The history of the life, adventures, and heroic actions of the celebrated Sir William Wallace ... Tr. into metre, from the original Latin of Mr. John Blair, chaplain to Wallace, by one called Blind Harry

Front matter

Glass.

Book.

\q^q

Chapter II

How King Edtvard and Coi'spatricic came to Scoon and deposed the Baliol.

King Edward and Corspatrick march for Scoon, And Scotland now sings a most mournful tune. Few Scots were left, the kingdom to defend ; Then for the Baliol to Montrose they send ; And to their great and everlasting shame, Do strip him of his royal diadem.

When thus depos'd, Edward usurps the crownj And then, alas, all things went upside-down ; Was crown'd upon 4;he very self-same stone, Gathelius sent from Spain, with his own son : When Iber Scot first into Scotland came, Kenneth, our king, and second of that name, Brought it to Scoon, where kings in pomp and glore, Were crowned for eight hundred years and more ; Even in that ancient royal marble chair, So famous and so long preserved there. Which as a trophy thence they do transport, *

To London, where King Edward kept his court. But yet I'm told that ancient fates decree, Where this stone stands Scots shall the masters be. Bruce, with eight score, the flow'r of Scotland then, Were captives led away, with English men. At last the pow'rs above beheld the wrong, And let not the usurpers reign too long : For at this time Scotland was almost lost. And overspread with a rude South'ron host. Wallace's i'ather to the Lennox fled ; His eldest son he thither with him led ; The tender mother's also gone at last ; And to Kilspindie's with young Wallace past ; Into the pleasant Carse of Govvrie, where He was brought up with his old uncle there , Who to Dundee him carefully does send For education, but behold the end : There he continues in his tender age. Till more adult, then he does ramp and rage.

c 2

To see the Saxon blood in Scotland reign,

And govern'd by a most unrighteous king,

Who wrought great wrong in country and in town.

Wasted our lands, and broke our buildings down :

Nor could the nuns resist their lustful will.

King Herod's part they acted in the land

Upon the children they before them fand ;

The bishoprics that were of most avail^

From bishops and archbishops they took hail.

Nor could the Pope them with his threat'nings scare j

They gripp'd all, through violence of war,

Of ev'ry benefice was worth the while,

They took the rents, left bishops the bare style;

Our barons kill'd, without remorse or care,

As testify the bloody barns of Air,

Where eighteen score were haug'd by Saxon seed,

As in the seventh book 30U shall shortly read»

But I go on, with faithful pen and true,

And candidly my purpose do pursue :

Wallace, tho' young as yet for sword or spear,

Did grieve and groan such injuries to hear;

Ah ! should my country suffer such distress,

Said he, and South'ron daily thus increase ;

O had I but ten thousand at my back,

And were a man, I'd gar their curpons crack.

^ et ere he was full seventeen winters old.

He was both seemly, hardy, stout, and bold;

Was with the South'ron iVequently at strife.

And sometimes twin'd them of their precious life.

By hewing down, all grew above their neck :

A certain token of true Scots resj)ect,

Then left them welt'ring in their blood and gore

A full foot shorter than they were before ;

That they to Scots might give no more offence,

Wherewith his priest most freely did dispense ;

Al>solv'd the sin, and did remit the guilt

Of South'ron blood so innocently spilt.

Chapter III

How TFallace killed young Sclbie, the Cotistable's Son of Dundee.

