 | The life of Robert Bruce |  |
BOOK I.
Whilst I, unequal, tempt the mighty Theme,And rise, advent'rous, to the Brussian Name;
Whilst in my Soul a filial Ardour reigns,
To sing the Hero sweating on the Plains;
Immers'd in Ills, and long with Foes beset,
By Caution now, now desperately great;
2
Inspire my Thoughts, and regulate my Strains;
Tell how the Hero triumph'd o'er his Foes,
Grew in Distress, and on his Dangers rose.
In former Ages, and in ancient Reigns,
When Sense and Honour grac'd Ierne's Plains ;
When her high Monarchs and her Heroes stood,
In Streams of Cimbrian and of Saxon Blood ;
Proud of her Sons, old Caledonia dar'd
The haughty Foe, nor foreign Insult fear'd.
Her Monarchs then, to lineal Honours grew,
And Conquest grac'd each Hero's awful Brow.
When Sense and Honour grac'd Ierne's Plains ;
When her high Monarchs and her Heroes stood,
In Streams of Cimbrian and of Saxon Blood ;
Proud of her Sons, old Caledonia dar'd
The haughty Foe, nor foreign Insult fear'd.
Her Monarchs then, to lineal Honours grew,
And Conquest grac'd each Hero's awful Brow.
3
In those remoter Times (as Fame hath said)
A Prince renown'd th'Albanian Sceptre sway'd;
Well fram'd his Person, and well form'd his Soul,
True Majesty and Mercy tun'd the Whole.
Unhappy Day! wherein the Wise, the Great,
Upon thy Banks, O Forth, resign'd to Fate!
May that dire Day be from our Annals torn,
Nor let the Sun once cheer the guilty Morn.
Since then, What Slaughter rag'd on Scotia's Shore,
And drench'd the Mother in the Children's Gore?
What dire Oppression on her Mountains reign'd ?
What Blood and Rapine all her Valleys stain'd?
The barb'rous Marks of curst Tyrannic Sway,
Of lawless Might, and Kingly Perjury.
Beneath her Ills, old Caledonia groans
,
Mourns her waste Cities and her slaughter'd Sons;
Beholds unnumber'd Legions crowd her Strand,
And Lust and Havock ravage all the Land.
Greatly distress'd! impatient of the Day,
Slow to a Grampian Cave she bends her Way ;
There, like some ruin'd Pile, great in Decay,
Sunk in her Woes, the sacred Matron lay;
Deep in the Grott, upon a Mossy Bed,
Silent reclines her venerable Head.
Solemn in Grief, Majestic in Despair,
Thus waits till these dire Accents reach'd her Ear,
The barb'rous Foe now triumphs on thy Shore,
And the fam'd Caledonia is no more.
Unhappy Sound! the Matrons doleful cries,
Assail th'Immortals, and fatigue the Skies.
At last, Omnipotence beholds our Ills,
And Pity streight th'Eternal Bosom fills.
A Prince renown'd th'Albanian Sceptre sway'd;
Well fram'd his Person, and well form'd his Soul,
True Majesty and Mercy tun'd the Whole.
Unhappy Day! wherein the Wise, the Great,
Upon thy Banks, O Forth, resign'd to Fate!
May that dire Day be from our Annals torn,
Nor let the Sun once cheer the guilty Morn.
Since then, What Slaughter rag'd on Scotia's Shore,
And drench'd the Mother in the Children's Gore?
What dire Oppression on her Mountains reign'd ?
What Blood and Rapine all her Valleys stain'd?
The barb'rous Marks of curst Tyrannic Sway,
Of lawless Might, and Kingly Perjury.
4
Mourns her waste Cities and her slaughter'd Sons;
Beholds unnumber'd Legions crowd her Strand,
And Lust and Havock ravage all the Land.
Greatly distress'd! impatient of the Day,
Slow to a Grampian Cave she bends her Way ;
There, like some ruin'd Pile, great in Decay,
Sunk in her Woes, the sacred Matron lay;
Deep in the Grott, upon a Mossy Bed,
Silent reclines her venerable Head.
Solemn in Grief, Majestic in Despair,
Thus waits till these dire Accents reach'd her Ear,
The barb'rous Foe now triumphs on thy Shore,
And the fam'd Caledonia is no more.
5
Assail th'Immortals, and fatigue the Skies.
At last, Omnipotence beholds our Ills,
And Pity streight th'Eternal Bosom fills.
'Twas Night; but where, above yon azure Skies,
Empyreal Domes on flaming Columns rise;
High arch'd with Gold, with blazing Em'raulds bright,
Far thro' the Void diffuse a purple Light;
There shining Regions feel no fading Ray,
Lost in the Splendors of Eternal Day.
Enthron'd amidst the strong Effulgence, sat
The Pow'r Supreme! surrounding Spirits wait.
He calls the Guardian of the Scottish Sway,
And Ariel hastens thro' the Choirs of Day.
Then from the Throne, th'Immortal Silence broke,
(Trembled the solid Heav'ns as he spoke)
Fly Ariel, fly, and let a Guardian's Hand ,
Prevent the Ruin of his fav'rite Land;
Old Caledonia, once thy pious Care,
O'errun with Blood, with Ravage and Despair,
Old Caledonia! sunk beneath her Ills,
With her loud Cries th'Eternal Mansions fills.
Haste, and the Youth, whom Heav'n hath chose, inspire
With filial Duty, and with martial Fire;
Arm his intrepid Soul to save the State,
Preserve his Mother, and reverse her Fate.
Empyreal Domes on flaming Columns rise;
High arch'd with Gold, with blazing Em'raulds bright,
Far thro' the Void diffuse a purple Light;
There shining Regions feel no fading Ray,
Lost in the Splendors of Eternal Day.
Enthron'd amidst the strong Effulgence, sat
The Pow'r Supreme! surrounding Spirits wait.
He calls the Guardian of the Scottish Sway,
And Ariel hastens thro' the Choirs of Day.
Then from the Throne, th'Immortal Silence broke,
(Trembled the solid Heav'ns as he spoke)
Fly Ariel, fly, and let a Guardian's Hand ,
Prevent the Ruin of his fav'rite Land;
6
O'errun with Blood, with Ravage and Despair,
Old Caledonia! sunk beneath her Ills,
With her loud Cries th'Eternal Mansions fills.
Haste, and the Youth, whom Heav'n hath chose, inspire
With filial Duty, and with martial Fire;
Arm his intrepid Soul to save the State,
Preserve his Mother, and reverse her Fate.
He spoke. The Seraph bows, and wings his Way,
Swift o'er the Realms of unextinguish'd Day;
Down thro' the lower Spheres directs his Flight,
And sails, incumbent, on inferior Night.
Swift o'er the Realms of unextinguish'd Day;
Down thro' the lower Spheres directs his Flight,
And sails, incumbent, on inferior Night.
7
Where
Tay, thro' verdant Valleys rolls his Waves,
And fair Æneia's fruitful Borders laves;
Rear'd on its Margin old Alectum stands,
Whose rising Spires o'erlook the neighb'ring Lands.
The youthful Hero here all silent lay,
And in soft Slumbers lull'd the Cares of Day.
With Speed th'Immortal Nuncio hither flies,
And Fergus' Air and Shape his Form disguise.
Approaching soft, his wond'ring Eyes he fix'd
On the young Hero's Bloom, with manly Vigour mix'd;
But saw, while Slumbers thus his Limbs invest,
Short Sighs and Groans, alternate, heave his Breast.
His Country's Wrongs still in his Bosom roll,
Invade his Dreams, and rack his gen'rous Soul.
And fair Æneia's fruitful Borders laves;
Rear'd on its Margin old Alectum stands,
Whose rising Spires o'erlook the neighb'ring Lands.
The youthful Hero here all silent lay,
And in soft Slumbers lull'd the Cares of Day.
With Speed th'Immortal Nuncio hither flies,
And Fergus' Air and Shape his Form disguise.
Approaching soft, his wond'ring Eyes he fix'd
On the young Hero's Bloom, with manly Vigour mix'd;
But saw, while Slumbers thus his Limbs invest,
Short Sighs and Groans, alternate, heave his Breast.
His Country's Wrongs still in his Bosom roll,
Invade his Dreams, and rack his gen'rous Soul.
'Twas now the aerial Minister began,
And in great Fergus' Voice addrest the Man.
Arise, my Son, thy dauntless Arm oppose
To this vast Deluge of thy barb'rous Foes.
Involv'd in Blood, see, thy dear Country lies,
And her loud Plaints have reach'd the pitying Skies.
To thee, O Youth Divine! whom Fate decrees
Restorer of thy Country's Liberties,
To thee this sacred Charge from Heav'n I bring,
Commission'd by the Gods Eternal King.
Rouse then, my Son, exert thy warlike Pow'r,
And drive the Foe from this unhappy Shore;
Date thy Renown from this auspicious Day,
And save from Ruin the Fergusian Sway.
He said; and mounting in a Blaze of Light,
The Seraph reascends the Empyreal Height.
And in great Fergus' Voice addrest the Man.
Arise, my Son, thy dauntless Arm oppose
To this vast Deluge of thy barb'rous Foes.
8
And her loud Plaints have reach'd the pitying Skies.
To thee, O Youth Divine! whom Fate decrees
Restorer of thy Country's Liberties,
To thee this sacred Charge from Heav'n I bring,
Commission'd by the Gods Eternal King.
Rouse then, my Son, exert thy warlike Pow'r,
And drive the Foe from this unhappy Shore;
Date thy Renown from this auspicious Day,
And save from Ruin the Fergusian Sway.
He said; and mounting in a Blaze of Light,
The Seraph reascends the Empyreal Height.
By this Aurora, in her Chariot drawn,
Had ting'd the ruddy East, and blush'd the Dawn.
When call'd by Heav'n, to manage Heav'n's Designs,
In glitt'ring Steel, the Ellerslian Hero shines.
Born to chastise the Pride of perjur'd Kings,
Quick to the Field, the youthful Warriour springs.
While higher Names (a base degen'rate Crowd)
Stain their proud Titles, and disgrace their Blood:
For factious Ends, their Country's Rights forego,
Treach'rous retire, or, impious, aid the Foe.
Others more honest, but by Pow'r opprest,
Had tamely purchas'd an inglorious Rest;
Only a few, whose Thoughts, by Heav'n inspir'd
And with the sacred Love of Freedom fir'd;
Bravely disdain'd the proud Usurper's Sway,
Nor Fraud nor Force, their gen'rous Souls betray.
These on their Country's Freedom fix their Eyes,
And Threats and Promises alike despise.
Immortal Chiefs! who (if my artless Rhime
Can gain upon the Injuries of Time)
Shall live, to late Posterity renown'd,
With Wreaths of everlasting Laurel crown'd.
Had ting'd the ruddy East, and blush'd the Dawn.
When call'd by Heav'n, to manage Heav'n's Designs,
In glitt'ring Steel, the Ellerslian Hero shines.
Born to chastise the Pride of perjur'd Kings,
Quick to the Field, the youthful Warriour springs.
9
Stain their proud Titles, and disgrace their Blood:
For factious Ends, their Country's Rights forego,
Treach'rous retire, or, impious, aid the Foe.
