Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/273
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THE LAY OF SIR WILLIAM WALLACE.
255
The vision faded, like a subtle bloom,
As the still dawn was Whitening all the room;
And Alfred, starting up, With staring eyes,
Saw his friends round him, laden with supplies;
Who told him that the Danes had fallen back
Before the vigour of a firm attack;
And that the people, gathering up their heart,
Called loudly for their King to act his part,
And take his sceptre and his throne again,—
Now doubly his through wisdom born of pain.
As the still dawn was Whitening all the room;
And Alfred, starting up, With staring eyes,
Saw his friends round him, laden with supplies;
Who told him that the Danes had fallen back
Before the vigour of a firm attack;
And that the people, gathering up their heart,
Called loudly for their King to act his part,
And take his sceptre and his throne again,—
Now doubly his through wisdom born of pain.
The Lay of Sir William Wallace.
The grey hill and the purple heath
Are 'round me as I stand,
The torrent hoar doth sternly roar,
The lake lies calm and grand;
The altars of the living rock
'Neath yon blue sky are bare,
And a thousand mountain-voices mock
Mine accents on the air.
Are 'round me as I stand,
The torrent hoar doth sternly roar,
The lake lies calm and grand;
The altars of the living rock
'Neath yon blue sky are bare,
And a thousand mountain-voices mock
Mine accents on the air.
O land most lovely and beloved,
Whether in morn's bright hues,
Or in the vale, so soft, so pale,
Woven by twilight dews.
God's bounty pours from sun and cloud
Beauty on shore and wave,
I lift my hands, I cry aloud,
Man shall not make the slave!
Whether in morn's bright hues,
Or in the vale, so soft, so pale,
Woven by twilight dews.
God's bounty pours from sun and cloud
Beauty on shore and wave,
I lift my hands, I cry aloud,
Man shall not make the slave!
Ye everlasting witnesses,
Most eloquent, though dumb,
Sky, shore, and seas, light, mist, and breeze,
Receive me, when I come!
How could I, in this holy place,
Stand with unshamèd brow,
How look on earth's accusing face,
If I forget my vow?
Most eloquent, though dumb,
Sky, shore, and seas, light, mist, and breeze,
Receive me, when I come!
How could I, in this holy place,
Stand with unshamèd brow,
How look on earth's accusing face,
If I forget my vow?
Not few nor slight his burdens are
Who gives himself to stand
Steadfast and sleepless as a star,
Watching his fatherland;
Strong must his will be, and serene,
His spirit pure and bright,
His conscience vigilant and keen,
His arm an arm of might.
Who gives himself to stand
Steadfast and sleepless as a star,
Watching his fatherland;
Strong must his will be, and serene,
His spirit pure and bright,
His conscience vigilant and keen,
His arm an arm of might.