Unto Dundee young Wallace now is gone, Sprightly and gay us could be look'd upon, Well shap'd and handsome, clever, neat, and clean, Clad with a garment of a gemming green. The constable, old Selbie, liv'd hard by. That crabbed rogue, who most maliciously Oppressed the Scots, with great dispute and rage ; A son he had near twenty years of age. Who sonte young fellows with him ev'ry day Took to the town to sport the time away. This vain young fop, so much on folly bent. Young Wallace saw, then straight unto him went, And, with disdain, said, ^ Scot, I pray thee stay, ' What devil clad thee in a suit so gay ? ' A horse's mantle was thy kind to wear, ' And a Scots whittle at thy belt to bear, ' Rough roulion shoes, or any common trash, ' Did serve such whore's sons thro' the dubs to plash 5 ' Give me that knife under thy girdle hings ;' ' Nay pardon me, Sir, I know better things j ^ Therefore forbear, I earnestly intreat, • It both defends me, and it cuts my meat.' Selbie assaults him, and would it take by force, And so the plea went on from bad to worse. Fast by the collar Wallace did him take, Made the 3'oung squire tremble there and shake, His dagger with the other hand drew out, In spite of all his men so throng about : And boldly without either fear or dread, Upon the spot, he stick'd young Selbie dead. The squire fell, of him there was no more, And then his men pursu'd young Wallace sore. Who made a pair of cleanly clever heels. And so escap'd from all the South'ron chiels j The bloody dagger fast held in his hand. And spared none that did his flight withstand.

Unto an inn he formerly did know, Thither he fled, and could no further go, Help, help, he cry'd, when the goodwife he saw, And save my life from cruel South'ron law. With russet gown she quickly got him drest ; Above his clothes which cover'd all the rest A suddled curch o'er head and neck let fall, A white worn hat then birsed on withal ; And as the South'ron came into the inn, Gave him a rock, then he began to spin; In quest of Wallace they some time have spent : But could not know at what door in he went ; They search'd through all the corners of the inn. But he sat still and cunningly did spin ; Tho' at the trade he was not 'prentice long, He drew a thread, and croon'd away the song. Away they went, then Wallace did revive. And laugh, and smirtled at them in his sleeve. Like madmen, then, they all run up and down, Cry, burn the Scots, leave none alive in town. Yet the goodwife kept Wallace until night. Safe and secure out of the South'ron's sight. Thro' a back way she did convey him fast, Where quietly he by the water past. Such was his mother's great concern and care, That she of him did almost now despair. At length she met him, to her great surprise, ' Bless me, dear son, may I believe mine eyes ? ' Is't possible that thou hast the danger past ? ' Sure, Providence is more than kind at last.' There he inform'd her of his doleful case. At which she wept, and often said ' alas !

* Ere thou leave off, thy foes will have the fang'd.'

* Mither, he said, I'd rather see them hang'd :

' These English lowns that do possess our land,

* Methinks we should most manfully withstand.' His uncle knew he had the squire kill'd, Which the old man with grief and sorrow fiU'd ; Yet did abate when a few days were past,

But dreaded much mischief to him at last. The English now most subtle ev'ry way, A ditty great 'gainst Scots prepared they ;

SIR WILLIAM WALLACE.

For, at Dundee, they call a justice eyre,

No longer then durst AN'^allace sojourn there.

Ilis mother clad herself in pilgrim's weed,

Then him disguis'd, and both marclrd ofl'with speed j

Nought to defend himself he had Irom foes,

Dut a small sword he bore below his clothes ;

Away they went, none with them living moe :

When challeng'd, said, to St. ftlarg'ret we go.

From South'ron folk great friendship thus they found,

because St. Marg'ret was of English ground,

Cioss by Lindores, tlie ferry o'er they past ;

Then through the Ochle marched very fast ;

Into Dunfermline lodged all that night:

And on the morrow by the day was light,

They travelled with some English gentlemen,

Who had their dwelling in Linhthgow then.

A captain's wife, who had a pilgrim been,

Was there, who, when she had young Wallace seen,

Did him admire because he was so fair,

Handsome, genteel, and ofengagingair ;

There merrily they past the time around,

Then cross'd the Forth streight to Linlithgow town ^

Where mutually a compliment or two

Was past, and then to Dunipace they go :

Where Wallace'" friend did dwell, a parson great,

Wallace by name, of opulent estate ;

A man devout, who bravely made them fare.