Others more honest, but by Pow'r opprest,
Had tamely purchas'd an inglorious Rest;
Only a few, whose Thoughts, by Heav'n inspir'd
And with the sacred Love of Freedom fir'd;
Bravely disdain'd the proud Usurper's Sway,
Nor Fraud nor Force, their gen'rous Souls betray.
These on their Country's Freedom fix their Eyes,
And Threats and Promises alike despise.
Immortal Chiefs! who (if my artless Rhime
Can gain upon the Injuries of Time)
Shall live, to late Posterity renown'd,
With Wreaths of everlasting Laurel crown'd.
Amongst the First, the brave Limonian Thane
,
And Hay and Lauder glitter'd on the Plain.
The daring Seton, and the faithful Boyd,
Dauntless approach, and close the Hero's Side.
Ramsay and Lyle, and Stuart of Race divine,
In awful Pomp, and dreadful Honours shine.
Crawford, and Campbel (long a loyal Name)
Array'd in Steel, to that Assembly came.
The Keith and Murray, with their shining Shields,
And Baird and Barclay, loyal, grace the Fields.
Each Warriour led a small, but honest Band,
Fix'd to the Interests of his native Land.
Cuming approach'd, Ten thousand in his Train,
The fatal Ruin of the future Plain.
The Gordon, to a Length of Honours born,
Ruthven and Ker the Rendezvous adorn.
Cleland and Auchinleck, a faithful Pair,
Haste to the Field, and, gen'rous, aid the War.
Now last of all appears upon the plain,
The Love and Wonder of the Warlike Train,
Intrepid Graham! the Martial Pomp to crown,
Array'd in burnish'd Steel, severely shone.
The Chiefs at once the Godlike Man accost,
And fondly welcome to the loyal Host.
From out the Throng, the Leader quickly ran,
And to his Bosom prest the gallant Man:
Hail, dearest Brother! welcome to my Arms,
Born to redress thy ruin'd Country's Harms;
Straight, at thy Presence, vanish all my Cares,
And all my anxious Dread of future Wars.
He said. The Chief, advancing on the Plain,
With graceful Mien salutes the Warriour-Train.
And Hay and Lauder glitter'd on the Plain.
10
Dauntless approach, and close the Hero's Side.
Ramsay and Lyle, and Stuart of Race divine,
In awful Pomp, and dreadful Honours shine.
Crawford, and Campbel (long a loyal Name)
Array'd in Steel, to that Assembly came.
The Keith and Murray, with their shining Shields,
And Baird and Barclay, loyal, grace the Fields.
Each Warriour led a small, but honest Band,
Fix'd to the Interests of his native Land.
Cuming approach'd, Ten thousand in his Train,
The fatal Ruin of the future Plain.
The Gordon, to a Length of Honours born,
Ruthven and Ker the Rendezvous adorn.
Cleland and Auchinleck, a faithful Pair,
Haste to the Field, and, gen'rous, aid the War.
Now last of all appears upon the plain,
The Love and Wonder of the Warlike Train,
11
Array'd in burnish'd Steel, severely shone.
The Chiefs at once the Godlike Man accost,
And fondly welcome to the loyal Host.
From out the Throng, the Leader quickly ran,
And to his Bosom prest the gallant Man:
Hail, dearest Brother! welcome to my Arms,
Born to redress thy ruin'd Country's Harms;
Straight, at thy Presence, vanish all my Cares,
And all my anxious Dread of future Wars.
He said. The Chief, advancing on the Plain,
With graceful Mien salutes the Warriour-Train.
By this the Sun had shot a fainter Ray,
And down the Western Steep had roll'd the Day;
When to Falkirk, enclos'd with verdant Meads,
The gen'rous Host th'Ellerslian Hero leads.
From thence to the Torwood their Way they chose,
And 'midst its Shades enjoy'd a soft Repose.
And down the Western Steep had roll'd the Day;
When to Falkirk, enclos'd with verdant Meads,
The gen'rous Host th'Ellerslian Hero leads.
From thence to the Torwood their Way they chose,
And 'midst its Shades enjoy'd a soft Repose.
12
Now o'er the Ochel-Heights the rising Beam
,
Darts thro' the rustling Leaves a wavy Gleam;
When from the Wood advancing to the Plain,
In Martial Honours shone the Grampian Train.
The daring Leader waves his awful Hand,
And list'ning Chiefs in silent Order stand.
Approaching Squadrons next enclose the Man,
While from a rising Ground he thus began.
Darts thro' the rustling Leaves a wavy Gleam;
When from the Wood advancing to the Plain,
In Martial Honours shone the Grampian Train.
The daring Leader waves his awful Hand,
And list'ning Chiefs in silent Order stand.
Approaching Squadrons next enclose the Man,
While from a rising Ground he thus began.
‘Immortal Sons of Albion's ancient Race,
‘Whom Faith unstain'd, and loyal Honours Grace!
‘Whose noble Ancestors, undaunted, stood
‘In Streams of Cimbrian and of Saxon Blood;
‘Whom Rome's Imperial Arms essay'd in vain,
‘Her Eagles shrinking on the bloody Plain;
‘Behold, my Friends, your ruin'd Country's Woes,
‘And view the Triumphs of her barb'rous Foes.
‘Gasping in Death, see, Caledonia lyes,
‘And to the Heav'ns and you for Succour cries.
‘You! whom, of all her Progeny, she owns
‘Her Genuine Off-spring, and her duteous Sons.
‘Behold your aged Sires in Fetters pin'd,
‘Or to a Dungeon's noysom Depth confin'd,
‘With upcast Eyes implore your filial Aid,
‘And feebly sink again the hoary Head.
‘Behold our ravish'd Virgins, and our Youth,
‘The Spoils and Victims of the perjur'd South ;
‘Your selves from all your dearest Pledges torn,
‘With Want opprest, with Infamy and Scorn;
‘Thro' Woods, and Wilds, and lonely Desarts tost,
‘Expos'd to Summer Suns, and Winter Frost.
‘Whilst the proud South'ron, by no Power withstood,
‘Pillage your Fortunes, and debauch your Blood.
‘Unhappy Scots! are all our Heroes fled?
‘Our Fergus' Kenneths , and our Malcoms dead?
‘Our Hays, and Keiths , and our Immortal Grahams,
‘And all our glorious ancient List of Names?
‘Was it for this those mighty Heroes stood
‘In Storms of Death, and Crimson Scenes of Blood?
‘Did those Stern Patriots in Battle shine,
‘To save their Country, and secure their Line;
‘When Tay beheld them and the trembling Forth,
‘Mix in dire Conflict with the Warlike North?
‘And shall no Son confess his gen'rous Sire?
‘No Bosom kindle with the glorious Fire?
‘See! yonder Loncarty's and Barry's plain,
‘Still red with Carnage of the slaughter'd Dane!
‘Those very Fields where your great Fathers fought,
‘And 'midst a Waste of Death your Freedom bought.
‘Rouse then, and let those Names your Breasts inspire
‘With manly Ardour, and with loyal Fire.
‘Let your great Fathers all your Souls possess,
‘And dauntless Arms your Country's Wrongs redress.
‘See! where the haughty South, in bright Array,
‘From yonder shining Plains reflect the Day.
‘Behold Plantagenet, with awful Pride,
‘In burnish'd Gold amidst his Squadrons ride!
‘Come, gallant Friends, attack the perjur'd Host,
‘And drive th'insulting Legions from our Coast.’
He said. The Chiefs, obedient, hail the Man,
And thro' the Host consenting Murmurs ran.
‘Whom Faith unstain'd, and loyal Honours Grace!
‘Whose noble Ancestors, undaunted, stood
‘In Streams of Cimbrian and of Saxon Blood;
‘Whom Rome's Imperial Arms essay'd in vain,
‘Her Eagles shrinking on the bloody Plain;
‘Behold, my Friends, your ruin'd Country's Woes,
‘And view the Triumphs of her barb'rous Foes.
13
‘And to the Heav'ns and you for Succour cries.
‘You! whom, of all her Progeny, she owns
‘Her Genuine Off-spring, and her duteous Sons.
‘Behold your aged Sires in Fetters pin'd,
‘Or to a Dungeon's noysom Depth confin'd,
‘With upcast Eyes implore your filial Aid,
‘And feebly sink again the hoary Head.
‘Behold our ravish'd Virgins, and our Youth,
‘The Spoils and Victims of the perjur'd South ;
‘Your selves from all your dearest Pledges torn,
‘With Want opprest, with Infamy and Scorn;
‘Thro' Woods, and Wilds, and lonely Desarts tost,
‘Expos'd to Summer Suns, and Winter Frost.
‘Whilst the proud South'ron, by no Power withstood,
‘Pillage your Fortunes, and debauch your Blood.
14
‘Our Fergus' Kenneths , and our Malcoms dead?
‘Our Hays, and Keiths , and our Immortal Grahams,
‘And all our glorious ancient List of Names?
‘Was it for this those mighty Heroes stood
‘In Storms of Death, and Crimson Scenes of Blood?
‘Did those Stern Patriots in Battle shine,
‘To save their Country, and secure their Line;
‘When Tay beheld them and the trembling Forth,
‘Mix in dire Conflict with the Warlike North?
‘And shall no Son confess his gen'rous Sire?
‘No Bosom kindle with the glorious Fire?
15
‘Still red with Carnage of the slaughter'd Dane!
‘Those very Fields where your great Fathers fought,
‘And 'midst a Waste of Death your Freedom bought.
‘Rouse then, and let those Names your Breasts inspire
‘With manly Ardour, and with loyal Fire.
‘Let your great Fathers all your Souls possess,
‘And dauntless Arms your Country's Wrongs redress.
‘See! where the haughty South, in bright Array,
‘From yonder shining Plains reflect the Day.
‘Behold Plantagenet, with awful Pride,
‘In burnish'd Gold amidst his Squadrons ride!
‘Come, gallant Friends, attack the perjur'd Host,
‘And drive th'insulting Legions from our Coast.’
He said. The Chiefs, obedient, hail the Man,
And thro' the Host consenting Murmurs ran.
By this the South'ron Trumpets from afar,
In shriller Notes proclaim th'advancing War.
The daring Scots return the Martial Sound,
And from the Hills the loud Allarms rebound.
Approaching now th'embattl'd Squadrons stand,
And in stern Order glitter on the Strand.
The thickning War, around, obscures the Fields,
With Groves of Lances arm'd, and bossy Shields.
As when some dusky Cloud o'ershades the Main,
The Breeze but whisp'ring o'er the liquid Plain,
Scarce heave the Surges, Ocean seems to sleep,
And a still Horror settles on the Deep.
Thus silent, the thick Legions form around,
And the dread Battles blacken all the Ground.
In shriller Notes proclaim th'advancing War.
16
And from the Hills the loud Allarms rebound.
Approaching now th'embattl'd Squadrons stand,
And in stern Order glitter on the Strand.
The thickning War, around, obscures the Fields,
With Groves of Lances arm'd, and bossy Shields.
As when some dusky Cloud o'ershades the Main,
The Breeze but whisp'ring o'er the liquid Plain,
Scarce heave the Surges, Ocean seems to sleep,
And a still Horror settles on the Deep.
