Alone, could Wallace make thy prize.
Him—who could not be taught to crouch,
Nor grace, nor justice, thine to save:
Thou knew’st our Lion ne’er would couch,
While Wallace liv’d his keeper brave.
His name, who Scotia’s fetters broke,
Shall never lose its power to charm,
Who liv’d to shield her,—dying spoke
The weakness of her spoiler’s arm.