And share the best, the time they tarry'd there,

He did inform, and made them understand

The troubles great that then were in the land,

Intreating them, in kind and homely phrase,

There to abide till God sent better days.

Wallace re])ly'd, I hasten to the west.

Our kin are kill'd, were I at home, the best

Of South'ron blood, I hope, 'twixtyou and me.

To let it out, then I'll avenged be.

The pai'son sigh'd, and said, he much did doubt,

It would be long ere that time came about.

Come weal, come wo, my purpose I'll pursue,

Then to the honest parson bade adieu.

To Ellerslie he and his mother went,

She on the morrow for her brother sentj o4 THE HISTORY OF

Who told her, to her sorrow, grief, and paio,

Her hiu-iband and her eldest sen were slain.

That when Sir Malcom's hough sinews were cut,

South'ron to death lipon hit: knees he put :

Till with their bloody spears, they bore him down,

Then stick'd that glorious knight of great renown.

Thus at Lochmabanr, for their country's sake,

A noble exit these two heroes make.

To EUerslie I back again repair,

Where good Sir Rannald met his sister there;

Who did beseech, and humbly pray 'd also,

That to Lord Piercy forthwith he would go ;

For from her house she would no longer fly,

But long'd at home for to live quietly.

Sir Rannald in his sister's favour wrote,

And then to her a safe protection got ;

Which the brave Wallace highly did disdain,

Therefore no longer would with her remain.

Nor durst Sir Rannald entertain him there,

So to his shift away does Wallace fare.

The English had the whole strengths of the land,

And what they did, none durst nor could withstand ;

Yet Wallace never could with them accord ;

For be he squire, be he laird, or lord,

That with disdain durst look him in the face,

Ho got a blow unto his jjrcat disgrace.

"^rhe English clerks, in prophecy have found,-

A Wallace should put them from Scotish ground,

Which aftei'wards prov'd to be very true.

For thrice he drove away the barbarous crew.

Sir Rannald now a place for him prepares,

To keep him safe from English traps and snares,

With his own uncle who at Rickertoun

Did dwell, and was Sir Richard of renown.

In heritage he had that whole estate,

Tho' blind he was, which chanc'd thro' courage great,

'Gainst Englishmen ; whom he did daily dare.

When he was young, and well expert in war.

Then did he burst some veins, and lost much blood,

A gentleman, both valiant, wise, and good.

In Februar, Wallace was to him sent,

And in April, a iishiogfrom him went :

Which will afford come sport as you shall hear, Pray listen then with an attentive ear.

CHAPTER IV. How Wallace Jisit' din Irvine Water

Dreading no harm, nor danger of his foes, Wallace a fishing for diversion goes, To try what sport and pastime he might get j None w ith him but a boy to bear his net. Lucky he was, fish'd most successfully, Till the Lord Piercy, and liis court rode by : Which did confuse, and much perplex his mind, Because lie had forgot his sword behind. Five of that trooping train in garments green, Mounted on horseback having Wallace seen ; To him advanc'd, and blustring language gave, 'I'hen damn'd and swore, ' Zounds Scot, thy fish we'll have. With modest grace, good Wallace did reply, '■ ril share the half with you most cheerfully. One of them answer'd, ' that would be too small 3' Then lighted down, and from the boy took all, Tlien Wallace said, * I'm sure in modesty 'You'll leave us some, if gentlemen you be ; * An aged knight that lives in yonder house, ' Let him have some, pray be so generous.' 'The clown, he boasting, said not one word more, But this, ' The river has enough in store ; ' We serve a lord shall dine on them ere long,' Then Wallace fretting, said, ' Thou'rt in the wrong.' *• Whom hast thou here ? Faith thou deserves a blow, ' Poor pratting Scot, how darest thou talk so ?' Then at him runs, and out his sword does draw : But Wallace poult-staff kept the rogue in awe. That trusty tree, as the poor scoundrel found, Laid him and sword both quickly on the ground : Wallace the sword caught fast into his hand, Which did the saucy fellow soon command : Then a back stroke, so cleverly he gave, His neck in two most cleanly there he clave.

