Renown'd for mercy, piety, and truth;
Reluctant fighting passage to a crown
Which none but bigot-whigs deny his own?
Can'st thou behold, and still thy grief suppress,
Our prince and country in so deep distress?
Nor, fir'd with indignation, aid my pen
To lash the cruel deeds of guilty men?
Rouze, rouze, my muse, and curse the hated cause
Of lost religion, liberty, and laws!
Thy freedom, Scotland! in one fatal hour