WALLACE AND BRUCE.
11
But other beams, O Patriot! shine
In each commanding glance of thine,
And other light hath filled thine eye
With inspiration's majesty,
Caught from th’ immortal flame divine,
Which makes thine inmost heart a shrine!
Thy voice a prophet's tone hath won,
The grandeur Freedom lends her son;
Thy bearing, a resistless power,
The ruling genius of the hour;
And he, yon Chief, with mien of pride,
Whom Carron's waves from thee divide,
Whose haughty gesture fain would seek
To veil the thoughts that blanch his cheek,
Feels his reluctant mind controlled
By thine of more heroic mould;