Thus silent, the thick Legions form around,
And the dread Battles blacken all the Ground.
But here, alas! how shall a Scottish Muse
Thy fatal Crime, O Cumbernald, excuse ?
Fain wou'd the Muse th'ungrateful Theme decline,
Or wipe the Tarnish from the tainted Line.
Fain wou'd in Silence pass th'ill omen'd Scene,
The Chiefs embroil'd, and the deserted Plain.
What direful Woe from wild Ambition springs?
The Wreck of Empires, and the Bane of Kings.
Discord, with hideous Grin and livid Eyes,
Swift, thro' the Host, on sooty Pinions flies.
Discord! Ambition's direful Brood, beheld
Ten thousand treach'rous Scots forsake the Field.
Traitors! whose Names no Annals since have own'd,
Wrapt in disgraceful Night, in dark Oblivion drown'd.
Urg'd by his Wrongs, and with Resentment fir'd,
The Ellerslian Hero from the Plain retir'd.
Ten thousand Scots with Tears their Chief attend,
The Sun himself ne'er saw a braver Band.
So great Achilles, on the Phrygian Strand,
Injur'd by Atreus' Son's unjust Command,
Full of his Wrongs, deserts his Country's Cause,
And all his Myrmidons from Troy withdraws.
Left in the Field the noble Stuart alone,
Before his few, but faithful, Squadrons shone.
Thy fatal Crime, O Cumbernald, excuse ?
17
Or wipe the Tarnish from the tainted Line.
Fain wou'd in Silence pass th'ill omen'd Scene,
The Chiefs embroil'd, and the deserted Plain.
What direful Woe from wild Ambition springs?
The Wreck of Empires, and the Bane of Kings.
Discord, with hideous Grin and livid Eyes,
Swift, thro' the Host, on sooty Pinions flies.
Discord! Ambition's direful Brood, beheld
Ten thousand treach'rous Scots forsake the Field.
Traitors! whose Names no Annals since have own'd,
Wrapt in disgraceful Night, in dark Oblivion drown'd.
Urg'd by his Wrongs, and with Resentment fir'd,
The Ellerslian Hero from the Plain retir'd.
Ten thousand Scots with Tears their Chief attend,
The Sun himself ne'er saw a braver Band.
18
Injur'd by Atreus' Son's unjust Command,
Full of his Wrongs, deserts his Country's Cause,
And all his Myrmidons from Troy withdraws.
Left in the Field the noble Stuart alone,
Before his few, but faithful, Squadrons shone.
And now great Hartford thunders on the Plain,
And twice Ten thousand glitter in his Train.
The hardy Stuart abandon'd to his Foes,
Dauntless, to meet that dreadful Battle, goes.
Twelve hundred Scots (no more had Fate allow'd)
To guard their Lord, around the Standard Crowd.
And twice Ten thousand glitter in his Train.
The hardy Stuart abandon'd to his Foes,
Dauntless, to meet that dreadful Battle, goes.
Twelve hundred Scots (no more had Fate allow'd)
To guard their Lord, around the Standard Crowd.
The War begins, the blended Clamours rise,
And Shouts and Groans, promiscuous, rend the Skies.
The glorious Bute, undaunted scours the Field,
His doughty Hands a mighty Fauchion wield.
O'er South'ron Necks he hews his horrid Way,
While roll'd in Heaps, expiring Squadrons lay.
Hartford beheld his fainting Legions yield,
And Edward's Glory fading in the Field;
Amaz'd, he views the Chief's unbounded Might,
Despairs Success, and meditates his Flight.
The Scots, by their great Leader's Pattern taught,
Advancing, with redoubled Fury fought.
Back to the Camp Lord Hartford wings his Way,
And on the Plain Ten thousand Victims lay.
And Shouts and Groans, promiscuous, rend the Skies.
The glorious Bute, undaunted scours the Field,
His doughty Hands a mighty Fauchion wield.
O'er South'ron Necks he hews his horrid Way,
While roll'd in Heaps, expiring Squadrons lay.
19
And Edward's Glory fading in the Field;
Amaz'd, he views the Chief's unbounded Might,
Despairs Success, and meditates his Flight.
The Scots, by their great Leader's Pattern taught,
Advancing, with redoubled Fury fought.
Back to the Camp Lord Hartford wings his Way,
And on the Plain Ten thousand Victims lay.
Immortal
Stuart! O were my Bosom fir'd
With Ardours like to those thy Soul inspir'd,
The Muse shou'd raise a Trophy to thy Fame,
Great as thy Worth, and deathless as thy Name.
But see! where Bruce, array'd in Martial Pride,
And crafty Beik before their Squadrons ride.
Towards the Scots they shape their dreadful Way,
And Forty thousand Helms reflect the Day.
Waving in Air the gilded Lion flies,
And the loud Trumpets eccho thro' the Skies.
With Ardours like to those thy Soul inspir'd,
The Muse shou'd raise a Trophy to thy Fame,
Great as thy Worth, and deathless as thy Name.
But see! where Bruce, array'd in Martial Pride,
And crafty Beik before their Squadrons ride.
Towards the Scots they shape their dreadful Way,
And Forty thousand Helms reflect the Day.
Waving in Air the gilded Lion flies,
And the loud Trumpets eccho thro' the Skies.
20
Tir'd with late Toils, the noble Bute beheld
The swarming Legions crowd the bloody Field;
Anxious and doubtful view'd their mighty Pow'r,
And the firm Ranks extended on the Shore.
Amaz'd at first, his Spirits backward roul,
And by Degrees forsake his gen'rous Soul.
He casts his Eyes around, but sees no Aid,
Wallace is injur'd, and the Traitor fled.
O deadly Gust of Passion! direful Heat!
Dang'rous to all, but fatal to the Great!
In grov'ling Minds but low Resentment dwells,
And their gross Blood scarce o'er its Chanels swells;
Spirits high-born, like Meteors in the Sky,
Ferment in Storms, and round in Ruin fly.
Relentless Ellersly! ah, canst thou stand,
And see the Hero butcher'd on the Strand?
The Hero! whom so recent Laurels crown,
By Numbers and Superior Force undone!
O send the God-like Graham (and save thy Vow)
Or send the faithful Boyd to his Rescue;
Or let the gen'rous Seton's Tears prevail
To share the Day, and turn the fatal Scale.
Behold the Chiefs all suppliant beg around,
Their Tears in Torrents trickling to the Ground.
In vain. Unmov'd the injur'd Leader stands,
Weeps loud, and yet denies their just Demands.
The swarming Legions crowd the bloody Field;
Anxious and doubtful view'd their mighty Pow'r,
And the firm Ranks extended on the Shore.
Amaz'd at first, his Spirits backward roul,
And by Degrees forsake his gen'rous Soul.
He casts his Eyes around, but sees no Aid,
Wallace is injur'd, and the Traitor fled.
O deadly Gust of Passion! direful Heat!
Dang'rous to all, but fatal to the Great!
In grov'ling Minds but low Resentment dwells,
And their gross Blood scarce o'er its Chanels swells;
Spirits high-born, like Meteors in the Sky,
Ferment in Storms, and round in Ruin fly.
Relentless Ellersly! ah, canst thou stand,
And see the Hero butcher'd on the Strand?
The Hero! whom so recent Laurels crown,
By Numbers and Superior Force undone!
21
Or send the faithful Boyd to his Rescue;
Or let the gen'rous Seton's Tears prevail
To share the Day, and turn the fatal Scale.
Behold the Chiefs all suppliant beg around,
Their Tears in Torrents trickling to the Ground.
In vain. Unmov'd the injur'd Leader stands,
Weeps loud, and yet denies their just Demands.
With eager Haste approach the Saxon Lines,
And in the Front the rev'rend Warriour shines .
The noble Bute beheld the num'rous Bands,
Whilst recollected in himself he stands;
Then rous'd his little Host with fresh Alarms,
And the shrill Trumpet sounds again to Arms.
Secure of Glory, and a deathless Name,
Lavish of Life, he rushes into Fame.
And in the Front the rev'rend Warriour shines .
The noble Bute beheld the num'rous Bands,
Whilst recollected in himself he stands;
Then rous'd his little Host with fresh Alarms,
And the shrill Trumpet sounds again to Arms.
22
Lavish of Life, he rushes into Fame.
The Signal giv'n, inflam'd with mutual Rage,
Th'unequal Squadrons furiously engage.
Thro' burnisht Steel fast bursts the streaming Gore,
And rolls, a purple Current, on the Shore.
The cautious Beik each various Scene beheld,
Long us'd in War, and harden'd to the Field;
Extends his Ranks, and summons fresh Supplies,
And to surround the Scottish Hero tries.
The glorious Bute perceiv'd his sly Designs,
And with Stern Rage attack'd the moving Lines.
His manly Arm dealt fell Destruction round,
And Saxon Crowds lay gasping on the Ground.
Their Leader's Pattern the bold Scots inspires,
And from their Rage the Rev'rend Chief retires.
Th'unequal Squadrons furiously engage.
Thro' burnisht Steel fast bursts the streaming Gore,
And rolls, a purple Current, on the Shore.
The cautious Beik each various Scene beheld,
Long us'd in War, and harden'd to the Field;
Extends his Ranks, and summons fresh Supplies,
And to surround the Scottish Hero tries.
The glorious Bute perceiv'd his sly Designs,
And with Stern Rage attack'd the moving Lines.
His manly Arm dealt fell Destruction round,
And Saxon Crowds lay gasping on the Ground.
Their Leader's Pattern the bold Scots inspires,
And from their Rage the Rev'rend Chief retires.
But now brave Stuart beholds a shining Train
In thick Battalia marshall'd on the Plain.
To succour Beik, full Thirty thousand Spears,
And at their Head the mighty Bruce appears.
Display'd against his wn, the Lions glare,
And martial Trumpets animate the War.
Deluded Prince! soon shall thy Soul bemone
Those cruel Deeds on Forth's fair Borders done.
The gen'rous Bute weeps at the barb'rous Sight,
When awful Bruce addrest him to the Fight;
On his thin Ranks a furious Charge he made,
And roll'd in Heaps on Heaps the mangled Dead.
Now Stuart beholds his little faithful Band
Drench'd in their Gore, and gasping on the Strand;
With Grief recounts their Wonders on the Plain,
Full Twenty thousand by Twelve hundred slain.
Great in Distress! impatient of the Light,
Resolv'd to die, he rushes to the Fight.
Fraught with Despair, he dealt his Blows around,
And South'ron Blood fast stains the Crimson Ground.
But spent with former Toils, o'ermatch'd with Pow'r,
At last the Hero sinks upon the Shore.
Stretcht on the Strand the Godlike Patriot lies,
And shades Eternal Settle round his Eyes.
In thick Battalia marshall'd on the Plain.
23
And at their Head the mighty Bruce appears.
Display'd against his wn, the Lions glare,
And martial Trumpets animate the War.
Deluded Prince! soon shall thy Soul bemone
Those cruel Deeds on Forth's fair Borders done.
The gen'rous Bute weeps at the barb'rous Sight,
When awful Bruce addrest him to the Fight;
On his thin Ranks a furious Charge he made,
And roll'd in Heaps on Heaps the mangled Dead.