The other four alightino: from their horse,

Do hjm attack v/ith all their strength and force.

Yet tb.o'' they him surround on every side,

Willi handy-blows he paid them back and side.

Upon the lioad so fierce he struck at one,

The shearing sword cut thro' his collar-bone:

Another on the arm, that stood near by.

He struck, till hand and sword on the field did lie.

Threr slew he there, two fled with all their might.

Unto tlieir horse, in a confounded fright ;

Left ii.ll their fish, no longer durst remain.

And three fal English bucks upon the plain,

Th.us in great hurr3% having got their cufis,

They scamperM ofl' in haste to save their bufis.

W!'Cn Fiercy knew, by the poor silly lovvns,

That tlnee were kill'd, and saw two bloody crowns,

He quickly askVl how many foes might be ?

They said, ' But one ;' ' A devil sure was he:

' Since one has killed three, put two to flight ;

' Cowardly coxcombs, jmck you out of sight:

* Most maiitully, it seems, the Scot has fought, ' For me this day, in faith he's not be souglit.

' Was't ever heard before ? you whore sons burds ^ That a Scots poult-staff i'oil'd five English swords.' To Vv^allace I return, who, by mere force^ Defeat the five, and ))ick\l up all their horse: Was better mounted than he was before. Rode to his uncle, fish'd that day no more. The news did so surprise the ancient knight, He almost fainted in his nephew's sight : Then bids keep secret : ' for such fishing sport,

* If it be known, you may pay dearly for't.' ' Uncle,' said Wallace to the gootl old man,

' I'll push my fortune now where best I can :

* Since I no longer may with you abide,

' I'll try these English geldings how they ride. A purse of gold the knight unto him gave, Wallace kneel'd down, and humbly too);, his leave ; When that is done, ])ray nephew, send for more, Thus ends the first book, here I draw my score.

BOOK IL

Chapter I

Ho20 Wallace Jclll'd the Churl icith his own staff, in Air.

Young Wallace now clever of lith and limb, With graceful air, appears both tight and trim, Which, with his many other useful charms, Confounds the Soutii'ron, highly them alarms j His glorious actions early did presage, A humbling stroke to cruel Soutii'ron rage Which did so many of his friends destroy, As scarce was known since Adam was a boy. Yet the late fishing makes poor Wallace fond, At Ochter-house a little to abscond :

.- Then to Langland wood, when it grew late To make a silent and a soft retreat. Some little time thereafter did repair T 'nto the pleasant ancient town of Air ; (.'lose by the wood, did there dismount his horse, "^{'lien on his foot, walk'd gravely to the cross. Lord Piercy did command the castle then, And the whole town did swarm with Englishmen. Which sight, no doubt, did Wallace much confound. Yet never dash'd, but briskly walk'd around ; Though some affirm, which I am apt to trow, He in his heart curs'd the barbarian crew. And being prompted by his youthful age. Could scarce refrain his passion and his rage. But passing over this I now make haste. To entertain you with a handsome je.st. Into the town lived a huge Englisli clown, For filthiness none equall'd him i' th' town, Who greatly bragg'd of his prodigious strength. Which cost him dear, as you shall hear at length. A greater burden, said this prince of sots, I{e\l bear, than any three good sturdy Scots ; And with a stafi', like a stage-dancer's pole.

For cue poor groat he would permit and thole D

Tlie strongest man to beat him on the back ;

So imprudently did the carle crack,

Which story, when it came Wallace' ear,

To smile and langh he scarce could well forbear :

He told the fellow, that he would be willing,

* For one Scots blow to give an English shilling.*

The greedy wretch did freely condescend.

