Song.
“ Oh ! for one hour of Wallace wight.”
There was a time when o’er the land1
Oppression’s countless legions came2
To raze, with rude unsparing hand,3
The record’s of our father’s fame.4
With fearful speed the invading tide5
Remorseless winged its wasting waters ;6
They roll’d along in purple pride,7
Bloodstained by Scotland’s sons and daughters.8
There was a time when hope had fled,9
And cheerless darkness crept around ;10
When every thought was thought of dread,11
And nought was heard but sorrow’s sound.12
A nation’s voice no longer glad,13
But wildly tuned to notes of wailing,14
Which wept her fairest—bravest laid15
Beneath the billows all-prevailing16
But better, brighter times returned—17
The cloud of gloom was rent ;18
Hope’s bliss—betokening meteor, burned,19
To rouse the sad inglorious swain.20
A sterner voice than Canute’s spoke—21
It stilled the waves so fiercely swelling ;22
And then the rapturous lyre awoke,23
A rescued people’s triumphs telling.24
Alas ! that aught again should mar25
The laurelled peace these triumphs gave ;26
That thunder storms again should war,27
And round our fated country rave.28
Alas ! that freedom, bought with blood—29
Our father’s blood, should pine or perish :30
Alas ! that Wallace dauntless stood31
To win what we have failed to cherish.32
Our fathers fought, and tyrants fell ;33
They rose in might to rend the chain ;34
And Bannock’s sacred sward can tell35
They did not spend their strength in vain.36
But, heedless of these gallant sires,37
The sleep of shame is o’er us stealing,38
To quench the fastly smouldering fires—39
The glows of patriotic feeling.40
Not by, in bondage base, they lay41
Upon their brow the Helot
brand ;42
Oh ! could we but resolve as they,43
To shake our chains, and freemen stand !44
To fire the tame, submissive breast—45
To rouse to rage the cold and callous—46
To bring the burthened people rest—47
“ Oh ! for one hour of glorious Wallace.”48