long-Castle saw the soul Retreat,
Restrain their Flight, and durst prolong their Fate
Whence does our Hearts this coward Terror know
Defeat neer stain'd our conquering Arms till now:
Stay Recreant, stay nor thus Ignoble fly
But bravely conquer or yet bravely Dye.
Scarce had he spoke when quivering all with Fear,
Scap'd from the Foe Two Fugi-Friends appear;
Stop, stop they cry'd your hasty Flight restrain,
And with swift Vengeance meet your Foes again:
Opprest with Wine the Scotish Heroes ly,
And feel the soft Effect of Luxury:
With Ease we may return again, and spread.
The crimson Plain around with heaps of Dead.
Long-Castle took the Word and led them on
Resolv'd to fight with ardent Hast they run.
The Scotish Watch-Men from afar descry'd
The rallying Foe, and swift to Wallace cry'd,
He seiz'd his Horn and gave the signal Sound,
The summon'd Soldiers gather fast around;
A fiercer Fury kindles in their Eyes
And once again their madding Passions rise;
So Triton when at Neptun's high Command
He heaves the swelly Surge above the Land,
When with full Breath he bids the Tempest roar,
And dash its sounding Billows to the Shoar,
His Angry Waves the wrinkled Seas deform,
They raise, they roar, and blacken to a Storm.
A Marish now does either Host divide,
Eager they view and frown from either Side,
But the fierce Duke unable to restrain
This rising Passion gave it the full Rein,
And first encouraging his Troops around
He spurs his thundring Steed and dares the faithless Ground.
All plunge at once; resound th'assaulted Skys
And Thousands sink, doom'd ne'er again to rise:
The thundring Coursers roar and Neigh aloud
And then with foamy rage o'erlay the Crowd,
While those who Strugling with the miry Tide
And with strong Sinews gain the further Side,
Tho' landed, only meet a Change of Death,
By the fierce Scots depriv'd of fleeting Breath,
But now Long-castle gained the dryer Land,
And plunging, stood upon the shoaly Strand;
Graham soon perceived and hast'ning rais'd a Blow
And with his Sword received the rising Foe,
Back sinks the foundring Courser down again,
O'erlays his Lord he tumbles midst the slain,
Thus Edward the important Day has lost,
And to his Kingdom leads his remnant Host:
While the glad Nation smiles in Liberty,
And send their humble Thanks to Heaven with Joy.
With Love of Virtue all at once possest.
Eager they thicken on the Mountains Brow,
And hang impendent on the Plain below.
120
The Progress of the swift descending War.
They run, they fly, in Ranks together close,
And in a steely Circle meet their coming Foes;
But now the Scotish Heroes bend their Way
Where in his Tent the Royal Monarch lay,
There rose the Battle, there the Warriors tend,
And Thousand Deaths on Thousand Wings ascend:
Swords, Shields and Spears, in mix'd Confusion glow
The Field is swept and lessens at each Blow;
Wallace's Helm distinguish'd from afar
Tempests the Field and floats amid the War,
Imperious Death attends upon his Sword,
And certain Conquest waits her destin'd Lord:
Fierce in another Quarter, Kent employs
The wrathfull Spear nor fewer Foes destroys,
Where e'er he conq'ring turns recedes the Foe,
And thickned Troops fly open to his Blow.
His bounding Courser thundering o'er the Plain,
Bears his fierce rapid Lord o'er Hills of slain;
Scarce can the Weak retreating Scots withstand,
The mighty Sweep of the Invader's Hand.
Wallace beheld his fainting Squadron yield,
And various Slaughter spread along the Field,
Furious he hasts, and heaves his orbed Shield:
Resolv'd in Arms to meet his Enemy,
Before his Spear they Rush, they run, they fly.
121
Long lasts the Combat and resound their Blows:
Their dreadfull Fauchions brandishing on high,
In wavy Circles highten to the Sky.
With furious Ire they run the Field around,
And keen on Death explore each secret Wound.