Which quickly brought him to his fatal end ;

Then Wallace gave him such a dreadful blow.

Upon his back, to his eternal woe,

That to the view of all were present there,

He clave his rig-bone, and he ne'er spake mair;

Thus dy'd the wretch, for a poor price and small,

And his great English hurdles paid for all.

With swords round Wallace then the English flock,

He no ways dash'd, did his steel bonnet cock,

And struck a South 'ron with that trusty tree,

Out o'er the head, till brains and bones did flee j

Then cleverly, with such good will and luck,

On the steel bayonet hath anotlier struck.

Till, though the noble tree it frush'd and rave,

He kill'd the fellow, and turn'd to the lave ;

Then with an awful grace, he made a paw,

And out his sword with majesty did draw ;

Which clear'd his wa} , like a true friend indeed,

And quickly help'd him to a sturdy steed.

Two fouty fellows there, that griev'd him most,

He dousM their doublets rarely to their cost :

His anger kindled, to such height it grew.

With one good stroke the foremost there he slew,

A blow he got upon the other knave.

Till his sword down through his body drave.

Five South Tons he, 'twixt hope and great despair,

Kill'd on the spot ; now was not that right fair ?

Out through the town, his way did cleanly force,

Made his escape, and then did mount his horse :

To Langlands fled, his time he well did use.

And left the blades all sleeping in their shoes.

Him foot and horse pursue to overtake.

But the thick trees his refuge he did make.

Provisions came to him from Ochter-house,

And every thing thai was fit for his use :

Such necessaries they to him afford,

As do supply him both to bed and board.

Gooci Wallace then, upon a time at length, Return'd to Air as he recover'd strength ; But, ah ! it prov'd a most unlucky day, I wish to Jove that he had staid away. Sir Rannald's servant, for some fisii he sent, That errand, O ! that Wallace had miskent ! For, as 3'ou'll quickly understand and hear. The sauce was sharp, and cpst him very dear.

Chapter II

How Wallace kiWd Lord Pierct/^s Steward, and was imprisoned in Air.

The fish no sooner had the servant got. Than Piercy's steward call'd, and said, Scot, ' For whom buys thou those fish thou carry'st there ?' Who answered, ^ Sir, for the sheriff of Air.' ' By heaven's king,' the steward rudely swore,

* My lord shall have them thou may purchase more.' Wallace incens'd with anger, standing by,

Said, ' Why such rudeness, tell the reason why ?' This fired soon the haughty steward's blood. Who thought what Wallace spoke was next to rude, And did his stomach sd with venom fill. As might the vilest loathsome spider kill.

* Go hence,' said he, ' thou saucy Scot, with speed j

* Thee, and thy sheriff both I mock indeed.' Then with his hunting staff he Wallace smote, But he had better kiss'd his foot ; poor sot ; For Wallace by the throat him quickly caught, And the proud Steward better manners tanght. Then from his pocket puU'd a dagger knife. Which twinn'd the foolish coxcomb af his life. But, ah ? alas, how quick assembled then. Fourscore at least well harness'd Englishmen : Whose post it was to watch and guard the town ? There suddenly poor Wallace they surround.

At them he star'd, and never spoke a word, But boldly drew his awful daring sword ;

40 THE HISl'ORY 01'

And cleverly uuto his feet did get,

And stick'd the foremost fellow that he met.

Upon the knee, another hit he so,

That moment made the bone asunder go.

Nor can I say the third had better luck.

Who got his neck in two most cleanly cut.

Thus Wallace rag'd and ramped, lion-like,

And made the carles strangely fidge and fyke.

No wonder, for they got most grievous wounds.

So desp'rately he claw'd their South'ron crowns :

And though the gate with swords and spears they keep^.

We hew'd them down like heartless silly sheep :

Yea, when they him environ'd round about.

Quite through the press he suddenly broke out,

Unto a wall, was built by the sea-side,

Where in his own defence he did abide.