Now Stuart beholds his little faithful Band
Drench'd in their Gore, and gasping on the Strand;
With Grief recounts their Wonders on the Plain,
Full Twenty thousand by Twelve hundred slain.
Great in Distress! impatient of the Light,
Resolv'd to die, he rushes to the Fight.
Fraught with Despair, he dealt his Blows around,
And South'ron Blood fast stains the Crimson Ground.
24
At last the Hero sinks upon the Shore.
Stretcht on the Strand the Godlike Patriot lies,
And shades Eternal Settle round his Eyes.
How happy he! who falls amidst his Foes,
A sacred Victim to his Country's Cause?
What Tears, what Vows attend his parting Breath?
In Life how lov'd! and how ador'd in Death!
Eternal Monuments secure his Fame,
And lasting Glory dwells upon his Name!
A sacred Victim to his Country's Cause?
What Tears, what Vows attend his parting Breath?
In Life how lov'd! and how ador'd in Death!
Eternal Monuments secure his Fame,
And lasting Glory dwells upon his Name!
Sol's fiery Steeds, down from the Noon-day Height,
Thro' western Climes precipitate their Flight.
Expanded Skies the flaming Chariot bore,
And Rays declining gild th'Hesperian Shore.
Th'Ellerslian Chief in burnisht Armour stands,
And, beck'ning, round him calls his daring Bands.
Sullen and sad approach the Warriour-Train,
And, touch'd with Woe, regard the fatal Plain.
When thus the Chief. You see our Friends are lost,
By Treason murder'd on that bloody Coast.
The awful Bruce yon mighty Battle leads,
And crafty Beik his select Squadrons heads.
See where their haughty King, in dread Array,
Moves from the Camp, and hastes to share the Day.
Then say, What shall be done? the Question's nice,
And Fate allows us but a dang'rous Choice.
If for Supplies we shou'd to Lothian go,
Then furiously pursues the num'rous Foe.
Or if to the Torwood our Rout we bend,
Thro' Bruce's Host we must that Shelter find.
Say then. The Chiefs assented to his Will,
What he commanded eager to fulfil.
Thro' western Climes precipitate their Flight.
Expanded Skies the flaming Chariot bore,
And Rays declining gild th'Hesperian Shore.
Th'Ellerslian Chief in burnisht Armour stands,
And, beck'ning, round him calls his daring Bands.
Sullen and sad approach the Warriour-Train,
And, touch'd with Woe, regard the fatal Plain.
25
By Treason murder'd on that bloody Coast.
The awful Bruce yon mighty Battle leads,
And crafty Beik his select Squadrons heads.
See where their haughty King, in dread Array,
Moves from the Camp, and hastes to share the Day.
Then say, What shall be done? the Question's nice,
And Fate allows us but a dang'rous Choice.
If for Supplies we shou'd to Lothian go,
Then furiously pursues the num'rous Foe.
Or if to the Torwood our Rout we bend,
Thro' Bruce's Host we must that Shelter find.
Say then. The Chiefs assented to his Will,
What he commanded eager to fulfil.
The
Hero then, all dreadful as a God,
To meet the Bruce, before his Squadrons rode.
Ten thousand Spears advancing in his Train,
(An Iron Forest!) glitter'd o'er the Plain.
By this Lord Bruce had rang'd his Warlike Lines,
And at their Head in bloody Armour shines.
But O my Muse, what God shall lead the Way?
What Inspiration guide thee thro' the Day?
To sing the Chiefs, that never knew to yield,
Engag'd in furious Combat on the Field?
Phœbus! assist, and all the Thespian Throng,
Conjoyn your Voices, and exalt the Song.
To meet the Bruce, before his Squadrons rode.
Ten thousand Spears advancing in his Train,
(An Iron Forest!) glitter'd o'er the Plain.
26
And at their Head in bloody Armour shines.
But O my Muse, what God shall lead the Way?
What Inspiration guide thee thro' the Day?
To sing the Chiefs, that never knew to yield,
Engag'd in furious Combat on the Field?
Phœbus! assist, and all the Thespian Throng,
Conjoyn your Voices, and exalt the Song.
Both Armies now approaching to the Fight,
In blazing Terrors shone confus'dly bright.
The sprightly Trumpet's martial Clangors rise,
And roll in rattling Ecchoes thro' the Skies.
Glory and Fame each Hero's Soul possest,
And Death or Triumph breath'd in ev'ry Breast.
In blazing Terrors shone confus'dly bright.
The sprightly Trumpet's martial Clangors rise,
And roll in rattling Ecchoes thro' the Skies.
Glory and Fame each Hero's Soul possest,
And Death or Triumph breath'd in ev'ry Breast.
The War now mingling; fiery Coursers bound,
And rushing Squadrons shake the trembling Ground.
Thro' polish'd Steel fast streams the reeking Gore,
And Crimson Torrents drench the purple Shore.
There warlike Bruce exerts his awful Might,
Here Wallace thunders thro' the bloody Fight.
Behold great Graham force his resistless Way,
Thro' all the Ruins of the dreadful Day.
Here Seton, Hay, and Lauder scour the Plain,
There Boyd and Keith a distant Fight maintain.
Yonder brave Kennedy in Battle stands,
And great Montgom'ry joyns his faithful Bands.
The hardy Frazers for the Charge prepare,
And dauntless Lundie rushes to the War.
See gallant Oliphant to Battle ride,
Dundass and Scrimzeour glitt'ring at his Side.
Yonder the haughty Turnbul takes the Field,
And Savage Spoils glare in his Orby Shield.
Johnstoun and Rutherford, and Blair and Gray,
And Guthry, Scot, and Lindsay share the Day.
Newbigging, Tinto, Little, grace the Field,
And Haliday that well could Weapons wield.
Bold Haliday! in War a Noble Man,
Hastes to his Eme , and combats in the Van.
Thro' hostile Ranks they scatter Fate around,
And twice Four thousand gasp along the Ground.
Quite thro' the South'ron Host, o'er Carron's Flood,
To Torwood Shades the Scots in Safety rode.
Wallace alone, and Graham and Lauder stay,
Unsated with the Slaughter of the Day;
Greedy of Fame, their fiery Coursers rein,
And drive, impetuous, back unto the Plain.
Three hundred Men to guard the Chiefs prepare,
Inur'd to Blood, and harden'd to the War.
Where Saxon Ranks in thickest Order stood,
With awful Force these dauntless Warriors rode.
Ere Bruce cou'd well the Scottish Band perceive,
His Legions rally, or just Orders give;
With Wounds transfix'd, all weltring in their Gore,
Three hundred Saxons strow'd the bloody Shore.
But now bold Bruce his strong Battalions heads,
And Thirty thousand to the Onset Leads.
Cozen'd by Fraud, and jealous of his Right ,
Wing'd with Revenge, he rushes to the Fight.
Three worthy Scots, pierc'd by his mighty Hand,
Roul in their Blood, and bite the purple Strand.
Th'Ellerslian Chief with Sorrow sees them bleed,
And swell'd with Rage, he reins the fiery Steed;
Against the Bruce directs his awful Force,
The Bruce, all dreadless, meets the Hero's Course.
Charg'd in his Rest a mighty Lance he wore,
And Wallace' Hand a glitt'ring Fauchion bore.
Together fast the dauntless Warriors ride,
And thro' bright Steel soon bursts the blushing Tide.
From Wallace' Thigh transfix'd fast flows the Gore,
And Bruce's Courser tumbles on the Shore.
The valiant Bands soon mount the Bruce again,
When Graham and Lauder thunder'd on the Plain.
Thro' South'ron Ranks these Heroes urg'd their Way,
And bore alone the Fury of the Day:
Whilst Wallace stood and stemm'd his bleeding Wound,
In Heaps the Foe lay scatter'd on the Ground.
His Blood now stanch'd, the Chief returns anew,
The hardy Graham and Lauder to rescue.
To their Relief he rode in all his Might,
But cautious Beik advancing to the Fight:
By Numbers overpow'r'd the Scots retire,
Nor cou'd great Graham restrain his Martial Fire;
A burnish'd Sword in his strong Hand he bore,
And forward rushing thro' the Shock of War;
Before the Bruce he struck an English Knight,
Where his gay glitt'ring Crest stood polish'd bright,
With unresisted Force, thro' Helm and Head,
Down to the Collar glanc'd the shining Blade.
The Knight falls, prostrate, on the Gorey Ground,
And Blood and Soul rush mingled thro' the Wound.
A subtil Knight, who saw the deadly Blow,
Fir'd with Resentment, meditates the Foe.
As Graham return'd, the crafty Warriour spy'd,
Beneath his Armour, a defenceless Void.
In at his Back, full aim'd with cautious Care,
Quite thro' his Bowels glides the treach'rous Spear.
The Hero turn'd and smote the cruel Foe,
Just where the Casque the Vizor joyns below;
Thro' Steel and Brain fast rush'd the forceful Brand;
The noble Graham swoons on the bloody Strand:
This latest Proof of loyal Valour shows,
And greatly falls amidst his Country's Foes.
And rushing Squadrons shake the trembling Ground.
Thro' polish'd Steel fast streams the reeking Gore,
And Crimson Torrents drench the purple Shore.
27
Here Wallace thunders thro' the bloody Fight.
Behold great Graham force his resistless Way,
Thro' all the Ruins of the dreadful Day.
Here Seton, Hay, and Lauder scour the Plain,
There Boyd and Keith a distant Fight maintain.
Yonder brave Kennedy in Battle stands,
And great Montgom'ry joyns his faithful Bands.
The hardy Frazers for the Charge prepare,
And dauntless Lundie rushes to the War.
See gallant Oliphant to Battle ride,
Dundass and Scrimzeour glitt'ring at his Side.
Yonder the haughty Turnbul takes the Field,
And Savage Spoils glare in his Orby Shield.
Johnstoun and Rutherford, and Blair and Gray,
And Guthry, Scot, and Lindsay share the Day.
Newbigging, Tinto, Little, grace the Field,
And Haliday that well could Weapons wield.
28
Hastes to his Eme , and combats in the Van.
Thro' hostile Ranks they scatter Fate around,
And twice Four thousand gasp along the Ground.
Quite thro' the South'ron Host, o'er Carron's Flood,
To Torwood Shades the Scots in Safety rode.
Wallace alone, and Graham and Lauder stay,
Unsated with the Slaughter of the Day;
Greedy of Fame, their fiery Coursers rein,
And drive, impetuous, back unto the Plain.
Three hundred Men to guard the Chiefs prepare,
Inur'd to Blood, and harden'd to the War.
Where Saxon Ranks in thickest Order stood,
With awful Force these dauntless Warriors rode.
Ere Bruce cou'd well the Scottish Band perceive,
His Legions rally, or just Orders give;
With Wounds transfix'd, all weltring in their Gore,
Three hundred Saxons strow'd the bloody Shore.
29
And Thirty thousand to the Onset Leads.
Cozen'd by Fraud, and jealous of his Right ,
Wing'd with Revenge, he rushes to the Fight.
Three worthy Scots, pierc'd by his mighty Hand,
Roul in their Blood, and bite the purple Strand.