They heave, they pant, they beat in ev'ry Vein
While Death fits Idle on the crimson Plain.
Long in Suspense th'uncertain Battle hung,
And Fortune fickle Goddess doubted long,
On whom she should the Laurel Wreath bestow.
Whom raise as Conq'ror, whom depress as Foe;
At last the Heroe tyr'd with forc'd Delay,
At his full Stretch rose and with mighty Sway,
Bore from the Foe his Shield's defence away.
Now high in Air the shiny Sword he rear'd
Pondrous with Fate the shiny Sword appear'd
Descending full it stop't his stiffled Breath
Giddy he turns around, and reels in Death.
The Stringy Nerves are wrapt around in Gore
And rushing Blood distain'd his Armour o'er
Now all is Death and Wounds, the crimson Plain
Floats round in Blood and groans beneath its slain.
Promiscuous Crouds one common Ruin share
And Death alone employs the wastful War.
They trembling fly, by conquering Scots opprest
And the broad Ranks of Battle lye defac'd
122
And Liberty returns with ev'ry Blow;
Before their Prince the mangled Subjects Dye
The Slaughter swells, and groans ascend the Sky:
The King beheld with sad astonish'd Eyes
The havock of the various Battle rise;
Unable to sustain fain wou'd he stay,
And yet again retrieve the vanquish'd Day,
At last behind his Back he threw the Shield,
Spurs on his rapid Steed, forsakes the Field.
The Scots pursue and follow fast behind,
The rattling Noise swells dreadful in the Wind.
With Grief Long-Castle saw the soul Retreat,
Restrain their Flight, and durst prolong their Fate
Whence does our Hearts this coward Terror know
Defeat neer stain'd our conquering Arms till now:
Stay Recreant, stay nor thus Ignoble fly
But bravely conquer or yet bravely Dye.
Scarce had he spoke when quivering all with Fear,
Scap'd from the Foe Two Fugi-Friends appear;
Stop, stop they cry'd your hasty Flight restrain,
And with swift Vengeance meet your Foes again:
Opprest with Wine the Scotish Heroes ly,
And feel the soft Effect of Luxury:
With Ease we may return again, and spread.
The crimson Plain around with heaps of Dead.
Long-Castle took the Word and led them on
Resolv'd to fight with ardent Hast they run.
123
The rallying Foe, and swift to Wallace cry'd,
He seiz'd his Horn and gave the signal Sound,
The summon'd Soldiers gather fast around;
A fiercer Fury kindles in their Eyes
And once again their madding Passions rise;
So Triton when at Neptun's high Command
He heaves the swelly Surge above the Land,
When with full Breath he bids the Tempest roar,
And dash its sounding Billows to the Shoar,
His Angry Waves the wrinkled Seas deform,
They raise, they roar, and blacken to a Storm.
A Marish now does either Host divide,
Eager they view and frown from either Side,
But the fierce Duke unable to restrain
This rising Passion gave it the full Rein,
And first encouraging his Troops around
He spurs his thundring Steed and dares the faithless Ground.
All plunge at once; resound th'assaulted Skys
And Thousands sink, doom'd ne'er again to rise:
The thundring Coursers roar and Neigh aloud
And then with foamy rage o'erlay the Crowd,
While those who Strugling with the miry Tide
And with strong Sinews gain the further Side,
Tho' landed, only meet a Change of Death,
By the fierce Scots depriv'd of fleeting Breath,
But now Long-castle gained the dryer Land,
And plunging, stood upon the shoaly Strand;
124
And with his Sword received the rising Foe,
Back sinks the foundring Courser down again,
O'erlays his Lord he tumbles midst the slain,
Thus Edward the important Day has lost,
And to his Kingdom leads his remnant Host:
While the glad Nation smiles in Liberty,
And send their humble Thanks to Heaven with Joy.