Till from the castle issu'd one and all,

fiot on a Dyke, and then broke down the wall.

No shift he had, but there to fight or die :

Great numbers then he hew'd down hastily :

.So furiously out through the Southron's past.

But, oh ; his noble sword did burst at last ;

Broke from the hilt, he knew of no remeed,

Then stoutly drew his dagger out with speed.

One there he kill'd, and other two he sent

To death, the same way that the first child went.

But, at the last, his foes on ev'ry hand.

They rudely rush with spears, and him command.

Such was their })ity, they forbid to slay.

But starve with hunger till he'd pine away.

Thus they the sacred scriptures verify.

The wicked's mercies are mere cruelty.

With English now he'spris'ner gone at will ;

Had he got help, he would have fought them still.

To speak of ransom, that was all in vain,

Because that day, so many he had slain.

His trouble here, I scarcely can well tell,

His prison much resembled that of hell.

Such meat and drink as they to him allow,

Would kill and poison even a very sow.

But here I leave him in this doleful case.

Till providence shall order his release.

The woeful weeping and the piteous moan,

Was made for him would rend a heart of stone.

No comfort here to dissipate their fears,

Nought to be seen but pale cheeks stain'd with tears.

Alas ! said they, can life endure to see

Wallace imprison'd by .the enemy?

The flow'r of youth, in sweet and tender age,

Made subject to the cruel Saxon rage.

Living this day, a Chieftain there is none

Like the young Wallace : for its he alone,

That's capable of Scotland to take care,

But now he's caught into the woful snare.

CHAPTER III. Hoio Wallace teas itnj}riso7ied at Air, and escaped

Herrings and water for his nourishment, And such sad stuff, to Wallace they present : Instead of what was wholesome cleanly food, Got the refuse of ev'ry thing was good. Thus in the prison, languishing he lay. Till death was pictured in his beauteous clay, His vital spirits almost spent and gone, Then to Jehovah made his piteous moan : Confess'd his sins, most humbly then implor'd Mercy thro' Christ, his Saviour and his Lord. Then said, ' My God, O please for to receive ' My soul and body, I thee humbly crave. ' For if relief thou do not quickly send,

* My days in prison here Fll shortly end.

' Please to prolong my days, O God, to me,

' Since my belief is wholly upon thee :

' W^hich by thy grace thou graciously hast wrought,

' And me from hell, by thine own blood has bought.

' Why wilt thou give thy handy-work to those,

* Who are our nation's and my mortal foes? ' And who maliciously this land abhor,

' Would me destroy, with many others more ?

' O bruckle sword ! thy mettle was not true,

* Thy frushing blade, me in this prison threw :

* To English men, o'er little harm thou's done, •' Of gallant Scots, who kill'd so many a one.

' Of us, indeed, they have not kill'd a few,

* My valiant father, and bold brother too,

* Were at Lochmabane kill'd by South'ron j

* But death resisted, sure can be by none.

* This ancient kingdom. Lord, do thou relieve,

* From English thraldom, and deliverance give.

* Tho' now, O Lord, my power be gone indeed,

* Yet King of kings, help thou and send remeed, ' Of worldly comforts, now I take my leave,

* I shall be shortly, where I shall not grieve : ' Thus heartily to all I bid adieu,

* None other gift have I to leave you now.'

Adieu Wallace, that was both strong and stout, Long in this prison thou must lie no doubt ; Now all thy noble kindred, brave and bold. Thy freedom purchase cannot, no with gold. Thy tender mother, that in pain thee bore. In her soft arms shall ne'er enclose thee more ! How seemly wast thou, with thy sword and shield. When thou kill'd numbers on the bloody field ?