Th'Ellerslian Chief with Sorrow sees them bleed,
And swell'd with Rage, he reins the fiery Steed;
Against the Bruce directs his awful Force,
The Bruce, all dreadless, meets the Hero's Course.
Charg'd in his Rest a mighty Lance he wore,
And Wallace' Hand a glitt'ring Fauchion bore.
Together fast the dauntless Warriors ride,
And thro' bright Steel soon bursts the blushing Tide.
From Wallace' Thigh transfix'd fast flows the Gore,
And Bruce's Courser tumbles on the Shore.
30
When Graham and Lauder thunder'd on the Plain.
Thro' South'ron Ranks these Heroes urg'd their Way,
And bore alone the Fury of the Day:
Whilst Wallace stood and stemm'd his bleeding Wound,
In Heaps the Foe lay scatter'd on the Ground.
His Blood now stanch'd, the Chief returns anew,
The hardy Graham and Lauder to rescue.
To their Relief he rode in all his Might,
But cautious Beik advancing to the Fight:
By Numbers overpow'r'd the Scots retire,
Nor cou'd great Graham restrain his Martial Fire;
A burnish'd Sword in his strong Hand he bore,
And forward rushing thro' the Shock of War;
Before the Bruce he struck an English Knight,
Where his gay glitt'ring Crest stood polish'd bright,
With unresisted Force, thro' Helm and Head,
Down to the Collar glanc'd the shining Blade.
31
And Blood and Soul rush mingled thro' the Wound.
A subtil Knight, who saw the deadly Blow,
Fir'd with Resentment, meditates the Foe.
As Graham return'd, the crafty Warriour spy'd,
Beneath his Armour, a defenceless Void.
In at his Back, full aim'd with cautious Care,
Quite thro' his Bowels glides the treach'rous Spear.
The Hero turn'd and smote the cruel Foe,
Just where the Casque the Vizor joyns below;
Thro' Steel and Brain fast rush'd the forceful Brand;
The noble Graham swoons on the bloody Strand:
This latest Proof of loyal Valour shows,
And greatly falls amidst his Country's Foes.
When
Ellersly the glorious Chief beheld
Bath'd in his Blood, and stretcht upon the Field;
What sudden Pangs his throbbing Soul possest?
What Rage and Grief, tumultuous, tore his Breast?
He weeps, he raves, abandon'd to Despair,
Then, wing'd with Fury, rushes to the War.
Enrag'd, he rides amidst the thickest Foe,
And certain Death descends in ev'ry Blow.
Bereft of Reason, careless of his Life,
Desp'rate, he urges the unequal Strife;
The bloody Torrents thicken as they flow,
And Heaps of Slaughter the red Level strow.
But now two strong Battalions shape their Way,
Their beamy Lances glitt'ring in the Day.
Led by bold Bruce, the Hero's Steed they gore,
Fast bleeds the Courser on the Crimson Shore.
Their Spears in Pieces hew'd the Martial Knight,
Then from the Plain precipitates his Flight.
O'er Carron's Flood the wounded Steed him bore,
Then fell down dead upon the farther Shore.
Bath'd in his Blood, and stretcht upon the Field;
What sudden Pangs his throbbing Soul possest?
What Rage and Grief, tumultuous, tore his Breast?
32
Then, wing'd with Fury, rushes to the War.
Enrag'd, he rides amidst the thickest Foe,
And certain Death descends in ev'ry Blow.
Bereft of Reason, careless of his Life,
Desp'rate, he urges the unequal Strife;
The bloody Torrents thicken as they flow,
And Heaps of Slaughter the red Level strow.
But now two strong Battalions shape their Way,
Their beamy Lances glitt'ring in the Day.
Led by bold Bruce, the Hero's Steed they gore,
Fast bleeds the Courser on the Crimson Shore.
Their Spears in Pieces hew'd the Martial Knight,
Then from the Plain precipitates his Flight.
O'er Carron's Flood the wounded Steed him bore,
Then fell down dead upon the farther Shore.
Phoebus in western Waves had drench'd his Team,
And the brown Twilight shed a dusky Gleam.
To Torwood-Shades the Scottish Troops repair;
Wallace and Ker alone with equal Care,
Silent on Carron's flow'ry Borders stray'd,
Revolv'd the Day, and mourn'd the valiant Dead.
The South'ron too retire, and Bruce and Ray
Along the nearer Bank pursu'd their Way.
When, thro' the Gloom, upon the distant Side,
The hardy Bruce the Scottish Chief espy'd.
Where jutting Rocks a straiter Passage frame,
Lessen the Chanel, and contract the Stream.
There Wallace heard the Leader call aloud,
And, stopping, press'd the Margin of the Flood.
When thus the Bruce, ‘I know thou art the Knight,
‘This Day that, dreadful, led the Scots in Fight.
‘Amaz'd, I saw thee in dire Combat stand,
‘And, curious, mark'd the Wonders of thy Hand.
‘To real Worth a just Applause we owe,
‘Nor is it mine to stain a gen'rous Foe.
‘But say, what wild Ambition fires thy Soul?
‘What Rage and Madness in thy Bosom roll?
‘Does the thin Air of popular Applause
‘Engage thee, desp'rate, in a sinking Cause?
‘Or does the Lust of Sway thus urge thee on
‘To empty Titles, and a fancy'd Throne?
‘To wade thro' Seas of thy dear Country's Blood,
‘Born on the Breath of a tumultuous Crowd?
‘Dar'st thou presume to match the English Force,
‘Or stop the mighty Edward's boundless Course?
‘Vain Man! dismiss that Thirst of lawless Sway,
‘And due Obedience to the Victor pay.
‘Preserve thy Country from impending Woe,
‘And yield, submissive, to the conqu'ring Foe.’
Thus Huntington. When from the other Side,
The Scottish Chief in honest Terms reply'd.
‘I own the Charge. Ambition fires my Soul,
‘And Rage and Madness in my Bosom roll.
‘Ambition! to preserve a sinking State,
‘Basely abandon'd by the faithless Great;
‘To save my Country from th'accursed Crew
‘Of barb'rous Foes, and yet more barb'rous You!
‘I claim no Right, nor shall my Pow'r imploy
‘To mount to Titles, or to Lawless Sway;
‘My Soul hath still abhor'd the gaudy Dream
‘Of fancy'd Rule, or an Usurper's Name;
‘To save my Country, if allow'd by Fate,
‘All other Ways disdaining to be great.
‘Our Actions are our Glory or our Shame,
‘Not borrow'd Titles, or an airy Name.
‘The Peasant to Renown may nobly rise,
‘Whilst the proud Tyrant undistinguish'd lies.
‘Know then, I'll die, or set my Country free,
‘In Spite of Edward, and in Spite of Thee:
‘Thee! who, by Right, shouldst Albion's Sceptre wield,
‘Yet Tear'st her Bowels in the bloody Field.
‘Who, impious, return'st from yonder Shore,
‘Still warm, and reeking with thy Country's Gore.
‘Before to Morrow's Sun begins his Course,
‘Once more I'll dare to meet the South'ron Force.
‘For that dear Land, where first I drew my Breath,
‘I'll seek the Tyrant in the Fields of Death;
‘Begirt with Guards, and wall'd with Legions round,
‘I'll drive him, perjur'd, from our native Ground.
‘Farewel, deluded Man! thy Right forego,
‘And bow, a Monarch, to a treach'rous Foe.
‘Be a secure, inglorious Slav'ry thine,
‘But Death or Liberty shall still be mine.’
And the brown Twilight shed a dusky Gleam.
33
Wallace and Ker alone with equal Care,
Silent on Carron's flow'ry Borders stray'd,
Revolv'd the Day, and mourn'd the valiant Dead.
The South'ron too retire, and Bruce and Ray
Along the nearer Bank pursu'd their Way.
When, thro' the Gloom, upon the distant Side,
The hardy Bruce the Scottish Chief espy'd.
Where jutting Rocks a straiter Passage frame,
Lessen the Chanel, and contract the Stream.
There Wallace heard the Leader call aloud,
And, stopping, press'd the Margin of the Flood.
When thus the Bruce, ‘I know thou art the Knight,
‘This Day that, dreadful, led the Scots in Fight.
‘Amaz'd, I saw thee in dire Combat stand,
‘And, curious, mark'd the Wonders of thy Hand.
‘To real Worth a just Applause we owe,
‘Nor is it mine to stain a gen'rous Foe.
34
‘What Rage and Madness in thy Bosom roll?
‘Does the thin Air of popular Applause
‘Engage thee, desp'rate, in a sinking Cause?
‘Or does the Lust of Sway thus urge thee on
‘To empty Titles, and a fancy'd Throne?
‘To wade thro' Seas of thy dear Country's Blood,
‘Born on the Breath of a tumultuous Crowd?
‘Dar'st thou presume to match the English Force,
‘Or stop the mighty Edward's boundless Course?
‘Vain Man! dismiss that Thirst of lawless Sway,
‘And due Obedience to the Victor pay.
‘Preserve thy Country from impending Woe,
‘And yield, submissive, to the conqu'ring Foe.’
Thus Huntington. When from the other Side,
The Scottish Chief in honest Terms reply'd.
‘I own the Charge. Ambition fires my Soul,
‘And Rage and Madness in my Bosom roll.
35
‘Basely abandon'd by the faithless Great;
‘To save my Country from th'accursed Crew
‘Of barb'rous Foes, and yet more barb'rous You!
‘I claim no Right, nor shall my Pow'r imploy
‘To mount to Titles, or to Lawless Sway;
‘My Soul hath still abhor'd the gaudy Dream
‘Of fancy'd Rule, or an Usurper's Name;
‘To save my Country, if allow'd by Fate,
‘All other Ways disdaining to be great.
‘Our Actions are our Glory or our Shame,
‘Not borrow'd Titles, or an airy Name.
‘The Peasant to Renown may nobly rise,
‘Whilst the proud Tyrant undistinguish'd lies.
‘Know then, I'll die, or set my Country free,
‘In Spite of Edward, and in Spite of Thee:
‘Thee! who, by Right, shouldst Albion's Sceptre wield,
‘Yet Tear'st her Bowels in the bloody Field.
36
‘Still warm, and reeking with thy Country's Gore.
‘Before to Morrow's Sun begins his Course,
‘Once more I'll dare to meet the South'ron Force.
‘For that dear Land, where first I drew my Breath,
‘I'll seek the Tyrant in the Fields of Death;
‘Begirt with Guards, and wall'd with Legions round,
‘I'll drive him, perjur'd, from our native Ground.
‘Farewel, deluded Man! thy Right forego,
‘And bow, a Monarch, to a treach'rous Foe.
‘Be a secure, inglorious Slav'ry thine,
‘But Death or Liberty shall still be mine.’
Thus spoke the Chief. His latest Accents roll
Thro' Bruce's Heart, and settle in his Soul!
He finds himself by Edward's Fraud misled,
And long by South'ron Artifice betray'd;
Perceives the Scottish Leader's loyal Care,
His honest Toils, and unambitious War.
Then thus. ‘You see, my Friend, the doubtful Light
‘Leads on the sable Chariot of the Night;
‘Near Dunipace, where stands a sacred Fane,
‘By Nine next Morning, let us meet again.