Now where the Cree rolls down its rapid Tide,
And sees the Herds adorn his wealthy Side,
A towring Rock uprears its bending Brow
And throws its frowning Terror down below,
Deep in the Earth is fix'd its ample Bed
And murky Night involves its airy Head,
There Alder and tough Oaks conspire with Art
To raise on high the Rock, a steepy Fort.
Where a great Gate its Brazen Arms oppos'd
And from the Victors rage defends th'inclos'd
Safe in their Planky Tower they shelter'd lye,
And from the Oaky Wall the Scotish Power defy;
Wallace beheld and eager to obtain
The airy Fort, he swell'd in every Vein.
And when the Night o'erspread the silent Ground
And on black Wings dark Vapours swim around,
Eager he bids the weary Soldiers rise,
And with slow Heavings Labour up the Skys.
Himself and Kierly led the airy Fight
Strain up the Steep and toil with all their Might,
The Centinel lay sleeping at the Gate
Doom'd ne'er to wake unconscious of his Fate,
Deep in his Breast was plung'd a shining Sword
The ruthless Steel his bleeding Bosom gor'd;
Then entring in they slay each Foe they meet,
The trembling Wretches groan'd beneath their Feet;
They all give Way, and thundring down the Steep,
Shoot in the Waves, Resounds the parted Deep.
But O how quickly alter'd is the Case!
The English now, most humbly sue for Peace.
Worn with Defeats, their stubborn Passions yeild,
Nor dare appear within the bloody Field.
Their hoary Senators whose early Care,
Wou'd stay the fatal Progress of the War,
In suppliant Words the Scotish Hero greet,
And lay their Lawrels low beneath his Feet.
At Ruglen Church it was where they did meet,
The Hero to the Terms of Peace agreed,
And with an Oath the Truth is ratify'd:
That either Nation shall from Battle cease,
And Death should hang his weary Wings in Peace.
But soon these Vows shall all dissolve in Air,
And the returning Year bring back the War;
The thundring Battle spread along the Plain.
And the brave Heroe Shine in Arms again
And sees the Herds adorn his wealthy Side,
A towring Rock uprears its bending Brow
And throws its frowning Terror down below,
Deep in the Earth is fix'd its ample Bed
And murky Night involves its airy Head,
There Alder and tough Oaks conspire with Art
To raise on high the Rock, a steepy Fort.
Where a great Gate its Brazen Arms oppos'd
And from the Victors rage defends th'inclos'd
Safe in their Planky Tower they shelter'd lye,
And from the Oaky Wall the Scotish Power defy;
Wallace beheld and eager to obtain
The airy Fort, he swell'd in every Vein.
And when the Night o'erspread the silent Ground
And on black Wings dark Vapours swim around,
Eager he bids the weary Soldiers rise,
And with slow Heavings Labour up the Skys.
125
Strain up the Steep and toil with all their Might,
The Centinel lay sleeping at the Gate
Doom'd ne'er to wake unconscious of his Fate,
Deep in his Breast was plung'd a shining Sword
The ruthless Steel his bleeding Bosom gor'd;
Then entring in they slay each Foe they meet,
The trembling Wretches groan'd beneath their Feet;
They all give Way, and thundring down the Steep,
Shoot in the Waves, Resounds the parted Deep.
But O how quickly alter'd is the Case!
The English now, most humbly sue for Peace.
Worn with Defeats, their stubborn Passions yeild,
Nor dare appear within the bloody Field.
Their hoary Senators whose early Care,
Wou'd stay the fatal Progress of the War,
In suppliant Words the Scotish Hero greet,
And lay their Lawrels low beneath his Feet.
At Ruglen Church it was where they did meet,
The Hero to the Terms of Peace agreed,
And with an Oath the Truth is ratify'd:
That either Nation shall from Battle cease,
And Death should hang his weary Wings in Peace.
But soon these Vows shall all dissolve in Air,
And the returning Year bring back the War;
The thundring Battle spread along the Plain.
And the brave Heroe Shine in Arms again
The End of the Sixth Book.
| A new edition of the life and heroick actions of the renoun'd Sir William Wallace | |