Meantime the conq'ring strength of Bruce

Was matchless in the field,

His country from her chains to loose,
And make her tyrants yield.

And who appear'd to meet his rage,

Or on his sword advance?

Who with the monarch would engage,

And prove his fatal lance?

Could England and her stripling king

The tide of vict'ry stay;

Unplume the Bruce's eagle-wing,
Or once its course delay?

No-England's noblest chiefs were dead, And destin'd for the grave;

Her stripling king had basely fled,

A worthless life to save.

Then vict'ry look'd from clouds of gold,

On the ensanguin'd plain,

Her laurel crown'd the conq'ror bold,

The knight without a stain.

And long shall Scotland bless that day,
And long shall England mourn
The woeful fight, the fatal fray,

That chanc'd at Bannockburn.

THE TOURNAMENT.

FURL the blood-stain'd standard sheet,

Stay the swift-wheel'd iron car, Bind the spear with myrtle sweet, Doff the crested helm of war.

All thy terrors put aside,

Caledonia, come away;

Quit awhile thy martial pride,

Keep a jocund holiday.

Shepherds of the mountain high,
Shepherds of the valley low,
Lay each trusty broad-sword by,
And unbend each tough yew bow.

Lads and lasses weep no more,
Let the sob of sorrow cease,
War, the bane of love, is o'er;

Sing with me the song of peace.

King Robert messengers did send

Unto his nobles all,

That they to Holyrood should wend,

Obedient at his call;

To hold a day of merriment, Welcom❜d as knights should be, With masque and solemn tournament, And choice of revelry.

Proud of their sovereign's command,
With willing hearts they came,
Each bold thane leading by the hand
His well-beloved dame.

The marshall'd lists of strife were set,
Where knights their sport might make,

The royal company were met,

When thus the herald spake:

"Brave Scottish chiefs of high renown, "This day your prowess show,

"That all your wondrous strength may own,

"And all your valour know.

"The victor this emblazon'd shield

Triumphantly shall wear;

"Which oft in many a well-fought field