From gold to gray
Our mild, sweet day
Of Indian summer fades too soon;
But tenderly
Above the sea
Hangs, white and calm, the hunter’s moon.
In its pale fire
The village spire
Shows like the zodiac’s spectral lance;
The painted walls
Whereon it falls
Transfigured stand in marble trance!
SCOTS WHA HAE.
BY ROBERT BURNS.
A friend of Burns states this stirring poem was written during a frightful storm in the wilds of Glenken, in Galloway. It was written in September, 1793.
Scots, wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has often led;
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victorie!
Now’s the day, and now’s the hour;
See the front o’ battle lour;
See approach proud Edward’s pow’r—
Chains and slaverie!
Wha will be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward’s grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!
Wha for Scotland’s king and law
Freedom’s sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa’,
Let him follow me!
By oppression’s woes and pains!
By our sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!
Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty’s in every blow!
Let us do or die!