‘No—long ere Phœbus runs that Length of Course,
‘Reply'd the Chief, we'll meet the Tyrant's Force;
‘In Spite of all the Pow'r he has to sway,
‘Fate shall, before that Time, decide the Day.
‘He either shall his impious Claim give o'er,
‘And shamefully repete his native Shore;
‘Or one of us shall fall in bloody Fight,
‘Impartial Heav'n will judge our Cause aright.
‘But if you please th'Appointment to assign
‘At Three, I'll meet ye near the ancient Shrine.’
The Bruce consented, and to Lithgow past,
To Torwood-Shades good Ker and Wallace haste.
Refresh'd with Food, the Host for Rest prepare,
And in short Slumbers hush the Din of War.
Thro' Bruce's Heart, and settle in his Soul!
He finds himself by Edward's Fraud misled,
And long by South'ron Artifice betray'd;
Perceives the Scottish Leader's loyal Care,
His honest Toils, and unambitious War.
37
‘Leads on the sable Chariot of the Night;
‘Near Dunipace, where stands a sacred Fane,
‘By Nine next Morning, let us meet again.
‘No—long ere Phœbus runs that Length of Course,
‘Reply'd the Chief, we'll meet the Tyrant's Force;
‘In Spite of all the Pow'r he has to sway,
‘Fate shall, before that Time, decide the Day.
‘He either shall his impious Claim give o'er,
‘And shamefully repete his native Shore;
‘Or one of us shall fall in bloody Fight,
‘Impartial Heav'n will judge our Cause aright.
‘But if you please th'Appointment to assign
‘At Three, I'll meet ye near the ancient Shrine.’
The Bruce consented, and to Lithgow past,
To Torwood-Shades good Ker and Wallace haste.
Refresh'd with Food, the Host for Rest prepare,
And in short Slumbers hush the Din of War.
38
Bright
Phosphor soon the vaulted Azure gilds,
And Stars, retiring, quit the airy Fields.
The Scottish Chief abandons his Repose,
And Arms of Proof his Manly Limbs enclose.
With Clasps around the temper'd Mail he ties,
And graven Cuishes glitter on his Thighs.
Upon his Head a shining Casque he wore,
A Staff of Steel in his strong Hand he bore.
A beamy Fauchion grac'd his Manly Side,
Boldly he seem'd in Battle to abide.
His Armour-bearer Jop went on before,
And the great Warrior's massy Buckler bore.
Thus forth the Hero marching, views the Lines,
And to each Chief his proper Post assigns.
Ramsay, and Lundy, and the hardy Thane
Of Lennox, led Five Thousand to the Plain.
Five thousand more himself and Lauder guide,
And Richarton and Seton close their Side.
To the late Field they march in deep Array,
And view the Ruins of the former Day.
There, what a horrid Scene the Sight confounds?
What Heaps of Carnage strow th'adjacent Grounds,
And Life, scarce cold, yet bubbling thro' the Wounds!
Along the Strand the floating Streams of Blood
Roll on in Tides, and choak the neighbouring Flood.
Here lay brave Stuart, and Rossia's gallant Thane,
With honest Wounds transfix'd upon the Plain.
There lay great Graham extended on the Shore,
Lifeless, and pale, and stain'd with clotted Gore.
Him Wallace saw, and throbbing at the Sight,
Alights, and rushes to the lovely Knight.
Up in his Arms he rais'd his drooping Head,
And thus, with Tears, addrest the gallant Dead.
And Stars, retiring, quit the airy Fields.
The Scottish Chief abandons his Repose,
And Arms of Proof his Manly Limbs enclose.
With Clasps around the temper'd Mail he ties,
And graven Cuishes glitter on his Thighs.
Upon his Head a shining Casque he wore,
A Staff of Steel in his strong Hand he bore.
A beamy Fauchion grac'd his Manly Side,
Boldly he seem'd in Battle to abide.
His Armour-bearer Jop went on before,
And the great Warrior's massy Buckler bore.
Thus forth the Hero marching, views the Lines,
And to each Chief his proper Post assigns.
Ramsay, and Lundy, and the hardy Thane
Of Lennox, led Five Thousand to the Plain.
Five thousand more himself and Lauder guide,
And Richarton and Seton close their Side.
39
And view the Ruins of the former Day.
There, what a horrid Scene the Sight confounds?
What Heaps of Carnage strow th'adjacent Grounds,
And Life, scarce cold, yet bubbling thro' the Wounds!
Along the Strand the floating Streams of Blood
Roll on in Tides, and choak the neighbouring Flood.
Here lay brave Stuart, and Rossia's gallant Thane,
With honest Wounds transfix'd upon the Plain.
There lay great Graham extended on the Shore,
Lifeless, and pale, and stain'd with clotted Gore.
Him Wallace saw, and throbbing at the Sight,
Alights, and rushes to the lovely Knight.
Up in his Arms he rais'd his drooping Head,
And thus, with Tears, addrest the gallant Dead.
‘Farewel, my best lov'd Friend! A long Adieu
‘To all th'illusive Joys of Life and you.
‘Farewel (O grateful Victim to our Foes)
‘Thou sacred Martyr for thy Country's Cause!
‘For her thou fought'st in dreadful Fields of Death,
‘For her thus greatly thou resign'st thy Breath.
‘That Warlike Arm shall I behold no more,
‘The Fauchion brandish on the bloody Shore.
‘No more those Eyes shall fierce in Battle glow,
‘Thy Friends Delight, and Terror of the Foe.
‘How is the mighty fall'n upon the Plain?
‘The Chief, the Hero by a Coward slain!
‘Nor shall his Soul the treach'rous Triumph boast,
‘Sad and confounded on the Stygian Coast.
‘Thy Noble Hand soon sent the dastard Foe,
‘Murder'd and damn'd down to the Shades below.
‘Ah! Gallant Man, what Worth adorn'd thy Mind?
‘How brave an En'my, how sincere a Friend?
‘Sincere to me, since first our Love began,
‘Thy David I, and thou my Jonathan.
‘Thou wast the Hope, the Glory of my Life,
‘My better Genius in the doubtful Strife.
‘Warm'd by thy Presence, how did I disdain
‘The Toils and Dangers of th'unequal Plain?
‘How did my Soul with rising Ardours glow,
‘Lessen the Hazard, and contract the Foe,
‘O'erlook the adverse Host, when I beheld
‘My brave Companion thunder in the Field?
‘Old Albion shall in Tears of Blood bemoan
‘The Gallant Patriot, and the duteous Son.
‘In thee her Freedom and her Honour dead,
‘Her Hopes all blasted, and her Succour fled.
‘Farewel, blest Shade! may thine unspotted Soul,
‘Now rais'd on high to thy congeneal Pole,
‘In Flames of Heav'nly Raptures ever glow,
‘And smile, propitious, on our Toils below.’
He said. The Host accompany their Chief,
Burst into Tears, and give a Loose to Grief.
So once, of old, on the Molosian Coast,
Bold Theseus mourn'd his dear Pirithous lost.
Now wash'd from Blood, upon their Shields they bore
The Lifeless Hero from the fatal Shore.
With solemn Pomp the mournful Chiefs proceed,
And in the various Fane inhume the Dead.
To all the Chiftains slain due Rites they pay,
Then to th'Appointment Wallace bends his Way.
The Loss of Graham, and that unhappy Field,
Inflam'd his Soul when he the Bruce beheld.
Approaching quick, the ireful Chief began,
And in Stern Language thus addrest the Man.
Dost thou repent thy base unnatural War?
Or Thirsts thy Soul yet still for native Gore?
Rew'st thou the Actions of thy barb'rous Hand,
The cruel Havock on yon bloody Strand?
See those brave Patriots, who, too loyal, came
To save their Country, and maintain thy Claim;
T'oppose a haughty Tyrant's lawless Might,
And 'gainst thy self t'assert thy native Right:
See where they lay distain'd with Purple Gore,
By their own Prince all murder'd on the Shore.
Behold the gallant Stuart, and Rossia's Thane,
And God-like Graham, late, stretcht upon the Plain.
Heroes! whose Blood not Armies can attone,
By Fraud, and Tyranny, and Thee undone.
Unhappy Man!—More wou'd the Chief have said
When drown'd in Tears, the noble Bruce reply'd.
‘Yes, gen'rous Friend! I saw the Heroes stand
‘Like Gods in Battle on yon bloody Strand.
‘Eager of Fame, unknowing how to yield,
‘How did they court the Dangers of the Field?
‘O'ermatch'd with Numbers, prodigal of Life,
‘How did they struggle in th'unequal Strife?
‘For their dear Country, mix'd in dire Debate,
‘They strove with Heaven, and disputed Fate.
‘'Twas I, deluded Wretch! who led that Pow'r
‘Against my Friends to this unhappy Shore.
‘'Twas I, ill-fated I! whose guilty Hand
‘Dy'd with my native Blood yon Crimson Strand.
‘Poor, hapless Man! by fair Pretences led
‘To Ruin, and by Kingly Fraud betray'd.
‘To all th'illusive Joys of Life and you.
40
‘Thou sacred Martyr for thy Country's Cause!
‘For her thou fought'st in dreadful Fields of Death,
‘For her thus greatly thou resign'st thy Breath.
‘That Warlike Arm shall I behold no more,
‘The Fauchion brandish on the bloody Shore.
‘No more those Eyes shall fierce in Battle glow,
‘Thy Friends Delight, and Terror of the Foe.
‘How is the mighty fall'n upon the Plain?
‘The Chief, the Hero by a Coward slain!
‘Nor shall his Soul the treach'rous Triumph boast,
‘Sad and confounded on the Stygian Coast.
‘Thy Noble Hand soon sent the dastard Foe,
‘Murder'd and damn'd down to the Shades below.
‘Ah! Gallant Man, what Worth adorn'd thy Mind?
‘How brave an En'my, how sincere a Friend?
‘Sincere to me, since first our Love began,
‘Thy David I, and thou my Jonathan.
41
‘My better Genius in the doubtful Strife.
‘Warm'd by thy Presence, how did I disdain
‘The Toils and Dangers of th'unequal Plain?
‘How did my Soul with rising Ardours glow,
‘Lessen the Hazard, and contract the Foe,
‘O'erlook the adverse Host, when I beheld
‘My brave Companion thunder in the Field?
‘Old Albion shall in Tears of Blood bemoan
‘The Gallant Patriot, and the duteous Son.
‘In thee her Freedom and her Honour dead,
‘Her Hopes all blasted, and her Succour fled.
‘Farewel, blest Shade! may thine unspotted Soul,
‘Now rais'd on high to thy congeneal Pole,
‘In Flames of Heav'nly Raptures ever glow,
‘And smile, propitious, on our Toils below.’
He said. The Host accompany their Chief,
Burst into Tears, and give a Loose to Grief.
42
Bold Theseus mourn'd his dear Pirithous lost.
Now wash'd from Blood, upon their Shields they bore
The Lifeless Hero from the fatal Shore.
With solemn Pomp the mournful Chiefs proceed,
And in the various Fane inhume the Dead.
To all the Chiftains slain due Rites they pay,
Then to th'Appointment Wallace bends his Way.
The Loss of Graham, and that unhappy Field,
Inflam'd his Soul when he the Bruce beheld.
