Yet chides her timid tear.
The infant wakes 'mid wild alarms,
Prayers are in vain outpour'd;
The bridegroom quits his bride's fond charms,
And half unsheaths his sword.
Yet who may fate's dark power withstand,
Or who its mandate spurn?
And still the seer uplifts his hand
And points to Bannockburn.
"There waves a standard o'er the brae,