Song.
The following spirited song, which we believe was
never before published, is the effusion of a Radical of
1819. The author is unknown to us, or we would
otherwise have endeavoured to rescue his name as we
do his song, from oblivion ; but he left it, we under-
stand, with a patriot friend in Lanard, probably when
he sought in his wanderings to elude the pursuit of
the merciless and mercenary enemies of freedom, who
held the reigns of power at that sad period. If he still
lives, he may enjoy an exalted satisfaction in the pro-
gress of his principles, and behold with secret plea-
sure the glorious immortality conferred on Wilson,
Hardie, and Baird, while the hand of retributive jus-
tice has consiged their betrayers and their murderers
to enternal infamy.
never before published, is the effusion of a Radical of
1819. The author is unknown to us, or we would
otherwise have endeavoured to rescue his name as we
do his song, from oblivion ; but he left it, we under-
stand, with a patriot friend in Lanard, probably when
he sought in his wanderings to elude the pursuit of
the merciless and mercenary enemies of freedom, who
held the reigns of power at that sad period. If he still
lives, he may enjoy an exalted satisfaction in the pro-
gress of his principles, and behold with secret plea-
sure the glorious immortality conferred on Wilson,
Hardie, and Baird, while the hand of retributive jus-
tice has consiged their betrayers and their murderers
to enternal infamy.
Wallace, Knight of Elderslie,
Tune,—Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled.
Brothers of my native shore,1
(Freedom’s land in days of yore.)2
Go hide your heads, and talk no more.3
Of Wallace, knight of Elderslie !4
Wallace stands a lofty name,5
Dear to freedom, dear to fame—6
But cold is now the sacred flame7
That fir’d the knight of Elderslie !8
View old slaughter’d Wilson’s bed—9
Look where Baird and Hardie bled—10
When Scotchmen weep for freedom fled11
With Wallace knight of Elderslie !12
Wallace stands, &c.13
Though they found no arm to save14
From a cold, a bloody grave,15
Their spirits triumph with the brave16
Undaunted knight of Elderslie !17
Wallace stands, &c.18
Where is now the bonnet blue ?19
Where the tartan’s warlike hue ?20
And where, O where the claymore true21
That glanc’d in days of Elderslie ?22
Wallace stands, &c.23
Slavery-stain’d the claymore lies,24
Every charm of Sotia dies—25
While vengeance grumbles in the skies26
O’er butcher’d sons of Elderslie !27
Wallace stands, &c.28
Brothers of my native shore—29
(Freedom’s land in days of yore,)30
Till Heav’n that sacred flame restore31
O boast no more of Elderslie !32
Wallace stands, &c.33