Approaching quick, the ireful Chief began,
And in Stern Language thus addrest the Man.
Dost thou repent thy base unnatural War?
Or Thirsts thy Soul yet still for native Gore?
Rew'st thou the Actions of thy barb'rous Hand,
The cruel Havock on yon bloody Strand?
See those brave Patriots, who, too loyal, came
To save their Country, and maintain thy Claim;
43
And 'gainst thy self t'assert thy native Right:
See where they lay distain'd with Purple Gore,
By their own Prince all murder'd on the Shore.
Behold the gallant Stuart, and Rossia's Thane,
And God-like Graham, late, stretcht upon the Plain.
Heroes! whose Blood not Armies can attone,
By Fraud, and Tyranny, and Thee undone.
Unhappy Man!—More wou'd the Chief have said
When drown'd in Tears, the noble Bruce reply'd.
‘Yes, gen'rous Friend! I saw the Heroes stand
‘Like Gods in Battle on yon bloody Strand.
‘Eager of Fame, unknowing how to yield,
‘How did they court the Dangers of the Field?
‘O'ermatch'd with Numbers, prodigal of Life,
‘How did they struggle in th'unequal Strife?
‘For their dear Country, mix'd in dire Debate,
‘They strove with Heaven, and disputed Fate.
44
‘Against my Friends to this unhappy Shore.
‘'Twas I, ill-fated I! whose guilty Hand
‘Dy'd with my native Blood yon Crimson Strand.
‘Poor, hapless Man! by fair Pretences led
‘To Ruin, and by Kingly Fraud betray'd.
Wallace with Joy hears what the Bruce had said,
And on his Knee a low Obeisance made.
The South'ron Pow'r he beg'd him to disown,
And reign, a Monarch, on his native Throne.
Against that crafty Prince assert his Claim,
Revenge his Wrongs, and vindicate his Name.
Alas! nor yet I dare, the Bruce reply'd,
Forsake yon King, or quit the South'ron Side;
My Son a Hostage for my Fealty lies,
Which if the Sire should violate—he dies.
But here I vow, ne'er shall this guilty Hand
A Sword imploy against my native Land;
No more against my Friends a Weapon bear:
But soon as I escape the treach'rous Snare,
To thee I'll come, and on thy Faith rely,
T'assert my Title, and secure my Sway.
This said, in Arms he rais'd the gallant Man,
And Tides of Joy thro' Wallace' Bosom ran.
Betwixt them mutual kind Endearments past,
Then, parting, each revisited his Host.
Waiting their Chief on the late Field of Blood,
In Order rang'd, the Grampian Squadrons stood.
Arriv'd, the Hero mounts, and leads the Way,
And the firm Lines move on in close Array.
By Inneravin Lennox guides his Band,
And hardy Crawford shares the Earl's Command.
Thus order'd thro' the lower Way to ride
Obscure, by South'ron Watches unespy'd.
Wallace himself conducts a chosen Band
On the South-side thro' Manwel's rocky Land.
To Lithgow straight, where mighty Edward lay,
Silent, the hardy Lennox speeds his Way;
Sudden, amidst the Tents, in Armour shines,
And hasty Slaughter rages thro' the Lines.
Spent with the Labours of the former Day,
Dissolv'd in Sleep th'ill-guarded South'ron lay.
When thro' the Camp the clashing Arms resound,
And hostile Cries their drowsy Souls confound.
Edward, amaz'd, beholds the sudden War,
And bids his Legions for the Fight prepare.
Enrag'd, his Courser mounts, and scours along,
And rouses, with Reproach, the Sluggard Throng.
Bold Hartford hastes, to York his Forces joyns,
When Wallace, ent'ring, thunders thro' the Lines;
On South'ron Ranks exerts his well known Might,
And drives, conspicuous, thro' the bloody Fight.
Some naked, some half arm'd, (a senseless Throng)
Part, stupid, gaz'd, Part run confus'd along.
Whilst the bold Scots distribute Death around,
Steeds, Tents, and Squadrons mingling on the Ground.
The awful King stern in the Battle shines,
And with his Presence animates the Lines.
To Arms the hardy Bruce he calls aloud,
And Twenty thousand round that Hero crowd.
Resolv'd no more his Subjects to offend,
The Bruce advances on his Mock-Command.
Great, as he wont, before his Squadrons rode,
Awful in Steel, and dreadful as a God.
The usual Fierceness kindles in his Eyes,
And o'er his Face dissembled Terrors rise.
His beamy Fauchion brandishing in Air,
He seems to charge, and counterfeits the War.
His threatning Blows (if Blows at all descend)
Fall innocent, as from a Father's Hand.
And on his Knee a low Obeisance made.
The South'ron Pow'r he beg'd him to disown,
And reign, a Monarch, on his native Throne.
Against that crafty Prince assert his Claim,
Revenge his Wrongs, and vindicate his Name.
Alas! nor yet I dare, the Bruce reply'd,
Forsake yon King, or quit the South'ron Side;
My Son a Hostage for my Fealty lies,
Which if the Sire should violate—he dies.
But here I vow, ne'er shall this guilty Hand
A Sword imploy against my native Land;
45
But soon as I escape the treach'rous Snare,
To thee I'll come, and on thy Faith rely,
T'assert my Title, and secure my Sway.
This said, in Arms he rais'd the gallant Man,
And Tides of Joy thro' Wallace' Bosom ran.
Betwixt them mutual kind Endearments past,
Then, parting, each revisited his Host.
Waiting their Chief on the late Field of Blood,
In Order rang'd, the Grampian Squadrons stood.
Arriv'd, the Hero mounts, and leads the Way,
And the firm Lines move on in close Array.
By Inneravin Lennox guides his Band,
And hardy Crawford shares the Earl's Command.
Thus order'd thro' the lower Way to ride
Obscure, by South'ron Watches unespy'd.
Wallace himself conducts a chosen Band
On the South-side thro' Manwel's rocky Land.
46
Silent, the hardy Lennox speeds his Way;
Sudden, amidst the Tents, in Armour shines,
And hasty Slaughter rages thro' the Lines.
Spent with the Labours of the former Day,
Dissolv'd in Sleep th'ill-guarded South'ron lay.
When thro' the Camp the clashing Arms resound,
And hostile Cries their drowsy Souls confound.
Edward, amaz'd, beholds the sudden War,
And bids his Legions for the Fight prepare.
Enrag'd, his Courser mounts, and scours along,
And rouses, with Reproach, the Sluggard Throng.
Bold Hartford hastes, to York his Forces joyns,
When Wallace, ent'ring, thunders thro' the Lines;
On South'ron Ranks exerts his well known Might,
And drives, conspicuous, thro' the bloody Fight.
Some naked, some half arm'd, (a senseless Throng)
Part, stupid, gaz'd, Part run confus'd along.
47
Steeds, Tents, and Squadrons mingling on the Ground.
The awful King stern in the Battle shines,
And with his Presence animates the Lines.
To Arms the hardy Bruce he calls aloud,
And Twenty thousand round that Hero crowd.
Resolv'd no more his Subjects to offend,
The Bruce advances on his Mock-Command.
Great, as he wont, before his Squadrons rode,
Awful in Steel, and dreadful as a God.
The usual Fierceness kindles in his Eyes,
And o'er his Face dissembled Terrors rise.
His beamy Fauchion brandishing in Air,
He seems to charge, and counterfeits the War.
His threatning Blows (if Blows at all descend)
Fall innocent, as from a Father's Hand.
Wallace, meantime, and Lennox, in their Course,
Meet in the Centre, and conjoyn their Force.
The Warlike Bands exert their utmost Might,
And, unresisted, thunder thro' the Fight.
Fir'd with Resentment of the former Plain,
Their Country spoil'd, their brave Companions slain!
Forward, united in their Fury, go,
And pour swift Vengeance on the guilty Foe.
Graham, and the Chiftains lost inspire each Deed,
And to their Ghosts Ten thousand Victims bleed.
Abas'd, the South'ron Host for Flight prepare,
And from the Field fast speeds the vulgar War.
Only the King, now long renown'd in Fame,
Combats for Glory, and asserts his Name.
And other Chiefs, in Martial Honours great,
Before their Monarch nobly meet their Fate.
Against that King to prove his awful Might,
The Scottish Chief rode, furious, thro' the Fight;
Thro' all the Force of the opposing Foe,
Full at his Vizor aim'd a deadly Blow;
He miss'd the King; the Standard-Bearer's Head
Asunder cleft the unresisted Blade.
The royal Standard (shameful!) press'd the Plain,
Then fled, dismay'd, at once the South'ron Train.
The hardy Scots their Warlike Steeds prepare,
And, mounting, swift pursue the flying War;
From Glotta's Banks, to Nithia's steepy Coast,
With Blood and Slaughter drove the scatter'd Host.
Pierc'd with dishonest Wounds Three thousand ly,
And Crawford-Moor with mingled Carnage dye.
With Tears great Edward views the dismal Scene,
His bravest Troops without Resentment slain.
While Rage and Grief at once his Soul opprest,
He turn'd, and thus the valiant Bruce addrest.
Ah, Huntington! thou seest yon murd'ring Crowd,
With Slaughter tir'd, yet still athirst for Blood;
Our Friends all butcher'd, and yon bloody Heath
One Heap of Carnage, and a Waste of Death.
Woud'st thou but turn, and stop their barb'rous Might,
By all the Pow'rs! I shall confirm thy Right.
He said. The Bruce in modest Terms reply'd,
Annul my Bond, make my Engagements void;
Then shall I turn, attack the Scottish Pow'r,
And drive their Legions back to Carron's Shore.
The royal Statesman, vers'd in Kingly Art,
At once perceives his alienated Heart;
Hence guards his Motions, watches his Designs,
And as a Prisoner at large confines.
But now the Warlike Scots approaching near,
Fall in with Shouts, and thunder on the Rear.
With heavy Heart the mighty Edward fled,
Mourn'd his lost Honour, and his Legions dead,
O'er Solway's Stream, home to his native Shore,
He leads the Reliques of his vanquish'd Pow'r.
Full Fifty thousand in that Journey lost,
With mingled Corpses strow'd the Scottish Coast.
Meet in the Centre, and conjoyn their Force.
48
And, unresisted, thunder thro' the Fight.
Fir'd with Resentment of the former Plain,
Their Country spoil'd, their brave Companions slain!
Forward, united in their Fury, go,
And pour swift Vengeance on the guilty Foe.
Graham, and the Chiftains lost inspire each Deed,
And to their Ghosts Ten thousand Victims bleed.
Abas'd, the South'ron Host for Flight prepare,
And from the Field fast speeds the vulgar War.
Only the King, now long renown'd in Fame,
Combats for Glory, and asserts his Name.
And other Chiefs, in Martial Honours great,
Before their Monarch nobly meet their Fate.
Against that King to prove his awful Might,
The Scottish Chief rode, furious, thro' the Fight;
Thro' all the Force of the opposing Foe,
Full at his Vizor aim'd a deadly Blow;
49
Asunder cleft the unresisted Blade.
The royal Standard (shameful!) press'd the Plain,
Then fled, dismay'd, at once the South'ron Train.