Complain ye poor, with revrence tell your tale ; Complain to heaven with words that cannot fail ; I^ift up your voice to the great God above, That's full of mere}' , pity, and of love. Complain for him, that sits in dismal cells, And in the melancholy dungeon dwells : With grief and pain, which he can scarce endure, Pray for relief to the great God of pow'r. Complain ye birds that once were blythe and glad ; Now change your notes, and hang the drooping head Complain ye lords, complain ye ladies bright, Complain for him that worthy was and wight : Complain ye men of war, in mornful song. For him of Saxon's sons that sufiers wrong : Complain for him, who lies both day and nighf, In prison for maintaining Scotland's right : Complain for him, who did most frequently, Sound up the triumph of our victory. What shall I say of the brave Wallace more ? A cruel flux in prison, and a sore, Did then reduce him almost to last breath. And left him gasping in the jaws of deatlK

The jailor' s now commanded with great awe, To bring him to the sentence of the law ; Who, when he view'd him, to his great surprise, Thought death already had shut up his eyes. In haste returns, and does report the news. That he had paid both law and prison dues. Persuaded thus, that he was very dead. For Wallace now there was no more remeed. Being concluded by consent of all, To throw him quickly o'er the castle-wall. But providence which interposes oft. Directs his fall into a place was soft ; His nurse who liv'd in the New Town of Air, * Hearing the news, with haste came running there. And on her knees, with face as pale as clay, Did purchase leave to bear his corpse away. With sorrow him unto her house she bore. Then with warm water bath'd his body o'er. His heart she found to flighter to and fro j His eyes at last they did cast up also. Then on a bed she laid him, soft as silk, • And suckled him with her own daughter's milk. Her love to him, and tender care was such, In a short time, he did recover much. Thus secretly she did him nurse and feed, And made the word still pass that he was dead. She weeped sore in ev'ry body's sight. Till he became both able stout and tight. Thomas the Rymer, at that very time. Who prophecy'd in ancient Scotish ryme, In vulgar estimation not the least, Did pay a visit to the parish priest ; Whose servant had just at the market been. And what befel poor Wallace there had seen. The priest does on his servant quickly call. What news, said he ? Sir, few or none at all. The priest said, that he never yet did know, The Scots and English part without a blow. Good Wallace, quoth the lad, and shook his head^ I saw them cast him o'er the wall for dead ! The priest replied, with a heavy heart. For that I hope to see the South'ron smart.

Wallace was wight, and corae of gentle blood ; Thomas, he said the tidings were not good. The priest said, surely they would foster feud : But I'homas said, that Wallace was not dead. The servant told, he saw a woman there, That did belong to the New Town of Air ; Upon her knees, from South 'ron purchase leave, To carry Wallace somewhere to his grave. Pensive a little, Thomas in his thought. By God, said he, that hath this world wrought, And brings to pass each thing for his own glore. If he be dea^d, Thomas shall live no more. The honest priest hearing him speak so plain. He charg'd his servant to return again, To view the woman's house, and carefully To look about, what he could hear or spy. The servant thus in haste is gone away, Straight to the house and place where Wallace lay. Who's this lies here, he did demand in plain ; The woman rose in sorrow, grief, and pain : The worthy Wallace, Oh ! replied she, Then weeped sore and very piteously. She on her knees did pray for Jesls' sake, He would conceal, and no discovery make. The servant aiiswer'd, with a fearful oath, That he to harm him would be very loath : Might he in life but see him with his eyes. He would rejoice, or curs'd might he be thrice. She, to good Wallace, led him up the stairs. There saw him gladly, and back soon repairs To Thomas and his master, who attend. To hear the story all, from end to end. He told them, the first tidings were a lie. Then Thomas said before that Wallace die, Out of this land he shall the South'ron send, And thousands on the field make their last end. He Scotland thrice shall bring into great peace, And South'ron ay be frighted at his face. Then cheer up Scots, cast from you care and sloth, And pray believe what Thomas says is truth. When Wallace' actions we to light produce, We'll find him not inferior to Bruce ;