BANNOCK-BURN. ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY. SCOTS, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Or to glorious victorie. Now's the day, and now's the hour; Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha for Scotland's king and law By oppressions woes and pains Lay the proud usurpers low! Forward! let us do or die! SONG OF DEATH. SCENE-A field of battle. Time of the day-Evening -The wounded and dying of the victorious army are supposed to join in the following Song. Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies, Now gay with the bright setting sun; Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties Our race of existence is run! Thou grim king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe, Go, frighten the coward and slave: Go, teach them to tremble, fell tyrant! but know, No terrors hast thou to the brave! Thou strik'st the dull peasant-he sinks in the dark Thou strik'st the young hero-a glorious mark! In the field of proud honor-our swords in our hands While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands, IMITATION OF AN OLD JACOBITE SONG. By yon castle wa' at the close of the day, The church is in ruins, the state is in jars; My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, Now life is a burden that bows me down, THE LASS OF INVERNESS. THE lovely lass o' Inverness, Drumossie moor, Drumossie day, Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, Their graves are growing green to see; And by them lies the dearest lad That ever blest a woman's e'e! Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, For monie a heart thou hast made sair, THE ABSENT WARRIOR. Tune-"Logan Water," O LOGAN, Sweetly didst thou glide, Again the merry month o' May, Within yon milk-white hawthorn bush, Amang her nestlings sits the thrush; Her faithfu' mate will share her toil, Or wi' his song her cares beguile : But I, wi' my sweet nurslings here, Nae mate to help, nae mate to cheer, Pass widow'd nights and joyless days, While Willie's far frae Logan braes. |