The hardy Scots their Warlike Steeds prepare,
And, mounting, swift pursue the flying War;
From Glotta's Banks, to Nithia's steepy Coast,
With Blood and Slaughter drove the scatter'd Host.
Pierc'd with dishonest Wounds Three thousand ly,
And Crawford-Moor with mingled Carnage dye.
With Tears great Edward views the dismal Scene,
His bravest Troops without Resentment slain.
While Rage and Grief at once his Soul opprest,
He turn'd, and thus the valiant Bruce addrest.
Ah, Huntington! thou seest yon murd'ring Crowd,
With Slaughter tir'd, yet still athirst for Blood;
50
One Heap of Carnage, and a Waste of Death.
Woud'st thou but turn, and stop their barb'rous Might,
By all the Pow'rs! I shall confirm thy Right.
He said. The Bruce in modest Terms reply'd,
Annul my Bond, make my Engagements void;
Then shall I turn, attack the Scottish Pow'r,
And drive their Legions back to Carron's Shore.
The royal Statesman, vers'd in Kingly Art,
At once perceives his alienated Heart;
Hence guards his Motions, watches his Designs,
And as a Prisoner at large confines.
But now the Warlike Scots approaching near,
Fall in with Shouts, and thunder on the Rear.
With heavy Heart the mighty Edward fled,
Mourn'd his lost Honour, and his Legions dead,
O'er Solway's Stream, home to his native Shore,
He leads the Reliques of his vanquish'd Pow'r.
51
With mingled Corpses strow'd the Scottish Coast.
Thus far the Muse, in just Example, sings
Of Traitors, loyal Chiefs, usurping Kings;
Their Deeds transmitting down to future Times,
In faithful Records, and unbyass'd Rhimes.
Of virtuous Names she marks the glorious Fate,
And brands with Infamy the factious Great.
Faction! thou dire, thou legionary Fiend,
How dark thy Views, how dismal is thy End?
What num'rous Woes in thy black Bosom dwell?
On Pride first founded, and inspir'd by Hell!
By Thee the Gods were mix'd in dire Debate,
And daring Faction shook th'immortal State!
In Bands combin'd, assail'd the sacred Throne,
'Till in his Might arose th'Eternal Son!
Full in his Father's Strength attacks the Foe,
And hurls them, flaming, to th'Abyss below;
Far from th'Effulgence of superior Light,
'Midst liquid Fire to roul, and Shades of deepest Night!
Mankind, immortal, innocent, first fell
By thee, thou darling Principle of Hell!
Since, uncontroul'd, thou spread'st thy boundless Reign,
Inspir'st th'ambitious, and delud'st the vain.
Of Traitors, loyal Chiefs, usurping Kings;
Their Deeds transmitting down to future Times,
In faithful Records, and unbyass'd Rhimes.
Of virtuous Names she marks the glorious Fate,
And brands with Infamy the factious Great.
Faction! thou dire, thou legionary Fiend,
How dark thy Views, how dismal is thy End?
What num'rous Woes in thy black Bosom dwell?
On Pride first founded, and inspir'd by Hell!
By Thee the Gods were mix'd in dire Debate,
And daring Faction shook th'immortal State!
In Bands combin'd, assail'd the sacred Throne,
'Till in his Might arose th'Eternal Son!
Full in his Father's Strength attacks the Foe,
And hurls them, flaming, to th'Abyss below;
52
'Midst liquid Fire to roul, and Shades of deepest Night!
Mankind, immortal, innocent, first fell
By thee, thou darling Principle of Hell!
Since, uncontroul'd, thou spread'st thy boundless Reign,
Inspir'st th'ambitious, and delud'st the vain.
This
Wallace found. Not all his gen'rous Toils,
His glorious Conquests, and triumphant Spoils;
Not all his brave Attempts to free the State,
Cou'd skreen the Patriot from the jealous Great.
Beset by Malice, and by Fraud opprest,
(Yet green with Laurels, and with Triumphs grac'd!)
The Godlike Leader to Edina came,
Renounc'd his Pow'r, disclaim'd a Guardian's Name;
'Midst Tears of loyal States resign'd his Trust,
A willing Exile from his native Coast.
His causeless Wrongs deep in his Bosom sat,
And deeper still the Ruin of the State.
Yet, forc'd by Faction, he forsakes the Land,
His Friends attend him to the briny Strand;
In a lone Bark they launch into the Main,
The bounding Vessel plows the wat'ry Plain;
Aloft, inspiring Gales, propitious blow,
Obsequious rolling, roars the Tide below;
'Till safe from Dangers of the liquid Reign,
The Warlike Crew the Rochel Harbour gain.
His glorious Conquests, and triumphant Spoils;
Not all his brave Attempts to free the State,
Cou'd skreen the Patriot from the jealous Great.
Beset by Malice, and by Fraud opprest,
(Yet green with Laurels, and with Triumphs grac'd!)
The Godlike Leader to Edina came,
Renounc'd his Pow'r, disclaim'd a Guardian's Name;
'Midst Tears of loyal States resign'd his Trust,
A willing Exile from his native Coast.
His causeless Wrongs deep in his Bosom sat,
And deeper still the Ruin of the State.
53
His Friends attend him to the briny Strand;
In a lone Bark they launch into the Main,
The bounding Vessel plows the wat'ry Plain;
Aloft, inspiring Gales, propitious blow,
Obsequious rolling, roars the Tide below;
'Till safe from Dangers of the liquid Reign,
The Warlike Crew the Rochel Harbour gain.
Farewel, thou gen'rous Man! a long Adieu
To wretched Albion's Safety, and to you.
Who shall in Arms dare to support her Right?
What hardy Chief shall lead her Sons to Fight?
Her once brave Sons! now terrified and aw'd,
At home by Faction, and by Pow'r abroad,
To Woods and Wilds and lonely Desarts go,
Forsake her Cause, nor dare to meet the Foe.
The Foe again swarms on her crowded Strand,
And fresh Destruction sweeps her wasted Land!
Farewel, brave injur'd Man! thou Boast of Fame!
At once thy Country's Glory, and her Shame!
Nor shall the Muse thy further Acts explore,
On Scotia's Plains, or on the Gallic Shore.
The weary Muse here rests her drooping Wing,
And conscious of thy Fate, forbears to sing.
Some other Genius shall the Task attend,
And paint the Villain in the perjur'd Friend.
Nor shall the Bruce's Fate her Notes inspire,
Or tune to Elegy the mournful Lyre.
Secret, she weeps the luckless Father dead,
The Scene o'erveiling with a silent Shade.
Now fits the Harp to a sublimer Strain,
The Godlike Son! and his immortal Reign.
To wretched Albion's Safety, and to you.
Who shall in Arms dare to support her Right?
What hardy Chief shall lead her Sons to Fight?
Her once brave Sons! now terrified and aw'd,
At home by Faction, and by Pow'r abroad,
To Woods and Wilds and lonely Desarts go,
Forsake her Cause, nor dare to meet the Foe.
The Foe again swarms on her crowded Strand,
And fresh Destruction sweeps her wasted Land!
54
At once thy Country's Glory, and her Shame!
Nor shall the Muse thy further Acts explore,
On Scotia's Plains, or on the Gallic Shore.
The weary Muse here rests her drooping Wing,
And conscious of thy Fate, forbears to sing.
Some other Genius shall the Task attend,
And paint the Villain in the perjur'd Friend.
Nor shall the Bruce's Fate her Notes inspire,
Or tune to Elegy the mournful Lyre.
Secret, she weeps the luckless Father dead,
The Scene o'erveiling with a silent Shade.
Now fits the Harp to a sublimer Strain,
The Godlike Son! and his immortal Reign.
Ierne, from the old Galician Word Eryn or Heryn, signifies a Country that lies towards the West; It is commonly taken for that Part of Scotland called Strathern, and figuratively for the whole Nation.
Cimbri was the ancient Name of that Warlike People, now call'd the Danes, who overrun many Nations, conquer'd England, but received so frequent Overthrows in this Country, That Scotland was call'd Danorum Tumulus, the Grave of the Danes.
Caledonia, properly taken for that Part of Scotland which runs along the Face of the Hills, from Aberdeen into Cumberland, and figuratively for the whole.
Alexander III. who died of a Fall from his Horse at Kinghorn. [Albanian, &c.] From Albin or Albinich, the Name given to Scotland by the Highlanders.
No Body needs to be inform'd of Edward I. of England's being chosen Arbiter in the Controversy betwixt Bruce and Baliol, for the Crown of Scotland, his unjust Usurpation, and the Miseries that Kingdom was reduced to by his Means.
The Mountains of Granzeben, commonly call'd the Grampian Hills, run from Aberdeen in the North, to Dumbarton in the West; and contain the Braes of the Mearns, Angus, Perth-shire, and the Lennox, and several Countries beside.
'Tis hoped the Reader will allow the Justice of this Piece of Machinery, because of its Necessity. Scotland was now reduced, in a Manner, beyond all human Means of Recovery. Nothing cou'd save it, but the Intervention and Influence of some superior Power. This, the Author, with Submission, thought a dignus vindice nodus, a Difficulty that required such an Interposal, and consequently introduced the Machine.
Sir William Wallace of Ellersly, who stood for the Liberties of Scotland, in Opposition to the Usurpation of Edward I. The Reader will please to observe here, That the Author designs not a particular Detail of the Actions of Sir William Wallace, but only so far as they immediately concern the Affairs of Robert Bruce. And therefore, he brings Wallace directly to the Battle of Falkirk, where, in a Conference with that Prince, he lays before him the treacherous Designs of the English King, and convinces him of his own Loyalty to his Country, and the Brussian Interest.
Ocelli Montes, the Ochel-hills, ly betwixt Strathern, Clackmannan, and Kinross-shires, and for the most Part are all green.
Edward I. of England had sworn to determine impartially in the Controversy betwixt Bruce and Baliol; But, breaking that Oath, endeavour'd to usurp the Sovereignty himself.
The Picts having joyn'd the Romans and Britons against the Scots, defeated them in the Field, slew their King, and drove the whole Nobility and Gentry out of the Nation. But at last, by the Valour and Conduct of Fergus II. the Scots were restor'd, and afterwards engaging the Picts under the leading of Mcalpin, alias Kenneth-More; they overthrew 'em, and pursu'd their Victory to the Extirpation of their Name.
Cuming Earl of Cumbernald, had joyn'd the Army at Falkirk with Ten thousand Men. But having himself an Eye to the Crown, and either suspecting or disdaining the Success of Sir William Wallace, a private Gentleman, much inferior to his Rank, but then Guardian of Scotland, caus'd Stuart Lord Bute fall out with him about leading the Van of the Scots Army; alledging that Post was due to his Family. Wallace insisted on the Privilege of his Office, and they parted from one another in high Chauff. Wallace drew off his Men, and Cuming having wrought his Design, treacherously retir'd also, and abandon'd Lord Stuart to the Fury of the whole English Army.
Anthony Beik Bishop of Durham, a great Enemy to the Scots, more famous for his Skill in the Arts of War than in the Gospel of Peace, as a certain Author remarks. This Prelate headed 10000 Men at the Battle of Falkirk, rais'd by his own Influence and Authority.
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